a place to post and comment on poetry

Archive for April, 2010

little poem I just thought of, nothing much=)

.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-
It’s the feeling that whenever I am lost
   I find a feeling that’s so brand new
  But whatever direction I turn to walk
   I always find my way back to you.
.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-.-~-
Small, I know, but I dedicate it to the one I love=)

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new poetry site

new site:

http://www.poetpantry.com

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Doomwheels Poetry Site…stop by. BC

Thought I might take a little break and go up into the mountains for a couple
days.  Help yourself to read some of my work at…

http://members.aol.com/doomwheels/home.html

Some other neat stuff there too. Let me know what you think…BC

http://members.aol.com/doomwheels/home.html

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amateur poetry journal…

Hi! I just wanted to let everyone know about the AMJ…I post there
along with several other amateur poets..We are a very kind group and
always willing to help each other out with helpful little hints…
Please.. if you do post take the time to comment on others  poems…
e.w.c.

freedom comes when you learn to let go>creation comes when you learn to
say no
–walk away–
there’s nothing left to try>there’s no place left to hide
there’s no greater power than the power of goodbye…

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Romance-Erotic Poetry

.
    …Welcome To A New World of Poetry…
          Sharon McElroy’s World…

      Romance, Sensuous and Erotic Poems
 ****Also An In Honor of Rod McKuen Page****
**And A Page Where Poems Are Changed Every Day**
 http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Studio/2441

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"a more precise death" – amended version, comments?

This is a slightly amended version of the original (the last stanza has
changed).  Many thanks to "Athinker" for helping me out on this one!

Cheers Laura, you’re a pal!

a more precise death

Someone’s done a “join the dots” on JFK,
removed the grain from history,
made our memories less clear,
turned our legends into “facts”.

People thought they knew where they were,
only now they’re not so sure.
For under twenty dollars, they can buy
a death, more accurate than before.

At seventy-seven cents a second,
the head explodes again and slumps,
and you can see his brains more clearly
in the heat of the dumb Dallas sun.

But History calls me on the telephone,
tells me Zapruder had his back to the knoll,
that bullets’ trajectories are smears
in the memories of their careful owners.

History asks if a computer is more objective
or informed than the Warren Commission.
Perhaps is has fewer axes to sharpen, wield, wipe,
and lock away in velvet cases, I reply.

Steve.

catf…@mcmail.com

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"legion" – comments?

This is a bit on the experimental side.  I wanted to see if I could use
fairly large quotes within a poem and still maintain some structure and
coherence.  Comments would be appreciated.

legion

God is my narrator.

“What is your name?”
“My name is Legion:
we are many.”

I shall not want.

“Man needs more than
bread to live.”

I shall prosper.

“We can do without butter, but,
despite all our love of peace,
not without arms.
One cannot shoot with butter
but with guns.”

I am guided by His wisdom.

“. . . the herd ran violently
down a steep hill into the sea,
(they were about two thousand)
and were drowned there.”

And I shall see clearly
into the night.

“. . . a whirlwind came out of the north,
a great cloud,
and a fire,
infolding itself,
and a brightness was about it,
and out of the midst thereof
as the colour of amber,
out of the midst of the fire.

Also out of the midst thereof came
the likeness of four living creatures.
And this was their appearance;
they had the likeness of a man.

And everyone had four faces,
and everyone had four wings.
And their feet were straight feet;
and the sole of their feet
was like the sole of a calf’s foot:
and they sparkled like the colour
of burnished brass.”

Believe me.

“The great masses of the people
will more easily fall victims
to a big lie than to a small one.”

Feel the fear of the almighty.

“The one means that wins
the easiest victory over reason:
terror and force.”

If I ever catch me keeping pigs,
I’ll run myself into the sea.

Steve.

catf…@mcmail.com

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Tomorrow.

Anticipation is sweet to one’s soul.
True to meet in the flesh would flame my breast
And an actual touch would sizzle all
My body parts, right now my soul’s at rest.

Intelligence of the soul knows our lives,
Is aware of time’s span, sees before and
After – flesh is sad unless it arrives
Immediately right now, to command.

Anticipation truly stimulates
My mind in thinking of you my lovely.
Right now my mind is a-firing, our fates
Will join our souls and all else, you will see.

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At Last.

There they both were, together, oh at last,
Months and months of fore-play, e-mails later,
Touching finally, touches that will cast
Spells on their lives, binding them forever.

Now seeing each other as they are formed,
Eager eyes, eager hands, eyes filled with love,
Making tentative moves, for though they’re moved
They’re frozen by the moment, they’ve dreamt of.

Love making skills, secondary this time,
The first hug cannot be first again, though
Thought of many nights; body and mind climb
Heights this first time, cementing both them so.

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Anna, six – comments welcome

Becoming the mother of a six year old
isn’t easy
especially when you want to kill her days before that birthday
but manage not to because you’d really miss her
after a few days.
But she’s not sunlight with legs and joy with a voice,
anymore,
despite the bouncy tangle of yellow that’s always been her hair
and the winged feet following you everywhere.
She’s a damsel in constant distress,
a demanding, incessant whine of a lass
driving you nuts
because all you want is for her to be happy
and you love her enough to make pink topped cupcakes from
scratch
for the entire kindergarten
and go to four stores to find the perfect two-wheel bike
and call her favorite uncle, long-distance, to suggest he buy the
boy Barbie
so she could have one more toy exactly like her best friend’s.
She’s too miserable to see happiness right here
inches away
like the caterpillars she found on the bush by the front door
rich with promise
soon to soar away, and that breaks your heart.
If she won’t be happy now,
when?

Julie

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