Posted by admin on July 3, 2009
Tiptoes,
Sliptoes,
Don’t step on my toes.
No heels,
Slow heels,
Careful with the pills.
Quiet,
Silent,
Screeming to hide it.
Lash out,
Crash out,
Watching you check out.
You try,
We cry,
They hear all your lies.
I slip,
I trip,
You lose your last grip.
Your words,
Your curse,
Hands, anger over burst.
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Posted by admin on June 17, 2009
Poetry is not inside. I
Write, true, but
Fiction comes too strong. the
Meter is wrong. I death a
Metaphor, I don’t know.
Climax is not dying, nor do I wish a
Character so dark. The heart’s
Image wants to be good, but the
Symbol is bad.
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Posted by admin on May 20, 2009
I wrote you off a week ago.
But I prayed and you came back.
Again, I scratched my list of
things to do, your name gone.
A voice said no.
When I called you didn’t
want to talk to me.
My mind said fine, I’ll go.
It felt good to be free of
you, but the voice says
No.
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Posted by admin on May 6, 2009
Mechanics help you out
when you’re stuck and can’t move the
tool you have. You just start where
you are and go ’till you can’t and
when you are done you usually
have something other people can relate
to a little and we call it
poetry.
But if you can’t do mechanical things
then open yor heart and
Spread out your wings
To the thoughts of the sky blue above
The rhythm of water in strands
Far awy, of people falling in love
And we will also call it
Poetry.
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Posted by admin on April 24, 2009
Writing a poem everyday is a challenge that has been extended to me more than once, and which I have managed to fail at more than once. Usually it ends up more as a poem three times a week. Many of the poems that I have posted (and continue to post) here on this site are the results of my attempts at writing a poem a day.
Writing a poem everyday won’t necessarily produce the best poetry. It won’t necessarily generate volumes of memorable or fabulous poetry that moves humanity to new heights of inspiration and genius. Writing a poem a day, however, will make you a better poet and a better writer.
Like practicing anything else, writing as often as you can will help you to produce better content. Trying different forms, different words, or different concepts are all good ways to expand your talents and your mind. Even though many of the poems I have written aren’t that amazing, each of them has taught me at least one less that I won’t forget.
I challenge anyone who has any interest in writing to write every day.
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Posted by admin on April 22, 2009
Your eyes sparkle on the tip of a laugh,
Dimples calling for an echo at last.
Your smile’s shadow stalks my mind,
A pleasant memory of happy times.
I endure the hated gulf of minutes
That keeps me from your side.
At last we meet, we touch, and I feel
The face that makes all my senses reel.
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Posted by admin on April 15, 2009
Sunday philosophy.
Monday desperately
needs Tuesday’s
bright sunshine.
Wednesday stands free
of good or evil.
Thursday destiny.
Because Friday’s
choice must be made
before Saturday.
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Posted by admin on April 8, 2009
I saw you walking yesterday.
Today you are in the newspaper.
Many times I wondered at your quietness,
And why you always sat so far off in the corner.
My frineds and I had lunch and talked,
While you usually ate apart,
Sometimes we discussed your quiet manner;
Your ways always seemed difficult to understand.
You and I were never really acquainted,
Although you were always just across the street.
And we met each morning and each afternoon,
I never thought we might actually talk,
Or say more than “Hello,” and “good-bye.”
Now I know that when I saw you walking yesterday,
I should have stopped and said something to help,
So that maybe you wouldn’t have killed yourself.
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Posted by admin on April 3, 2009
Did you ever want to be a pig boy? I did.
And live the pig boy’s dream.
To chase and wander and do
All those pig boy things.
Did you ever want to be a maid? I did
Who lived in the scullery, and learned
The secret mysteries that saved
The world and saw the sorceress burned.
What about a widow’s son? The kind
Whose luck outmatches all his brains.
That stumbles on the magic tree
And both princess and kingdom gains?
Or tailor or farmer or glorious fool?
Who slew the giant and told stories
To the dragon? That saved the king
Found the loot, and took the glory?
Please tell me you have,
For I know that I have,
and dreamers this world needs.
Without us, we’re done for.
We need heroes to send forth
And do all the daring deeds.
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Posted by admin on March 20, 2009
They danced.
They sang.
They screamed
She pushed him.
He pushed back.
She cried.
He yelled.
They hugged.
She got a truck.
He got a doll.
He pulled.
She pushed.
They traded.
They played.
An hour later they did it again.
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