workshop
Religiosity of Religion
This is neither
A poem nor is it prose
But a combination
I suppose
Let’s see how it goes.
The oldest religion was
Lord’s Krishna’s
Where he had specified
That he was Time
The sun was God
So Time is God.
Also Lord Rama gave
A sample of equality and love
To ones family
Obeisance to the elderly
Justice in reality
Even to ones very own family
.
shall I write of trees?
gorgeous, as foreground or backdrop
to visions of life
fueling imagination
and heartfire
or write of the sea?
drowning one in depth
of emotion and tears
hoping to add one more drop
to its enormity
or shall I write of the sky?
whew! the view!
endless endless endlessly
to leave you draining
into a puddle of
discombobulation
Drenched in heavy morning rain
Like an arctic soaking to the vein;
I just sat there stunned and wordless,
by the results of endless tests.
Only do I seek the scoffer's sympathy;
my litanies dot the bottom of this timpani.
No restaurant on high street offers...
Whoa! I found where my sanity rests:
A very comforting hand takes mine,
The other hand by her child as well.
I draw dry ice sculptures in my mind,
While a hawk’s screech rings overhead.
poems get long
nobody’s fault but the poet's
who sings lyrics
with a half full pen for company
a loaded gun for support
gazing into a future no one else
may see
Russian roulette, the only game in town --
as words flow with percussion ease
tapped out while clock ticks beyond
its moments
on long road of living with ideas
searching for lost phrases
poet thinks are new
like they are his or hers alone
You stream through my veins
your words an elixir
soothing and razing
my blood in chorus
holding me spellbound;
breathless
in the sweetest pain
of undeniable necessity
would you withhold
my passionate cacophony
force a bitter resolve of
awkward discontent?
please, do not wander
too far away.
11.8.2010
© Tonya Greenlee
I feel your hopeless, endless grieving
and both our journeys you impede
there's reason in your remaining quick
and now, I with you, gently plead
to forgive me, let me go, allow me
move on and do what I have to do
my purpose over there is finished
apart, that is, from my love for you
Masculinity
He mourns the youth once owned
the smooth tanned skin ,
eyes so blue and dreamy, they could melt
a thousand hearts.
He longs for the taught muscular frame and
well defined chest that made,
grown women weep.
But youth has flown and left in it's stead an imposter.
Thinning hair greying at the temples.
Skin now lined and puckered.
Eyes still bright behind glasses.
Oh he calls to youth, but it has fled.
On a night
That lingering silence
Imprisons me
The only hope I know
Can be found in a pen
That soothes my
Weary mind
Angels walking alongside me
Trying to savor an ounce of euphoria
Before I face the devil himself
No cars or pedestrians
Only a whispering wind
Telling me to reconsider
But this war must be waged
The city lights turned off
As the moon offers light
To my aching soul
And I will die alone, in a field somewhere
Organs and bloody bones, will decompose with hair
So why should I try to love?
What would be good for me?
I could channel all my rage, into a pit of despair
And I will drag on, till my toes catch fire
And I won’t be tempted by such evils as desire
So come, take me home, but I don’t know where
Just leave me here, and I will learn
That love can’t be made, it must be earned
And most things are not meant to be
But some things are, you must believe
Hear me, hear me, cry, I swear to god I can see
All of the things that I have done wrong
I wish I could repent and that you could fix me
I would sing such glory repeated in songs
The things I know I can never forget
The heart I held but could never get
The strings of hearts and the marionettes that pull
The fire that claimed my beating heart
The strangers that walked me home from jail
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