Coffee Shop
Coffee Shop At the Edge of the Universe Here, at the coffee shop at the edge of the universe, the flowers bleed as if they were hearts, the hearts ooze a darkness like India ink, and poets dip their pens in and they write. ~ "Here at the
Penzance to Exeter
Yep its pure sarcasm, but I do it so well!!
only you
Its in hope of love,when one feel all alone,and just each day and night keep imagination how her love should be.
Poet to Poet
Dear Poet Sleepless night tonight though calm (and a wonderful feeling of peace) ~ … releasing one's creative vision in the morning / letting it fly letting it breath letting it exist as an entity separate from oneself enga
Fragments
Frozen moments in time Shatters like glass A window of our exsistance into the unknown Our destination of de
A Poet's Shadow
We sit upon a log to allow our souls to catch up with us We have been traveling a long time. Behind us are forests of books with pages green as leaves. A blood sun stares over the horizon. Our souls are slow. They walk miles behind
Home thoughts from abroad.
A reflection of many years spent in the antique lands of Arabia, how much time and publicity we in the western world are subjected to the notion that they are all malevolent terrorists, which of course they are not, I'll leave it there before the political world explodes!!!!!!!!!!!
Garage Sales
Was lucky to have off work so I could go garage saling, hopefully next week will be the same as Platteville has their city wide garage sales.
Homestead re-visited.
I no doubt like many others, left my very small and humble Hamlet at a very early, now unheard of age, to seek opportunities not available in our Homestead, so this poem captures a nostalgic return in later years.
Patient Patience
This was written when I was in intensive care very ill a few years ago and when I awoke after a number of weeks I observed the care and duty that all the ITU nurses gave to each patient. I also remember hearing things they said when I was unconcious. This inspired me to write this poem. I hope you enjoy it.
My Melody
The twentieth anniversary of Only one of the coolest bands ever "Weezer". They were a big influence for me then and now with my music playing- writing, and poetry.The song below always reminds me of good times because Ive been playing in my garage since I was ten. Wow twenty years, I never really accepted I was getting older until I heard Pearl Jam followed by Led Zeppelin on the classic rock stations. "In The Garage" I've got the Dungeon Master's Guide. I've got a 12-sided die. I've got Kitty Pryde And Nightcrawler too Waiting there for me. Yes I do, I do. I've got posters on the wall, My favorite rock group, KISS. I've got Ace Frehley. I've got Peter Criss Waiting there for me. Yes I do, I do In the garage, I feel safe. No one cares about my ways. In the garage where I belong. No one hears me sing this song. In the garage. I've got an electric guitar. I play my stupid songs. I write these stupid words And I love every one Waiting there for me. Yes I do, I do. In the garage, I feel safe. No one laughs about my ways. In the garage where I belong. No one hears me No one hears me sing this song.
Precious Bits Of Being
The mind, processing what a busy day of living calls forth.
Languishing With Siberia
Ah my friends, I watch so much from the outside, yet who are we to percieve poetry. You write, I write, are we so different?, I have a love so far from the maddening crowd, let me bestow you, with thoughts, of a longing, of a past love that sees itself with Siberia, the coldness, the emptyness, the heartlessnes and the lonelyness. But it has its own beauty and it certainly has its own ghosts. Are we not but ghosts of the future, and who will recognise this ghost of one we approved and loved upon. All I can offer you my friends is poetry, born of emotion, born of freedom but most of all born of passion. Poetry is not about metre, not the correct syllables, not precise in its manner, it is about you!! and your wants and needs, embrace me for I am poet!!. I have been missing, but to many not forgotten, may the peace of poetry be upon you all.
The silent customer
This was inspired by my time spent observing the ITU nurses at work when I was their a few years ago.
A play on rhyme.
There has of recent time, much controversy as to whether poems should rhyme, there is a longevity in the rhyming format, which is now seemingly absent from the younger core of poets, they to there credit embark on a format somewhat strange to my generation, but equally worthwhile, all I have done here is to present an older style, which may or may not rest easy with many, the fact is that we write, regardless of style, that is the virtue.
Salad Days
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. ~Norman Cousins~
Shower
As I step into the steam My body blanketed in the warm enveloping tantalising mist Muscles arch and stretch Welcoming warm water molesting my skin Vanilla scented suds sliding over soft curves Sensual sighs echo out into humid air Satin smoot
The Way Home
I alone know my soul, yet distant its voice does roam, Father; show me the way home. For I have traveled far too long and only my memory knows my song, and I sense I no longer belong. Around me the families do play and to the other they re
Weather or Whether.
Inclement climes set early in today, lacking mercy at dawn's soft hour, the lake now ruffled torn and dour, as sad the world was hard at play, Thus to counter my abysmal gloom and annihilate nature's harsh brooding storm, sojourned I, to my m
Reminding
And now I finger the bit of quartz Which is to remind me of what I am No more or less than you There is no separation in the NOW moment. Time is an illusion a trap. Cunningly conceived by ourselves You should know Bu
Renewed
Pounding of the nails sealing for all time Idle fascination is it a crime Noise of children at play mirrored sounds Old man silenced who was well past his prime Still upon the ground barely breathing bird Twisted wounded broken
Cannot Take
The simple pleasures of life--my number-one topic.
The Autumn Affect
There's something unspecific about the autumn nights A certain shad
travel
A moment on time a glance The open space The view the window To gaze upon The open fields Of lush green The sun high above The glare on the window The sweet on your brow You look and gaze Lost on a moment of time The clatter of
From the green fields of youth
a backward glance on life.
postcard
On the line I hang some postcards I sit and ponder The views I see On display Images of life I would like to see What lies a head My past have seen My post cards my past They are written change can not be My past my memeries Stor
The Celtic Harp
I heard a record of the celtic harp, and relived the bardic times Of wild tales of valour Steeped in mystery and Merlin's magic. Fairies danced in the moonlight as the Bard sang To the tune of the harp. Men lived in hon
Gorodok
Lyrics by K.Krastoshevskij, music by Yu. Varum, performed by Anzhelika Varum. 'Gorodok' means 'small town' ('gorod' - 'town') in Russian. You can easily follow the lines while Anzhelika is singing. Many thanks for your attention!!!
Gentle Hues
These gentle hues of sunset, provoke these tears upon my face Thinking of times, in the past, of which I can't replace, Dreams manifest themselves, thinking of long past misery, Beauty is in the eye the beholder, and she meant everything to me, M
The Price is Right
Just got the best of the Price is Right on my Netflix. Enjoyed that show a lot over the years.
Love Letters
With the vast array of computer generated messages and cards which become stored upon our systems we need to boot to read those messages of love. Yet the good old days in which you would keep those treasured envelopes in a special place tied with a ribbon a permanent keepsake. Would it not be nice to return to some of the old ways of love and courtship?
Center of the storm
W.I.M.S--writing is my salvation
In the depths of unlived happiness
Close your eyes..give me your hand
my previous and hopeless life
Just reminiscing. But so glad out of it now. thanks all for your read and comments. SR
Just a thought.
From a scrap of paper dated 14/2/88, with attached note highlighting the negativity of folk for no good reason.
Superbowl Commercials
I have always looked forward to the Superbowl ads, especially the really funny ones. This year was a big letdown in that department. The team I picked did really well though. The Seattle Seahawks crushed the Denver Broncos 43-8.
Autumn's song
just to highlight the fragility of our existence and its wonder.
Ever changing
just a day of feeling restless.
Dreams changing
When old dream becomes too old we need a new dream to replays old one, new hope and the comfort that spreads and brings a warmth to all of us...
Stronger
Time is wonderful, it helps you see things clear and look back with love on a special time with a special Man:-)
The Model
Draped in her bed sheet The model stands her modesty hidden From prying eyes Draping her body her Elegant curves Hidden but reavelling easing the eye of the beholder She lays Her forming curves Gently resting her torsoed body S
Rural Hamlet
this poem is based on my childhood memories