Poetry Thread, Part Deux

[beckstra]

Eighty On The Interstate

sea foam green plastic dragon
melts on my dashboard
the sun casting shadows from him
I press my flip-flop harder on the gas
bounce with the interstate
crickets sound from my trunk
or are those the shocks?
sing sweet FM nightingale
giggle with the fizzle in my throat
the good gracious water bottle
rests against the passenger seat
I push my shades in closer
touch the cartoon dragon
and half smile

[Deviate]

hey! what was wrong with part one?

-st.

[beckstra]

I was too lazy to look it up. ;)

[chuckie egg]

wish I could write poems
but I cant
no I cant

[beckstra]

The Affair

Powdered hall
Dusty walls
The lockers’ luster’s faded
Brilliant red
To just about rust
The tiled floor
And windowed doors
Cracked and worn with time
Clop clop clop clop
Footsteps sound
Echo around
The children have deserted
Joined efforts with the summer sun
Dirty blinds
Mess left behind
The trophy case is open
Ump ump ump ump
A certain pair of sneakers
Cut resolve weaker
Black and white Chuck Taylors
Throwback to a pivotal moment
School bell chime
Turn on a dime
Smacking into his Ramones tee-shirt
His chest with my face
The sun
School day done
Light glossed the floor
My eyes fixed to my heels
Withered smell
Stories to tell
Leaning against the trophy case
Trade these heels for All-Stars my own
Tumultuous breath
Innocence’s death
Lips hands hair noses eyes
Made me weaker and beautiful
Glass streak
Willing, meek
Gave him everything in that light
Lost my heart
Snap open eyes
Quickly disguise
Tug on wispy strands of hair
Tuck them away
Walk on down
Must leave town
And memories will be put away
Packed in boxes
Powdered hall
Dusty walls
Will never teach again

[nycwriters]

.

[~*WickedAngel*~]

Lost Feelings

I took time out to think
To regain myself and my composure
I realized I am unable to love
I am unable to feel deeply

My emotions are extinct
I feel nothing
No more tears
No more smiles

I scream because I like the way it sounds
I punch the walls to cause pain
My brain tells me it hurts
But the feeling isn't there.

I look around and I see nothing
My heart is empty
My mind is clear
I will it to be this way.

No more emotion
No more hurt
No more love
No more feeling

[~*WickedAngel*~]

I Don't Understand

I don't understand what I'm doing
I don't understand what I'm going thru
Perhaps I don't want to know
Perhaps I do

No one can say yes or no to me
No one can tell me what to do
I'm not gonna be someone's little toy
I'm not gonna be someone's play thing

I'm tired of this life
I'm tired of this plan
I want a new way of living
I want a new way of loving

Without you it all just seems strange
Without my mind it all seems crazy
Without my heart it all seems hopeless
I just don't fvcking understand

[rapscalious rob]

Poem one: A poem for my formic friends

They scurried unaware and without care,
unknowing of their imminent demise.
The insect-specks were moving here and there,
a highway of formic festivity,
which, as I said, was mindless, unaware.

They clambered up the amber honey bear,
close by, myself, the coffee pot and sink,
and some scurried quickly back down to share
their golden speck of treasure with the queen,
who I pictured, fat, grotesque in her lair.

I quickly grabbed the honey container,
and placed it in the basin of the sink,
turned on the hot water (a no-brainer),
that killed most of them. Some crawled up my hand;
I crushed or brushed them off then, feeling saner.

I unscrewed the honey container top,
flushed out the ants that clung inside the lid.
The self-asfixiated ant-shells drop;
they never make it all the way inside,
but they push on ‘till all their movements stop.

[rapscalious rob]

"This is the world I came from," she said,
as the wind whispered through the trees that lined the street,
making the shadows move on the sun-dappled sidewalk.

The rusty truck parked in front of the neighbor’s house
was the same rusty truck that had been parked there for years.
Across the street the dog barked. Soon, she knew, her father would be wondering where she was, why the dishes were being quietly and purposefully neglected as the sunlight warmed the kitchen through the open window.

Better to be here outside, then. She began to walk down the street, deciding on the same route she had walked hundreds of times before. At one point, however, she decided to try a different path. Her steps grew lighter. Soon she was barely skipping along the ground on the toes of her tennis shoes. Then she was floating.

She flew above the trees, maneuvering past the great, clawlike branches. The trees and houses were falling away beneath her. In a few moments, she could see the entire city. How small her world seemed now! She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Surrounding the town was a vast desert. Falling away from the town across the vast desert, she wondered what it would be like to fall away from the earth itself. Her rate of ascent increased. Soon her town was lost beneath the clouds. Somehow seeing everything so small made her feel small.

Then, the earth itself began to fall away, through the vast dark desert of space. The sun was so huge, so much brighter than she had ever imagined. And the earth, dwindling away, seemed so immense, yet so minuscule. She couldn’t even find the her state, now-- all those neat little colored lines she used to see on the globe, indicating countries, states, cities… weren’t there. “This is our world,” she thought to herself, “We live on an island in space. We need to take care of this world. It’s where we came from, and it’s all we’ve got.”

She was reminded of the words of the astronauts who have left earth. The feeling of being part of a global village. She began slowly to accelerate even more. Seeing stars move like that, and change color, felt wrong somehow. The sun turned red and shrank until it was no different from any other star.

She began to see a huge swirling shape she recognized as our galaxy. “It looks so much different than the way they show it in the books,” she thought. But it, too, was dwindling. Soon the galaxy was just a point in a cluster of points.

So there we are, she thought. An infinitesimal dot on an infinitesimal dot, on an infinitesimal dot, spiraling paths around spiraling paths flying through the darkness. She began to understand something she had read a while back: time is motion. Gone were thoughts of familiar paths, dishes, dogs, rusty trucks, telephones, hateful part-time jobs. Somehow it didn’t seem real. This couldn’t be reality, could it? How could we be so small, so insignificant, and yet so damn important? How could the planet we live on seem so huge and be so tiny? None of it added up.

A strange blaring sound erupted from her right. What was that? An alien spaceship? She rolled over in the void and looked into the glowing red face of her alarm clock. 7:30. Time to get up.

She got up, yawned, and thought about her dream. “What a strange dream,” she thought to herself as she took her shower. After she left the house and got in her car, the dream began to fade. Soon she forgot it entirely. And, later that day, as she stood in front of the sink, washing dishes, a familiar thought entered her mind: “I wish I was the wind. I wish I could fly away.”

[nycwriters]

nice.

[rapscalious rob]

Who? Me?;)

Thanx.

[sparticle]

senescence in the hastening autumn


The old oak
hangs onto her leaves this year
I think not from senescence but tenacity;
she clings to a thing outworn,
at least it is something;
she can no longer foresee spring.

We are settled into
the same argument;
it has worn redundant grooves
onto the sulci of our brains;
the thing is;
the thing is not;
the thing is not as it seems;
there is no proof
and no conclusion.

By now the words are as comforting
and ritual
as Matins and Vespers;
I say them by rote
without thinking of their meaning:
this morning the thing is not
at least according to me;
tomorrow the thing will be
and by you it will be not;
there once was a score but I lost its keeping.

"Too long a sacrifice
can make a stone of the heart,"
so the poet said.

Roads are stone, thereby we go;
altars are stone, thereby we pray;
monuments are stone, thereby we remember;
the roads the Romans built still stand
while the soft macadam will be gone next year.
I think a little hardness is a good thing;
not senescence but tenacity.

Am I another
from that young girl in men's breeches
throwing a stone in the wind
and laughing at your fear of forever?

Are you another
from that tender young man
wearing a young girl's claddagh ring
and whistling during thunderstorms?

I call it not senescence but tenacity;
if stones have been made of our hearts,
I expect them to stand long yet;
at least it is something,
and we cannot foresee spring.

[Clytie]

the dew rises
misty and warm
lining the lush green grass
appearing on the very lips of the flowers
touching
golden yellow tulips
outlining
bold crimson roses
along the delicate edges
of the midnight violets
blanketing their vibrant colors
with its freshness
casting a mystical
glow
over the whole field
as the suns early rays
move its fingers to light
upon the earth
glimmering
sparkling
drops
dazzling to the
i

[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

[Spicy Jack]

crap. i hope the lines fit right...blah blah blah

Form of Sound

Incendiary sounds come crashing through your veins
like tremulous waves penetrating
your body.
Each frictionous beat
sparks the synapses of the mind
causing your blood to writhe and you
to acquiesce as the notes wrap
around your soul pulling you
deep within them.
Your movements merge with the unceasing
intoxicating pulse and the rhythm
enraptures your being
Dance
Let the sound permeate through you
bringing it to life;
you are the channel in which sound takes form
and you become the vibrations of notes
striking the air.

[sparticle]

Originally posted by rapscalious rob
Who? Me?;)

Thanx.

Yes, you! Nice! :)

[rapscalious rob]

Oh nerdicus, oh nercdicus
Why are you so absurdicus?
You’re really a strange birdicus,
Whose call I’ve never heardicus.

Oh nerdicus absurdicus;
Is that even a wordicus?
Oh, wherefore art thou nerdicus?
You nerdy, nerdy nerdicus.

[sparticle]

ha ha ha -- I love it!

[Clytie]

stolen glances
across the crowded hallway
voices crush in around them
chaotic and loud
and yet
they are alone
in silence
whole conversations pass
within the depths of their eyes
unbeknownst to them
communication has started
a common thread is
looping through
their souls
in and out
along the edges
in small even stiches
gathering them together
with tiny bands
that bind two hearts
tying knots
pulling them closer

[laughingbuddha]

No words
No conversations
Everything's a jumble,
All that escapes me is a mumble

Indescribable, Inexhaustible
Incomprehensible, Impossible....
Where does the journey lead next?
Aren't words written on paper nothing but text?

[Clytie]

NIGHTMARE
why is life
-my life a never ending nightmare...
i lost it... that one thing that I valued almost as much as God.
(mayb that was the problem-- to hold something that high)
I heard...yea u got it dinna even get a personal phone call...
that my once true love
is gettin married
talk about rock my world
how could this happen?
o yea I know... thats right
i was loyal and still madly in love with him
while... he wasnt
smash my life with a hammer
Why? Why this torture?
u meet the one person who makes you happy
truly and completely happy
filled your days
and then they are gone
faster than u can blink
its over
and the darkness rolls in
you dont think you can make it
you dont think you will live
and then you do
and thats the torture of it all
living...
with out them



and then the Hell youve been living in widens
everything goes hazy
the normal you have been
no long exsists
as you realize
the reality your in 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

[Clytie]

going through drawers
in search of the past
finding old forgotten boxes
cards, notes, letters, wrinkled and yellow with age
re-awakening old memories
thoughts of granduer
and plans for the future
big elaborate schemes
the way we were going to be
our whole lives outlined in that one summer
heads together pouring over everything
sandy brown locks mingled with auburn
hand in hand strolling
but it wasnt ment to be
time has aged the pages
as it has my hands
life drifted on passing by
the barefoot couple

[rapscalious rob]

moving
rummaging through old boxes
covered in dust
rolled up posters with cobwebs inside
a high school yearbook:
“cu at the dance.
never change.
love, Chelle."
notebooks, papers, broken
frames
envelopes full of bills
jumbled, in disarray
a t-shirt from my childhood
the one I wore on that trip to the mountains
i remember thinking, back then
i would be eight years old
forever
so much has changed since then.
nothing will ever be the same

[rapscalious rob]

I said, "Good morning, sunshine,"
and smiled at her today.
I said, "Good morning, sunshine."
She didn’t look my way.
She never seems to hear me,
the lovely things I say.

"Can I buy you a big mac?"
I said at 12:03.
"Can I buy you a big mac?"
she didn’t look at me.
But oh, she looks so skinny!
Doesn’t she get hungry?

"You are my one obsession"
I said as we went home.
"You are my one obsession,"
as she stared at a tome.
She’s often reading something,
wherever she does roam.

"Hey, wait for me!" I shouted
as she ran towards the stair.
"Hey, wait for me!" I shouted.
She did not seem to care.
Perhaps she does not love me,
my dearest maiden fair!

[Spicy Jack]

:p you're too funny!

[rapscalious rob]

:p

[Clytie]

i love
how information moves
the way data pulses
between the computer
hitting wires
bouncing between satellites
pounds and rushes into each port
words flowing
coursing between
under and around
until they reach you
and all of this in a mere second

[Clytie]

buried
under layers of paper upon the wall
drawn with care and love
there was a dusty rose
colors
old and sadly fading
once vibrant red now dim
and gently painted underneath
a name
in faint script
it read Ashleigh

[dinzdale]

Words are
beautiful
and may be laid adjacent
in myriad forms
only made personal
by the hands
of the giver
and it matters not
despite the discouragement
of teachers
and preachers
of the validity
of which words
you choose
to give us
and if you choose
to give at all

[Clytie]

" shimmering"
white orchids
dazzling in the sun
blinding
then pierced
the blood red streaks
stain the center of each petal
from the heart
to the soul edge

[Clytie]

the suns first rays
illumine on the
tangled
angled limbs
slowly focusing on the two
short dark curls adorn his head
with her long ruddy tresses
fallen onto his shoulders and chest
her head resting under his chin
her lips upturned towards him
and as the sun climbs
his arms tighten around her
kissing her goodmorning

[Clytie]

sentances blurr
whirl around the ceiling
with uneven holes
murmur of voices
blend into silence
peaceful and even
uninterupted with
mundane useless words
comfortable

[gigi]

Gently Held

Once reigned so firmly, gloved and cropped and grand
A Heart cast off falls soft to quiet land
‘Pon pillowed break of tender work of word
From gentle sheaths of knightly budding sword.

Acquaintance such be met with pupils blown
Approach of caution’s motives growth be known
Still the beat, the heat of pressured blood:
The flowing rivulets that lead to flood!

Can Annum’s fate, for Day procrastinate?
Can penalty for such truly abate?
In battle, Practical - Fantasy’s foe -
Is hesitant with knowledge all do know.

Yet Struggle, lovely torment, lets Heart feel
Its lost and faded, painful, broken zeal.
Grapple, Mind, for Body feels no hands
Its past has gone to Master’s foreign lands.

[Clytie]

blood all hot rich and red
pulsing alive undead
coarsing thru her veins
her heart dark
as she calls out his name
screaming
ripping into the air
her face enshrouded with hair
red lips part and scream again
tasting touching
hands sliding over skin
filling the night with their wild sin
eyes dull and bleary
from the long night weary
black and red combined
with that final resign