Thank you!Originally Posted by jajdude
I really enjoyed your poem
Woke up, was 50, decided to pick up a guitar,
Reckoned I could strum, maybe write something before dead,
But nope, I was just useless, and isn't life like that?
Thank you!
I really enjoyed your poem
Woke up, was 50, decided to pick up a guitar,
Reckoned I could strum, maybe write something before dead,
But nope, I was just useless, and isn't life like that?
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe
Cheers, Muse.
They say words tumble as they rumble,
The pace they follow, solid or hollow,
The breaks they echo, the shapes they enter,
The designs they encourage, the spaces they hold,
The wings they carry, the souls they marry,
The divisions they pursue, their ferocity so cold,
The fury they pound, the softness they fade,
Through rivers of the human, through torrents of the mundane,
Across great leaps, into shadows unseen,
The clutches they stagger, the finality they befall,
The wickedness and torture, the chains they gather,
The crowds they poison, the hope they falter..
They say words do this.
Over
Life goes by too fast, it seems,
And someone new to hope now dreams.
My tired eyes blink
at the screen -
where is my ancient mind?
'For sale: baby shoes, never worn'. Hemingway
Coffee dreams and broken streams flow through as I think of you,
A memory in colors, and nothing could be duller than that,
Though hours rage and we engage ourselves in other wars,
There's no chance for circumstance to overcome these broken streams
And coffee dreams that flow through as I think of you.
Dude,
dig it.
J
When days of August fall away,
and December forbids the birds to sing,
and February marches away the gray,
into my bed shall April spring.
In the expanse of green meadow,
fresh after a rainstorm,
and further in, past a stretch of
a brook that made no noise-
beneath the breaking grey sky,
between the cluster of trees,
below the canopy,
were some smoothed stones
and mossy sticks-
and on the earthen floor
there were dried pine needles
where underneath one held the smallest bead,
the last kiss of rainwater-
I thought that might be me.
J
Everlasting self-revolution, I'm forever searching for solutions, my mind creates its own illusions, my everlasting self-pollution.
Last edited by submg; 08-24-2011 at 11:07 PM.
Dude, you came up with that from the top of your head? That was awesome. Nice job.
I agree, that was good.
I agree there is a time
when willing poets should pen a rhyme
but after reading this poor verse
I think it makes a poem worse!
Before sunlight can shine through a window, the blinds must be raised - American Proverb
Thank you. A line came into mind and I ran with it.
Timeless like a photo album,
quaint like a town unvisited,
turgid like a storm in Autumn,
our love, like raindrops, pours uninhibited.
No!
No, no, no.
I said, No!
What part of, "no" do you not understand?
No.
Oh, alright then.
I submit to constant nagging,
the terrorism of a child.
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