IN MY EYES
written 04/12/1969, and dedicated to my son, about 2 wks. after his birth ! What a beautiful time in my life !!!
continental/divide
A simple reflection of time passing:)
I am...
I am an angel lost in this world I look a place of silence A place of pure love I look a friend near to me. I am an angel lost in the crowd I wait to be discovered by a pure heart To show me honesty and sincerity, To protect me
Star light
Its up too others to say what they think the poem is about
My Ode To Summer...
Summer always seems the shortest season to me.
a"Knight's day"
History an grave site archaeology have an are showing there were many great women warriors.
When u will suffer...
When u will suffer remeber my voice Don't cry my sweet baby,clean u tears Remember our funny moments. When u will suffer,remeber my eyes They made u see the child from u And you pure ,and honest heart. When u will suffer rememb
CAN U FEEL...
CAN YOU FEEL MY LOVE? CAN YOU FEEL MY THOUGHTS? CAN U FEEL MY BREATH? IF U WANT MY LOVE LET ME DO T HOW I WANT IF U WANT MY LOVE LET ME MAKE IT HOW FEEL CAN U FEEL MY LIPS? CAN U FEEL MY TOUCH? CAN U FEEL MY HANDS? IF
LONELY DESERT
SOME PEOPLE COMPARE LOVE WITH DESERT DESERT WHO IS WAITING FOR RAIN DESERT WHO LOVES SUN, BUT WANTS WHISPER TO ME I AM HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE I AM YOUR INSPIRATION I CAN MAK
LONELY RAIN
PEOPLE LOVE STAND UNDER RAIN RAIN OF LOVE, PASSION, DANGER RAIN OF SADNESS, LONELYNESS, RAIN OF INSPIRATION, RAIN OF HAPPINESS RAIN WHICH TAKE YOU HIGHER AND DOWN IF U
Dandelion Dreams..
It was a beautifully gorgeous sundrenched spring day I had the urge to get outside to chase away the winter doldrums and mingle with the earth and so I called to him , his eyes lit up at once at the idea of frollicking on the lawn Ah but ther
Practical Irony
Yeah, This is not a poem. This was written about driving. I guess almost all of you have felt this. Driving fast in a lonely road all along at night with the stereo playing an easy tune.... and your mind goes NUMB..then all of a sudden it starts to run down things of your past that you thought you have forgotten !!!
Grist to the Mill
towered sentries a hundred years old stood in silence as the troughed wheel continued it's stationary journey allowing only the stream to pass.... four seasons at a time.... occasional romance blossomed.... a squeak an grind from time to time from w
Changing face
I just changed my face ! actually the picture. What do you all think of me? lolz?
CONNECTING SINGLES THANK YOU -WORDS FROM MY HEART
CONNECTING SINGLES i love connecting singles every day i am online view all guys view their profile, blogs, poems, provile-reviews. no words to describe I am happy and i w
Broken
A framed print upon your wall.. A still shot of the two of us.. Sitting close together, on a bench, Near the falls.. And to the casual observer.. I'm sure we must have seemed the perfect pair But if you look a little closer.. If you too
Spring's Sundown
In Springtime's bloom my bones, supple Willows; danced in simple purity... through salt-marsh dunes waving Goldenrod wands. Time was a friend stretching out forever~ to brighter tomorrows of mystery, and everlasting love.
In a soft whisper I greet the day.
In a soft whisper I greet the day. Accompanying chorus, birdsong welcoming in it’s own way. The passing days providing the fruits from what we have learned. Bitter lessons and sweet treasures earned. Jewels of wisdom, a sparkle in the eye. Such
Wheels
A bing is a coal slag heap! The mantelpiece prop was my parent's clock which my Dad wound every day! This was my second and last time leaving Scotland hence: 'up there again'
Game
Game Under the sun the small breath of the sun recalls short steps in the fall leaves fall after the ebb of fantasies along with long-run blisses lurking even in the soundest roles with no goals we play night and day to beguile one hear
Ollie's Garden
We drove past every day, my child and I, Past the old white frame house Where Ollie lived. The house was small and boasted peeling paint And grimy windows, and an old car That hadn't run in years. In winter, the house was washed in a kind of G
Not Your Enemy..
Sometimes we are our own worst enemy..and critic.
What a Cowboy Means to Me
This poem speaks of the life of a cowboy or a cowgirl, it speaks of the feelings we have, the way we live and they way that we think. May t give you a bit of insight into the lifestyle and way of life. :-)
Sun, Moon & Stars
a difficult journey with my three who depended on me
Summer Love ...
Will summer's love transcend Or will it fade like the last red pale rose. Clinging to the bush.. Destined to die a slow and lonely death.. Can summer's love reach beyond the supple green branches full of life and hope To the crumple
my collection of poems
checkout my other poams on blogs
Singing
Since I have studied music in depth I find that I am always singing a song. These tunes have been created for different reasons. People can hear a song like "Puff the Magic Dragon" and be reminded of their childhood. And to others this song may remind them of their wildest parties. I think music is a form of communication and relaxation. Musically Yours Ironman
Ode to Asma ~Chapter 1 ~
One year in Dhaka, taught me more of life than a decade
Ode to Asma ~Chapter 2~
So, then after, and ever after, my weekly trips to the circle of city for market, my eyes would quickly scan the jumble of bodies rushing towards me, and miraculously she would appear out of the morass. i would frown at any stick raised at my c
Ode to Asma ~Chapter 3 ~ (there is a Chap.1 & 2)
Next came, my market week i missed; such preventing, torrential rains. So, it became two, almost three weeks trudged on before i could come. This time, though, suddenly became a herald from word carried by mouth, among the children in masses gathe
Couch Potato
It's not suppose to make sense! So I kid...
pictures in the sand
The things we constantly think about are past and future
THE ALPHABET PART 2
These words we have learnt the tools of are trade We make up poems with lots of words, and are point of view. Poems we tell, stories, creative writing is are point of view Creative writing we do best, words we brings out from are heads. Thinki
Oliver Twist
One of my favorite Dickens charactures
UTOPIA I
This poem is also a reflection of my life and the life of indeed all mortals. It is believed in many myths and legends across the world that pre-earth experience is blissful, especially as evidenced from the life of the foetus. It is also believed that the expectation of every foetus is that the life outside the womb represents freedom. Alas! They are fatally mistaken. Little wonder that newly born enter our world with crying. The same expectation also goes for most africans and Asians who flee their homelands in search of greener pastures in Europe and America. Sooner or later they found out that the presumed paradise was actually not as they thought. The lesson from this, it is hoped, is that man must take reponsibility for all his actions and seek to solve his problems as they arise and not to run away from them. God defends only the brave and patient - not the indolent.
you will find me (raymond)
wrote this poem some 40 years ago to my very firstgirlfriend. i wonder if she still remembers. xx virgosign
Whiskey, Women, and Cards
The title says it all.
Come closer....
Come closer to me My sweet baby and Give me a little hug. Come closer to me And give me a soft sweet lovely kiss. Come closer to me And touch my hands Make them warm. Come closer tome And give me your Pure and honest lov
DYING EMBERS
Africa was at peace and tranquility before the White man came. Chinue Achebe's THINGS FALL APART and NO LONGER AT EASE are clear testimonies to this fact. But the Europeans came with the Bible and build Cathedrals. Our people abandoned their sacred traditions and the pristine paradimns of peace and harmony. But today, everything is in disarray.
Boxes
I guess that this poem describes those moments in time, when we look back at all the baggage we carry, and how we attempt to compartmentalise it, to reduce its effect of our present lives
The Conquerer Worm ~ by Edgar Allan Poe
By far my favorite poem...well maybe not "by far", though it is my favorite. Hopefully you will enjoy it as well.
Rose
I am a rose that lays upon a bed of thorns, the dew on my pedals is but yet a tear I am up grounded from my roots, only to be weatherd ,rain or sun to sear Withering whats left of my velvety beauty, then at last wind to blow my memory away pieces