Last Commented Abstract Poems (471)

purple vivid
purple verve
yellow
yellow
yellow
yellow
coral red

for
joyfully
on this edge
a dance cerise
score unknown
clothed in luster
mortal its delight

He stood proud and strong
this monument of a bygone man.
His helmet glistened
shield and staff held high.
But I heard his cry
"pigeons be gone
your shit is eroding my metal."

"Silly monument, I said
in my head.
Bygone men were real
made of stronger steel.
The shit they had to bare
certainly did not scare.

They survive through you.
So cut the crap,
for now, it's raining
the shit away.

Sycamore leafs
on sticks of Winters bones
shoals of seasons reefs
lighthouse and the stones

Spring is the song of butterfly's departing
while cloud dragons roost on the coals of the sun

plum blossoms fall
through the memory of her sent
leaving only silence

Sitting here behind my window,
watching the anger of the rain
pelting down as if in pain.
The wind doing its best
to blow it over the hills
to the forest in the west.
My latter years spent pondering
sitting here watching the world go by.
Memories pouring as fast
as the rain, into my brain.
Had it all been worthwhile?
Such negative thoughts for me,
myself, always full of new adventures.
Had I enjoyed this ride?
I can only say, there is more to come.
So cannot truthfully answer.
As the rain pelts down,
cleaning my windows,
giving me a clearer view.

The sadness in our brown eyes as we danced to our lost song
Neither one of us was wrong
We stayed in our relationship way to long
Too much of our love had died
We forgot to keep an open eye
We had nothing but lost love
We tried to bring the relationship back to life
It couldn't survive
there's nothing left but to say good bye
I will always remember the day we fell in love
Good bye to you my lost dove

Two parallel lines never cross
Even if you start drawing them at same time
A circle is a circle
Green leaves are not blue

A typewriter with handwriting letters
Can be useful
Would be nice
And easy

9th line of this poem
10th line of this poem
11th line of this poem
And this is the last line

From monuments high
On pillars of stone
She stands alone
Her gaze

Her features
Her sensual body set in stone
Frome granite stone
Her gaze fixed

She stands
For all to see
Model set in stone For she is the attraction
The model for all to see

THIS DANCE


If there were days enough...
I would learn this Dance,
to dance with you.

The flood light .... the sunrise...
like Icarus - we ascend to the heavens,
like Icarus - only to fall to the earth again...
and again.

This is my dream...
our feet shifting the dust,
ancient and coarse,
cold and splintered planks, worn and true...
do they selfishly hide the passion and words from years past?
Or simply crude constructs of oak...and yew.

Another stage to attend Sir Will!
where genius rings true...
and the plagiarist is found and scorned.

Gnostic flames (our path embellished)
illuminate our face,
certain to displace the darkest of shadows...
while leaving enough to hide our scars,
and portend any claim to grace.

This is the Dance,
when steps and twists and turns,
left us both to chance,
and we knew the Light never to leave...
while the wax and wick....contorts, spits and burns.



GMS75
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Posted: January 2nd, 6:00 PM CST