Poetry Thead

[Deviate]

I just figured it'd be a nice place to submit some of the stuff you've done outside the Fiction Project.

Drop your poetry here, read, comment, etc.

-st.

[nycwriters]

.

[zenbabe]

As the currents of life carry me away
I look at all that passes
All the waste
All the despair
All the lonliness
The waves carry me away
I go deeper
Deeper into your soul
Drowning in your eyes and thoughts
The waves
They take me back
Back away from you
I try to talk to them
But they dont hear me
"Fall I say"
"Fall, fall, down into your own earth"
"And let me fall into mine!"
But they don't hear me
Their anger overpowers me
And I am covered once again.

[noxxville]

Please forgive me...I wrote this when I was 12 and it is the only thing that I can contribute to this thread....

persistence prevailing,
the spider begins to feed.
its prey was fast,
and it cleverly sped by.
but when it wasn't watching,
the spider caught the fly.

[Deviate]

this looks a little different without the right spacing...

she lives in dreams
of lonely men
who hide their eyes
from the light
palming green
pausing for a brush of flesh

girls with closed eyes
convert
contort
over a wall of mirror
against a pole

she wears blue
fish skin
like false water
it clings to her breasts
breath
heavy with alcohol
bought by strangers
sucked dry
on the rocks

her arm is around my back
neon ripping at her hair
tearing at her smile

gillter on her eyes
flashes from the chasing lights
reflects upon her mirrored eyes
hiding the fractured glass
that traps her
deep inside

poised over coffee
over years
she had talked about tomorrow
and now
drifting faintly above the din
she speaks in slurs
about the private party
three
hundred
dollars
at her apartment

a bark
from a heavy man
and she says she has to go

i feel her skin
almost frictionless
against my cheek
and with a quick kiss
she tells me she misses me and
"i'll call"

if she rememebers my number
if she remembers me.

-st.

[masterofNone]

to pigeon holes
and collection bowls
and things that bump and bite

to asphalt tiles
and necrophiles
and beasties left and right

i hate you too
you sordid zoo
and do so
quite precisely

you raped my father
and killed my mother
and did it
all so nicely

i love you ma
i miss dad too
i really couldn't be
more blue

it's society that
knocked you off
and gave you both
the screw



written in 10th grade... makes my appreciation of AgentSmith more understandable now don't it?

[beckstra]

first, two comments...then two of mine...

noxxville - that was awesome. you sure were a smart twelve year old :p

dv8 - hon, that was awesome. the imagry alone...yowza

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Fiesta
intrigued by she sound of castonettes
echoing through the city streets
excited children run to windows
peek through closed drapes
the cobblestone streets are lined with fire and flowers
ignoring the spectacle of color is impossible
the air is alive and bustling with ritual
rustling with vigor
eyes are alight with each glimpse of magic
tension is enigmatic yet enthralling
alighting curiosity
wonder
people flock to the streets
driven to be alive
men tip their hats and women move their hips
music plays
voices laugh
smiles glow
the sun is forgotten
the night hums into existence
sings people into movement
people dance like fireworks against the night sky
the children whisper and giggle to one another

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Aurora Borealis
like the tie-dyed cotton mumu
resting softly on her shoulders
the dark soft-colored fabric
flowing down around her ankles
the sky is dark and rich with
sky-lit fantasy for miles
and all I can seem to do is stop and stare

the stars like paper beads
against the color-washed thin cotton
hang above the ground in fashion
as do the beads around her neck
the moon is barely hidden
just behind the gentle colors
like her tiny frame is hidden 'neath the gown

and I am overtaken
by the dancing in the sky
as are the people gathered 'round her
watching every step she takes
I am caught up in the life of night
it holds my captive mind
and her sandals clatter further down the street

[amanda]

Awesome work, all of you. This is the latest one I could come up with- it was originally posted in Paper, but it's the only one I have to show for the time being.

Two Dimensions

Waspmade, handmade, machine.
Sails boats, wings air
flutters to the celebrated ground below.

A reed in Egypt becomes
a read elsewhere.

Priests script of enlightened paths unfolding.
Nations and fingers, races and hearts bleed
Souls burn, as do books
yet volumes speak to minds crumpling.

Drying tears, fibers tear.

Map me, and I will distort the world.
Treaty me, and I will shape it.
News me, and I will reveal it.
Money me, and I will make it spin.

This is how
tea is caged for a diving expedition,
trails aren't lost,
and the honeymooned remember fragility.

[Deviate]

i just threw this together after reading the entirety of the thread. so many images floating in my head.

it is night
and i am dancing
light against the darkened sky

hiding from society
behind tenement walls
cowering tall on a bed
or fire escape balcony

wearing a cotton mumu
and a necklace of stars

i have a sister
window dressing
tapping over freedom

i am a spider waiting to eat

i am a child waiting for a name

i am trapped in lights flashing

i am drowning
and am saved
by the sound of my own voice
and a map
unfolded from
Sailors and Egyptians alike

it is night
and i hear a party
in the cobblestone streets
and float from my perch
to join.

-st.

[Deviate]

"the definition of
desperation,"

i thought as i
plunged myself
elbow-deep
into the trash bin,

"must be something
quite similar
to this."

-st.

[noxxville]

I like that one Dev. Very Nice

[moel]

.

[nycwriters]

Nice Noel.

[Frieda]

i love it noel! thanks! :)

[sbraiden]

AUDIO VERSION:
http://artists.mp3s.com/artist_song/1753/1753161.html

(mp3-formatted audio to accomodate both highspeed and dial-up modems)

Spoken Word - Free Verse. From the "Keeper" anthology.



apprehension ...


things done, and undone
a thought half formed
a word half spoken
i can't seem to move
beyond this place where i'm fixed

afraid if i do
that i'll miss something real
what i have been waiting here for
and i know it
the taste of regret
is an everborn memory apart
from any other sense
i possess

apprehension
a subtle friend in dark nights
when i'd rather not have to decide
for fear i'd be wrong

i'd be wrong once again,
and again i'd regret my free will

as long as i'm able to choose,
i'm able to choose wrong
and that haunts me beyond
any one thing i could
possibly put into words

only that
there is a distant and lingering consequence
that comes to mind
in a vengeful and darkening place
that is thick with a taste
acrid like bile
salty like adrenaline rushed to my veins and it's taste on my tongue
coarsing to pummel me forward and out of harm's way once again

so i sit here
in this half-cracked cacoon
hid from the world
only to the extent that
there is no possibility of
anyone walking by windows on third floors
yet exposed to the passing of birds
and the flapping of wings matched in time to
the beat of my heart
the guiltiest pounding incessant inside of my head

blue and white shadows
are flickering here on the wall
in some half-painted moon cast up
by glimmers from a silent tv

i see ocre and squash
lined on window sills off to the east
hear cats knocking can lids and
hissing at footfall below

a baby is crying
and i wonder
does she know
of the difference between happy and not?
or is face and noise only
means to meet need?

and why have i complicated
everything
so very, very far beyond just that?


-- sue braiden.

[sbraiden]

"Golden" - from the "Keeper" anthology.



it's the sun settling like a russet peach in the summer grass
and knowing that in a million years
you could never spill it's richness onto canvas brushed.
.
it's the smell of earth after rain when you breathe its heavy musk
and sigh to think that of earth's sweet cinnabar there'll
never be a way to say it so.
.
i see you watching, smile.
my foot seems far too slow to take me there,
for in a million years
i could not put to words this clench
i feel when i steady myself
and cannot catch my breath.
.
you are the ache,
the knot,
the sigh,
the moan,
the moving moments painted on my face
when ___ i ___ stand ___ still.
.
you are the sistine, piscene, unseen cathedral of muscle
that beats in my chest.
.
you are the memory of a future thought,
the echo of a life not lived,
but longed for without patience, without end.
.
you are the one sure path
that a million years of instinct
burns from soul to soles.
.
.
.
and so i walk.

[sbraiden]

"Beginnings and Ends ..." -- from the "Keeper" Anthology


That I am not loins,
nor rib,
nor heart,
not even what connected they make up.

I am a collection of thoughts,
bound by values and love,
that, unwrapped, spill out and
into other lives, mixed and swirling,
alive.

Cease, these limbs, but
not my soul.

It is the beginning of my life,
and not the end.

It is the beginning,
where I spread out in veins of
feelings
and thoughts
and ideas
that have infected those people I love,
and even those
who have despised me.

It is those things that I have changed in them
where I live on.

This is my immortality.

That what I
thought
and did
and loved
becomes a part of so many living things,
and will continue across lives like a ripple,
making another
and, boundless, yet another.

It is there in those ripples that I live on,
my energy magnified and alive
and moving
and unbroken,
my essence still vital and alive.

These are my circles.
These are my hundreds of lives.

[beckstra]

got a call from some office
the phone was covered in dead skin
held it two inches from my face
made it pretty hard to hear
but the muddy crust
on my shiney plastic reciever
shuddered through me
like an open sore
took the windex to it
the dead skin smeared around
didn't wipe away completely
mixed amonia and water
then it was gone
and so was i

[lapietra]

you are very beautiful
you have glad eyes
and a smile that hasn't seen itself
you hear what is said
and what is not
and you hear not what is wrong or right
but what is and could be
truth.

you are

electric

a sweet flash of energy
that passes in front of the world
so that they may be nourished by your
forever and always newness

and that those seduced and torn
by the world
may wonder
and that those pure and awake of heart
may follow

[beckstra]

faded car alarm sounding in the distance
take a step and the sidewalk has ended

Gus Segiro's RV is parked in his manicured yard
behind the white picked fence
and the neighbors are surely dying of a heart attack

the Miltner's carport is empty
no monster Escalade marching over us
icey cold steel sparking dollar signs in rubber rotations

blonde Ted is cleaning out his mini pond
dead fall leaves and melted mud cling to his hands
he rests his chin on the blue plaid johnny collar shirt shoulder

pass the first magnolia bloom on the block
and you've begun a brighter adventure
with Mr. Smith and Maggie and Daniel playing hide'n'seek

the newlyweds down in 402...the lovely little log siding
walk with their hands tied together in red fleece
and trailing Jack with his russell terrier smile

the sun, being placed on a dimmer switch, is fading
soldier streetlights blink the beginning of night
the tudor's timer starts the sprinkler

faded car alarm sounding in the distance
take a step and a new sidewalk has begun

[lapietra]

*sigh*

[beckstra]

sigh?

[ambo]

Seemingly Sane

Destiny and I have made a pact
I will deny his existence
And he will remain silent

Do not scoff
For I have entered the arena
Waiting for the cheers to come like a wave
Surely they will see my intentions
Such good intentions

Morning has come like a song
Both end and beginning
I beg for time
As I move forward, forward
Never glancing back
I am stitching my quilt
This is fine work for a mortal

What’s that you say
That hump on my back
Right there
Are you sure
I cannot seem to see it from any angle

I ask for the impossible
Secretly hoping for the improbable

Spring, come without winter
Step on my disasters
Oh, for a savior
Free of charge


Copyright 1999 Ambo Lovely

[lapietra]

Originally posted by beckstra
sigh?
Oh! :)
I just loved that. :)

[beckstra]

Oh. Thanks. :)

[Cicatrice]

A word in your ear
a thought in your head with a word in your ear
hear it now, don’t fear
a word in your ear
here
a gift
lift your eyes and ears
for a gift
an idea
inching in you ear it's injury to insult
incoming ideas
idle ideas inviting
inciting
exciting..
citing series of procedures
watch walls wash in over ears
washing years of tears in and in
deeper
deep down
deep down dark drums
darkening deepening deafening
doubting
dying
a word in your ear
hear it now
a gift

[nycwriters]

.

[laughingbuddha]

This is all i can contribute...wrote it some time back when I was really down

I am a lost soul
One that resides in a black hole
Nothing shall escape my grasp
Not even light can hope to evade my clasp


The Sun that lights up the globe
gives up that last bit of hope
And retires to give way to the dark
Where in the moonlight we hear the wild dogs bark


I am a lost soul
One that resides in a black hole
Nothing shall escape my grasp
Not even light can hope to evade my clasp

[laughingbuddha]

What is what, Who is who
Isn’t the world a mirror unto you?
What you see is what you discover
It’s no use running, there is no cover

[laughingbuddha]

I had a dream... a crazy dream
I imagined myself sitting by a stream
Waiting for the stream to become a river
I felt my body grow cold and shiver
I said this is strange
You are way out of range
I spent hours sitting there
Waiting for a maiden fair
As the day passed by
Weary grew I
But hope I did not lose
Because that was mine to choose
On a day of suffering, I drowned in pain
That is when I realized the gain
You look behind in regret
But forget what you get
Now in the morning, I lie awake
Thinking in the reverie’s wake
I had a dream… a crazy dream
And all I did was sit by a stream

[Ganymede]

Trochaic quatrameter sonnet

My small hand stretched slowly upwards
Snatches at the sodden leather
One small hand slid further downwards
Holds the rest of me together
Beige thoughts, smoothing over top
“Just walk calmly, don’t succumb”
Clear glass thoughts slit, slide, and drop
Raw and ragged, blood and cum
Grab a wall, just keep on moving
Balanced on two broken heels
Nothing left to keep on proving
Never mind what pride reveals
Trust and hope have passed away
Drained of blood and naiveté

Needs work, I know, suggestions? (Please?)

[Deviate]

upon first read it was very enjoyable. however, in order to give accurate criticism i'll have to disect it. hopefully i'll get to this tonight...

-st.

[Ganymede]

ta, I really apreciate it.

[moel]

.

[Deviate]

sorry, Ganymede, i haven't gotten to it. let me see if i can tonight ;)

-st.

[Ganymede]

Deviate, if you do this it'd be an imense favour, watch me actively not bitch about trivial details, whenever you can get to it is wonderful

[Deviate]

lol. still haven't gotten to it. i'm so unreliable.

oh, and this was a blatant attempt to bump up this thread, or thead as it's been named. i just didn't want people's (and my) poetry to be lost in the shadow of another thread....

[beckstra]

Bah. Bah on you. ;)

[Cicatrice]

I've been slamming more these days, if you don't know what slam sounds like this won't come off like it's supposed to.


I picked my shortest and cleanest one:

hippocratic hypocrites are guarding over us
eyes on the prize they're watching out for us
‘cause our health is their welfare
and welfare whores don’t get given bus fare
out of this glass fish bowl
‘till they’ve had their fair share
shared our brains out to every tortoise and hare
racing off down the rabbit hole
with the phylum, order, and genus
of each issue that’s issued out to us
digging what they want from our brains
just so they can bury it "properly" again
trying in vain
to put square corners on our pain
still they may be tidy but they’ll never be clean
unless they scrape out our insides and build us over again
and I still object to that shame
‘cause when they look in my eyes
I don’t see the prophets or the wise
I see the kids who ****ing theorise
about life under the big top
and they don’t know when we’re going to pop
but the theory still scares them into trying to stop
the hop skip and drop
of our diagnosable thoughts

[rapscalious rob]

More bitter than black coffee with no sugar, no cream.

Here’s a different med poem, but more silly:

Common Cold

Go hang yourself, you old M.D,!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
In not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.

By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!

Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.

Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!

-- Ogden Nash

here’s another:

The Germ_

A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than a pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, dear reader, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.

-- also Ogden Nash

[rapscalious rob]

As day segues off into the night,
I weary of this endless fight
I run, too slow, clumsy, too late,
My life is whipped at other’s gait.

The moon arises, made of ice,
in dark skies, silver clouds entice
the soul to cool in darkening skies
to rest until the next sunrise.

[timdowd]

'cos I do

I'd like to say I like you,
but it's much more than that.
I need to say I need you,
while all alone I'm sat.
I want to say I want you,
I think you know it's true.
I'd love to say I love you,
'cos I do.

[nycwriters]

.

[rapscalious rob]

:)
I did a review of that poem in high school. A million billion years ago.
That and “my father moved through dooms of love…”

[lapietra]

i like e.e.cummings but i thought these were supposed to be original poems

[rapscalious rob]

awwww!

[rapscalious rob]

We real cool, by Gwendolyn Brooks

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

We geeky guys
we really into pi’s

we got a new slide rule
we did good at math in school

we into arcs and sines
we like to write code lines

we don’t get many dates
we soon become Bill Gates.

[lapietra]

:D


much more interesting to me...
I can get e.e.cummings anywhere
can only get you *here* :D

[rapscalious rob]

BTW, the idea of that last poem was pilfered from a cd I heard once. This one is totally original. I hope.

Stealing a beer on a foolish evening
(or, dealing a smirk on R. Frost’s writing)

(Sorry, I love “Stopping by woods on a snowy evening”-- as I’m sure many of us do-- but because I love it, I have to make a joke about it).

Whose beer this is, I think I know.
He won’t mind if I sip it, though
He will not see me sitting here
in my inebriated glow

Ah, yes! A glass of Guinness Beer!
The finest ever to appear!
But just when everything seems jake,
I see my friend is coming near.

I almost make a big mistake
and drop the beer! Oh, no! A lake
of beer lands on my trousers! Yeep!
There isn’t much more left to take.

I feel the beer begin to creep
in my undies, but I don’t peep:
That’s what I get for being cheap,
that’s what I get for being cheap.

[rapscalious rob]

Date a tu cuerpo allegría macerena,
que to cuerpo es para dar allegría y cosas buenas.
Date a tu cuerpo allegría macerena!
Heyy macerena!
Aai!

Let us go then, you and I
while the evening’s dark as chocolate pie
layed out carefully upon a table.
Let us go, passing uneaten sweets
those donuts, tasty eats,
that send my scale plunging down the wells,
inflate my gut, as a beachball swells.
No! please don’t tell me what is in it!
I know it’s bad, but bear and grin it.

In the room, the waiters come and go,
with platters of cookies in tow.

…
I have measured out my life with refractometers.

[rapscalious rob]

If I were just a kitty kat,
I’d beg for food from where you sat
and you would pour and I would purr
and then I’d eat my food for sure.

The house would be upon a ranch
I’d climb and sit upon a branch
and drop on unsuspecting birds
and purr at master’s chastening words.

If I were only a feline
I’d meow to be let out and whine
that other cats are in the house
and drag in entrails of mouse.

Alas or perhaps blessedly
I’m not a cat, I’m only me.

[rapscalious rob]

We dance the quiggly-doo, today
we dance the quiggly-doo.
And nothing is quite so flibberidicious
as dancing the quiggly doo.

What is the quiggly-doo?
I’m sure, my friends, you’re inquiring.
It’s hard to describe this impossible dance-
I can feel my poor mind perspiring!

The quiggly doo, the quiggly doo
is danced with a pilfered old miffery shoe.
You must stand up straight
and slouch, and say BOO!
If you want to dance the quiggly doo.

We dance the quiggly doo, today,
we dance the quiggly doo.
We romp among momps and we blee with the fleas
to the sound of a didgeridoo.

[rapscalious rob]

Got both socks and shoes mismated!
Lawdy mercy, I’s frustrated!

-Langston Hughes


A short poem (of great significance)

I wish the rent
were heaven sent

-Langston Hughes (again)

[rapscalious rob]

…
Divinity must live within herself:
Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
…
The sky will be much friendlier then than now,
A part of labor and a part of pain,
And next in glory to enduring love,
Not this dividing and indifferent blue.
…
We live in an old chaos of the sun,
or old dependency of day and night
or island solitude, unsponsered, free
of that wide water, inescapable.
…
at evening, casual flocks of pidgeons make
ambiguous undulations, as they sink
downward to darkness on extended wings.

[rapscalious rob]

One day, a man was walking down the street when a particularly strong blast of wind hit him. Normally this would have just caused his hair to whip around and his pants to cling against his leg on one side, but today, he fell over and was dragged along with it, like a plastic grocery bag or a thin cardboard box. He tumbled haphazardly through traffic, blown up and down by the wind filling the vacuum left by the rapidly moving cars, and eventually reached a lake, where he settled and floated along, like a leaf. After a while, the cool water of the lake made him solidify more, filling in the hole in his back, and he sank. Here, underwater, he transmogrified into stone, and fish came inside to live, while coral and barnacles happily calcified his body. At least, in the place where his lips used to be, there was a smile.

[rapscalious rob]

bifurcation of our paths like deer trails
rambling through the hillsides over rocks and fences.
Our mistakes,
fall over time,
fall into time

our neurons branch until the memories,
nested in the synapses,
are as ancient as scaley old oaks.

The birds there
wish they could fly away
into the open blue sky
into the cloud-lit sky

wish they could spread their wings
and range into the new distances
of planets and stars and galaxies

away

[Audreyvgs]

We dance the quiggly-doo, today
we dance the quiggly-doo.
And nothing is quite so flibberidicious
as dancing the quiggly doo.

What is the quiggly-doo?
I’m sure, my friends, you’re inquiring.
It’s hard to describe this impossible dance-
I can feel my poor mind perspiring!

The quiggly doo, the quiggly doo
is danced with a pilfered old miffery shoe.
You must stand up straight
and slouch, and say BOO!
If you want to dance the quiggly doo.

We dance the quiggly doo, today,
we dance the quiggly doo.
We romp among momps and we blee with the fleas
to the sound of a didgeridoo.

OMG did you do this Rob? I love this.

[Flashfire]

Clouds form all around,
drifting to & fro, along the ground.
I hear the laughter of long ago.
Wisps of clouds, moving slow,
hiding what I once could see.
Now clad only in white memories.

[Spicy Jack]

The First Seal

You are the first morning’s coffee
You are the man on the white horse
You are a one winged butterfly
A vacant box
A garden gnome
A Christian

I am the coffee maker
I am Eve
I am the child
Empty
Discouraged
Deceived

[rapscalious rob]

Originally posted by Audreyvgs
OMG did you do this Rob? I love this.

Yuppers von duppers. Only I changed it slightly from the original version before posting it here.
:)

[Clytie]

Rob is gorgeous isnt he?;)

[wanderlust]

Another Man’s Paradise


I sit here, imagining mountains in the distance; mountains with snow-capped peaks and clusters of pine gathered at their feet. All the while I am straining to hear the first whimper, the soft cry that signals my time is no longer my own. He sleeps in restless slumber below singing stars to the music of Beethoven mechanically simulated, secure that when he awakens Mommy will come. I feel the beginnings of another within my womb and I am finding it difficult to maintain the blush of a new mother’s happiness. Seven months since I have given birth and already another clamors for my body, reclaiming it for a primal purpose. I could curse myself for my stupidity, become bitter toward those I love. Instead I comfort myself with visions of mountains here in another man’s paradise, surrounded by palm and palmetto; bikini clad, unscarred, flat stomachs of childless women.

----Not quite poetry form but it reads like a poem to me...

[trisherina]

Can't we go back
I want to go back
To where problems wiped off
With the tears

To where you'd forget you were hurt
And smile again for real
To the day when the lemonade stand
Meant as much as the customers

When you'd weep at Grizabella
In footie pyjamas
And not know why
Just that it made your lip cry-ey

To when you couldn't read
And I was your media outlet
So all the news I dispensed
Was good.

To when you thought you could save the Twin Towers
With an email to your American friends
Saying please help

When hurt didn't stick
Any more than Silly Putty up your nose
Just a little but not really
Just a little

Just a little time left.

[nycwriters]

The story of us

Singing to me,
you sang to me on our birth.
Late night Greek food,
smiles that hadn’t bent lips in years.

You,
Bold.
You kissed me that night.

You were so certain.

The story begins to unfold.

I saw dreams in your eyes, soporific blue; like mine, but not like mine.
I saw fields green, dotted with heather.
A little house, the picket fence,
the path, less taken, trodden with
our footsteps.

I believed in you.
I saw more in you than you ever saw
in yourself.

It was always that way.
That will never change.

And you stumbled.
And you screamed at the sky.
And you hid in a world
where no one could reach you.

And you smiled, even tempered.
Me a tempest,
brewing despair each time you fell.
Hoarse from words that never
met your heart.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,”
you said.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,”
you plead.

You were so certain.

But those words fell at my feet
actions so indiscreet.
And I couldn’t find you.

My back broken, I fell
to my knees and screamed.
And all I could do was crawl.
And beg you for hope.
The girl I was -- no longer there.
My will gone.

Until the rains began.

And all the rivers awash upon our shores
converged and never ended.
And the skies opened up and rained.
Each time. They rained.

It’s still raining now.

Three days of promises
promises broken before, but more now
promises never redeemed. Hollow.

Empty.

I am empty.

And now that the story of us
is left in waste,
will your thirst
finally be slaked?

[Clytie]

and then the Hell youve been living in widens
everything goes hazy
the normal you have been living in
no long exsists
as you realize
your reality will not change
this is how its goin to be
whether you like it or not
because you cant manipulate another person
they have to make their own choices
but
you live with the outcome

[Frieda]

to hell i've been and back again
here we go
the pain i've had and now again
nothing changes
is it me, my stupid self again?
probably

i've fvcking had enough.

[Clytie]

vibe
i know you and then i dont
i see you but your really gone
ive known you all my life
tho we've just met today
where has all the time gone?
passing between us
static in the air
twist and turns
pulses moves
blending with the last breath
i took one look at you
and i know...
i know you

[Coffee]

Time gave flesh to feelings
retelling a story of someone else
a thousand miles away we're sealed
each in another's world unfelt.

Rivers of tears flow under some bridges
as dry leaves choke the mouth of a stream
and strand a raft of halted verse
moored by someone else it seems.

Words of light crossed from our hearts
a half billion times in seconds
but sense can never bridge the rift
someone else dug between us.

[Clytie]

her chocolate colored hair
gather into a high ponytail
accenting her cheekbones
"i love it when she wears
her hair like that" he thought
he walked over to her confidently
and asked to her dance
each song moved them closer together
it came as no surprise to everyone
when 2 forms were seen leaving the dance
'under the sea' was a silly theme
he drove her to the perfect spot
overlooking the lake
she had never been there
but neither had he
foggy windows tell the tale
of what happened that night
they would never be the same

[Clytie]

in the blackest midnight
wings outspread in flight
black as black
white as white
against the dark
flashing bright
inpassioned thrashing
in the night
circling each other
in the height
desire soaring
as they reunite

[Clytie]

hiding behind the couch
as the words get louder
harder they sound off the walls
she crouches with knees to her chest
eyes clenched shut - invisible
wishing the voices away
songs inside her head
block out the noise of hatred
the day dims an night falls
shadows cast on her still form
eye closed
her face relaxed in sleep
as her mind carries her
to a safe haven of quiet rest
peacefully she slumbers
mid the war just beyond
the boarders of the living room couch

[sparticle]

starman

from what summer night's meadow did you spring full-formed,
watching me through my window
knowing my heart's solitude
was not of choice but necessity?

your deft hands heal me, your soft touch warms me,
your gentle, vibrant whispers bring me to life

you show me a world
i had convinced myself did not exist
you open that window
so effortlessly
and lo! there it is!
a cosmos filled
with supernovae
strange and joyous events
bursts of pinwheel prismatic refraction
and sparticles

tonight i am alone
and watch the night sky
a swollen, tender, cloud-entangled moon
a paucity of dim, pale stars,
and dissipating contrails streak the frosty stratosphere

somewhere you are out there
how many million miles?
i am not sad so much as pensive
in waiting and in knowing
that someday
your star will send you back to me

i make a wish and close the blinds
it does not do to think too much
but my heart remains full
til next time
my starman

[sparticle]

My name is taken
from a word
meaning blind
but maybe that
is just a way of saying
"does not see".

As a girl I removed my glasses
when fireworks began
because the blurry, glittering shapes
were made the more magnificent
by my defective vision.

I've grown, but not much differently.

"They're not a heavenly host,"
you say,
"just airplanes in formation
for landing at the airport
at seven; what's to see?"

To me appear starry beings
descending one by one
home again
when evening falls;
we have missed them;
thank God they're safe
and sound with us
and beautiful beyond my words.

"I'm not a god,"
you say,
"not your Quicksilver, your perfect,
your shining, clever entity
delivering messages
(and you)
from other gods."

I like it better with unaided sight.
I like it that I do not see.
What I see is enough,
it is miraculous;
I can only wish we shared it.
Grant me my vision.
Be silent; spare me my dreams.

If I replace my glasses,
if my sight were any clearer,
the planets fade
and streetlights take their places;
we become mortal,
something less than evanescent.
I see evasion in your eyes
and the dying begins.

[sparticle]

There's poetry in a city;
it escapes us while we find
things needed to survive.

Concrete warriors, angels and gods
tower over ribbons of yet more concrete
grey, sulphur, ash and asphalt,
clanking metal, screeching tires,
sparkling glass and occasional crash
to the music of horns, engines and shouted greetings,
an occasional curse or raucous laughter
and footsteps, still many footsteps
in an age of transportation.

On the slate-grey lake a freighter mourns,
lonely for a tug
to pull her down the river
her gravel burden to be borne
round the snaked curves of the Cuyahoga,
a labored spilling on the docks.

Wind slices down a corridor of steel and stone
and metal bones;
we clutch our collars closer
and hurry faster
as if to outrun the falling temperature.

Cathedral bells admonish us in song
to mind our manners
say our prayers
eat our lunch and catch our buses
and to watch the skies
for further developments.

There is something of a lullabye
in a city
to one who was born there,
a rhythm never found
in peaceful mountains or beside a pond
or in the grand green suburbs.

A city child sleeps better to a siren's wail
than to any gentle tune;
it tells of someone brave enough
to rescue the burning
and catch the burglars
and keep us safe
until the bells
sing morning songs again.

[sparticle]

Reluctantly I love you;

sought not to and yet must.

I prayed that it be less and yet

it grows as each day passes,

a tender thing

and yet survives the frost.

Dawn follows dark;

to my amazement

this unlikely planting

has now grown a little more.

I pray you stay with me

and tend it,

you who placed it there.

It feeds on dreams and kindness

and is sheltered by my faith.

No frost shall touch it

in my keeping;

stay awhile with me and tend it,

you who placed it there.

[sparticle]

Nothing now dare we take

against ache of the day

that starts in with a sigh

and ends up with a sigh



Here the leaves rustle by

like the dead on the wind

and the baskets of leaves

are just souls out of keeping



The rain wanders down

on the glass like confusion

it's all out of place

and I talk about leaving



As if anywhere's there

or the places I go

will fill some ancient void

that's been left in my keeping



There's a sometime with sun

and a faint little rainbow

above a small storm

that broke over our heads



And I know where it is

and i'm not going back there

but sometimes I dream

that i never have left



And the leaves

tumble by

like old souls in the wind

and I once heard him say

that I'd never return



and the rain trickles down

and the candle burned out

and the stars aren't there

and i wish he was here



but he's not

and they don't and it won't

and it isn't; you'll never, I didn't,

and nobody will

So many negatives never and never

and never again takes awhile to fill....



There's some hope in old comforts

the smell of damp hair

on a pillow I won't wash

because we were there



And the leaves swirl around

like the souls of the damned

and tonight's moon is hidden

and nothing was planned



I finish some coffee

that wasn't that good

and the leaves in the wind are

like things that I should



And I sleep because sometimes it's

something to do

and if sometimes I'm careful

the dreaming comes true



And the morning is silent

like leaves under snow

that eventually falls

and there's nowhere to go

except up from here

out of here

far and away from here

never come back to here

anywhere's better



But here's where I am

and wherever I go

and if that isn't fair

then it's still what we get

and I write and i tell him

forget me

and tear up the letter....

[Clytie]

his nights sleepless
unable to rest
watching the darkness linger on the edge
moving closer to her still form
and so the call
his voice a quiver
filled with emotion
yet the answer
a reassuring voice
lulls him to sleep
willing him to slumber
while only miles away
her body awakens
violent leaping
under the pressure of the paddles
to no avail
he was right
the darkness had consumed her

[tsunamimom]

If I could have my time over again,
so many things that I could say or do
Before I saw my life's span start to wane,
Address the what, wherefore, the why and who.
To start again knowing what I know now
And do things right the way I should have done;
Just what exactly would I change and how?
Alter the winding course my life has run?
But changing all my past affects the now;
My husband gone, my children somewhere else.
A whole new set of promises I'd vow
A different life, another story tells.

I'm glad I took this road, tho' it be long
For that which does not kill you makes you strong.

Jo McGee Feb 2002

[Clytie]

eyes void of vision
blurred in the midday
aimless staring
while the chaos rages round
turbuent waves of paranoia
crowd in closer and closer
yet the dead calm in her eyes
never wavers
blind

[sparticle]

possibility in yes

the possibility in your "yes"
is a beam of sun
that played across the faded drapes
and caught floating specks of grime
and turned them into sparkling stardust
in otherwise dullest wintertime

the possibility in your "yes"
is a few water molecules
that met bittercold air
and wove crystalline fractals
across a bubbled pane
the moonlight through them looks
intensely lovely,
a living thing captured in trembling bare branches.

the possibility in your "yes"
is the lacy veil of six-point snowstars
diamonds dazzling white
gathered in my dark hair
as if arranged to shine.

I could never purchase these,
so fine are they, and rare
and I am grateful for the gift
it may last but a moment
but ah, the moment for which it is there.

[Clytie]

endless moon
carry the night on your shoulders
shift the moons dark weight
spin the stars on your finger
ride the winds of midnight
fly long until morning breaks upon your weary head
then go as the light chases
all the dark away
and hide yourself in the caves
where never the day will find you

[chuckie egg]

I've been writing quite a bit over the last 6 months. And I guess I was largely inspired by this place, so I thought I'd share a few with you all. :p

They're all pretty personal. I write better amid angst, I've discovered. Any comments/criticisms most welcome!



Missing You

Missing you just makes
my heart ache for you more,
to be in your arms.

With your sweater wrapped
around me I close my eyes,
and stare into yours.

Until we next meet
whenever you think of me
you can be quite sure,

I am missing you.



I Wait

I wait
day in day out
as we live our separate
lives at opposite ends of this world
I couldn’t get further away
nor could I get
closer.

I wait
as you sleep
and I sleep while you
live and see beautiful things
I can’t wait to hear
about you while
I dream.

I wait
in the grey
in the cold in the dull
in the months I hate most
in the months when I need you here
in this place I call home
yet I long to escape
until I can
I wait.



Here

here
I wait
to hold you
tight again in
my arms that lie
empty at night,
eyes close
with a
tear

here
I wait
for your
kiss that I've
missed, so dearly
have I longed
to give you
all the
year

here
I wait
to stare
into blue eyes
that melt my heart
which pounds
hard when
you are
near



Saved

put on the spot I think for a moment
and truth comes streaming forth
like a waterfall exploding
through a dam which
was once strong
and now is
weak

water
consumes my
world and theirs
so rapidly and for a while
I can't breathe, I swim and I gasp
for air and fight to stay alive in this
new world which is alien to me and I sink

I almost hit bottom, a hand grasps my arm
and pulls hard, it hurts a while
and then I recognise it.
I grab and hold tight
because I know He
won't let me
drown

saved
from the mess
from everything I breathe
once more with a smile inside
knowing, knowing that I'm not alone
and I'm loved and protected and saved
already and again by my dearest, oldest Friend



"I drink"

the fleeting glance
captures my gaze
and I stare
and you know it
I drink
you flirt
with surrounding admirers
as my gut churns
round and round
I drink
and you relish
the opportunity
to mess with my mind
and I know it
I drink
while you laugh
while they laugh
while I laugh
at myself
I drink
you leave
and brush past
my arm
beckoning me
I drink



First Kiss

my
heart
beats out
of my chest
as I wait for
the right time
to pull you close
and kiss the lips I've
been admiring all day long

soft
breaths
on my cheek
masquerade as
flower petals that
gently caress the breeze
that captures them in summer

passionate
new explorations
makes toes curl and
sends tingles down spines
as we embrace each other hard

we fall
asleep and
in love, smiling

wow



Far Away Shores

Blue sky beckons me
to escape this room
trapped by steel bars
trapped by the clock
trapped by deadlines

Tired eyes and sore head
persuade me to dream
of far away shores
with crystal blue seas
and fluffy white sand

Let me take you there
the place of my dreams
we'll forget the world
soak up the sun
and each other



This Place

I stare at letters on a screen
With a sunken, heavy heart
I've been to this place before
Seemingly perpetual pain

Six letter word etched on my mind
captures me at every glimpse
I've been to this place before
and hated every last second

Alarmingly familiar
actions mirror past regrets
I've been to this place before
And I never want to return

[ambo]

Ah, Chuckie, really lovely all of them.
I like your open style - it reminds me of my own.
A friend once warned me not to give away too much of myself in my poetry.
I asked him how!

[chuckie egg]

Thanks Ambo :)

I find poetry a good way to went how I'm feeling.:o