Current poems in progress...

Sadness

is finding no poems on the yellow page.

An apron
tied with ribbon, pocket filled with scissors and pins,
pincushion next to the coffeepot,
a folded shirt ready for mending lays near by
any time now.. something is going to happen
the dog with whimper in her sleep,
tugs at the apron string, she remembers.
She used to wear rollerskates, pigtails, no helmet
although the sidewalk was wild with cracks.
She used to take chances, give kisses and love notes
Then this world took its turn and all her choices failed
Now by wounds shote with dangerous lies
Death peception views her, often grief.

Death Peception should br Death perception. Sorry ~Cooker

Shall I push this in, this tip of a pen into this hole,

a hard reset

My world is white,
and lit
Off beat, and off color
humming off key,

screen flickers

harmonies of the matrimonial
lately have been scarce, so we blood let
in a ceremonial way,
sharing our selves
with each other,
in alternating refrain

power's out

so
our chorus is Night
suddenly coming on,
but slowly growing magnificent

the notes are lost in shadows
and reflected from pavement moonlight

I can't figure the science,
so don't ask for an explanation
please

eyes, ears

but spoiled,
they
grow accustomed
to the costumes we put upon our
surroundings

afterwards,
we listen to pipes crying and sighing
with water pressure, and travels of
the corvettes out late,
with owners rushing toward sleep
or away from it,

powered down
our hearts, and our breath

and maybe the computers
alive around us, and everywhere now
will
also gain us for an audience,
albeit sleepy
and nodding off

along
with the cat calling,
purring
from the foot of the bed

Once upon a time,
this activity
of singing
left a stain,

couldn't have been more permanent,
if it had been left in ink

couldn't have been better written,
if it was illustrated
with pen

on the first try
by madness himself,
by the inmates running the asylum
like a glee club,
clubbing to death
those who refuse
to be

I'm mad at these keys that keep
hanging,
breaking

But I, shall I mention it,

am here, still wishing to sing,

despite my partner in the duet
retiring early

dreaming of the colours that words have
when they're spoken aloud

my god, it takes forever

i have christmas carols upon my breath

and it's barely autumn
with so many days left

til I'm reborn to relearn
the tune
again,

next year,
I hope to seize the day,
and spend an hour
using my minutes
wisely
listening
instead of
pushing to speak
my second hand
ideas first
before
the simple
greetings are over

maybe I'll take a turn for the worse or better,
carefully tune,
and think it through

Strumming my fingers along,
should probably
turn off,
then turn on

Does it work?

Try it,
and see

the world go black.

-o-
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Enjoyed this--like the progression--the imagery--reads easily, well done. JFC
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well conveyed ideas, cool poem.
pm
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thanx. sorry, i got sucked into solo critique 1 for a small eternity.
-o-

hoopskirt yoga

Night Dreams

How can I love you, sweet hallucination?
love you I could not, I believe I should not
You appear suddenly, only for a few moments,
and then your absence turns joy into frustration
because to me you are real and fevently I pray
by the work or spell of magicians and sorcerers,
that my beloved becomes tangible one day.
But at night, under the realm of sweet dreams
I feel the winds of desire on your warm breath,
and with your tender caress, is when you confess
that we will be together forever, beyond death.
In dreams we speak of sweet and enduring love,
bliss becomes a way of living until early dawn
when I comfort myself with dreams of you
as I anxiously wait for the departure of the sun.
Oh, lazy day, please seize to exist, finally end!,
Idle time now turns into a despised prison
but every passing second becomes my friend
until in a blessed crepuscule daylight is gone.
When darkness ensues, the pale moon arrives,
she encourages my cherish desire to fantasize,
and woes me to sleep, succumb to the dream
of her warm deep kisses as I close my eyes.
Expressions of her most beautiful secret passions
those awaited illusions from the depths of my mind,
overwhelm me as divine thoughts fill my poor heart,
Now that I know that in dreams she is always mine.
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H
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Good imagery--wistful without being overly sentimental--well done! JFC

devil dawn

devil dawn,
also rise,
like my undead shame
given name.
shine down that too white light.
show me.
devil dawn
sparkle on my shiny
transgressions
alliterate and lesson,
lesson,
lessen.
shouting devil,
gleaming fount,
illuminate the insect.
...
p.m.davis

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devil dawn,
also rise,
like my undead shame
given name.
shine down that too white light.
show me.
devil dawn
sparkle on my shiny
transgressions
alliterate and lesson,
lesson,
lessen.
shouting devil,
gleaming fount,
illuminate the insect
nature we inherent
...
p.m.davis

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I've had to read this a couple of times--but, I like it--good use of imagery and metaphor--the there is a feeling of remorse and despair that comes through--JFC

I dwell in possibility

I dwell in Possibility--
A fairer House than Prose--
More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--
Of Chambers as the Cedars--
Impregnable of Eye--
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky--
Of Visitors--the fairest--
For Occupation--This--
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise--
Emily Dickinson

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~
I cannot post a link but Emmy's easy to find, these days.
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Yes! She is one of my favorite poets...thank you for posting. JFC