To shine and polish
On the mantle place With pride of place You polish and clean You wind up Your daily routine You make sure You clean it so well Shines and polishes well Its face so clean and body Shines your image seen Like a mirror Your fac
Yesterday Young
It's been a long journey over yonder mountain No going back to yesterday young In memories I drink from a sweet fountain But there's no going back to yesterday young Sun never seems to age Neither wind nor rain But every day turns a page An
home town long lost forgoten
well i have recently visited my home life to te establish my past and present together
Rock On!
This poem is about age and memories.
5-7-5 Challenge - Remembering
Not all tears are of sadness or sorrow
BELLY DANCE CHALLENGE
BELLY DANCE CHALLENGE
belly dance challenge
brunette hair intoxicates Sexy eyes she dances for him her gourges curves dance She girates her heavenly curves Intoxicating her heavenly charms she performs Her intoxicating charm Her belly dance Under her spell in the moment
Once~
Finding romance and love seems like an empty game at times.
THOUGHTS AND PONDERINGS ...
I WROTE THIS POEM WHILE THINKING OF MY LIFE AND HOW IT HAS UNFOLDED... WONDER WHAT WOULD HAVE CHANGED HAD I KNOWN IT ALL BEFOREHAND ..!!!
A SIMPLE MAN
TRUTH Tweaked 9/13/17
Being Irish in America
Thinking about my heritage and how I wish I were in the UK! Ireland, Scotland...England (it's complicated) . . .that's where my heart is! So many poets here from my ancestors home! It makes me feel warm!
Literary Remains
Mr. Keats, "I find that I cannot exist without poetry....." "What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth....." "We hate poetry that has a design upon us......" "Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one
collections
You hold on to your possesions You hold them dear They belong to you You throw nothing away house becomes fuller No more space is left There they gather your dust Your dust You cannot move From all your collectioning Every nook a
A message to my son
For Daniel "Why do you stripes in you forehead, Mommy? Are you old?" Not old But not so young that I cannot see the world contracting upon itself and the circle closing at the end. As the furrows in my brow deepen, I can see
#1 Songs 1969-1989
My birthday is coming up so I was looking back from my birth in 1969 to the end of my favorite decade of music, the 80's. The only song I'm not a fan of is The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. If I were forced to pick my favorite from the list it would be When Doves Cry by Prince, with Every Breath You Take by The Police being a close second. Right now my favorite album is Weird Al's new album Mandatory Fun. He is a parody artist and I own all 14 of his albums.
Dead Poets Never Die
The skin of the sea has nothing to tell me I see her diving down into herself, past the bell-shaped jelly fish who toll for no one & meaning to come back In London, in the damp of a London morning, I see her sitting folding & unfolding
Tundra
Black ship of night sailing through the world & the moon an orange slice tangy to the teeth of lovers who lie under it, sucking it. somewhere there are palm trees, somewhere the sea bluely gathers itself up & lets itself fall again into
Waterfall of Words
My soul quickly tarries, spirit uneasy in sleep, and stilled pen rest crooked upon the desk, there is silence in the resounding echoes of the memories becoming grotesque. Yet upon the days birth I do wander, fields of earthly scents confuse,
~Shades of Gray ~
for someone who is going through something no human being should have to.
Conversation with a Dead Poet
Can you believe your death gave birth to me? Live or die, you said insistently. you chose the second & the first chose me. I mourn you. Is love the sugarcoated poison that gets us in the end? We spoke of men as often as poems, We
A bubble in time...
sometimes, I find my self lost in a kind of chimerical bubble like the molokini-crescent-shaped-crater-maui-hawaii..., I simultaneously see myself as the whole of it, or an infinitesimal throw of the dice, a frenzied ‘quanta-dance’, my logical, emp
A Sea of Tears!
Pondering
a coat of paint?
lives bundled in boxes/ melodies of memories chime/ Dear Poet, Where do I begin? Now, moving in, cartons on the floor, the radio playing to bare walls, picture hooks left abandoned in the unsoiled squares where Monet's hung pro
The Poet and the Interviewer
My mouth seeded with your sperm, I talked back to the interviewer. It may also be this way with God. Approach with a mouthful of stones; you will be mute. But speak semen & seed & the words will flow. Is heaven a television show? Ever
just pondering....
I pondered this for some reason while studying and thinking how much males and females have advanced through the years, I however plead the 5th upon my conclusion :)
A Woman's Voice
too feel passion, two elements are needed...experience and heart.
Time (No More) Pt.1
just thinking on time.....
SNOW NEVER MELT
Snow has many definition actually, it could be love and affection
Conflict
Okay, Im jumping out of my comfort zone and trying to rhyme, I think its cheesy but this is all I have. LOL
Gone Are The Days.........
I didn't want the good old days to go without a mention !
What makes a poet?
Poet to Poet Journal Entry What Makes a Poet? Many have tried to guess. Is it a voice like an aqueduct, a plain-spokenness to grief, the hairs of the head dancing on end, the blood pulsating with the voices of all those who have
Poet to Poet 7-1-14
Dearest Poet, It thrilled me to read you again after this long interruption. Your last send, accompanied me, became part of my journey, for I kept it with me as a token as a promise of words yet to come stars yet to be crossed. ~ On
Sehnsucht!
not feeling well today, confined in a room.. but the hopeless nomad in me stirred my mind to roam...
Nubian Queen
I am the Sphinx. I am the woman buried in the sand up to her chin. I am waiting for an archaeologist to unearth me, to dig out my neck & my nipples, bare my claws & solve my riddle. No one has solved my riddle since Oedipus. I face the
All I had to do
Short poem about a man I fancy and he happens to have beautiful blue eyes.
Remembering
How old must I be to not miss The company and embrace of She Faithful to the end I never strayed But not for the want of dreaming. Doing a woman’s work as I live alone I learn of the sacrifices made The drudgery willingly endured Nare a thou
A Poet Cries
The poplars' lengthening on this hill, amid the rows of marigolds and earth, and through the box hedge labyrinth we walk, together, to the choiring twilight bells. ~ Their fugue of echoes echoes through the hills and sings against this time-str
My Coat
Put away my basket and sewing thread Whilst memories of how you use to be Decidedly were better left unsaid Each repair sewed lovingly yet still see The scars that have changed how you once appeared There's nothing more that I can do f
reality of hate
some people never forgive the smallest of deeds hate is there guiding force
A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM
TAKE this kiss upon the blow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow -- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the
Poet to Poet 6-12-14
"The spirit moves, but not always upward." ~Roethke<BR> Poet, Life is a process. It is best not to stand in its way. What happens … happens What is … is Dance with existence like you would dance with a lover. Find an image th
Overdue Letter
Miss you all, just finishing up a few classes, and I'll be back :) Hungering for your words! SAS