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Lady J - Photoetrist says:
The Poetry of Rain.
It's raining today.
It's so dark and
saturated
the
street
lights
are on.
Fast Food and The Bank glow before me,
so would Nedley's Restaurant,
but it has gone out of business.
Left alone,
no one
to
pay attention,
Mind the hours
filled
with
repitition,
I break
to write
and
regather.
posted May 30
Comment replies (2)
Travis Morgan says:
I think you created the scene well. I could image the gray and gloom of the rain with the glowing street lights and neon lights of the resteraunts you described. And the "repitition" statement with the "taking a break" finished it off nicely.
posted May 30
Travis Morgan says:
I see you hiding below your skin,
secretly waving to me to come hold you when
your tears fall revealing your soul
out from the chambers of bodily control
your cloak and dagger psyche pays me a visit
I see it, I know it, but I wonder what is it
connecting us so, I see it in your sparkle,
I feel it in your glow, your tears continue falling
revealing your soul
take my hand
and feel my whole
heart
and start to remember who you are,
where have you been, where are you now
allow it to burn, let it all go
listen to my voice
when I say,
"You are more then a memory,
you are the show."
posted May 30
Comment replies (2)
matthew addington | photography says:
I am not inclined to writing poetry, I am a free-lance photojournalist, but this hit me recently and I had to pen it down. I hope you enjoy.
The Writer
The pain that builds within his hand
as writer writes his note,
dispels the fears that none will hear
or read what writer wrote.
Restless days may produce craze
and find inspiration wanting;
but writer's best yields to duress
of mind that is ever daunting.
Simple action of the common day
the writer adorns with stones;
for simple actions of purest form
are magnificent alone.
A woman's blush, a child's laugh
are what the writer seeks;
for the highest man does not possess
the treasure of the meek.
The caterwauling of the fool
will not move the writer's pen;
nor wars, nor sex, nor coin, nor vex
can ever awaken him.
His fingers dance on top of letters
which do produce his words;
and words line up and are not minced
for sentences he has earned.
And sentences construct paragraphs,
those paragraphs form his thoughts;
bold thoughts that inspire action
which cannot be sold or bought.
The artist paints his faces
and musician composes song;
the lover makes his love,
and on, and on, and on.
But writer burns with passion
which lover does no know;
for writers love is from above,
and freely does it flow.
To end the bad, give joy the sad
and strength unto the weary;
indoctrinated with only truth,
for to truth writer is married.
posted May 30
Comment replies (2)
matthew addington | photography says:
You are correct. Much as do beauty and grace, but it looks like you already knew that;)
posted May 30
Travis Morgan says:
Little Market Girl
Little market girl what's your name?
I see you sitting there every day
with your mother selling herbs,
once planted on residents curbs
I see you, but I dare not stare
Other passerb's pay you no glare
I wonder why you're not in school
I feel the world has been too cruel
I contemplate what I should do
Anything, something, just for you
You look down to hollow ground
Nobody stops, you're left unfound
Perhaps ignorant to any other way
You help your mother, and tha's ok
Working respectable, making ends meet
So young, innocent, yet incomplete
You're mother uses your tender might
Promising you everything will be alright
But every time I see you sitting on the road
My heart wants to bear your burdens load
I've since moved away from your spot
But your stories struggle I've never forgot
I wonder if you made it safely through
'cause I too, walked on by - when I seen you.
posted May 27
Comment replies (2)
Danielle says:
Very beautiful. The girl's life, if it has turned out to serve no other purpose, has served to inspire, to cause contemplation, and perhaps action on the behalf of others like her. Your tribute to her is breathlessly beautiful despite the sad overtones.
posted May 29
johnjohndoe says:
Colorado Crossroads.
Far below the ancient light
Of 10,000 restless stars, a gilded
Midnight wind rustles through
An abandoned railroad yard,
Swirling snow into clouds
Of sweet perfection that
Settle gracefully upon the
Crossroads of Colorado.
At sunrise, when the eastern sky
Is pale yellow, you attempt to describe
The scene through the hollow haunted
Eyes of a poet. But what good are
Words when words fail you,
And you just can't describe how
Beautiful the moment really is.
So you close your notebook and
Slip it back in the pocket of your
Field jacket as the morning light
Becomes dusty with snow,
And an audible silence
Hangs from the trees forever.
posted May 27
Comment replies (2)
Lady J - Photoetrist says:
I really like this! I want to be in Colorado without the perfect words to describ what I am seeing.
posted May 30
~M@r!~ says:
I found a cool poetry website.....Check it out sometime....
http://poetryexpress.org
posted May 25
theophilus says:
Thanks to Melissa and Jo.
I wrote a short musing on my blog. Check it out and tell me what you think.
Happy Memorial Day Weekend!
posted May 25
LiteraryMary says:
The latest poem I've written which I turned in last night for my poetry class. I'm getting over this writer's block hump and it feels a little strange to me to be writing again, but at least it's something. -Jen
Call For Courtesy
She speaks swiftly,
forcing consonants, gesturing,
laughing, unaware
of the boy man
who scans her groceries
with his right hand, placing
each item in the bag
with a bit more emphasis
than the last.
The rustle of recycled plastic
punctuates his silence
as he places
Cans
on the bottom,
eggs
in the middle, and
BREAD
on the top.
Then he stops-
releasing the sound
of a radiator grown
too hot, blowing pent
up steam once its cap
is let off.
She prattles on.
Her total is $29.91,
which she waves away
with a swipe of plastic
and a vicious jab
of numbers
on the keypad.
And yammering on,
she's off;
never looking back
to acknowledge
his post-pubescent
cellophane smile
or his synthetic
have a nice day
ma'am.
posted May 24
Comment replies (1)
J-Mo says:
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posted May 30