your red stripes are a tiger’s tail eyes glistening with the gleam of irony your sharp wit the fel force of your driving discontent as you bask in the carnage and glory of your biting malcontent — 12/28/09 – 28
Browsing: Poetry
you’re an exuberant lion a grey haired majesty all hands and gesticulation your quick wit and eyes dance with fire ready to pounce. the loud and happy voices ring in your den, your home, your domain. like the fire that burns nearby your gentle frame and gracious spirit are a becoming presence that says welcome. — Mr. McDonald – 12/27/09 – 27
rattle and clink, bubble and squeak listen while the music plays a jaunty jig with fiddle and stick low dimmed lights, babble and sites see the joyous public gather to laugh and talk between full bites — 12/26/09 – 26
my mind is blank, a hollow tomb a space empty of the ideas of poetry and whence comes the creative spark which occupies and breathes so vibrantly my empty soul yearns for its touch the soft caress of its deft fingertips the sensual thrill of its embodiment i would be caught in its metaphorical grip — 12/25/09 – 25
i’ve missed the normalcy of home a place of no pretense or question and as the cold rain falls outside i sit content, empty of frustration –12/24/09 – 24
the resonance of the mood lay quietly around me the vibration a steady hum in the background of my mind fear a subtle force at work in the chambers of my heart leaves me anxious and waiting for the answers i would find — 12/23/09 – 23
the fog lay lightly on the near distant landscape the mist a quiet shroud upon the waking city blank and stoic faces shuffled on the moving train a crowd of familiar strangers my silent company — 12/22/09 – 22 #favorite
life is like a sinus rhythm its ups and downs beat in, beat out the problem is the frequency too fast, too slow we complain, we exult but what we really want is proper length and amplitude — 12/21/09 – 21 #favorite
frayed seams and splotchy grass. bits and pieces left undone glossed over with memories like sandcastle constructs the story of our life told to self for self’s sake. — 12/21/09 – 20 #favorite
voices swelling together dwelling emotion singing with devotion bringing the chorus ringing their praises giving for what was done that Christmas day forever changed the way we pray –12/20/09 – 19
we went to that place you like and you ordered your favorite. i had my usual, and you made fun because im so predictable. — Tamara’s Poem – 12/19/09 – 18
your undulating eyes dart like bats that half smile on your face a parting glimpse of mischief from a bright and gleaming soul — Chianna – 12/18/09 – 17
what is the heartbeat of life, the intangible lifeblood of man? what forces incite his waiting spirit or causes its ardor to wane? who moves the noble mortal in the courses of his destiny? and with Atlas’ strength anchors in diluvian depths his loyalty? why does man pulse with fire the engine of his blood stark against a cold and frightful sky riveting light against the dark? how can he strive upon strife exciting tempestuous passion and then land firmly in his place in a fine and fearless fashion? i know not. so ask me not. for i can only…
bounce, bound, bubble free the effervescent frivolity that rises up from a joyful soul on Christmas day especially — 12/16/09 – 15
the unerring voice wavered mechanically announcing points of interest to the figures on the wind swept platform standing stodgily in the rain — 12/16/09 – 14
the sluggish embrace of a long friend wrapped in tones of dusk and eerie longing pulls you deep into lands yet unexplored veiled in mists of hope and dreaming — Morpheus – 12/15/09 – 13
rattle and hum move and thrum to and fro squeal and go ringing bell signal well its coming and its going — Train – 12/14/09 – 12
he played music on a street corner not yet full of the seasons bustle the rise and fall of mournful notes a landscape painted in Christmas hues his red stocking cap sat a jaunty angle while tendrils of wispy smoke drifted on the wind, and brass vibrations wafted down the city streets at mid day — Busker – 12/14/09 – 11
by our confession / his indwelling made perfect / our hearts for love — loosely from 1 John 4:15-19
you were my rest and i ached to rest weary shoulders, and a deep deep breath. i’d think of you, and i’d see flowers, calico, and my fondest dreams. we were so close to perfect, but now you’re gone, and i find myself missing you — 12/13/09 – 10 #favorite