The stream (all workshops)
The barbed wire of words
cuts deep into the flesh;
ask any Jew
her bloodline in the covenant
of history,
broken and betrayed
spat upon, and gassed
to death in the name
of the iron cross of hate.
Sprinkles of sparkling diamonds
Tossed from the tops of blue waves
Sun drenched skin of brown
My happy place
Refuge from the cold world
I shut the door
Batten the hatches...
The phone is off the hook
The door-bell doesn't work
Your voice is but a murmur
Distant seagulls drown you out
The breeze says no one's home
Wet sand at the edge of the world
Cool drink of sweet aloneness
Drunk from frosted glass
The door rattles from ebb of tide
The wreckage of life
Is swept away
A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:
When you see a man led to prison say in your heart, "Perhaps he is escaping from a narrower prison." And when you see a man drunken say in your heart, "Perhaps he sought escape from something still more unbeautiful." -Kahlil Gibran, poet and artist
“Yes, I knew” [LYRICS]
Not a word,
not a sound,
not a sigh.
no look back
no regrets,
not a cry.
out of the blue.
A surprise.
but down deep
inside
I think I knew.
I could see it
in your eyes
In the lies
of your touch
and I knew…
"It's me"
you said,
"It'not you."
No good-byes, no regets
no look back.
I think I knew
At first you were a bird, flying through the trees
Looking for the words to say to me
But I had felt that fear growing between us
So it’s been more than a year, still spaced by trust
And among all of those roses you laid
I was the tall fortress surrounding you
And then you were a stranger
From love to threatening danger
Then you became a tree
Stuck inside of me
Your branches grew like ivy all around
And in you I would grow uncontrollably
You became a home to me
I thank my lucky stars
and
bless you for your good wishes .
When the time comes
let nature take its recourse
and
let's go back to the creator ,
without remorse .
Then let the docs gape
and faces may they make
what a fool,
didn't let them their dollars make .
but why delay
and
bear the pain
one day that final day
will come again
Its early morning in the glittering forest and the winter lies thick on the ground
The stark towering trees mute and white
Cold wind is thick and is silent
Yet breathes frequent frozen sighs of solitude
The weary wolves slumber in their lairs
But the young cavort and frolic in the turgid chilly morn
Wide eyed eagles and somnolent owes sit motionless in the high boughs
Eternal and glorious Father
Smiles benevolently at the rise of the golden orb
The thudding mayhem of battles of yesteryear
Are replaced by a soft victors song
She used to fuss at him about
muddy boots and sawdust on the couch
how he forgot to take the garbage out
and hugs so strong that she'd say ouch
His hunting stuff strewn all around
(except when it was time to fish)
too oft he'd chase a baying hound
when calm and quiet was her wish
All those evenings by the fire
he'd scribble out his silly lines
about nature, loss and hot desire
when, with her, he should be sipping wines
Sitting here finger snapping to a changeless bang
a sudden trip remembering how sweet it is to love you
straight down to the mole on your right ankle
the dilettante symbol on left forearm
the crazy silkiness of palms possessive feel
is the shit that keeps me running to you
i'm trying to forget the smell of kush
and how you manage a absolute diction
agile partnering for lexicant
producer of punctuated and accentuate a better use of verbs "action speaks louder than words"
breaking down feelings; our tit for tat
An old soldier
who has seen
the field of battle
Now fighting the war
to stay alive
on the streets
His rifle replaced
with a sign proclaiming
his service
in the First Gulf War
a cup by his feet
People walking by
probably pitying
the poor soul
Only a sweatshirt
and the pair of pants on his ass
to fend off the elements
A tattoo on his neck
marking him as
a piece of property
by his unit
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.