I realy do love these things. Never did hear of them till now though.
Sleep.
Slow in coming.
Restless night.
On the way
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I realy do love these things. Never did hear of them till now though.
Sleep.
Slow in coming.
Restless night.
On the way
Orgasms are spasms
most ladies delight in.....
except female wrestlers
who fake 'em when fightin'
Memory
of autumn,
brittle grass
broken by the wind.
I stood once
pushing my face
toward Heaven,
only once.
B. Y. O. B.
The heavy wind didn't drag down
the airiness of the dance,
nor did the rain dampen
the delight in their songs.
Goldfinches bring the sun
wherever they go, and when
they throw a party, the invitations say:
“Bring your own beams.”
The Royal "We"
Forget for a moment
that Satan used it
referring to himself;
instead remember how
serviceable it was
for emperors and kings,
not to mention that
present-day celebs
can pluralize
their egos, while
simultaneously
humbling themselves.
Hey, if it was good
enough for Show Business,
it’s good enough for -
us.
Wow this is brill :nod:Quote:
Originally Posted by AuntShecky
We celebrate your latest poem.
By “we” I mean myself
and Gus and Edna.
If each of us were we,
imagine what a multitude
we’d be!
But excuse us now
as each of us, on his or her own,
have need to use the ‘throne’.
We are amused.
Thank you Dave and Hawkman, but Prince, your retort is 100% -- no make that MLB-style 110% -- better than ours.
Slaves
Born in fetters
raised in chains
in death only
freedom gained.
Born in palace
clothed in silk
by ritual and convention
maimed.
Lover leaver, smile eater
had a life but wouldn't keep her
put her through a special hell
and there he left her, so unwell.
No new verses
no new thoughts
no new fancies
no new ports
no new missions
no new words
no new visions
no new birds
the sparkles hanging overhead
are stillborn worlds, God's tiny dead
Summer Shower
In the field, the namesakes
of Queen Anne held high
their lacy parasols,
while on the hill, the mute
trumpets of daylilies blared
with orange melodies.
In the Stillness of Herat
Herat, of the Moon,
The Night Lit Citadel,
where Alexander's regaling laugh
trails still, unbound, unconquered.
Where Jami wrote of seven thrones,
and now Nazemi crows out
silent white flowers,
a mute village rooster at dawn.
One to share originally posted in a word-game thread:
raInBOW
some might see
the pot o' gold
i see the rainbow
7/26/2010
Boanerges
Sons of Zebedee
steeled for the fight,
armored in faith,
spurred by the severed head
of The Baptist
Then, by sacrifice,
faith transformed,
swords withdrawn,
and tempest becalmed
By the Good News
of The Nazarene,
and by the gentle
hands of Marys,
they were all named Mary
When Zephyr calls,
the wind bell,
hanging from the ceiling,
will ring.
When you visit,
my heart,
pining away for longing,
will sing.
Wonderful poems precede me.
My offering:
The Long Night
O sleep, how cold
To cast away the daydream
And bring forth the nightmare
Evermore
tailor STATELY
10/7/2010
Drowning
No land in sight
Every minute a struggle
A gasp for air
Why must it always be
So hard
Then
The sun touches my face
And a breeze kisses my cheek
And I take a deep breath
(of the kiss that smells of earth and leaves)
And I smile
On Top of Your List
I want to be that essential item,
one you're always running out
to pick up, like milk or bread.
Look for me prominently displayed
among the nail clippers, tiny books
of astrology, and packs of gum
near the front registers --
so you won't forget.
thought
in all its glory -
a threadbare leaf
against a bright blue sky
high in the tree-tops
birds prattle and whistle
one eye on the cat below
Circumloquacious,
it's a word,
or so I've heard,
but by the way and er didn't ya know
well
gotta be going now
Before It Gets Old
Pink skies admit no hint of cold despair,
for winter never dazzles more than now–
with crystal jewels accenting your hair
like pendant pine cones on a balsam bough.
Bazookas are what Billy wants,
But World Peace suits Paul, I fear.
They both want Betty, sweet and hot,
But she reminds me both have got
Restraining orders signed last year.
I wonder
if they'd recognize me
stripped of my
black clothes
and dark makeup.
My Rainbow’s Ripped
My rainbow’s ripped and has a hole
where no rainbow hole has a right to be.
It’s ragged and runny
in dull skies so unsunny.
But a ripped rainbow
is better than no rainbow,
and good enough, I know,
for the likes of me.
Disunited State
America, you keep breaking
my heart with your stars
and many-spangled dreams,
just like some dashing guy
who buys me drinks
and pledges to call
but never does.
Indigestion and sleep
are poor bedmates.
Acid reflux
rises in my dreams
and haunts me like
a spicy late night pizza
The Creative Process: Mission Creep
First imagine, then define.
Ok? No. Cross out, refine.
How quick the devising,
how slow the revising:
over and over
rewriting the line.
Abusers love to push and pout
And cause you consternation.
Just laugh inside each time they shout:
You'll up their medication.
Me, caught in swirling currents,
swept along, in need,
you shot me a line
and I reached for it.
But you were only the last straw
and just a broken reed.
I knew this girl,
back in Modesto.
She was in a band,
Surfin' the Short Bus.
Retro-Punk-Gospel
sort of a thing.
An acquired taste
for sure.
Her name was Raveena.
Sweet thing,
trapped in a man's body
she said.
I last saw her in Salt Lake.
She says the Mormons love her.
Me? I like the singin'.
This thread has been inactive since last June. So I'm BUMPING it in the hopes some
LitNutters will post some zesty tiny poems.
Long ago we had a clock
That did a tick and then a tock.
looking back
so long are gone the sound we made
the games we used to play and take to heart
as much as we could give we did
so long is near to us as here
our memories are made of these
Keep 'em comin'!
Invigilating an Exam
Today, whilst invigilating an exam,
I wished that I was in Durham.
Climbing up the highest tower,
But I was in mathematics' power.
I wrote this on the notes made by the Maths Tutor. She probably thinks I'm an idiot. :biggrinjester:
Thanks for posting these above. ^^^^^
Keep them coming!
Here's a shortie from way back in 08:
Juris Imprudence
A lawyer was often tossed out of courts
for exposing his own jokey shorts --
which took a toll on his beliefs
that wittiness is the soul of briefs.
AuntShecky
"A Louse in the Locks of Literature."