The stream (all workshops)
Seedling’s seed to Earth
Simple seedling, to seed then shoot,
I pray you grow into a peoples brute.
Quiet, soft are all good and well,
but some won’t listen until you yell.
That mother Earth a champion needs,
our bravest hero now concedes.
And though I lurch into an absurd,
the champion I plant, a simple word.
Banish tyranny’s evil sword and gun,
there are spoken battles, that must be won.
Let all who live on this inhuman land,
know, no more will die from a raised hand.
Never did I encounter
Such a love that
Blossoms at the sight
Of my dismay
Oh sweet loneliness
Why, do I hold onto to you?
Have I not the strength
To bid you farewell
As I shed a rainstorm
You observe me silently
As if you fathom my
Dark skies
Loneliness, even though
You cause me harm
I have a warm place
For you in my heart
You’re unlike the rest
Oh you don’t torment my soul
Instead you embrace my agony
Leading me to believe
That someone cares
Is poetry a type of math
with measured and oft random flow
which can be charted on a graph
the kind the mathematicians know ?
Or is it some kind of an art
with strokes of pen instead of brush
where visuals are the main part
built in layers with no rush
Maybe it is pure emotion
exhibited for all to see
by anyone who takes a notion
to set their inner feelings free
Some say music's what it is
with all the rhythm and the rhyme
composed by some verbal whiz
intent on beat and keeping time
They Say!
They say times
Are for ever changing
and
All time is never the same
Tis a fact of life
But love is something
That should never change
Ah! Lust
Within the cusps of love
We must for ever retain.
Naturally Natural!
At times I love being
In my natural form
As nature saw me
When I was born,
That naturalness
Makes me love those
Who do always surround
All the year long
This life
and
Time around!
This piece is a co-write with my good friend Ziggy. This is a poem/song written for Candlewith (Cat). It may not be apparent exactly why we wrote it in this way and the subject matter may not be appreciated by all, that said, I can safely say this is the most important piece I have ever been involved in and I thank Ziggy for helping to create this piece. From both Ziggy and myself...welcome back Sister.
Sister
1) "QUIET MEDICINE"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 7th November 2010.
I love silence,
its potent pregnancy,
its contrast probably because my mind's
so busy creating the sound of words
of music,
of interest in so much,
that it needs this to survive,
without burning itself up in the too much!
we all have our place of living
those tinniest of anmals live fast heart-beat lives
while huge beasts content themselves
with more peaceful pass times.
There weren’t very many photos back then.
Carefully stored and lovingly treasured,
Mum kept ours in a brightly coloured tin
safe on the bookshelf in our father’s den
bound with elastic to hold down the lid.
There weren’t very many photos back then.
All counted not more than fifty and ten
those black and white images remembered.
Mum kept ours in a brightly coloured tin,
hung over us like an old mother hen
when to see them we begged to be allowed.
There weren’t very many photos back then
I want to eat some children
They’re yummy as can be!
Look! They’re really tasty
I’ll have them for my tea.
I spo’se I’ll have to cook them
No! that’s against the law,
But what else can I do
I cannot eat them raw!
Besides I’m on a diet
And they’re like lumps of ghee
They’ll expand me midriff
beyond capacity.
I’ll snack upon their digits
I know that they’re fat free
Serve them up with salad
Co’s that’s low calorie.
down around the pigsty
news was heard that wailed
one of us has been chosen
as judge to a cockfight down
the road
get out your fine tuxedo
pandering pig
you it is who will adjudicate
cruelest fight this night
down in holler dark
Arise, and walk along these streets,
breathe and partake of the dregs
of the mighty industrial age;
paint the colours of its appeal -
toxic fumes that light the path
to days only just imagined.
Parted lips bare wisdom,
shatter the silence that shackles;
within parched throat, sealed
sounds peal from the belfry -
tender whispers caress
each unknown orphaned heart.
Lift high the banner brave;
let the bitter winds bite
lash fierce its tattered frame,
light gapes through its holes-
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.