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Get a Grip

Submitted by lou on Fri, 2011-01-07 20:58

You are pathetic, you make me sick.
The stench of your banality
Permeates every pore.

I look at you and the violence within rises.
I want to destroy you,
Cave you in.

You have no shame,
and expel your innards,
vomit them over those about you.

Smug little features make me want to
Smack you down.
I'm gonna knock out.

A veneer of sweetness
That Makes me wanna puke
I'm gonna knock you down

Im going to expose you
You're a fraud,
You're my enemy

Click

Submitted by docmaverick on Fri, 2011-01-07 19:55

I possess a snapshot of you
in the camera of my mind,
you would've allowed me that courtesy
for it's the best print you could find!

You were standing alone in my garden,
and we both were on the same page,
the only negativity
were the flowers' jealous rage.

Other times, I sneak a look at you
and I can see inside your heart,
where I feel your dissappointments
and the rain begins to start.

No Way With Words

Submitted by docmaverick on Fri, 2011-01-07 19:29

It's such a curiosity
when I write a poem, each day;

I'm not prone towards ambiguosity
but, it's still missed, what I've tried to say!

My verses aren't extraordinary
to ignite thoughts' spark's the goal,

I may be a candidate for dictionary lessons
if my train of thought's not, "whole"!

I could try another language
but, in the time it takes to learn,

with their nounages, and verbages,
I'd invent a "me" that foreigners, could spurn!

Still Life

Submitted by docmaverick on Fri, 2011-01-07 19:08

Rudeness personified
my aching vertibrae,

wearily I rise to my feet
and the room begins to sway;

grinding palpatations
awakes my body to the light,

the fresh sterility of the day
has all but erased the dark of night.

Reality can wearily
drape black crepe over me,

because my expectations
were too great to ever be;

sideways indignation
I alone, can hope to feel,

from your casual reaction
I see my solitude is real.

The color has all but drained
from the eyes inside my head,

TIME'S TOLL (edit )

Submitted by scribbler on Fri, 2011-01-07 17:48

I know the time will soon be here
when long sylvan walks will end
the only way I'll see a deer
will be on a road around the bend

For now I'll grin through my knee pain
and limp around, no hint of grace
so as to increase memories' gain
though slow may be my halting pace

For I must hoard remembered sights
while there's still the chance to see
the forest under varied lights
it's understated majesty

The Valley of Vision

Submitted by crypticbard on Fri, 2011-01-07 07:05

`

the 'Valley of Vision' - the plains of derision
has caught my eye - ripping out my bossom
lay captive my heart - tethering claws
captured my wandering mind - releasing nether the vagabond

your cup sends me reeling - tumbling venom-drenched
a haughty tower trembling - quivering in the night cold
never again to be rebuilt - ever awash on the shore

two men once hung from a tree - condemnation rife
the one cursed his life upon himself - excluded realities
the other condemned eternally - for him accursed vindication

GLIMPSES

Submitted by scribbler on Thu, 2011-01-06 19:18

Wondering within this dream
randomly with no direction
the larger part of life wasted
with work
worry
waiting
wondering
when does it get better ?
if ever
even the brightest spots
love and family
have their problems

OK, Very Nice In view of the discouraging comments

Submitted by loved on Thu, 2011-01-06 18:06

OK, Very Nice In view of the discouraging comments
should this poem be removed
your comments please.
Particular the best critiques
A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY FOR YOU

Very Nice
The three poems
You will read today
Are the ones
I wrote two years ago
When none read me
Over here
So it makes a difference
In as I always say
What’s in a name?

Smelly Dog ( limerick )

Submitted by mand on Thu, 2011-01-06 08:18

My dog doesn’t smell very sweet
His breath reeks of cabbage and meat
I’ve had quite enough
Cos he’s rolled in some stuff
And it’s matted all over his feet.

His fur is ridden with ticks
He froths at the mouth when he licks
Ah! What the heck
He’s a physical wreck
And he aint very good with the chicks.

He slobbers all over my clothes
And pong's from his head to his toes
He’s making me barf
So I’ll give him a bath
Washing him down with a hose.

No dog suffered in the making of this poem.

The Farewell Continues

Submitted by crypticbard on Thu, 2011-01-06 07:59

`

You had never a grown-up been
but all the world entirely seen
the great capacity of your mind
in a few poems you left behind

without a word, no clue foreseen
half-year before you turned eighteen
surrendered to the daily grind
no joy sun's rise or set did find

none of us that here remain
your secret heart we'd never gain
throughout the years that we have tried
countless tears we cannot hide

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