Greetings, everyone!
Promising Poets Parking Lot is excited to publish the 11h poetry journal of the week-December 2-8, celebrating remarkable ending of Thursday Poets Rally week 34. All our poets are brilliant artists who have been excellent writers and poetry promotion leaders… About 108 poems are featured this time. (In NO particular order)
Let me know if I have overlooked your work or you have found errors in your poems.
Thursday Poets Rally Week 35 Will
take place during the week
December 16-22, 2010
A post about the detailed information of the Rally will be up on
December 15, 2010 at http://www.jingleyanqiu.wordpress.com…
Love Your Participation, New Poets! Welcome Back, seasoned Poets!
Hope to See You All On Week 35. xxx
*****
Riika: http://riikainfinityy.com/2010/11/22/light-is-everywhere-yet-all-i-can-see-is-darkness/
Twinkles
within the heart
Sparkles
within the mind
Glitters
within the life
They
are everywhere
yet what we can see
is a pool of deep darkness
The frigidity of the deep aqua sea
Chilling down the spine of ourselves
Desperate for the light yet all we can
sight is the surge of despair & darkness
Drifting in the icy sea of dead and living
Sought for a dream that never seen real
Only be denied by the fate and destiny
Reaching out and it went on farther
Forsaken in the shadows of light
and we will forever stay in
the peak of light that
darkness will never
fade
.
.
.
*****
Christopher: http://industrialarts.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/thursday-poetry-rally-week-34-entry/
When I stopped looking
It was when I was found
Given up so long ago
Resigned to face my fate alone
I had let my hand grow cold
My frown had turned old
But a fire, a great burning bush
Has summoned me from my listless sleep
It has called me to the mountain top
And it now warms my feet
It warms my fingers, my toes
Till it touches my heart
And makes me sing out to the stars
For I never again have to wonder
Where you are
I have found truth again
Concrete and not uncertain
Defiant, radiant and totally beautiful
*****
Jamie Dedes:http://musingbymoonlight.com/2010/12/02/ode-to-aleppo-pepper/
The secret spice
my meze* knows
Oily as an olive
Sweet as cumin
Salty as the sea
Red as blood
Hot as hell
The devil’s own pepper
Heaven’s own spice
*****
Quiet Poetry:http://www.quietpoetry.com/2010/12/winters-ball.html
Glittering jewels
encompass the night sky
echoing whispers of
softness float by
An immaculate ballroom
draped in the silence of snow
ice tipped feathers
embrace nature’s dance floor
Trembling in anticipation
as the magic scene enchants
she lifts her hands and joins
in Winter’s elegant moon dance
A perfect evening
filled with winter’s fresh fallen illusion
she’s become one with the night
sensually entwined …
within the softness of her seclusion.
*****
Leo: http://leonnyes.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/what-matters/
A flower grew
In the confines
Of a field, safe
From any harm
Admired by all
Eyes passing by
Watered by her
Joys, and cared
By a nourishing
Hand; in breeze
Her smile shone
Once the hand
Suggested the
Flower, smile
For a bouquet
Share her love
To the couple
Perfect for her
A life she could
Only dream of
For a moment
The fair flower
She was happy
She accepted
Yet when her
Eyes saw the
Shears in hand
She wanted not
That reverie
A decision to
Be made, the
Flower knows
Not what to do
What matters?
Freedom, her
Life how she
Loves it to be
Or momentary
Beauty, a love
That may last
A short while
Then the final
Slow wilting
What matters?
*****
Kellie: http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2010/08/18/corner-of-dead-and-gone/
Light permeates
through yellowed sheers
on a loosely draped picture window,
clinging to floating particles
and gently trickling
over dust covered frames,
that still hold happy smiles
and blinkless stares,
permeating me.
Standing here now,
in this musky room
the worn hardwood cracks,
and whispers memories
of days when this house lived
and breathed laughter.
When the natural smell
was a home cooked meal-
My head begins to spin like old film,
as gray hues begin to imbue
in remembrance.
That squeaky screen opens
to a never locked door,
and your raspy voice
welcoming with a cup of coffee.
Oh the smell-
of biscuits on Sunday morning.
Sighs of full bellies
and satisfaction.
Ghostly echoes resonate
of children running-
In and out
In and out
That squeaky screen door.
Muffled conversations erupt into laughter,
and grandma sings a gospel hymn
as she watches hummingbirds
feed outside her window.
While Sheba purrs at her ankles,
she smiles with contentment.
I feel her joy
as it moves across my skin,
waking the hair on my neck.
I feel her,
and for a moment,
the walls seemed to inhale.
The train blows through town
delivering reality,
slapping my face and screaming,
“You are alone”
Rose colored memories drown,
taking their last breath
absorbing sepia tones,
and saddened hues
as gray spills over the emptiness
chilling the air once more,
and the reel stops.
*****
Shashi: http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2010/06/whispers.html
You focus on intense words
And me, on the silence within
You shackle your thoughts
With your language
And me, with my need for space within
But you know
I will and you may not
Walk all the way along
As you, my love, will
Fall out of rhythm
And burn out
Chained to the memories of past
.
A bell tolls
Friends join in to walk
With me to the end of the path
Carrying on heavy shoulders,
This last journey, and
All that was not said
And all that silences
Which will echo forever in our hearts.
Some where, along the way
Silence waits for the desert spaces
To speak up
And break our lives
Into small grains of sand
Which pours within the Hour Glass
Of our togetherness
Some where – a blast-off to distant stars
In the cloud of dust
In the drum beats of
Shiva’s Tandav* dance.
Some where, Love alone
Worships the intensity of our togetherness
Or
Truthfulness of our belongingness.
And
Remains
A mute spectator to the “Tandav”* of emotions
Silence some time does sound
In, Our lives like the primordial sound
That reverberates all the life
That has gone by
And
A bell tolls forever
Calling in lost soul
Or soul mates
To be in the valley of lost flower stars
“OM”
*****
Kim:http://kimpugliano.com/2010/12/07/the-most/
Family loves you the most.
Hates you the most.
Frustrates you the most.
Supports you the most.
Argues with you the most.
Makes you laugh the most.
Makes you cry the most.
Lifts you up the most.
Slams you down the most.
Takes care of you the most.
Hugs and kisses you the most.
Understands you the most.
Confuses you the most.
*****
Smurits: http://smurtis.com/2010/12/07/winter/
Winter is not personal;
it wields no harsh vendetta against you.
Everyone feels the biting wind
creep through the ends of shirtsleeves;
Cold has this way of indiscriminately
seeping through cabled sweaters
and sidling closely to our skin.
Winter doesn’t have you singled out;
your chilly-tiled kitchen floor
is not uniquely cursed
and none of us
wake up with the sun
during these trying months
when even plants whimper
and animals go into hiding.
No, winter does not
have it out for you;
we all have to go out early
to shovel and scrape,
our visible breath, evidence
that we’re in it together
to the bitter end,
which comes around early April.
Winter holds no grudge
towards you or anyone else;
it simply hates us all,
and it is our mission
to melt the slush and ice
with the warmth of extended embraces
in front of fireplaces’ soft, orange hues,
holding out hope for spring
and warmth’s victorious return.
*****
A lump in the Throat: http://myshiningrainbow.wordpress.com/2010/11/01/kisses/
A thirst
Of passion
Your lips glow
In flame of my desire
Like soft succulent petals
Dripping your luscious red wine
Trailing on parched skin
Enlivens my yearning
For one last time
Savouring your taste..
Moist, flowing, staining, sighing..
I revel.
*****
Dysonology: http://dysonology.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/sound-sleep/
I was woken from my sleep again by shouting from next door.
“Wake up!” she yelled. “Get up!” she screamed. “You’re no good any more.”
The last people I lived next to were kindly, gentle folk.
The most I really overheard was Sunday evening’s poke.
I lived above an old man once whose legs were amputated.
His daughter stayed there, smoked a lot, he sleep-talked while sedated.
Considering in abstract all the ways we intersect,
The bits of life we hear and share, the private sound’s effect -
I wonder if in quiet times they can hear me through the wall,
And if I seem a happy chap, or make no sound at all.
*****
Cloaked Monk: http://cloakedmonk.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/who-are-we/
who are we?
walking through this world
as if we are without consequence
Bangladesh sewing our pants
for fifty cents an hour
claiming that we do not
enslave or put people
into jeopardy, innocent of
wrong-doing watching court tv
and accusing those
raised without light while
we horde the oil.
it will not matter that
we have Abraham as our ancestor.
*****
Wanjiku: http://wanjikumwaurah.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/she-was-14/
I hope she knows how to arch her back
That every whimper that comes from her
Is that of love
And every shudder is not of horror
At the painful memory
I hope every time you prepare to get in
You see the years on her face
Well manifested by the jerky movements
Of womanhood, learnt too soon
You see the naivety in the shy look she gives you
as she gives in to what you have taught her
I hope with every thrust
When you are deep inside of her
It’s your mother you see
And if you ever hated women so much
You might as well start with her
I hope with every aftermath of cum
It’s disgust and loathing that rules
Defying your nonchalant nature
At the hideous act you just performed
And just before your heart swells with pride
I hope you stall just for a moment
To think of her
I hope every time she opens her legs
You wallow in a pit of self pity
For a real man does not delve
Into a fourteen year old
And despite what breakfasts show say
Sex doesn’t make you a man
And having it with a minor
makes you a beast
I hope with every shy glance she casts your way
you are reminded of your inequities
of the fact that you really are not much of a man
and with every movement she makes
may you cringe on the inside
crumple up and lay without life
for the innocence you robbed her of
you introduced her to womanhood;
the wrong way
how could she have known that you were a hoax
and that the only time you ever felt like a man
was when with her
how would she have doubted you after you promised her the world
how would she ever have believed me
when I told her the first time was special
you already had her
she gets no other chance for a first time
she gets no chance to experience that first shudder
I hope anytime you lay to sleep
Behind the covers of your eyes it’s her you see
Not in love
But at self loathe for bedding a minor
She was only 14
*****
Prime: http://prime8contra.wordpress.com/2010/10/26/a-taste-you-cant-touch/
listening to something
wondering how
this existence exists,
it’s sobering now
to ponder what is,
what was, what’s to become
to calculate it all
and divide into sums
place them in places
that somehow make sense
and with gifts you possess
scribe them in text
resisting the urge
to rant and postulate
forsaking an awakening
of doltish stagnates
until it can demonstrate
the root of said truths
instead of displaying
rotten strange fruit
but who shall say
what are lies vs. fact
and who shows the way
or stays on this path
with persistence,
mixed with a desire to change
fight with resistance
to raise the ire of strange
yet never deranged creatures
with features askew
morphing into pupils
to be born anew
*****
Haisley: http://scjcircleofthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/08/chase.html
Drowning in the oceans of love
Chasing your life like a dove
Flown by the waves of lies
…Lifeless in the mid of iceStruggling in the dessert of dreams
restless of finding the oasis of beam
Chasing the glimpse that you aim
In the hot nowhere of flameChase the cloud of happiness
to reach the peak of sageness
Fly in the space of contentment
To grasps the wind of fulfillment
*****
Tim: http://jackofalltradesbutmasterofnone.wordpress.com/2010/12/04/come-and-go/
Let the moon come and go,
But there’s one thing you should know,
That through all pain and strife
I will continue to love you
Till the end of my life
Let the stars rise and fall
But know I’ll be there through it all
When it seem life lost hop
I will help you cope
Let the world run us by
As it does, when I look into your eyes
But when it’s dark tonight
And you can’t see the stars
I will lead you to their light
Let the moon come and go
But there is one more thing you should know
That no matter what you do
I’ll stay the same always
And always love you
*****
Wysteria:http://theycallmedarkandbright.blogspot.com/2010/12/word-prompt-we-write-poems-love.html
After loving all your friends and family
is there enough room
for thousands more?
Our hearts are small, but there is vacancy
This time of the year, we sometimes forget
There are homeless,
Victims of 911
Men and women, fighting for our freedom
During this season, there are people losing homes
No Christmas Tree’s
No Presents for children
Sometimes, there is no food
Our Country needs people
To find love in their hearts
For the helpless, homeless, and depressed
Do you have room to love them?
If you give something
Money, a coat, a meal
Don’t think how good it made you feel
Think, you have given someone a piece of your heart
You have enough love, for millions
Different it may be
Let’s not forget the elderly, the abused, animals that are beaten and starved
Let’s go back to the basic we were taught
Love your neighbor
Perhaps, it will be you in their situation someday
We never know our future
If you do something kind with love, you teach your children what love really means
*****
The Reason you come:http://thebeatofmydrum.com/2010/12/03/euphoria-for-thursday-poets-rally-week-34/
The December sun touched my eyes and kissed away the cobwebs
that made them temporarily blind. I smiled, happy to rendezvous with it again,
expelling from consciousness last night’s dream, which failed to amaze me.
The dream had the lofty ambition of putting me in a state of
rapturous inebriation, spinning a tale that starred me as a goddess, with
Adonises for minions, and money to boot. But it did not have you.
You, whose breath in my mouth is more potent than any drug. You, whose voice
can send me up to where I’m winking at the clouds, looking down at them.
You, whose face is a mere memory, but will cease to be, tomorrow’s tomorrow.
Tomorrow’s tomorrow, the wind will take you away from your California winter and deliver you to my December sun. Back to my arms. Back to our bed.
Back to a reality more euphoric than euphoria.
*****
Mutedpoetshoo:http://mutedpoetchoo.wordpress.com/2010/10/02/back-in-96/
Sitting outside this church again
Mentally placing myself back in 96″
Baring witness to a soul extracting itself from a woman’s body from within
Leaving me to believe this here is hell on Earth and praying for the after life
Watching her die day by day
Dieing everyday until the molecules of her flesh were loose
enough to where her soul consolidates and slips through the cracks and abrasions of her breast
Once cushion for her grands and sons to rest our heads
upon her bosoms and the comfort of her motherly arms and speak of our troubles
Her wisdom guided us all
Excused her past because she has been through some rough shit
So I did not judge her when she picked up the bible read a coupled scripts
Took a pull and then a couple sips before falling to her knees
See in the privacy of her own home the Lord came and sat down
Said “no thanks” placed his arms around her and said “let it out my child
There she wept and just as if she gave birth to me herself
I felt her
I smelled her
I saw her
I spoke her tongue
I heard her like the instruments of my favorite song
All I was missing was her blood
See being raised by a man who showed me the ropes
he and his are all I know
Its like their blood evaporated and rained into my veins
She took truth to the grave
11years old back in 96′ my grandmother died from breast cancer
Cutting both of her tits
Watching her die with every hospital visit
Seeing my mother change her bandages
Her thoughts delusional, the cancer has reached her brain
nothing else for it to feast on
I’m a grown man sleeping with a night light
Afraid I’ll hear the phone ring once again and on the other end
a barer of bad news
Sitting outside this church again
Memories back from 96′ when my heart grew colder
Don’t know how big this bottle is inside me
So I crucified my tears to where my heart and soul met
Trying to drown two birds with every tear
Waiting on the day we’re united again where she’ll resurrect me from my insensitivity
rescue my soul and wipe the tears from my heart
See you may FEEL I don’t understand your sorrow
but see I KNOW you don’t understand my pain
*****
Lukewater: http://lukewater.wordpress.com/2010/11/30/charming-bees/
i try not to be shy
and subtle in speech
lying in my bed
naked
then waking up from sleep
i try not to assume
with the cards lying across the table
the green king reversed
enchanting, full and unstable
i read into them, their careful designs
hoping, “their whispering words
will change my mind”
i try not to be
not to exist, to feel and see
aside from this one death wish
i try to be
an artist, a creator
a naturalist, in theory
a leader of dogs
a human charmer, charming bees
but mostly, when I see the cards lying face down
mysteriously holding the future in their colored crowns
i try not to trust
what I always have before
with a final sweep of my hand
the cards go fluttering to the floor.
*****
Dapoet:http://versifier59.wordpress.com/2010/11/28/until-the-dawn/
It was another night
spent within
the arms of a dream
but not just
any dream that comes
from out of
the deepest darkness
of the night
like an unseen shadow
bringing terror
within it’s ghostly wake
or a one night
stand destined to slip
away like sand
flowing ever so swiftly
between ones
tightly clenched fingers
but the one who
warms my heart soothes
my restless soul
within her gentle embrace
and soars with me
on the clouds of ecstasy
upon the wings
of our love both mortal
and yet eternal
until the coming dawn
*****
Kimberly:http://globalgratitude.wordpress.com/2010/12/04/personified/
this early/late feeling
not adjusted or
acclimated to as
much as succumbed -
the persistent will of
a clock ticking
toxic, tenuous
into a lonely hall
sounds almost like
a symphony
I tried to give answers
to the questions,
burning in stone
ached to understand
and accept the
staleness of our
arguments -
only made fresh by
slashing wounds
that reopen at their
own volition
I have never aloud said
“I want to die”
because I never felt it
before -
but here it is now in
all its grinding glory
not to be acted on,
of course -
but the feeling, so rare
like that lingering of
you on my tongue
is omnipresent and
consuming
and echoes around this
room, vague and primal
slipping into my sleeves
leaving a sheen
giving life to yet
again another
abstraction
of senses
sharp
defined
clicking
click.
click.
click.
*****
Bekle:http://bekleberhane.wordpress.com/2010/12/04/atlantis/
O Great Atlantis
All of your glory betrayed you
All of your beauty has withered
Though peace you claimed
Peace you did not live
What you sent forth into the universe
The universe gave back to you
Atlantis
Atlantis
Ruins to be found by aliens among us
*****
Michael:http://booguloo.wordpress.com/2010/12/04/alabaster/
Alabaster goddess, small fissures did display
Suspended in an expectant posture, very poignant this way
Her hands outstretched and forward as if grasping for someone
Cheekbones raised I see a tear reflecting in the sun
Ghost of once a goddess, larger fissures now displayed
Seasons, decades swirling round, longer these last days
The last sail gone for so long with many setting suns
All that’s left is silence where their last words were all but sung
*****
Missy:http://rebicmel-poeticponderings.blogspot.com/2010/12/carry-on-tuesday-you-have-my-heart.html
Oh baby how I love it when…
you cast your line into the wind.
It falls upon, then in the lake,
you stand and give your legs a shake.
My heart beats fast when line is tugged,
and you L.O.L and say, “What fun”
You reel in quick to eye the catch,
I L.O.L as I smack your As…back.
How my love drips like Summer rain,
while in the boat you sing of Hank.
Oh baby this love is heaven sent,
fishing man and fishing chick.
*****
Fearless Dreams: http://fearlessdreams.wordpress.com/2010/10/25/in-moments-of-solitude-and-silence/
IN MOMENTS OF SOLITUDE AND SILENCE
IN THE NIGHT DEEP AND DARK
UNDERNEATH THE COVERS
LAYS A BROKEN HEART…
</3
Helped me up then let me down
Did you hear the fall
Did I make a sound
A story untold,
But you should know…
I told a handful of lies
Cause’ No I’ll Never show
How I felt and how I feel
Take a moment to realize
What you’ve left to be healed…
Did you know,
I wear a disguise
Yes I know you’re in love
Gladly but sadly
So am I
Love can’t be controlled
I’m sorry
She’s my one and only
“Buddy don’t you worry”…
In wishing on you
I’m saying Goodbye
A fierce heart can’t be tamed
I just hope someday
You wonder why
Yes, I’m standing alone
Being the one to leave
“I’ll never let you fall”
If I fall too hard…
Wouldn’t want you to see…
In Moments of solitude and silence
In the night deep and dark
Underneath the covers
Lays a broken heart…
*****
Papo: http://papotalk.wordpress.com/2010/11/29/new-beginnings/
I told my self
not over indulge
I told my self
id take it easy,
if anything
ive ignored
what ive said
& jumped off into greasy..
things
so slippery
im trying
to gain hold,
if anything
ive gone back
to my days
of old,
which isn’t
any good
that’s why im trying
re gain and hold,
what I once
understood
and had enough
interest not to let go..
so this being
a new week
that means
a new beginning,
im going/running
with the belief
that there is nothing
to stop me from winning,
if we encourage
one another
then we all
will be as strong & willing,
to not stop
not drop
what is a blessing
& soul appealing
*****
Neha: http://anothermansdream.blogspot.com/2010/12/wanderlust.html
Wanderlust in my dreams
Desire stronger than living
Feet cemented to the ground
Jealous of all who move around
Mind salivating to your words
Lusting after imperfect adventures
Story of your voyages
Echoing hollow in my world
The places your pictures paint
Ache in my heart unexplained
Wonder when it will be
Me smiling in the frame
With expeditions abound
Uncharted sky and ground
Unfamiliar taste and sounds
Making my experience count
Wanderlust in my dreams
Breathing patiently, living silently
Desperate to break today’s hold
As tomorrow I will fly gallantly
*****
Caught in the cogs: http://omgrey.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/all-i-see-is-your-absence/
When I awake each morning,
I do not see the sunrise.
I do not see autumn leaves
Swirling around in the breeze.
All I see is your absence.
My ears, deaf to the birds’ song,
Deaf to the wind in the trees.
They cannot hear the music
Of the life surrounding me.
All they hear is your silence.
My mind returns to your lips,
But I no longer feel them.
My skin, longing for your touch,
Has forgotten your caress.
All it feels is your distance.
I start a new empty day
Hoping to fill it with you
Hoping to find a way back
To see the heat in your eyes,
But all I see is your absence.
*****
Endless Journey: http://summaryofmysoul.wordpress.com/2010/12/04/right-as-rain/
the hyaline splendor of raindrops
crushing on your forehead that night -
steamy aura woven
for the heat exhaled by my thoughts
traveling your body
pinned down on my retina -
almost religiously
i communed on your smile
tasting like nectar,
and in the bosom of that storm
i was your perfect tragedienne,
promising to never disappoint,
you -
altar for my lust,
i -
your absolute burnout
*****
Drew: http://ukeepwalkingforward.wordpress.com/2010/11/30/little-deaths/
the hyaline splendor of raindrops
crushing on your forehead that night -
steamy aura woven
for the heat exhaled by my thoughts
traveling your body
pinned down on my retina -
almost religiously
i communed on your smile
tasting like nectar,
and in the bosom of that storm
i was your perfect tragedienne,
promising to never disappoint,
you -
altar for my lust,
i -
your absolute burnout
*****
Tasithoughts: http://tasithoughts.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/eyes-in-a-room/
Eyes across a room
meet
Heart pounding hard
connection
Body temperature rises
attraction
Time simply stops
desire
Music pulsates loudly
want
Day’s worries forgotten
bliss
Crowd blocks view
upset
Crowd clears away
lost
Eyes turn downward
tears
*****
M I M: http://mysticmarleei.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/7sins/
The urges of the flesh sneak up on me I find myself fighting them almost instantly Yet I know how they got in my mind Cuz the 7 deadly sins ain’t nothing but a thought And like the words from my mouth They pour on and on Leading you down paths that you probably shouldn’t be on You could be like me Sitting watching Oprah’s favorite things and Instead of feeling joy for their benefit I’m fighting to get envy off my back I know you laugh but it’s as simple as that And not only do I want the gifts they were given Now I want to BE Oprah Lusting after her wealth and notability Wishing I had a set and a crew Then I could walk around telling folks what to do And if I was Oprah, whew! I’d do it bigger than she does Gold plated cars and custom leather interior A home in every country and two in Liberia But here I go again Fighting that deadly sin Giving over to greed Instead of taking what I need Sitting on the couch Probably in a slouch Fighting the urge to be a sloth Sipping on veggie broth Wondering what else is in the kitchen Thinking about a munchies mission And as I think of it I feed my pride Thinking a midnight run to the fridge is nothing to hide It’s not like I’m eating buckets of chicken in the bed Or even that I’m over fed Just a snack here A bite there Beyond what I need to survive Even way more than I need to thrive Now gluttony has worked it’s way into my life Funny how I can see these things within my daily life Fighting the urge of the flesh Is far from fresh It truly can make your life a mess From the time you wake up to the time you sleep You are suspended just above the heap Of suffers and victims Not able to survive the FIGHT And all you can do is put your wrath to action Fight on to victory Even when the struggle is small Fight on to victory Even when it seems to take all you have Fight on to victory*****
Kundu:http://assayan.blogspot.com/2010/11/bloomingthrough-childs-eye.html (shared with osp)
As it seeks the warmth off bright vermilion
Little bud begins to bloom…
A transparent curtain drops
As the starving pupil learns-
to read Your vision.
And into its tiny world, intrudes Your universe
Sweetened with luke warm milk,
Glossy with lazy silk,
Red with Autumn rose,
Cozy with granny’s prose,
Mystic with fairy tales,
Glittering with silver vales…
And the little lies vie-
for a never land
in the vision of that old child…
Tiny droplets of crystal tears-
Coalesce into sublime azure
Where fairies sprinkle mad showers
of jubilant rains,
Purple-tinted with blooming pains…
Receding lanes….
And the sailor sails through-
Trillions of tiny waves
of VIBGYOR dreams,
As the fearful voyage through the crimson white
Harbors at Your glowing black…..
The little bud finally blooms
into a thorny red
Autumn Rose….
*****
B. K. Brown: http://bkbrown.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/shallow-bays-walk-behind/
Trees swift and sway about without my help,
And alas. Fortnight ‘pon fortnight,
I near not glance.
(Beings never do)
Doth the wind fault on me?
Remorselessly so-
In a field of antiquity in rows-
That pales beneath a stroke of time.
As we both now,
(You and I)
whirl,
backwards.
II.
And when Autumn breaks its final fall
Doth these trees savor their call?
-Catch me now -When I sing-
-To reflect these small mirror’d things
That in the sky show their beauty
As deaf becomes the player’s lute
(I glance now at you,
With songs stuck inside your hair.)
III.
And now I rest,
For some time.
Before the trench,
Fills it’s vines,
With myself.
‘Pon it’s knees,
Before we find,
A sanctity,
For your love,
and your hate,
That climbs above,
And hits stars straight.
As we flutter with them
(You and I)
To hear Kingdom come
As they swerve you nigh.
*****
Shawn Bird: http://shawnbird.com/2010/12/03/night-warmth/
Beneath my pillow
Left hands woven together in the night
Rings touching
Cold feet pressed into warm shins
Arms encircling.
Breath moves through my hair,
a breathing blessing.
We’re facing the same direction
In sleep
In life
And in love.
*****
Pat: http://patcegan.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/gates/
Gates 1
Out of the car
look for snakes,
mud and cow poop.
Open the gate,
chase cows away,
drive through,
close gate,
say bad words.
Change
perspective.
Out of the car,
look up,
trail of moonlight
surrounded by innumerable stars
makes me grateful
for gates
and God´s glory!
Lock the gate
no one can get in.
Safer.
Bad guys are free.
I am locked in,
doesn’t feel safer.
Why am I
the one imprisoned?
Gates 3
Open, close.
Open, close.
Are gates
to keep out
or to keep in?
Gate is open.
Should I leave,
grab a new opportunity?
Will the gate be open
when I return,
or is this a one-time-offer?
Which side of the gate
do I want?
Is it my choice
or did I give
my choice away?
How many gates
do I have in a life time?
*****
Wordsworthamillion:http://wordsworthmillions.wordpress.com/2010/05/14/201/
I stand alone
with the sky above and
the ground beneath
I want to reach the sky
but the ground holds me strong
wonder how I came to be here
alone
the breeze flutters my leaves
but I fear the strong wind
from the river
threatens to uproot me
there is no one to defend me
’cause I stand alone
*****
Chick under construction:http://chickunderconstruction.wordpress.com/2010/11/21/sunday-morning/
Lift me up a little higher
So I can see over the Monday morning blues that are already starting to set in
And I can move beyond the mistakes I made last week
Heal whatever problems are testing my faith
In my body, my mind, my spirit
Because I desire
To have the physical strength to handle whatever obstacles are sent to make me stronger
I desire
To have enough wisdom to make decisions untainted by present circumstances or worldly desires
I desire
To be filled with enough patience and peace to wait on what is meant for me
Lift me up a little higher
Not so I can rise above others
And not so I can be more than I need to be
But so I can pull as many as possible up with me
And they can benefit from the journey I have been promised and I will have your favor
Because I shied away from greed, selfishness and pettiness
I give all I have with every heave of my chest and bat of my eyelash
I will not get tired, I will not give up, I will not give out
So in the end
I can be lifted up a little higher
*****
Trevor: http://letrezblog.wordpress.com/2010/11/27/will-you-be-my-valentine/
I’d get you something for sure,if I knew where you live,
But then the number 1245 keeps hitting me back,
I’d get you anything,even the moon to bring it down and give,
For you,my darling angel, in a tiny lil gift pack.
I know I might’ve been too fast too soon,
Please do tell me dear,so that I may hold myself slow,
And tell this crazy heart of mine which runs a la lune,
To take it easy, to flow with your flow.
But dear,I can’t rest no more,I wish to ask you just one,
Just one question dear,just one to give me a start,
Give us a start if you wish it to be, it always can be undone,
Will you be my Valentine? ,my pearl, will you stay in my heart?
*****
Carl: http://stillfugue.com/2010/12/01/empty-holiday-boxes/
At the office, why do we fool ourselves
With “holiday” decorating?
Empty “holiday” boxes
Litter our paths. Plastic greenery
Muddies every hallway, every wall,
Every cubicle row, every eve,
And there is one large wreath
With the sick and wilted red and green ribbons
Leaning against the recycle bin.
Every thing is plastic. Our souls
Join this dishonest array of junk.
*****
Toss that old map away:http://liderata.blogspot.com/2010/12/waiting-with-lights.html
Love, can you hear them?
A solidarity of flames,
murmuring
For you, i lighted them
A vigil – we are keeping
My darling,
It has been a long parting
*****
Sumit: http://myriad-sumit.blogspot.com/2010/12/dont-go-away.html
I am happy to be in your heart
For it is the only heaven I know
If you leave me alone and apart
I will be pierced and so your heart
With the same arrow
Remember the moments we cherished
Together, holding hand in hand
Don’t you let me feel banished
Think of the special times we relished
Over the argument we just had
You have every reason to be angry
I cannot blame you for it
My eyes were hidden behind the drapery
For it was definitely an act of folly
Your heart, with happiness I want to lit
Don’t you go away, my love, I am sorry
Don’t you go away
*****
The Enchanted River: http://jargnar.wordpress.com/2010/12/03/the-prophecy-that-is/
If only i had a chance to make things better
For they aren’t any fair now, never
Oh, i could build cities n’ kingdoms
None too many to eradicate our ambits
Love and plenty in each and every
Young and alike, no more foreboding
I have tried, and i will so on,
Had i had a say, in his divine play,
Augmented on this reality of our tale,
Dancing, merry, and a concord, yet faraway.
A wisdom, stark, and on my face.
Crimson, and raw the dusk sets
Higher powers in its play
Anger, Age, and no other humanly in the fray
Nigh, the time draws, so slow and soft
Creeping unto mortality, bare, and bitten
Elegies and sobs, and an old violin say
Together and only thus, a song is sung
Of erased pasts and a united dominion.
Make a wish, and whistle into the air,
And listen, listen close, she’ll say,
Kings and commanders have come this way,
Enduring what i have bequeathed.
The days that were, and those that will be,
Hurdles that there were, and those that are,
Incepting the fact, of pervert men and sinful too,
Notwithstanding a force this strong,
Gore and death that followed, a bout of blasphemy
Sans a box, to put these sins back in,
Beloved and all, see it and sing, a song of accord,
Edge it out of your lives, the sorrow and ire,
Transcend beyond, for we aren’t meant this way,
To a happy life, and no qualms or despair,
Enervate that greed, and do it now,
Reality will not last for another epoch.
*****
M M: http://dasuntoucha.blogspot.com/2010/12/pathological-interment.html
…and
if I lied
and said
I felt fine
would you see
the convenience
of a disguised truth
leaking out the corner of my eyes
marveling…
…as it meanders
…as it evolves
…as it erodes a gorge into the emptiness of me.
Pity…
…that sorrow bathes
in the comfort
of barren days
and a tattered past
and a bullet riddled present
and a cellophane future
and a juxtaposed prose that is easily disposed
in the shadow of unsubstantial twilight
as
love
splendor
sex
&
death
perform
in a unheralded
quartet
which echoes thru the halls
of a Sistine dimension
tucked neatly
under the arm
of ignorance
pieces of flesh
and compassion
dangling
greedily
plucked upon
by scavengers born
of one-night stands
and tryst unplanned
who with starving thirst
partake of a poison
concocted with solitude
and dust from renaissance’s marrow.
The taste of it soothes like a genocide and vodka chaser…
…served from a chilled glass forged in a kelm of pain.
*****
Speluska: http://speluska.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/restless-mind/
The funny thing in life is that we always want more,
what we have isn’t enough, that’s for sure.
Sometimes life looks pathetic and we are never enough ethic.
I kept running away,
maybe because people never asked me to stay.
If I look deeply into my life,
It seems like I’m always in a fight.
Relationships make me sad,
This must be my bad.
I was never the best in anything I tried,
Oh how many times I have cried.
I make friends and let them far away,
This is why not many of them like to stay.
I am watching my family grazing down and down,
I want to help but they are closed like a prawn.
Sometimes I find myself wondering what will happen to me,
how long and how nice my life will be.
Are you sure you want to stay with me?
If not please walk away,
I don’t want you to start hating my pain.
*****
Dr. Drmadangoyal:http://drmadangoyal.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/610/
Sincere passion
Can
Lead to creation
Duty-bound is true fame
Mind
Need be in proper frame
Millions come and go
Unless
One can have true show
Truth is ultimate eternity
Because
It is purpose of creativity
Wisdom, acts, examples and life
Show
The truth of person’s real might
Person lives in deeds
But
Have grown the seeds
Those help the humanity
And
Devoid of the cruel vanity
Trees grow from graveyards
Result
In strength of life afterwards
*****
Lu Ann:http://likesomepassingafternoon.blogspot.com/2010/12/breathe.html
I closed my eyes today enjoying the soft shadows the light played on my eyelids.
Red figures, soft figures…
like a dancer perfoming a lullaby with perfect and gracious moves.
My mind.
For the first time in a long time, a white blur…
one of those precious moments that never last: absolute tranquility.
I started to fell asleep and when I was slowly fading into dreams,
I heard your voice gently becoming one with my conscience.
Sometimes I dream with your voice.
But then, when I thought there were no more moves to make
or thoughts to think, it came to my mind as clear as it has
never been before.
Anna, -I said to myself -you tend to reach out for perfection,
and you never notice it.
You sometimes try too hard, you exasperate yourself.
Breathe!,-I said -breathe Anna!
Leap and trust, and stop thinking,
Aiming for perfection is the greatest silent weapon you possess.
Disarm yourself.
*****
A. B. Thomas: http://abthomas.wordpress.com/2010/04/21/angels-wail/
Twas on this morn as I sipped lazily
From my freshly purchased mug
That I felt an airy shoulder tug
And I watched as a demon walked by,
Salacious smirk and twinkle in his eye.
Angels cry out in furious sorrow,
“why does he walks free after three hundred morrows?!”
Shall I be the vengeful hand of God?
Impale through his body a justified rod?
Angel wail – thundering through my head
Demanding to see such taint dead.
Rewind just a wee past a year
And the images smash through- reappear
Chilling the sunshine away
Focusing on a particular grim day
A dollar coin tossed upon a non existent breast,
Payment doled to let his conscious rest.
A mother’s cry of alarm and disgust
Of watching her knight’s corrupted lust
Towards one who once was in her womb he did ravage
Not in kind but with savage.
“But we are in love,” he doth protest
“no creation of mine, so no incest
At five, she’s woman enough for me,
We should be together – can’t you see?”
Angel wail – thundering through my head
Demanding to see such taint dead.
Fully confess did he to the police without any denial;
Free still with the hard work of a lawyer with morals made of bile.
Justice is given no light
Since the criminal code says it’s his right
“he’s sick, he needs help, not a cell”
perhaps I should help him hasten his journey to hell.
Does he stare from his window down at the park?
Does he slither through another child’s dreams so dark?
Can he actually be kept at bay?
Or will another innocent fall to his way?
Angel wail – thundering through my head
Demanding to see such taint dead.
*****
Write it: http://robinelizabeth58.wordpress.com/2010/11/30/calmness/
Cool smooth words,
Echoing, repeating.
My resistance blurs,
Triumphing, defeating.
Low, deep hums,
Rhythmically beating.
My heart in my chest,
Fading and fleeting…
Puffed up from pride,
Solemnly cheating.
Tears always hide,
Impressing, so meeting.
Discretely, indifferently,
Intently heating.
Wordless arguments,
Endlessly conceiting.
Low, mellow sounds,
Mindlessly deleting.
Sympathy and arrogance,
Apathetically treating.
My dissonance,
Your disregard.
My absences,
Have made this hard.
Broken promises,
Left us scarred.
But too afraid to admit,
Our minds were jarred.
Impatient.
Arrogance.
Leave it be.
At a glance.
In it’s place…
In a trance.
Freedom,
By the quiet sound.
Dark shadows hover,
Pressed against the ground.
*****
Lynna: http://lynnaima.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/the-bastis-by-the-road/
Not yet 13
Paperweight thoughts burrow on her frown
Sunken eyes, swollen from unshed tears
She sits by the road
Dust laden wind
Seep into dried nostrils
Caresses fuzzed yellowed hair
From the beating of an unforgiving sun
Tainted from an insatiate stomach
That forgot how to gorge and distribute
To each cell that yearns to be filled
She sits, watching
*****
Bodhirose: https://bodhirose.wordpress.com/2010/11/24/whose-bones-are-these-2/
Hiking along the well-worn path
always looking down ahead of me,
I spy some bones laid out neatly.
They’re tiny and delicate,
perfect in form of the animal
that once had enclosed them.
How had he died, what fate
had he faced that ended his
life upon that trail?
He wasn’t eaten, his bones
were intact, as if he had
quietly taken a nap and
drifted gently from this plane.
His remains weren’t scattered,
they rested whole and entire.
A tiny skull, rib cage and legs
all bleached totally white
from the sun’s blinding glare.
My mind wonders about this
tiny creature, had he a family
that missed his return?
Were young ones relying
on him for food that day
when he didn’t come back
from his foraging?
This was a being as valued
as me–with a soul and a purpose
filled with life and energy.
I wonder these things as I see
animals that have passed–all
life is precious, no one’s more,
no one’s less.
*****
Wordsworthmillions: http://wordsworthmillions.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/the-pumpkin-story/
It was in the middle of the road
smashed like no one’s business
quizzing, I stared at its splashed juice for long
to take a snap of its orange flesh and white seeds.
I conjured stories about it
the reason it was there
not in someone’s plate
why a passing animal didn’t feed on it.
A man and wife going home from the farm
had a cat fight, clawing at each other
the wife hit him with it in anger
in-turn the man smashed it on the road.
The beggar’s son stole it from the garden
only to be seen by the farmer
who chased him heels on with a stick
in the process threw it at the farmer.
The rich man’s daughter was given it
lovingly she carried it home to cook
until she met her father on the way
who threw it away saying rich don’t feed on it.
The man shopped according to his wife’s list
put the loot on the back of his scooter
and having had it for all meals in a day
decided to smash it making it look like an accident.
Or maybe it happened to be there
just like I happened to be there
at that moment, just by chance
it was no one’s business to conjure stories about it.
*****
Sam373: http://sam373.wordpress.com/2010/11/14/i-am-wind/
SEE HOW GENTLY I CARESS THY CHEEK;
YON FAIREST OF EDEN’S MAIDENS.
I FILL THY SAIL WITH MY PRESENCE
AND SEND THEE ON A JOYOUS RIDE;
I BRING THEE A FRAGRANCE OF A THOUSAND
LAVENDER BUSHES FROM ACROSS THE WAY
FORGIVE ZEPHYR IF HE LIFT THY HEM,
I SELDOM HAVE TIME TO PLAY;
FOR I AM WIND
THE LEGIONARY MARIA.
IT IS SAID THAT I EJACULATE THE BIRDS ACROSS THE SKY,
AND THAT MARIA, THAT’S ME,
MAKES THEM MOUNTAINS SOUND LIKE GHOSTS UP THERE –
A-CRYIN.
AND WHEN I’M IN A FRENZY,
I’M CALLED BY MANY A NAME;
SOME FOLK CALL ME DEMONIC TWISTER,
AND OTHERS, ARIEL;
ANCIENT WHALERS AND OCEANAUTS CALL ME,
THE IMP OF HELL,
WHILE INHABITANTS OF THE OCEAN’S SHORES
SAY THAT I GIVE THE HURRICANE ITS GALE.
AND WHEN I’M TAKEN FOR GRANTED,
IN ANGER I UPROOT TREES.
IF I SHOULD TURN COLD SHOULDER YOUR WAY,
I MAY CAUSE YOUR KNEES TO FREEZE.
DENY ME IF YOU CAN;
DEFY ME,
IF YOU DARE!
WHEREVER YOU GO,
WHATEVER YOU DO,
REMEMBER,
I AM ALWAYS NEAR . . .
****
Ashbeezone: http://ashbeezone.wordpress.com/2010/11/25/depths-of-my-heart
The Depths of My Heart
Holding immense of varying emotions
Running inside through these veins
Causing Terrible IMPACT all over
Controlling over my Li’l Brain.
Sometimes very happy,
Sometimes that much sad
While, Sometimes in love,
Sometimes in agony,
And even sometimes very mad.
Thoughts revolving around
Hovering all the time.
Even inspiring me so much from anybody
And making to try to be like them for a while.
The Depths of My Heart
Makes me just like a Soldier
Who Plays with Death
Standing One Step Closer
Getting bruises and scars all around
Still Unstoppable to take a Break
Seeking for peace
And Fighting for Independence
Even putting his life in Stake
He hates Tyranny and Slavery
And Gives a F*ck to Terrorism
Only thing he believes in
Blood and Sweat form Patriotism
Everybody wanna be like him
Wanna be like that BRAVE
Would get ready for a Sacrifice
And die happily in The Holy Grave
The Depths of My Heart
Makes me just Like a Man
To hold himself with a Belief
Conquering all the damn strength
To move out from his own GRIEF
Having a Duel with The Mighty Satan
Like a Big “DABANGG” (Fearless Guy) ;)
Without having any Fear
And even, without having any doubt
N’ putting his all power
To whip all those DAMN threats
That tried to take him out.
The Depths of My Heart
Makes me just Like a Friend
Who never forgets you till the End
And, he’s the one who never pretends.
Sharing his thoughts with you
Giving you happiness in every Moment
To maintain his Friendship
at every sort of aspect
Even would do anything for his friend
with Hustle Loyalty n’ Respect
And, Finally
The Depths of My Heart
Now, makes me just Like a Lover
Whose LOVE just grown in Rain
Like a Blooming Flower
Getting fascinated to somebody
Ain’t any sort of Lust?
Looking to that beautiful
Ohh Baby !! It makes him to Blush
Thinking about her anywhere
Many Shitty things in his head get flush
And It seems like, He’s like Y’all
Who finally had a sweet CRUSH.
These are certain thoughts
That usually lies in my Yard
And I am still embracing the FACT
I won’t break, cut n’ torn them apart
Whatever they might be
Even else if it sometimes
Makes me Feel bit Retard
Coz’ these things would and forever
Inside The Depths of My Heart.
*****
Bless the words,
4 they are as darting as swords;
Bless the strings of your instrument,
4 they are more resilient than your judgment;
Bless the blog hosts,
4 they offer your chance to do posts;
Bless the keyboard,
4 they are hardware of thoughts;
Bless the internet,
4 they are the magician of communication.
Bless the poets,
4 they write and share their beautiful souls.
Bless the shoulders,
4 they form a distinct shelter.
Bless your finger tips,
4 they are the ones pressing the keys to make online trips.
Bless the spine,
4 it is the reason you are here and feel divine!
*****
Colors of Mind: http://chinmay28.wordpress.com/2010/11/17/a-malignant-grief-2/
My world now has changed,
Wrapping me with borrowed gleams: short-ranged,
To have my pains unnoticed and the cries unheard.
Smiles are uncharmed and desires are disarmed,
Nights are moonless and days are without lights,
Chats are without pats with happiness under the mats,
Subdued and colourless are the scarce dreams,
Without a hint of any existent gleams.
This is a woeful and malignant grief,
And I cannot explain it in brief.
It’s more like beating a dead horse,
Because I know I can only remorse.
*****
Words from within: http://asmiworld.wordpress.com/2010/11/27/memories-of-the-night/
It’s twelve midnight
As this urge I fight
To go near him
Drawn by his endearing sight
His body radiates a heat
I give in unable to beat
The magic of his persona
Always a delicious treat
Over him my fingers run
And then begins the endless fun
He shows me the world
As I sit here, stunned!
We share a connection so deep
But there’s a time to sow and a time to reap
So good night for today Mr. Laptop
You and I should both go to sleep!!!
*****
A Ruler’s Kingdom: http://dieselfromthad.wordpress.com/2010/11/30/tales-of-a-murdered-heart/
Standing in a room
darker than pitch black
extreme suspense takes
a hold of my dying heart……
watching it take its last few beats
blood spilling out from thence
you can see my life force
evaporating like condensation
when it hits warm air
Pondering this tragic anomaly
noticing how dire
the situation really is
I take a step back
and look how I traveled
to this point in time…
seeing the flashbacks
as if they were
full length movies in my mind
The love that once
encompassed my being
is what bring the curtains down
on the stage play of my heart
believing in the immaculate wonders
of it
love’s betrayal struck back
ripped my flesh entwined
and pierced right through..
Leaving a gapping hole
to stand as a testimony
of the horrendous act
that just took place
not having a second
to even contemplate
my options
if any
of what was about to be fold me
And as I stare down
at this lifeless pile of flesh
I once called a heart
I read between the moments
of life and death
seeing eerie shadow of the Grim Reaper
when he comes to reprocess what left of me
I can tell him that
these are the tales of a murdered heart
*****
Ibok: http://lordemmanuel.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/when-pilots-play/
the moon was on leave
and the night was completely black.
This was an unfamiliar sight
for the people who were used
to seeing a night filled with stars.
The atmosphere was consumed
by sadness and discomfort.
The people longed
for their usual nights.
Then the Pilots thought
of how they could help
and chose to fly
thousands of airplanes
into the night sky
to act like night stars.
.
The people came out rejoicing
and sang the Pilots’ song.
*****
Heather: http://heathergracestewart.com/2010/06/26/all-the-things/
All the things
we’ve left unsaid—
like listening to sea shells;
their secrets stolen,
or long ago dead.
It’s no surprise
the tide’s come in,
yet we’re still wading,
searching for treasure;
for signs, for contention,
for time, for redemption;
and all the things
we’ve left unsaid.
All the things
we’ve left unsaid—
like listening to sea shells;
their secrets stolen,
or long ago dead.
*****
Pages from my mind: http://ladynimue.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/beginning-or-end/
All the things
we’ve left unsaid—
like listening to sea shells;
their secrets stolen,
or long ago dead.
It’s no surprise
the tide’s come in,
yet we’re still wading,
searching for treasure;
for signs, for contention,
for time, for redemption;
and all the things
we’ve left unsaid.
All the things
we’ve left unsaid—
like listening to sea shells;
their secrets stolen,
or long ago dead.
*****
Gnarly: http://gnarlyoak.wordpress.com/2010/11/22/looming-moon/
I look to the sky on a damp fall morn,
The early blue heaven marred streaks
Clawed by many shades of gray.
Far off to the West were mountains
Waiting for the coming day
And above them was a floating rock:
The full and glowing moon.
Just as the sun blew its waking horn
From behind the Eastern peaks
The dim orb stopped; it had something to say:
Come to me, my child, so lost you are;
Here on the craters you will find righteous way.
It is only this globe that these earthly legs can walk
But up there – where it’s glowing – my thoughts forever loom.
*****
Deadpoet88: http://deadpoet88.wordpress.com/2010/11/24/on-writing/
Volatile, like ethanol,
My thoughts evaporate,
One after another,
Until the mind finds,
Itself drunken on words,
Flowing endlessly from,
The depths of my imagination.
Worlds unknown, borrowed,
From the world we live in,
Encumbered by the limitations,
Of all we see and believe,
Yet still the surreal voices,
Echoing from written verse,
Seem so strange to hear.
Visions of our deepest fears,
Darkness and chaos,
Come together to spread,
Terror in our hearts,
Only to be shattered
By heroes unheard of,
To melt all that makes us afraid.
Like an artist without a brush,
Always painting pictures,
From the depths of the soul,
With colors unknown,
But felt in every stroke,
Of the pen we dearly hold,
As the heart bleeds.
The song of the heart,
Escapes as barely a whisper,
Floating through the air,
Like a fragrant perfume,
Sweet and uplifting,
Touching all but the person,
For whom it was sung.
These feelings in my heart,
Rarely spoken of,
Yet always written about,
Bring into solid form,
My true inner self,
More realistically than,
The words left unspoken.
What am I without my muse;
Without the pen in my hand,
And thoughts wild in my mind;
Without empty words,
Building so much meaning;
Without momentary feelings,
Bringing life permanence?
I would be Nothing,
But the sweet fragrance,
Of wild strawberries,
Floating through the air,
Untouched, unfelt, unheard.
Yet always present,
Silently hidden.
*****
My unique world of poetry: http://harshikaram.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/aroma-thursday-poets-rally-week-34/
The sweetness of a flower,
The fragrance of a perfume,
The scent of the rain,
The perfume of delicious food,
The smell of cloth,
The essence of book pages,
Such wonderful aroma these hold,
Just take them in and don’t let go.
*****
Wiserskydriver: http://wiserskydiver.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/if-i-could-why-would-i-not/
If I could why could you not
Doubt the mind and heart follows
Mind seeks the storm and heart reveals the plot
Expose the doubt and why would you not
If I could why could they not
Answers aren’t created they exists like sun beams
Questions asked should be right to make wrong blot
Truth or false observer judges and why should they not
If I could why would me not
Knowing emotions have no bounds
Stopping passion not simple as tying a knot
If I knew this would happen block it why would I not
*****
Yola: http://poetry.yolaunlimited.com/?p=27
You consume my every thought
I long for you like my skin desires the gentle breeze after a long winter
My heart bursts at the thought of you, awakening my deepest passion
You are so elusive Beloved
In the songs of the world I find you
Each breath taking me closer to the existence that I know belongs to us
Patience escapes me as I do my best to hold true to the passion in my heart
Yet something moves me
There is a stirring deep in my soul that trembles with the desire to love
to let myself be consumed by the ecstatic perfume of love
In me, in you, we find one another
This is my deepest, most sincere desire
The gentle return to a state of complete wholeness
That belongs to all living creatures
Let us adore each other, with the memory of the whole
Come to me my love
Surrender with me
In the abyss of time
Made into eternity
Take my hand
Walk with me
Into the unknown
Lined with the grace
of miracles
*****
Robin:http://rrel.wordpress.com/2010/11/26/different-forms-as-treasures/
you ask me to be still
and so i do..
you lie hidden within, unfelt
with a shield strong as stone
pushing you away.
in all directions.
don’t you hear the answers now?
as they quietly become one with the search
for what is touching you?
you are beautiful
everything is alive
in different forms
as treasures.
watch time stand still with me. ok?
help me to let go and to become one with the mystery.
please
*****
Dan: http://danroberson.wordpress.com/2010/11/30/small-simple-things-with-love/
Because I am a poet,
I am wiser than I think,
I see the world with clarity,
Able to mix fantasy with reality,
Discovering beauty wherever I look,
Or find ugliness and mayhem out my door,
I can’t ignore the world and waste my life,
I try to create order out of chaos,
And do small simple things with love,
Because I am aware of life and death,
And within the parameters of my time,
I am working on my legacy,
For a poet leaves more than leaves of grass,
For life’s deepest meaning is in relationships,
For all the experience I learned,
Loves once had, so foolish spent,
Were ground powder fine as the world turned,
But my world is much bigger than loves lost,
My fingerprints have left indelible marks,
Doing a thousand small simple things with love,
Comforting those left standing alone,
Who shed great tears of pain,
Encouraging those who lacked hope,
Lifting their spirits from the depths,
Urging those who needed words of action,
Doing something that would make someone’s life better,
Small simple things with love,
My footprints also linger on,
For I’ve walked carefully throughout life,
Stepping forward in truth and purpose,
Walking tall and unafraid to face the world,
Leaving footprints, I’m sure,
Yet unseen by me if I turn and look,
So I go trudging on,
My words heartfelt and true,
Knowing that my words are powerful,
Solving problems, gathering information,
Abstract thinking, concrete thinking,
Words that have the power of life and death,
Should be words of love and peace,
Kind words, affirming words, a chance to show mercy,
I am a poet and I share my essence,
My heart is open and in my dreams,
I leap barriers that block love’s capricious whim,
I do not want to keep love’s fire without,
It has to burn within,
I am vulnerable to the world,
And my dreams are of love and peace,
Each footprint, each fingerprint, that I leave,
Will be small simple things with love,
For I am a poet.
*****
The Juliebook:http://thejuliebook.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/heroine/
I am not a heroine—
no warrior, no angel, no queen.
Sure I’m slaying some dragons
but only if they threaten me.
So if you need a rescue
don’t come knocking on my door.
Been there, done that
and the result always
leaves me more helpless than before.
I am not heroin—
not your drug, your escape, your crutch.
I’m not yours to use and abuse,
to consume until all is gone.
So if you thrive on addiction
don’t think you can squeeze me dry.
Been there, done that
and the result always
leaves me bleeding on the inside.
You taught me a lesson
and I learned it well:
Giving has a limit
but taking never ends.
You locked me in a tower
but I don’t need the key;
you left the window open
and I set myself free.
I am not a heroine—
no warrior, no angel, no queen.
But maybe the girl down the road
can see there is strength inside me
Perhaps one day she will say,
“I too can leave this mess I’m in.
Been there, done that
and the result this time
will make a heroine of me.”
*****
Seasweetie: http://seasweetie.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/haiku/
Geese pepper the sky
Wings lingering through sunset
Hastening winter
My hands turn to bone
As the chill creeps inside them
Killing summer’s blood
Eyes become crystals
Snow slithers from pregnant clouds
Freezing unshed tears of loss
Pansies encrypted
In their pottery coffins
Wait for spring’s warm breath
*****
Thoughtsnotlost: http://thoughtsnotlost.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/descend/
Descend now from the stars, the heavens–
of origins unknown, too great to be seen.
The spark, light, shining way.
Inspire me to move, write, create.
Change thoughts, make them words.
Guide me, let my creativity be free.
Descend from your perch, those places hard to reach.
Descend and cleanse.
Descend. Renew.
*****
Victoria:http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2010/11/27/b-is-for-bougainvillea/
Sometimes,
when you’re aware,
life hurls its beauty
in your face.
Nature you know
so well
comes of age in
her seduction.
Color mounts
surrounding walls,
invades the senses with
its brilliance,
fondles, tantalizes,
coaxes you till you
understand her message,
surrenders
her loveliness into
your hands
so you will
linger for awhile.
*****
Sherrie:http://sherrietheriault.wordpress.com/2010/11/28/how-ive-come-upon-the-world/
I wax poetic and burn the candle at both ends.
I borrow from the beginning; I steal from the end
And come up short; feeling deeply cheated.
I pass myself off as the time-keeper but am the time-pleaser
Arch-traitor selling short the days and hours
For approval not fulfillment.
I put away my true identity, mammal, human, the love of.
I have exchanged it for the mask and cape of the Do-do-doer.
A tragic figure of myth and legend who breaks the spirit
Of everyone who attempts the portrayal.
In spite of this the roads teem with actors
Becoming caricatures of a life less lived.
The world is more than a stage
And I must free powers greater than to be more than an audience.
*****
LeiffyV: http://notae.net/blog/?p=513
Who do you think you are
You attempt to snuff my flame
With your thoughtless words
Dragging me down with you
Hoping to devour my soul
Who do you think you are
Removing my support system
Allowing the toxins back in
To justify your fear of me
In hopes of delivering my soul
Who do you think you are
Sitting on a throne of granite
Idly waving your hand as a king
Looking down on your serfs
Granting salvation to my soul
Who do you think you are
You earned my sacred trust
Words drenched in sweet poison
Ringing of empty promises
Needing a stake in my soul
Why do you do what you do
Is it out of raw jealousy
The green bitterness reflecting
Your deep hidden darkness
Trying to charm my soul
Who do you think you are
We were kin once, long ago
You and I bled, wept, laughed
Like angelic mates of eternity
Our two souls woven into one
I thought I knew you
I hoped you still cared
I wanted nothing but the best
I strove for pleasing you
I wanted to see your soul
*****
The Enchanted River: http://jargnar.wordpress.com/2010/11/30/ticket-master-mr-kari-king/
Bold n’ beautiful Mr. Kari was
Emerging from his abysmal sleep, yawn!
Agape, he sat, darn it was three, and cloudy too
Unswerving routine that he has had, for years now
To the loo, and then, when, who?
Yet time till four, the arrival of the rail engine
Boohoo, and the ever long list
Egregiously beckoning him, oh la-di-da-da,
Yip yip he sipped his usual dark coffee
Out and about, wearing his black coat
Nonetheless, his white collar tie too, mind it please.
Doing his thing, waiting for the four-o-clock train,
Dull and quiet the afternoon was,
Reverberating the siesta town the train roared in,
Every man’s dream, a quiet afternoon’s sleep
And Mr. Kari with his ticket-check list,
Moved through the compartments of the 80′s beast,
Seasons and trains, and of ticket master Mr. Kari King.
*****
D: http://dcec.wordpress.com/2010/11/18/aimless/
Giving up a parcel
of my dream.
Traded two summer’s worth
of worrisome epiphany
for a life time of looking back.
Its worth is a brooding question
that hangs over,
how tragic!
There is no way I would know,
It was not written in my palm.
Time lining my life as it happens,
I decay.
*****
Words4afriend: http://words4afriend.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/words/
It is but few words we give life to express
Marriage of meaning and feeling
A word is only a picture without connection
Without description of now and forever
A word without dependence of souls
Without judgment of thought toward one
You are what makes’ it real
Words, descriptions of us
*****
Caribbeanfool:http://caribbeanfool.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/tabula-rasa/
all the same
calm before the storm.
drinking from
absinthe flowers,
watching colors
disassociate from linnaean
classification &
mocking everything
from a distance of thought
that might be miles
wide.
now, i ain’t duck-
walking or anything like
that. there’s deprecating logic;
instead i just laugh
at old scars thrown over
wounds like blankets.
just old jokes really, a
muffled voice tryin’
like hell to tell
a story nobody
wants to hear.
nothing true can
ever be kept quiet. my smile
slips into an unknown number
of accidental revelations.
time will never be
this easy to steal
again, hand-me-
down-stories of
an indolent thief giving
away his rewards make
rounds faster than i could.
confidence won’t
be a problem. holding
so close to the vest
brings the curious onlooker
forward to see, even
without any linga franca. no
desire to save or
take sides on some
fucked up rationalization
regarding how this
world ‘should’ work.
it ain’t my department.
gears grind & i
oil them. lips
tingle as answers dissolve
& enzymes begin
working magic. two
years ago, i helped pick
the man in charge;
that’s all the damage
i’m gonnna do. now on,
it’s languid acceptance
of what i see.
more ‘n enough
anyway I weigh out,
ahead in the end.
*****
Olivia: http://oliviasmindlymatters.wordpress.com/2010/05/17/lie/
Men Lie, all men lie..
To cover up their imperfections.
Fault; may I say?
When women do so,
They are labeled as loose..!!
Men don’t regret
Even when they may know that they are at a fault!
They present the matter in such a manner,
That the related women regret-
Either, because they feel- it may be due to her;
Or, after once they learn about the reality..
I wish- I had a wand:
That could change the Final verdict,
Could change the situation to Our benefit;
So we no more remain the vulnerable- getting affected the most.
*****
Dennis: http://dennisgopoems.blogspot.com/2010/12/two-syllables.html
I’ve seen you
Somewhere in the realm
Of my mind
Expressing not one
But two syllables.
“I live.”
You said.
The imaginary threshold
Shows no sign
Of believing -
Not until
The word was out
About a prodigal son
Returning
To the bounty
Of his father.
*****
IBEINGME: http://iambeingme.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/terms-and-conditions/
i was never free to be
from the beginning
i wasn’t what I wanted to be
always holding back the feeling
we started out of nothing
and just like that we ended
and with no warning
everything just faded
we were playing under your terms
you were so full of conditions
to be with you only this way or the other
and none of them were mine
you looked like you were bluffing
I was never more serious
but my cards never hit the table
cause you never let me play
now I’ve been thinking
may be its better this way
that I never got to play my game
I know when to walk away
I don’t take less than I deserve
cause when you were full of conditions
I had only one
i was trying to live up to your expectations
but you never tried to live up to mine
under my own terms
things would’ve been different
I’m not that complicated
you only had to be there.
*****
Alakaline: http://alakaline.blogspot.com/2010/11/no-jazz-for-me-tonight.html
It’s the rain again; splattering
drops smile into my face
with koel thoughts of mango.
Your camouflage was perfect-
black on black, white on white.
It’s no jazz for me tonight.
Did you think we were molded plastic
that our lives could intertwine
then untangle at will
and each walk away whole?
The ghosts will call for me tonight.
No, no jazz for me tonight.
My skin still quivers to a drumbeat
strumming the rim of a vibration.
The castanets shall fly tonight!
Hey, no jazz for me tonight.
*****
Like a thought unchanted:http://thoughtunchained.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/red-planet-writer/
I have a deep rooted fear,
black-leafed, withered-stemmed,
that one evening I will settle,
pen in hand, page blank,
and the ink will never flow,
the page never sprout
inky life from my hand:
that I become hollow,
mute god of words,
that I will never create
as I was created.
I fear I am Mars,
not warrior but
red dusted rock,
barren desert
whipped by dull winds
that once moved plants
where now mere fossils
of the smallest roots remain.
I fear I shall one day, like the sun,
burst, never to flare again.
*****
Hoiden: http://hoiden.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/the-lighter-side-thursday-rally-week-33/
The creepy guy
Who lives down the block
The night show host
Who just loves to talk
The punk with the funky ‘do’
The cool jock
You want to hang on to
The uber smart nerd
Who’ll just blow your mind
The secret crush
You seek at the corner of your eye
The entertainer
Who tickles your funny bone
The incredibly shy
The one with the wandering eye
The fiery volcano
You’d better run for the roof
The vengeful kind
Who you’d better beware
The egoistic jerk
What more is to say
The boy next door
The one you think you know
The charming thief
Who’ll make you swoon
To his honeyed tones
The super sweet guy
Who you shouldn’t let go
The silent and strong hunk
For whom you go to movies for
And then the Zen
Just around the bend
Oh these men
What would we do with
And without them!!!
*****
Chamz: http://iamchamiechamz.blogspot.com/2010/11/poetry-7-fully-occupied.html
I sit here all alone thinking of you
Wondering what keeps you busy right now
And if you ever think of me somehow
But I don’t think that you do
And as I close my eyes
All I can see is your face
So beautiful and such a grace
I wonder when will you realize
I keep on holding back my feelings
For I know sooner I’ll be falling
And won’t let that happen
For I’ll be in pain again
But I’ll be always by your side
Even if your heart is fully occupied
I’ll always be here for you
Though you are hurting me so.
*****
Ina: http://inaweblogisback.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/one-winternight-stand/
If shelter was what you came looking for
Or the warmth of my bed
Or the arms I put around you
-And it was all that you needed, you said -
Then why was it not enough
Later, early, in the hard morning light
when the snow silenced all other life
when it was still too cold to be outside?
How come you went away then
Again, leaving me shattered,
and fighting my tears
the candle still burning bright
Why? After all: these cold years,
should they not have mattered?
Your footsteps are fading now
covered with snow,
you are gone now
don’t come back, don’t come back to me, never
don’t do this again
ever
come back
{}
Oh, you are returning now
The candle still burning
Yes I give in again, not aware of a reason
Against better judgment
our love warmth re-burning
*****
Hindway: http://hindawy.wordpress.com/2010/11/19/type-away/
If i ever seem inconsiderate
I don’t really mean to
I seem sometimes like that
When I don’t know what to do
Its just a way a part of me
I know you’re hurting
Can’t do a thing
We can only chat
Take the chance
May be I’ll write something
That’ll lift your mood
Make you smile
Make you happy even for a while
Or even a piece of advice
That”ll change your life
Don’t know
Am I naive ?
Am I sincere ?
Am I just too clear ?
i know you’re far
While my keyboard is near
I type away to save the day
But may be all I do
Is make it worse, should I pray?
You only reply when you wanna say
A word or two
Meaning its ok
Yet I see right through your smiley face
You cry online, my heart aches blind
I can’t see your tears but it hurts like their mine
Am I throwing my time, or helping you be fine?
The answer to that is with you princess online
Am I sincere ?
Am I just too clear ?
i know you’re far
While my keyboard is near
I type away to save the day
But may be all I do
Is make it worse, should I pray?
I know real life doesn’t work that way
I know words don’t take away the pain
I know I can try all I want
May be nothing will change
But I still try
May be I’m an idiot or just Insane
May be I know too well what is pain
& I don’t want anyone to feel that ever again
Am I sincere ?
Am I just too clear ?
i know you’re far
While my keyboard is near
I type away to save the day
But may be all I do
Is make it worse, should I pray?
Even if I lose each & every day
Every moment of sleep , instant I’m awake
If I think it’ll help you
I’ll type away to save the day
Thats the kind of guy I am
I just can’t change
*****
Anita: http://anitaspoetry.blogspot.com/2010/12/yet-to-be.html
I touched the alabaster wall
Rivulets icy cold did fall
Selenite buried there within
permeates it’s warmth into my skin
Of darkness I am not afraid
a shadow maybe walks the glade
A state of mind can bear more fuel
than the witterings of a soulless fool
Touched so deeply to never know
the place you transport me to never go
Would leave me with a ghostly veil
if this were never to prevail
Engulfed in the shadows of sleeping hours
castle walls disappearing towers
There the winds whisperings come to me
in the dark times they help me see
*****
Neha: http://anothermansdream.blogspot.com/2009/08/innocence.html
A paintbrush I gift thee,
Color me the way you see.
Draw me a true picture,
Just as you imagine me.
Let me live- a childlike me,
A glimpse of which you let me steal.
A ripple across the peaceful lake,
A reflection of me in your eyes.
For the image that stares at me,
Shows me the lines too clearly.
Break the mirror which lies to me,
and makes me face reality.
A paintbrush I gift thee,
Color me the way you see.
Innocence that I left behind,
Safely treasured in your mind!
*****
River: http://riversruminations.blogspot.com/2010/11/never-had-chanceprosepoetry.html
The tale of a barefoot girl with stringy hair and filthy torn cloths.
The only child of an almost grown young woman.
A mother stands in a faded red bathrobe in the doorway of a
rundown trailer looking ten years older then her measly sixteen.
A man in a suit scurries to a black shiny car avoiding eye contact
as he passes a girl sitting in a mud puddle. He never looks back.
~
The tale of a girl with loosely permed curls sitting properly in
ironed clothes upon an ironed chair. Eyes of decaying steel.
A mother stands with plastic form and purpled face in a living
room of false order. Invisible trembling hands confirm the loaded gun of fear.
A man ringed of jelly, stricken white abandons a black shiny car
on the edge. Molded by others, lost of self, he dives beneath
waters, never appearing again.
*****
NotAtameBlog: http://notatameblog.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/entwined/
Tangled
ensnared
caught
Rescued
entwined
loved
Freed
embraced
held
Devoted
refined
ablaze
These paradoxes, once trite, are now defining
Set adrift
on the oceans
of your eyes
At peace
in the hurricane
of our heart
Time
destiny
and the stars
Make us one
*****
Chris G: http://cianphelan.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/639/
Never seen Mountains;
the inner is higher than
without: nothing known.
*****
Wanjiku: http://wanjikumwaurah.wordpress.com/2010/01/12/i-remember-prt-1/
I remember
playing in the rain just ‘coz i could
and my ma telling me that I shouldn’t
I was only six
I remember,
my first encounter with an angel
at age nine stumbling in the rain
trying to get home , hurt and crying
and she pulled up close to me in a grey car
I don’t remember her voice nor her face but she drove me and waited
while i got in.
She taught me love in the most subtle way
She still remains my hero!
I remember
the first time I stood for myself.
When I threw back what they threw at me on my way to school.
They were bigger tough looking and older.
I was 10 and scared
I watched the one I trusted walk away and had to stand up for myself.
It was the first and last time I truly trusted.
I remember
flirting with love at age 11, it is what I thought it was
when I saw his little note in the middle of my book but some how i
didn’t follow through
I watched as he asked my best friend out and though it hurt,
I lived, waiting for another chance someday
I remember
my mother’s advice on love and ‘relationship, on sex and abstinence
as we sat on her bed as she taught me that secrets of my womanhood
introducing me to the little woman in mb at the age of 12.
Telling me I was now ready … For what I remember asking
I remember
My almost first encounter.
He wrapped his arm around me and at 13 he seemed the zenith, just what
I had been waiting for and when he put his lips upon mine, I got lost
in the mass of feelings aroused and when his hand cupped my
not-yet-fully formed breast,
I remembered my mother’s advice and had to stop!
To be cont….
*****
Tweety: http://thehope-life.blogspot.com/2010/12/day.html (osp)
The
Day has
Arrived so
Soon. Never had
I thought of giving
Away my piece of heart.
To all she is a woman
But to me she is still a child
A tear and smile embrace my face
To see her walk away into new life
*****
Celebrating A Year: http://mairmusic.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/week-111-a-woman-in-the-sun/
she got up from the bed and stood
a woman in the sun looking
out her window contemplating
day and the world beyond she could
see it although she knew she would
not walk out her door no not yet
the brilliance still did not offset
her fear though it was beautiful
and full of life she felt the pull
of places she can not forget
she looks back once memorizing
the long pathway that got her here
the things she’ll miss she can see clear-
ly but tomorrow is waiting
*****
Megzone: http://megzone.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/initiative/
Save our mother earth
Let us say no to plastics
Join hands, be the change
Initiative
Join hands, be the change
Let us say no to plastics
Save our mother earth
*****
Marya: http://maryayankopulos.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/what-is-this-we-see/
Window panes come crashing down
Amidst the tears and pain
Vanishing hopes are gone and flew away
Up above through twilight
Shadows cast across the floor
Reflections of the past
Trembling thoughts of one
Dwelling deep within the soul
A mystical sense of reality
Captured by the craze
All in bewilderment
Of the shock in the wave
Creatures of the dimness
Chattering amongst the green
Everything slows in stillness
What is this we see?
*****
Mango:http://mangoesntangoes.wordpress.com/2010/11/16/do-you-really-know-me/
I have beheld the One
Who has made it all
I have touched the ultimate goodness
Tasted the untainted purity of existence
I know wholeness and fulfillment
Life of unshattered dreams
Peace that goes beyond comprehension
My eyes have seen true radiance
The beauty, you have no words to describe
I had no boundaries, no rules, no time
I was free to do as a I please
From my portal
I saw nothingness
Forming into beauty of unimaginable things
Yes, I have seen the celestial shores
I know the Majesty of true power
I am His perfection
I drank in my own intoxication
With the lust of the eyes
And pride of life
I made my choice
The same mistake
That was made in you
Was made in me
The freedom to choose
I chartered into unknown territory
Left paradise for power
Forsook the One who created me
Fought the friends who at one time stood by me
I contorted the truth
Traded love for a lie
Brought in confusion
Demanded it be all about me
Brain-washed thousands of valiant warriors
You don’t have to convince me
About what is right or what is wrong
What is good or what is bad
What is pure or what is evil
I know all too well
I know better than you
All the definitions of life
I created the gray line purposefully
And I don’t need your sympathy
You have your freewill
And by that, you will be judged
No one can make you
Choose right or wrong
You are free to do as you please
You can be slave to me
Or you can be slave to my opponent
But in no way will you be a slave to yourself
Don’t forget
When it is all said and done
When you have lived your life to the end
I will take sides and it won’t be yours
So think carefully
Tread delicately
I’m the irresistible archangel
That will make you fall
*****
Somewhere else: http://andulasia.wordpress.com/2010/11/13/glimpses/
beginning to recognize
myself in your arms
during moments
of overcome
fatigued from the
battle long
your smile
rests in mine
struggle has
changed us
melted our
souls into one
beginning to recognize
myself in your arms
glimpsing the battle
as won
*****
Fyodor Lewis:http://fyodorlewis.blogspot.com/2010/12/mark-of-raven.html
Ah, I see in your smile
A recent visit from the bird
Who marks our faces
Crow’s feet
Or raven’s
Around the eyes
He lands
And leaves his mark
Then flies
“Caw”
Shattering the sound
Of safety
Show your mark
Show your raven-scar
Show where he stood
And printed
Eulogies to come
Show your crow-scar
With a smile
And a wink
Laugh along with
The black-winged joker
His sign was known
Before it marked your face
His sign is hidden
In the soft skin
Of babies
He even lands on the womb
So do not fret
His constant flight
Overhead
His cackling
Caws
His dark aspect
Do not worry
When he comes
To mark your eyes
But laugh
Laugh with the crow
And raven
Laugh that soon this coil
Will unravel
And release
Its tainted captor
To what?
To where?
Perhaps some distant shore
Some sunrise
Or sunset
But never
Nevermore.
******
We even cry the same wayhttp://weevencrythesameway.blogspot.com/2010/12/theme-thursday-stone.html
Steep stone terrain
weak resolve
sweet succour – beckons us all
win we must – or face our crime
- apathy – disdain -
overbearing drive…
*****
Raj: http://thepoetrywagon.blogspot.com/2010/12/mindless-musings.html
Unfurl Unplug
Wired Wings,
dreams disappears
under
leporous landscape,
tart teeming
across apathetic
mindless musings
monotonous.
*****
Tootsie:http://tootsiespoetry.wordpress.com/2010/12/02/some-one-once-told-me/
Some one once told me
Love is not suppose to hurt
That love was shown through actions
And meaningless in words
That love could conquer all
But there’s no room for error
That love has no limits
Yet there are endless exceptions
That love is innate
But I know nothing of it
That love is to be earned
And shameful to easily surrender
That love will never find its way into my life
Because love does not overlook imperfections
If love does all that
How am I not going to hurt?
*****
Fairygodsister: http://fairygodsister.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/no-one/
She was calling, crying, howling, sighing,
but no one heard her cry
with no friends, family, very bitter reality
the society turned a blind eye
‘Make it I must, got no one to trust
in rain and sun she toiled
but nice, nice try, nice push, if you must
with no family, the society scoffed
Twas’ a fateful day, or so the tales do say
walking after long hours of toil
the sons of Hades, perverted in a Mercedes
stared and ground to a halt
‘She’s pretty’, he said, ‘and lonely’, he said
today’s our lucky day
Let’s feed our lust, thrust after thrust
surely she won’t say nay
She screamed and screamed, and screamed and screamed
But two overpowered the one
And so defile her they did, yes defile her they did
And poured their trash in her core
‘Why me’, she cried, pain burned inside
and burned for days and nights
‘end it I must, got no one to trust
this curse won’t see past dusk’
Fateful was the night her senses and hope in flight
she did and would do no more
for what was found, neatly in a mound
the fruits of an overdose at dawn.
Joef: http://joelfagerberg.wordpress.com/2010/11/26/looking-to-the-sunset/
Now the sun rays are pinkly orange
As purple rests in the background
Whispy clouds made from the strands of time
They are pinkly orange, too
The sky looks different where you are
But I hope you see me
Hidden in the cloud cover
Watching you smile.
*****
*****
Irene:http://irenethebean.wordpress.com/2010/11/30/response-to-simon-ortiz-and-coyote-and-uncle/
I know what he told you and why shouldn’t you? I would and have it in me still, nevermind the sagging shape my sweater has taken I can still sing my song and know the words. Coyote has not forgotten the flowering of my hands in the sharp loving air or the way all things return within He is coy, but he has not forgotten. I sit on my floor and read the patterns my body left, their encroachment on what was life before they went so far away and became a prison, before their Brothers died is what brings me here tonight into your arms again. I see all that Coyote can’t tell me in the place under my chair and I hide the Great Secret when my Father pokes his head in to tell me to bring up the crate of old records from the Basement
Scent of my heart: http://scentofmyheart.wordpress.com/2010/12/01/scribbles/
Pen and paper, you draw lives a century later. Scratched edges in silver ink, your letters blink. Drop of apricot juice spilled, the sentence lie in guilt. Another sheet, I hold my old quilt. Hearts and souls, you engrave drizzles. Painting the red of the walls, unavoidable fizzles. Delight with the sound of the beats, but all I could see … unforgivable scribbles.*****
Verse Escape: http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com/2010/12/what-influences-your-writing.html
I don’t often blog. Plenty of people out there who can do it far better than I. But lately, cruising around myriad poet’s web-pages and reading their work, I’ve been getting curious about where people are coming from, what drives the whole need to write, as well as what resources we draw on, consciously and unconsciously, to express our thoughts. There are big obvious answers to these questions, and others that defy my attempts to pin them down. Do we write for ourselves, for someone in particular, or for reasons hidden even from ourselves in places we’re attempting to access with words? If these types of ideas also occassionally puzzle or intrigue you, I’d be interested in hearing from you here. I’d also like to know which poets people actually read, whose words come into their minds at odd moments, which poem first made them think—’” I wish I’d written that.”
I’m not big on self-analysis, but I’ll try to answer my own questions first for encouragement. My answer is pretty much ‘all of the above.’ I think we write for ourselves because we’re compelled to but also write always to the ideal imaginary listener, the one who will understand us, complete the cycle of tale to teller. Also because we have to try to access the things we’re writing about to disarm them, put them in some sort of usable form. And I don’t think we have much choice in the matter, except in how we pick our tools.
In one of my November, 2010 Off the Shelf Archive posts, I said that Wallace Steven’s Farewell to Florida was one of three poems I felt had most influenced my worldview. This work is probably the most intellectually coherent and respectable of my influences. I first read it in my late twenties, at a time when I was experiencing a very similar event, and attempting myself to articulate it. I know I try for his stylistic, fluent and cerebro-sensual imagery often in my work still.
Now to embarrass myself totally, risk exposing myself as fundamentally unserious,
and give up the other two.
I came across the very first poem I wish I’d written, Alfred Noyes’ The Highwayman, in a volume of a kid’s encyclopedia called Childcraft, in the one devoted to tales, poems and stories. It had a florid illustration of “Bess the landlord’s daughter/ the landlord’s black-eyed daughter/ plaiting a dark red loveknot into her long black hair…” I was enthralled with the story, the character of the enigmatic Highwayman, the slimy ostler Tim, the relentless evil of the Redcoats,–and totally identified with Bess, her heaving bosoms bound to the bedpost, her finger crawling toward the trigger strapped below her breast which embodied her death and the only hope of life for her flamboyant, feckless lover. There’s some excuse for this; the imagery, the archetypal quality of the ballad-ish form, the fact that I was eight years old…and rereading it now, some vestigial small girl within still gets a bit of a shiver, “Look for me by moonlight/I’ll come to thee by moonlight/though hell should bar the way…” even now after all the countless recorded renditions and performances of wildly varying quality it still has that tease of something more glimpsed out of the corner of the mind’s eye, something unexplainable, wild and eternal hidden within the everyday. Who is it I’m waiting for, willing to die for?
I still say it’s a damn fine poem in its way, despite the chronic overuse of exclamation points.
Ulalume, by Edgar Allen Poe, is the third of my three seminal poems. I read it in high school English class, and to the high school me it had everything: drama, verbal excess of the most attractive purple kind interspersed with totally stunning interludes of pure description of the landscape of the imagination. Not to mention mystery, and the obligatory obsession with death teenagers for some reason always revel in, as well as some of the most haunting rhymes ever devised by man or woman, sober or otherwise. I can still recite it line by line from memory, and memory is not exactly my most reliable quality these days. “It was night in the lonesome October/of my most imemmorial year/It was hard by the dim lake of Auber/ in the misty mid-region of Weir…/In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir…” The man could set a stage, I’m tellin ya. And bring down the curtain: “Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her/ and…conquered her scruples and gloom/ and we passed to the end of the vista/but were stopped by the door of a tomb…/ I said what is written sweet sister/ on the door of this legended tomb// she replied…” ..well go figure. As a poem re-read now in the cold light of adulthood, it has all Poe’s flaws as well as his virtues, but I know I use this style of building tension through repetition and rhythmic progression all the time unconsciously.
If you take these poems in sequence, you can probably get at 90% of what I’m always working towards when I feel compelled to write, and the melodramatic urges I’m cursed with trying to discipline, as well as the tools I use to try to get there, but…
There’s more to it, of course. There always is.
