It was You
Through my mind, running legs; must be aching. All day, it was you. A harp without strings, no pleasure to hear. Love's pleasure lost, your absence felt Now night is here, on my pillow. The scent is mellow, in slumber I rest
Tuesday cycling
In my poem, i like to describe my expereinces, like when i went cycling, i am not a thinker, it is more feelings. As i cycled, (apart from being a nice sports-hobby),i described the country fields,birds incorparating the smelling/hearing senses.The straw that broke the camel's back, is reflecting on very day life, hard times, the heavy blows, one endures. AS one is single, looking for Love.Cycling till one finds Love...
Wednesday-canoeing..
My poem is all about my canoe outing, to-day, Wednesday, on a sunny, clear, warm day. I described the blue, calm sea, sandy beach, golden sands. Canoeing is a nice sport, I feel in heaven, alone, tiny in the immense sea, ok, not far from shore. As re: "mermaid",it could be love of Nature, Love, happines...all reflect Love..one is never alone, as Love is being happy, not sad.
ashes
a poem about being stuck in a bad relationship, and not knowing when to get out.
"my favorite restaurant"
“my favorite restaurant” at the four top in the corner they’re all lookin’ kinda blue three guys and a well dressed girl i wonder who’s screwin’ who the waitress, she’s on crack, smell the monkey on her back her patrons can’t quite tell fo
>MouS>^In'^>A>Round!
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The penitent man walks in the footsteps of God
This is my highly antagonistic allegory of my own life. Well, Part one, anyway. The original is more than twice as long as the maximum character limit of 3000.
Penitent man follows the footsteps of god
Part two of my anti-self reflection
shadow dance
just a free verse of thoughts. nothing more
Sail
A single sail is bleaching brightly Upon the waves caressing bland, What seeks it in a stranger country? Why did it leave its native strand? When winds pipe high, load roar the billows And with a crashing bends the mast, It does not shun its
Departure
Anna Akhmatova the wife of Nikolai Gumilev
Untitled.
'One more cup of coffee before I go, to the valley below...' - Bob Dylan The poet is a coffee filter, the world a blend. I am not the nutrients nor the soil. I am not the rain which seeps into your being before you awaken. I am not even
Gifted Hands
A poem for the working man and for The Maker who makes it possible.
Waiting On Sundown
A young man helps a friend escape an abusive relationship.
Laundry
When people lie to you, do you think they know? Is it intentional, this spiral they put you through like ropes on a pulley, strips of cloth spinning round the washing machine as a child painted to the brim pokes gleefully at the bended glass?
Beware of Serpents
I am the archetype. Pedestaled forever with a label Which reads “Woman - Sin”. What fairness? Pale as though marble, the Serpents crafted my brow from Dirt; they should have eaten it. Beauty herself posed for my image, and J
I switched off the light
there was a glow yes ann a glow and I could still see I could see you see your eyes smile your smile walking hope facing up leading up nothingness
choices
flip the coin watch it spin wait for the fall and start again heads you win tails you mend roll the dice make your bet up the anty start to sweat winners take all losers go home flip the coin wait for it to fall run to see which way its
The End of the World
I wrote this poem in 1999 during the millenium when the end of the world was supposed to happened. I recieve an award for 1 of the top poem in the U.S. in the year 2000. I am so glad the world did not end, I would have never got the award. LOL
As I Make My Way
This song is about taking "the journey".If you have then "you know". If you haven't then you'll never understand.
selfish
what am I doing? just crawling into bed that's all I'm doing (were life fair) it's my 'down' time as I thrash about in chase of hypnos invariably, I guiltily rehash the old hash that occured during my 'up' time apparently one has never had e
A Single Man
Your smiley face At dinner time Would be fun Instead of the paper
desert
I watch, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I admire, sometimes I cry, but does not drop a tear: my tears have been dried by the desert the same desert that I watch, that sometimes I admire, that sometimes tears from me a bitter laugh. And that en
Your bathroom weight:)))
you old friend who was in the bathroom now I throw you in the way je proud of you, but you always said I was too bold for you, I, slender to be a friend but no, you say you are so big for me And now it out you must be, from badroom be I am fre
Wisdom and Truth?
just a little allegorical poem i wrote...many may see the true meaning and some may not.
night from Crystal
In a mill slept at nights in the whirl to scare. With hands clasped,because up there is inseparably away From the human inseparably. Kristal night, come with me And you can scare me. and flew from the top, your close stranglehold bottle,
Some
Some of change and we grow Some for the better and some no All have good and some just don,t show Some get rich and some stay below ALL for a reason and one day we will all know.
AS WE LOVED ABOVE THE DEAD
AS WE LOVED ABOVE THE DEAD You stood naked against the tombstone, the graveyard, whisper quiet, you shivered, at my touch, in the stillness of the night. In the hills, a vixen calling, Ivy trembled, as if in dread, as we in passion, trul
This Isnt a Poem
this isnt a poem, not written by me, this isnt a poem, as you can plainly see, if this is a poem, the sun shines at night, if its a poem, the bat can see the light, it cant be a poem, it was written with no thought, i cant be a poem, c
ROCK'S IN HIS HEAD
I wrote the lyrics to this rebel anthem for one of my previous band's harder electric guitar (distortion) rockers. "He's got Rock" implies moxy (testis/balls ; ) and of course the double entendre of having rock-n-roll in his head (and/or loose marbles free-spirit crazy?). Party On, Rockers!
Phony
I watch the phony on my t.v. As I eat my baloney sandwich. There words sound so good. draw you like a bug to a windshield. Phonies on the radio,in the newspapers, Phonies everywhere. Are you a phony? Am I ? Copyright 2011 John Yona
Twice as nice
Today I thought What if I tried again. Ive nothing to lose.. Can I love again? Even though it hurts? Alone does not suit me Solitude is not my thing. Never thought I would write again I was wrong on this..too. Cannot be bad Even though
'back road' original song. '87
1st song I ever wrote. I was 17. :) it's had some staying power with me for sure.
Lifebuoyne
Well, this is a rather local one, composed upon the banks of the Boyne in Drogheda, Ireland.
The Moon lights tear?
The moon haunts me with a brightness that screams through the deafening darkness of the night...A light I wish to embrace for the enlightening...A light that that travels away from my inner most flaws...I internally chase, and attemp to hunt it.... B
What is Real?
Does anybody care? What ever happened to a touch? Feelings no one wants to share! Holding hands use to mean so much! Now with the cell phone, You can find a cyber mate your very own dream date! Yet, still feel so much alone. Guess time ha
Superman Rap Song
This is a silly rap song I wrote a long time ago. It was the first song I ever wrote, and my only rap song. The song is about what happens to us as we travel through life. I just used Superman as a metaphor for what happens to us in life. We're going along just great, maybe not paying full attention, and we have a head on collision with reality. Then, just as we're starting to recover from that, maybe we get hit again. That's the way life works sometimes.
Paring Knife
I have a new canvas now The gesso is virginal. Pure, with no stroke by Brush or pencil Not touched by hand or knife Not witness to the communication Between Mind, eye execution I have a new canvas now A blossom not yet plucked A fruit rip
Today
Today Today, I put some earrings on I may color my hair, Hide the roots but I cannot hide my roots What roots I have are not in Any specific place But they are always With me I could get in shape Change my shape Change my job I can alt
Me
I am an artist and writer and a tourist in my fish bowl. I have a treasure chest with pearls and crowns, all at the bottom of the sea. My hands are never tied and they are busy all the time. Just you wait and see.
I Feel
I feel the shedding off The pulling off of Care As if I am removing a Hood from my head I feel the exposure As if the hat I wear Is being lifted off By a gust of wind Or an other's hand I feel the bareness As if I am a snake And my s
Harsh
The icy wind stripped her skin to bone and crops of goose bumps dotted her bare arms and legs. She guarded her skirt from filling with air and exposing her most private of places. She pulled her blouse closed at her neck, and while doing so, felt h