[OT] Poetry

[Malessa]

Here is another....

Someday

Someday there will be laughter,
Tears and pain will dry away.
A heavenly ever after,
Tomorrow not yesterday.

Fruitful joy and innocence,
Will grow within our hearts.
There will be no indifference,
No tearing our lives apart.

Can we start this someday, today?
No, tomorrow it can be.
We can’t break our sins away,
It will always be someday we’ll see.

Someday is our dream of hope,
Our last and only one.
If we can’t begin to cope,
Then sin and hell have won.

We sit here in our sorrows,
Wishing of someday.
Will it come to us tomorrow?
We still wont change today.

 

[MerakSpielman]

ok, ok I'll do another one. This also has high school origins.

Truth of Colored Hue
By Merak Spielman

A mind that's fractured
Wild eyes can see
You have the land of madness mastered
Seeing past its shifting mystery.

The world seems a horrible hell
But wild eyes can dream
You live life in a rainbow shell
Tearing it apart at the seam.

Minds are trapped in crystal cages
But wild eyes pass through
Outside a colorless thunderstorm rages
Light shades to dark and false becomes true.

Back to hell they try to drag you
But wild eyes can fight
You can see truth of colored hue
Why turn and see returning light?

 

[Wayside]

...

 

[Malessa]

I love reading everyone's work! This is such a great thread! Everyone, keep them coming!

 

[Priest]

I am a poet,
Been published about 12 times
Still I am learning.

I write mostly Haiku, and Free verse poetry.

I was published in '94 (Aged 14) for the Poem "Father, and Son"
and it went from there.


My Examples

1

In the dead of night
Only faded memories,
Nurture these few lines.

2
On the rocky beach
A lonely seagull, and I
Congregate for lunch

3
Even by Buddha
Dragonflies go on mating
Pity, I must pray.


Tall Fall Down
By Nathaniel Jensen

Say Mister,
could you spare me your time
I am having a tall fall down to lonely town
perhaps you know the place, just past 3rd
when I was little, man
I heard from my Papa, about the tall fall down
for him, it was hard liquer, and pushing pills
for Mama, it was men,
and me, well...
man I got it both ways,
like Mamma I like them silk sheets, and silkier skin
like Papa, I like the fire waters, and vicodin
but that's not what’s brought me down
no it weren’t the call girls, nor all them pills
Mr. Liquer had his moments but it wasn't him
it's the one thing I feared in my youth
and as an adult I forsook*
innocent eyes,
and those three innocent words

I love you
sincerely meant


Unnamed

To many memories
Struggle to be free,
Some sweet fragrance,
Or bright color

To many tears
Have been shed by to many friends
For me to write any love poems
Or flowery scribbles

This world is to encompassing
To care about
This one insignificant voice
Given by my philosophical pen


Short Verse

1
Dust and Ashes
are all that is left
of my childhood hopes
As I am blossoming
Into the wanton longings
A state of being man

2
Bring me back
those broken memories
You’ve torn down, in anger
from the wall

3
      Emily
are you alone writing lines,
      As I am,
locked behind the doorway,
      of your life
aloof to a tragic world
      Hidden,
there behind the blinds,
     but see,
that shining ray, tis hope.
      Another path,
   we may follow down,
      together
      You and I

 

[alsih2o]

ha!

well, i finally found a box with a few older pieces i managed ot get published.


The Slow Medicines

The lifejackets and wheeelchair pads i have donned on
you everyday for the past week
and the cautious excitement of the children as they
approach a person who can't run
after them or even speak approval of their longing
to touch these gilded toys
and straps that hold you in place for proper breathing
and distribution of weight
do not match up in any way to the hours we spend together
every morning
preparing you to trek through the camp for your six hours
of waking activities.
It is my responsibility to dress you during this week
of reluctant motherhood.
It is my responsibility to press this thickly lubricated
shunt into the short shaft that
is your penis, as the wet, weighted resistance of it is
swallowed into you you
show no loss of dignity in your limited range of expression,
there is no real
way to tell if you are comfortable until the act is
done and then
to ask you and move you again and again until you give
me some involuntary smile of relief.
Feeding you wagers on all the same principles of tubes
doing proper work with proper lubrication and waiting
for signs of some unspoken sort of discomfort or a choking
need for attention,
during these moments i find myself easily able to talk
for both of us,
easily able to give my excuses and yours in the same
breath if neccessary.
When we are out together you become a travelling masked '
ball with your face hidden
in the crook of oyur thin arms elbow, your entire body
pregnant with tubes.
When we are together this afternoon i will pull you with
me off the sailboat
and into Lake Erie where we can float on our large orange
life preservers for the twenty
minutes or so it takes the small boat to make its large
arc to the beach for more
passengers in straps and braces, there i will finally
remove your catheter
so that you can relax in the floating and feel the warmth
of the lakes top water.
There you can forget about our private morning fumblings
and forget about your liquid food
and together we will float there and forget the slow
medicines and machines of our days.

 

[grodog]

fallen



i stretch my arms
out
then pull them in
and extend fingers toward my neck

my shoulders bunch forward
then roll
slow and together
back toward spine

and away from the weight of wings
from the ache that bends my back
with memories of heaven




(c) 2002 Allan T. Grohe, Jr.

 

[grodog]

The Drake *



From outside I cross the threshold of your lair--

Wood stained dark and fitted with shining brass
A chandelier fired with sapphire, emerald, and jacinth
The colors fall into the carpet’s pattern
a maze woven with Old World charms
over the centuries

You recline--
an expanse
of scales aglitter, of long claws and fangs
smokes curl from your lips and haze up
toward the ceiling

Your words smolder like liquid--
tidal and binding
they roll through my bones
they whorl me with sound



I purr





You speak of fables and ancient riddles
of oceans years wide
and of home
lost a thousand dreams before Atlantis fell

A world of quiet slumbers
and forests green with silence and sunlight


You speak of love
of necks and legs, wings and tails intertwined
through the hibernation between ice ages
of waking from millennia to eyes
that scintillate onyx
ripe with reflected stars



I cannot remember a time before your time
or sounds outside your voice
I sleep among your embers
warm among your scales
secure in our home







(c) 2002 Allan T. Grohe, Jr.

* the formatting on this poem is much cooler when printed; .html just doesn't get it right, nor
does preformatted text

 

[randomling]

OK, I have 3. The simple one comes first!

Mirror Image

See reflected in the mirror
See reflected in the river
Hers the eyes to break a heart
Hers the skin of poison bark

Skin the eye and break the mirror
Drown the evil in the river
Tear the flesh and hold the heart
Soothe her wounds with broken bark

See your face in shattered mirror
Wash your hands in bloody river
Twist the snake around your heart
Touch the tree with poison bark

Trust the image in the mirror
Taste the blushing, rushing river
Heavy is the poisoned heart
Blinded eye and breaking bark

See reflected in the mirror
See reflected in the river
Yours the tears and twisted heart
Yours the body and the bark

 

[randomling]

ascha

deliver me from grace
into the arms of silence
i feel numb and faint
from thick night to damp day
a lost child in a grey mind

but i cannot read your face
distant as the wind
forgetful like salt
    here i lie
    you surround me like water

and my blood is clear
but you don’t recognise me
still hands silent eyes
your freshwater words
soaked up by the sand in my skin

    *

the wind has died away
but my voice will come to nothing
salt in my throat
    the birds still circle round
a few short nights you think i’m yours

each time dawn comes my shoulders hunch
i’m watching my skin crystallise
and oh the tide still comes and goes
hunger and hatred equally
torn between the mountains and the moon

    i want to be the twine between your fingers
    will you look at me if i speak

dissolve me in warm water
but the sand stays under my skin
ebbing and flowing
until i crumble away

no new beginnings
the waters just keep rising
    i still wait
stormclouds love ice sand and bitterness

i feel all these things
clawing for contact with my skin
i dreamed i was drowning
and when i woke the shadows came

    *

    it cannot be like this for long

a cool hand called nothing
comes for me at the beach
now i am lost to silence
    from sea to stone and back again
till the two moons

took me to my wings and bled me away