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But, to Sigh

Submitted by docmaverick on Fri, 2012-07-20 21:54

Cellophane moonbeams play havoc with eyes

as the shadows eat daylight all gone;

step further inside, it's the truth we can't hide

place your baggage out front on the lawn.

~

A dry leather jacket with pockets sewn shut

we've all fallen short and have sinned;

memories turn billowy before they all fade

let's all honor their escort, the wind!

~

Teared laughter echoes, coercing the night

to "chill up" on the back of my neck;

BROKEN ENGLISH [ September 1948] --updaed

Submitted by Geremia on Fri, 2012-07-20 21:45

BROKEN ENGLISH
[1948: first day ]

Like hawks,
screams piercing the sky,
swooping in frenzy
upon a sparrow flying by
they took me down
blood on the ground
and screeched when I cried,

I raised my hand against the sun
and tried to see the reason why
...
I spoke broken English

They screeched when I cried
and then were gone.

.

values

Submitted by judyanne on Fri, 2012-07-20 12:23

we hurtle towards calamity
with the pale rider on the pale horse
and incomprehensively lethal weapons
of mass destruction

while a budget for armament
elicits continued production

animals and birds
fish and plant
suffer painful death
through spilt black gold

while we refuse to explore
more expensive sources of power

twenty-four thousand people starve and die
every day
and a million more each year
from disease

while movie stars
are worth more than physicians
.

Ghost (a co-write with Pixee)

Submitted by Candlewitch on Fri, 2012-07-20 11:23

Ghost

co-write with Pixee

I've found the cold
of separation
a rusty blade
in-between my ribs
seeking my heart
in the frigid lands
where smiles
cannot reach

no light
white or blue
to feel the touch
of sunshine
on my need strained face
I travel
in morbid shade
and shadow
flows through
my hungry veins

Which is which?

Submitted by Rula on Fri, 2012-07-20 08:58

It is sad how we are locked in illusions
Or are illusions enclosed in us?
Do we choose to live in seclusion?
Or has solitude always been in us?
Are we born pessimists?
Or we run optimism out of us?
Do days and nights really exist?
Or are shadows and lights reflected from us?
which is which, I am not quite sure,
I think I still need to learn pretty much.

And so the Jury Convenes

Submitted by Kailashana2 on Fri, 2012-07-20 08:45

In the matter of critique
in the mattering of my poems,
ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
I offer you in evidence
this tome.

I can obscure the point and stick
it where the sun don't shine, I can
wrap it up in the most pretty poetic
pontifications so you'll lose your mind
and you'll never know what
hit you and sent you tumbling from
the pedestal of your higher echelon
and never run afoul of your umbrage and
your law.

L and L

Submitted by loved on Fri, 2012-07-20 08:32

love and lust
the purpose of life
what is
procreation
for some
is just lust
for most
and love
for those
dreaming of idealism

lust is simple evacuation
where as love is injection
take it or leave it

love is permanent
lust is like infatuation
impermanent!

lust is like dew
and
love is the draft
that draws the dew

so everlasting is actually love
but
youth needs more of lust than love
apart from the mother’s bosom

be one a son or a boy...

Fa r e A s t r a y

Submitted by Esker on Thu, 2012-07-19 23:37

ketchup bottle gleam
the plans of days glitter
slipping on the clasp

a locomotive cries
like thunder chortling
in daydreams grasp

Roll days like a blunt
sealed wishs with a
wet tip
and crisp red lit
from sharp edge matchstick
drawn quick

the plates swept away
and beneath this sky
you tuck your napkins
stained with tears down
the tight squeeze of your
thigh

ABOUT RAINBOWS

Submitted by Geremia on Thu, 2012-07-19 19:10

ABOUT RAINBOWS
[In memory]

I’m sorry for the words
I never did say
and all the things
I didn’t do for you.
I’m sorry for the silent days
and my stubborn ways.
But most of all I’m sorry
you never did see
the rainbow in me.

OF HUMAN BONDAGE II

Submitted by Geremia on Thu, 2012-07-19 15:26

OF HUMAN BONDAGE

I am flesh and soul
I give of my seed
as I give of my heart
I am predator and prey
passion and prayer
and attrition for my sins.
I am nothing more than
who I am
nothing less than
what you want me to be.

DI SCHIAVITÙ II

sono carne e anima
do’ del seme volentieri
come del cuore.
Sono predatore e preda
passione e preghiera
e attrito per i peccati miei
Sono nulla di più che sono
niente di meno che mi dai...

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