The stream (all workshops)
If I don't take them,
they will never let me leave.
These pills meant to raise
a magic wall around me
built on the strength of
1,000 milligrams.
A chemical fortress
that crumbles
with the breath of words
whispered from the eyes
that wept when the key
turned behind me.
Wading through
long blades,
tickling my palms
with their tips
stalks crack...
underfoot,
the smell of hay
permeates the air
black torments
dive bomb my face,
my hands become
windscreen wipers
far away machines
growl out the work,
as cows bellow
all the way to the bales
and then,
I was looking around
taking it all in,
until I felt a warm squish
yes it was cowshit...
I had to smile
I was home...
Two of us have already compared
lives to a running river ,
a friend in Alabama
and I myself,
You are the third one
we are all now runners up
the river never returns
we all know that
memories fade
we all know that
but the way you describe life
as a flowing river
none has done so ever
Ladies do Count…a lot
A lady lives by numbers because
she wants to be petite,
She keeps on counting calories
hoping men fall at her feet.
When a shoes too small,
she’ll still make it fit.
Says there's no pain at all,
through teeth she must grit.
If a dress is loose the smile
never leaves her face,
though it looks like a tent
she’ll wear it with grace.
The material will stretch,
the pins all go pinging.
She’ll either feel like a wretch,
or off she’ll go singing.
Somewhere in the album of memories,
I keep the stories of a broken heart.
When the old love is betrayed, fades or dies,
it feels like my soul is torn apart
But patience and wisdom whisper to me
a promise I have always longed to hear,
that the dream of true love will never be
a lost cause i'll bear through my living years
As long as faith embraces true courage,
hope will be the flower blossomed anew
for those who really believe it exist,
passion will find a way, love will come true
It's in the tingle
of a hot ginger toddy
that turns me on
when my body
needs some fire
or
it's in the tingle
of a hot ginger 'body'
that turns me on
when my totty
needs some fire
Candy apple red
dripping across hell's ashes.
Bruises forming, purple and black.
Cigarettes burning, blistering
across her back.
The beast had done it again....
From upon the ledge
Storyteller sat in angst.
Watching his Marietta
who was losing the fight.
His stone heart broken
sinking deep within his chest.
He could end it with just one bite....
Her story was sad
she had believed in someone with a past.
There were those who warned against,
said it wouldn't last.
The Wolf
Standing still…
ears cocked forward
listening watching anticipating.
Large head teeth mane.
Powerful beautiful.
Creeping forward determination.
Eyes locked.
Legs moving in silence
holding up a lean body.
Grey white camouflage.
Unseen unheard in motion.
Almost there…
discovered!
Rapid heartbeat
chasing overcoming it’s prey.
Silence...
Grey white red.
By: Sharon Jones
in the spirit
of two mud siblings
black face was white
white face was soot
therefore the straw thaw
minerals of transmutation
complex nonentity
convex into wreck
dispirit eyes
Ewing of the bulrushes
the birds jargon
And what of the night, Titian?
What of the night?
It is all I have now, Titian.
It is my only light.
By moon and star I see.
In absence I see greater.
In torch and candle, hearth is he
who changed me for the better.
But what of night Titian?
What of the weary night?
Such webs imprudent spun!
I begged.
He laughed.
I never thought the change would hurt so much.
Ah, wicked was the whoreson’s touch.
He laughed.
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.