Penzance to Exeter
Yep its pure sarcasm, but I do it so well!!
From the green fields of youth
a backward glance on life.
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
Salad Days
Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. ~Norman Cousins~
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
Cannot Take
The simple pleasures of life--my number-one topic.
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
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
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
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
reality of hate
some people never forgive the smallest of deeds hate is there guiding force
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.
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.
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.
The silent customer
This was inspired by my time spent observing the ITU nurses at work when I was their a few years ago.
Precious Bits Of Being
The mind, processing what a busy day of living calls forth.
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.
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.
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!!!!!!!!!!!
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
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
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
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.
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
Overdue Letter
Miss you all, just finishing up a few classes, and I'll be back :) Hungering for your words! SAS
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
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
Gone Are The Days.........
I didn't want the good old days to go without a mention !
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
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
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
All I had to do
Short poem about a man I fancy and he happens to have beautiful blue eyes.
Sehnsucht!
not feeling well today, confined in a room.. but the hopeless nomad in me stirred my mind to roam...
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
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
Conflict
Okay, Im jumping out of my comfort zone and trying to rhyme, I think its cheesy but this is all I have. LOL
Time (No More) Pt.1
just thinking on time.....
SNOW NEVER MELT
Snow has many definition actually, it could be love and affection
A Woman's Voice
too feel passion, two elements are needed...experience and heart.
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 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