Current poems in progress...

mersyndol
---Anonymous

ash
falls,
choking.

time
passes
in silence.

my breath
pane of ice
fractures

þ

what happened
---Anonymous
to the grubs we picked/from the oak twig/that spring we found the sun
---alee, Vancouver, BC

You remember,
the golden days,
when children would run
straight into my arms,
and hug as tight as
their little bodies would allow.
The closeness of cheek to cheek,
little fingers, dirty feet.
And now a chill takes me;
the haven turned
to a precipice; me on one side,
them on the other.
My arms can't reach,
my hands can't wipe the tears
on their cheeks, my cries frozen into
silence.
I am alone with misery;
she holds me by the hand...
-------
I think this is a wonderful poem. Somehow, it could be better maybe, stronger. But it's good as it. I'd take the last two lines off. Who is "she" and we know your misery from the other lines.
sg
-------
I see you followed my suggestion. I hope I was right. I don't know if anyone else has an opinion. I'm just not sure who she is. it isn't clear to me. I don't want to mess with your good poem. what do you think? for my knowledge, who is "she"?
sg

Julia
---Anonymous

A true redhead
hiding under
shades of brown.
People complained
she was too positive
too rosy with her
fair skin, transparent
soul.
She wore green high heels
distracting from her
true self.
Black crisp suit-that
should hide her well.
She made them comfortable,
but wilted into
their creation,
a product of complaints,
dry and plastic.

-------
This is superb.
Regarding telling us who you are:
An artist friend of mine told me, "People don't remember the artist or the writer. They remember the painting or the poem." Well, of course, that is not true with the Rembrants and the Shakepeares of the world. As an example of the above, think right now of the poems you've just read here. Do you recall the lines of the poems, the poems, or the authors. Are there some that stand out for you? Still, I'd love to know who you are because I think this poem is wonderful.
-------
lol. the above anonymous comments were made by sg.

Now
---Anonymous
Tomorrow when I can unclench my hands from your delicious face.
---j haynes, fort walton beach fl

Leave me now.
Leave me
before I melt,
before I dissapear
into a sigh,
before what's left
floats on the wind.
Leave me
so I can breathe in life,
so I can twist and turn,
and grow.
Leave me
before my years hang like
heavy pearl earrings, stained
and tarnished,
before I forget what it's like
to live...
Can you hear my whispers?
They're all around you
leave me
-------
Very poignant.
sg
-------
very deep..i love this one! keep on writing =))
~~Rose

Words
---Anonymous
a tumble of squiggles from your lips/were that they dance into lines
---alee, Vacnouver, BC

These words
are ointment,
a sticky balm
to heal, to close up
the red and raw.
Self-applied
they stop the bleeding
preserve the life
in small jars.
And like blood spurting,
release comes
in the sharing with others
of potions and herbs
for healing, for closing,
for living...

Captain Teddy Bear, White and Furry, homage to the Stuffed-Living
---jerry

They sewed you with great thread,
Fine thread,
Happy thread.
.
Your were stuffed, and tufted,
Given black glass eyes and
A smart, red ribbon for your neck.
.
Maybe you lived on a shelf
In the aisled jungles of
Untamed PreFab Africa.
.
My explorer friends found you,
Captain Teddy Bear, I presume.
They nursed you from zip ties.
.
I'd had too much speed
Opening night, plus coffee,
Plus jitters to cope.
.
They were all smiling because
I was 32 and playing a child.
So my gift was you, Captain.
.
You had been rescued from
The jungle and brought
To me. Out of your element.
.
In a small dressing room and
I was embarrassed, for me, for you,
For them.
.
I shook and took you, and you
Debuted that night.
You stole my show.
.
I took you to my little hut,
And put you on a shelf.
You took that position with honor.
.
Then came the Years That
Passed Slowly, and I did not
Look at you.
.
You held your ground.
Against many blankets of
Spiderwebs.
.
Against the tar from my
Smoke that covered your
Heritage.
.
Then, on the Day the Sun
Finally Rose, I saw you.
All the time, right there.
.
I put my hand through the webs,
I pounded you against the chair,
I rubbed your eyes.
.
I looked at you and thought
Of your commitment,
Your dedication.
.
A lesson in being left behind
And found again
And made clean.
.
I washed you, spun you,
Fabric softened you.
And there you were.
.
Now, Captain Teddy Bear,
White and Furry, you
Will stay with me.
.
Boon companion,
Dream adventure partner,
Arm rest.
.
Take your walkabouts
At night, while I sleep.
I know you come back.
07-20-08
-jerry
-------
very nice stuff!!! Make a book for kids. It would need nothing more than this.
Make a book for adults. It would need nothing more than this
-------
very beautiful poem Jerry...fantastic about your cherished stuffed animals..keep on writing!
~~Rose
-------
i meant cherished stuff animal..not animals..sorry for the typo ~~Rose
-------
simply awesome writing! I loved it. ms

Oh
---Jesse

Take a step back then
breathe
If I were you
I wouldn't waste your time
you see
pretty soon they'll be taking body parts
from me
and it always starts
when the electricity shoots
straight the veins
as I double over
holding my pain
I'll say it again
please, just step away
you don't want my money
besides, soon there won't be
much left of me.

-------
My New Love
You always disappoint me.
Stumbling over stones
and scratching my arms and my legs
on the branches of trees,
I run to get to you.
My heart beats
like a fast marching band;
my skin tingles.
I am a tumultuous mess.
And there you are, again:
song of the mountain,
gold of the prairie,
bold and magnificent,
hero, idol,
my new love,
who always disappoints me.
sg

`
---kaleb
gone.
---kaleb

again the curve, the line, the road,
again the smell, the song,
again the taste and touch,
again the love.
again the love.
again the love.

)Kaleb
-------
i'm right there with this one )Kaleb. i like this style. good one.
-jerry
-------
thanks jerry.
)Kaleb

i am thinking, just now;
---Anonymous
remembering, really,
---Anonymous
of times i come to you;
---Anonymous
`
---Anonymous
hands cupped above the hearth,
---Anonymous
of yesterdays coals,
---Anonymous
banked and smoldering.
---Anonymous
~
---Anonymous
and also of those nights,
---Anonymous
i might fan them into flame;
---Anonymous
~
---Anonymous
or of other nights,
---Anonymous
when i drink the fire of home;
---Anonymous
its gift of peace and place;
---Anonymous
in and empty universe.
---Anonymous
~
---Anonymous
i am thinking, just now;
---Anonymous
remembering, really;
---Anonymous
of the quilt you make for me
---Anonymous
of your body and understanding.
---Anonymous
~
---Anonymous
how right it is to be tangled in you
---:Anonymous
safe and sure my hand
---Anonymous
against the blaze which pours from you.
---Anonymous
~
---Anonymous
the gaze which speaks in flame
---Anonymous
its love of its other
---:Anonymous
soothing, cooling, and forever...
---Anonymous
~
---Anonymous
fallon~
---Anonymous

fallon- how nice to read you again!! This is a lovely rememberance of love poem. Jane
-------
fallon- how nice to read you again. I come back here once in a while and remember the old gang that hung out here. I am so thsnkful for the good writing that taught me do much. Like the visuals in this poem.
Jane
-------
*smile* Yes, I agree--good visuals, good poem--I enjoyed reading this...JFC
-------
Amazing, scrolling down, enjoying the poetry, making comments and then this unbelievable surprise. Life does this to us often. Looking for that gem that dropped somewhere and was lost and stumbling on a brighter gem.
How, wonderful to be the lady of the poem. To be loved like that!
I was here too with Audee, whom I grew to love, with Hermestri, and with you Fallon. I will copy your poem and keep it. What a poet.

-------
some places totally stay the same...which is a good thing...it's nice to see familiar faces i agree with the last commenter, i remember poems from awhile ago, by fallon, hermestri, and P(i wish i had the right letter on the keyboard) to pronounce the name correctly..i remember you all.
Who is this? i am the one who wrote poetry long ago on here in 2004 and 2005 and 2003...my name was either ~~Rose and Anonymous...you all taught me with your comments on my poetry to have a thicker skin..=) thank you for that!! and Fallon this is a great poem..i like it! keep on writing =))
~~Rose
-------
Rose, I am the last commentor before you. I sign sg. At one time, you had to be thick skinned to be on here. There were anons who were brutal and mean. I was surprised that artists like Fallon and Audee and Hemestri even came around. Now, you don't see that. Perhaps the anons are blocked out, edited. so much better. About your comment, "keep writing" how could they not? I would add keep posting. sg
-------
Of course, Audee is gone from us. She is writing her beautiful poetry where we can't see it posted here.
Does anyone know if any of her poetry is in archives to be read somewhere here in AHA Poetry?
-------
Yes--go to "Author Search" and type in her name -- It will bring up all her posts! JFC

-------
Thank you JFC.
sg
-------
*smile* You are welcome!! Hope you enjoyed reading the old posts/comments!! JFC
-------
JFC:
a question for you? I can't seem to find that author search? Is it on the AHA poetry page site or do I go to it from Yahoo?
Exactly how do I type it in?
Thanx so much.
Dummy
sg
-------
Hi, sg, just scroll up to the top of the page--and just above the first poem you will find three lines--Author Search is the third line! Just click on that and it will bring up a line that asks for the author's name...
-------
"Everything's so subtle-3/29/1999
I feel hee the way one feels when on the verge of going from friendship to lovers. There's no going back.
sg
-------
"Reach Below the nether dust of dawn-3/30/99
This may be the greatest poem ever written. FOr me, tired as I tend to be in the late afternoon, it is a bit wordy.
Darkenss flows like elegant silk
This is so beautiful. You catpure my feelings. The dark, tumultuous, waters of the river. The fear that grows larger at the close of day; the hope sometimes false, sometimes of great courage at dawn, and night, the final slipping into the oblivous or dream filled sleep. Wonderful poem.
crescendo, not crecendo? Fallon, you love as I would like to love. sealed to one's lover, not just in life but in death. "Kiss by kiss your are sealed to me, in life as well as death."
sg

-------
"Reach Below the nether dust of dawn-3/30/99
This may be the greatest poem ever written. FOr me, tired as I tend to be in the late afternoon, it is a bit wordy.
Darkenss flows like elegant silk
This is so beautiful. You catpure my feelings. The dark, tumultuous, waters of the river. The fear that grows larger at the close of day; the hope sometimes false, sometimes of great courage at dawn, and night, the final slipping into the oblivous or dream filled sleep. Wonderful poem.
crescendo, not crecendo? Fallon, you love as I would like to love. sealed to one's lover, not just in life but in death. "Kiss by kiss your are sealed to me, in life as well as death."
sg

-------
To JFC. Flying scatheless in the wind" is a beautiful poem.
-------
*smile* Thank you!! JFC
-------
I Saw a Garden
Twas on my brow he laid his hand
when I fevered near death.
I looked toward a hill and saw us,
hand in hand, sadly clinging.
From the lower hollow, Willow
waved to us with soft lovely frond.
Butterflies flitted by, not sure which way to go,
whether to say hello or goodbye.
Little black and white "Wally-wag-tail"
that twittered to me in the night,
now sang his daily song.
A garden gate ajar, the sound of gentle
stream within, I saw a shade of a large tree,
all serene and inviting to rest there awhile,
then the Kookaburra laughed his raucous sound
as he picked up a limp snake.
Somehow, I felt unburdened,
my fevered brow cooled and I slept.
In dream I saw my love and I still hand in hand,
smiling we wandered back to the pond
near the Willow. Beautiful hued water lilies
smiled a happy greeting.
A wasp busily collected wet clay from the bank and flew away on a mission.
Two eyes met; my love's hand tightened
on my own; feeling his grip...I opened my eyes,
we looked deep into each other and smiled.
He felt my brow...cool and dry.
audee

The Lad Makes Soup
---~f

Oh, it's a goodly soup,
a tasteful and happy thing
but not a soup for you. He says;
for what you could not bring.
It would need a carrot or two,
a stick of celery it wants,
or maybe a cup of savory dew,
ever before i could serve to you.
And if by chance you had
these things, to add into my pot,
i thought i might invite you;
lest you prefer i not.
But then, wouldn't it be worthier
for one such as yourself, if you had
a sprig of lamb's ear
sitting upon your shelf,
And thought to share into this pot,
where others dance and play,
would i invite you to my alonesome soup,
this wonderfully smellish day
...f

-------
This is wonderfull, maybe it's just me but this; well this may just be my favorite poem, and it kinda smells good too. ~Cooker
-------
Oh, I agree Cooker. What a delightful poem. And who better to pass judgment on it than a "Cooker"

***
---INZANE
The Distance
---INZANE

a long time ago
my mother sat and I
watched clothes drying
late afternoon sun
filtered through
grimy windows of
the laudrymat
in a town I did not know

we talked sparingly
in dark themes
muted words
eyes blinking frequently
so not to spill

time had passed since last
we met in a far away land
where we both grew
both lived until I left

we spoke amongst surrounding
shadows as weight like a mountain
dangled above
our thoughts, our lives
those seconds spent
in most unfrequent visiting

apart, we had grown

so close
yet
so much
distance
it is not natural
to be so sad

fourteen years
of days and hours
seconds slowly seeping
and
I am here
in the town I did not know

before dawn
I hold my sleeping son
his tiny hands
rest in mine

half his life has passed
since she last saw him
she comes tomorrow to hold
his hand
this time
distance will not win
it is not natural
to be so sad


--INZANE

-------
Distance always extracts its price. I like your poem very much esp stanzas 2.4
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what a great opening--such a skillful transition I expected a sunlit clothesline and found myself in a stale laundromat. love the line "apart, we had grown."
Are you a parent now?
--chandler
-------
beautiful and entrancing...good work. ms

Accouterments
---Jane, Wayne PA

Don't forget
to tuck a bottle
of red wine under
the satin pillow,
for surely,
even a decaying
mouth thirsts
for robin's breasts
and cardinals.
.
Place in my right hand
a picture of my first love.
for a stilled heart needs
to remember it has danced
under ivory moons,
with a ragtime band playing
"Bathena" and "Maple Leaf Rag"
until Dickie Garrets opened
for breakfast, and we gorged
on fried clams and coke.
.
Style my hair like Daisey's,
(Gatsby liked it that way),
Go light on the lipstick,
and blush-old loves
don't like their shirts
messed up.
.
I'll want my glasses-
even rotting eyes
need the rainbow
of seasons, and the virginity
of a quiet February snow.
Jane

-------
Throw me, with dust, to the sunset. Let wolves eat me. Or plant me in Walt Whitman grass.
sg
-------
beauty, sadness, lifetime, longing, leaving. this is just beautiful writing Jane! ms

I Can't Save Them All
---Jane, Wayne PA

I can't save them all,
except with prayers-
those that weep for
inverted lives, wishes
wrung dry, and children
with no more birthdays
to celebrate.
.
I can love them all,
and feel the tears
on my own face,as I
reach to Heaven
for God's good Grace.
.
I can ask for a miracle
to cause a small chest again
to rise and fall, breaths
to form words,"Mommy,
I can hesr you call"
.
The Mother cries out
to her child-"Please dear,
say you are here with me again"
as prayers, and a miracle blend.
.
I wish I could save them all,
but that only comes
from God above, but I can repair
their hearts util then
with an armful of love.
.
Jane

-------
keep looking Up, Dear Jane. HE is holding you.
-------
Very touching poem...does it hold special meaning Jane? Roamer
-------
Jane this was beautiful..keep up the good work!! i enjoyed this wonderful touching poem..and yes i agree with the 1st commenter God is upholding you and keep your chin up!
~~Rose

`
---kaleb
my love~
---kaleb

you are not deeper
than the pond i fished as a boy,
or better than the bread
baked by my mother.
your lips are not
softer than the pillow
of my childhood,
or safer than the arms of my father.
you are not wiser,
or truer, or more real
than imagination and daydreams.
you are not more perfect
than the perfection of innocence.
but you are now, and you are real,
and you are lovely.


)Kaleb

-------
poor old girl-no better than bread, pillow's or a pond! But as she was there......
T.F.G
-------
"Love the one you're with."
sg
-------
On a more serious note, I don't know how to fix this poem but the comments of T.F.G. are a true reaction to the poem. Reading it, first time, I didn't get quite that reaction. I just thought you meant, "you can't be all things beautiful that I've known but you are lovely." That lacks punch. Nobody can be everything. especially a mate. I don't know. I think of something like, "we'll make love and it was be perfect, it will be wonderful but then we'll get up in the mornings and the whole wonderful wonderful world of memories and of the present and of expectation will be ours." Or lol, we'll make good hard love and wake up with hangovers and I won't call you again." The poem implies beauty, true love. Not to me, "You're not as good as an old piece of bread." A poem is supposed to imply, not tell, isn't it? Maybe the poem says enough as it is and is subject, as everything else, to the reader's interpretation. Maybe it doesn't need "fixed".
-------
It's lovely. It says to me that nothing can compare with the perfect memories of childhood. They are real and forever. Great job Kaleb. ms
-------
thanks ms, that's the idea I was going for.
)Kaleb
-------
well, it's not a very good poem.
sg

the shore is coming closer, the water
---chandler
is moving faster, each wave reaching
---JFC, Alaska
pulling, drawing the sand back into the sea
---JFC
brown veins flowing out into the green
---þ

oh! i love the migration of the comma!
-------
Punctuation poets. Keep your eyes on the ever changing winds of the punctuation mark. lol

leftovers
---Anonymous

I wipe,
ceremoniously,
the dirty rain

on my
fingers
in my eyes

to try and
wake myself
up.

As I walk,
I
descend

into dreaming
that I
could

be
less
worthless

than I
already
am.

þ

Gray City Streets
---JFC

Grey city streets,
trash litters doorways
of tenements squeezed side by side.
A dandelion blooms.
Trash litters doorways
stray cat steps gingerly
lifts paw, shakes away muck
stalks rat scent.
Tenements squeezed side by side
gray derelict buildings
hidden squalor seeps
coloring life, destroying hope.
A dandelion blooms
amid the squalor
of tenements set side by side.
Hope, amid trash littered doorways.

-------
*********Sorry about that! I thought I'd signed!! JFC
-------
Very wonderful poem. A picture really. Grey, grey and one flash of yellow and light, perhaps a young child who will teach or dance someday.
sg
-------
Thanx for your help.
I am planning to read your poetry. I just didn't get to it tonight.
-------
Thanx for your help.
I am planning to read your poetry. I just didn't get to it tonight.
-------
Thank you for your comment!! I look forward to what you have to say about my poetry--!! Warning: There's a lot of it!! *grin*
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fabulous imagery! ms
-------
Angels and Sherphers is a lovely sweet Christmas poem. Perhaps you would post it here and share it with us?
sg
-------
Here it is!
ANGELS AND SHEPHERDS
What did the angels say?
What did the angels say,
On that starry night so long away?
What did the angels say?
They said, "A child is born,
And a sign is given,
From the Father of love
In highest heaven."
What did the shepherds see?
What did the shepherds see,
When they left their flocks alee,
What did the shepherds see?
They saw a place where beasts were fed,
They saw a manger for a bed,
They saw the Baby born of Mary
Who, one day our sins would carry.
--Joyce Freeman-Clark ©

-------
Thank you Joyce Freeman Clark. Some of our loveliest hyms at Christmas are poems, "Away in a Manger", "Silent Night", oh to have been that composer. GOd used him.
sg
-------
Thank you, sg--you are kind! *smile* I agree, God did use him!! JFC
-------
And, thank you, ms--I do appreciate your comments! JFC

Life Lived
---Phenom*

So much of my life has been lived
for someone who didn't want
what I had to give.
~
So much of who I am is very much because
"that someone" didn't appreciate
who I really was.
~
So much a part of the person I've become
is the brokenness left-over
now that "we" are done.
~
Phenom*
-------
I like the simplicity of this, the understated emotion--well done! JFC
-------
Wasted time. "Wasted life" I've heard that one said about people who just died. Really, who's to say but GOd. No life is wasted. We all waste a hell of a lot of time though, I think. Good poem.
sg

Self Doubt
---Scott

Upon awakening
every day
there are often moments,
how shall I say?
when for a second
or maybe two
we forget for an instant
exactly who
we are.
Whilst in that fleeting
negation of self
when the person we are
is left on the shelf,
what stops us becoming
in lieu of ourselves
someone quite different,
plucked from the shelves
and replaced?
And for that matter
we could be transposed,
hurled over the oceans
whilst we are reposed
to wake unknowing
in some strangers bed,
to suffer that instant
of personal dread
anew.
**********
Eternal rebirth
is what we endure
to this life, another
how can we be sure?
But what does it matter
if yesterday dies,
consigning the past
to merely disguise?
It gives us the freedom
to act as we choose,
with nothing to gain
and little to loose.
Scott.

-------
this seems the ID described by the odd
-------
Scott, do you post here often? I don't believe I've seen you posted here often.
There are some good qualities of style. Allow me:
The title. does it need a title and could it be a little less glaring, a litte more subtle? Imply rather than state?
I just kind of love that way you have of adding two little words after the rhyme, example-"exactly who
we are."
that's your style. don't lose it.
I'd like to see you use first person "I" in this poem as opposed to "we".
I don't know if it had any merit. A professor once told us, "don't use "we" when you can us I. But a poem I wrote called "ROller COaster" is one I really like I used "we" and I still use "we". So take the advice of what it's worth.
whilst we repose, present rather than past tense.
some punctuation is needed after "endure". Probably a semi-colon.
rhyming "endure" with "sure", you're sacrificing the rhmyme. Try something else, less obvious.
are you sure about all this, friend? The first part is a question and O.K. but the rest almost becomes negative and atheistic.
You sound young and, if you are, are you really so cynical. Ah, one little word would make it fine "if" one little word, "if" before "it gives us the freeom?"
Just my opnions. Follow your voice and I'd like to see more of your work.
sg

-------
Carnival
She left her immortality
in a church pew with her doubt
when she went out,
into the garden,
not to pray
and not to stay
longer than to pluck a rose
and pin it in her hair.
Then, she joing the mass
in the street at carnical
and laughed with them
and danced with them
and drank and loved too much
too loud, one particular
clown in the crowd.
When the parade came to an end
and the fool went away
and she had not friend,
she returned with a prayer
in the quiet of dawn.
The church was still there
but the garden was gone.
sg
-------
while WHILST is a perfectly valid adverb or conjunction I think it is not often used in this century. I makes a very otherwise good poem-poems stilted to me. I think some other construct would help,
CLACK
CLACK
CLACK
hanger hanger hanger
do we become what we wear
or does what we wear become us
I lay on the bed watching
and then she goes
out there
while I stay here
naked

postcard, handwritten, an image of
---chandler
you are thoughts in my mind
---Mary Chapman, Orlando, Florida 32837
i don't see the clouds, but the sky around the clouds
---chandler
i don't see contrails, but cuts
---chandler
across a rainbow.
---Chandler
wish you were here
---chandler
wish you were here
---chandler
it's beautiful.
---chandler

Double
---The Punster, Pinole, CA., USA

---tp, p
Titus died of hepatitis
---tp, p
His nose to diagnose
---tp, p
In husbandry and as husband
---tp, p
Made him a pleasant peasant
---tp, p
A Croation creation
---tp, p
by a mission of admission
---tp, p
Sees quality of equality
---tp, p
As oxymoron to a moron
---The Puster, p

---pt, p

You're welcome to add in similar rhyming style, or add non-rhyming (or rhyming?) comments. Thought to drop by after a long absence. Good to see the site alive and well. I reconize several old timers.
PT

you didn't want to place a jar
---chandler
in my backyard in tennessee
---chandler
to catch the rain
---chandler
or spider silk
---chandler
or autumn leaves again.
---chandler
you didn't want to place a jar
---chandler
upon a hill in my backyard
---chandler
but that grey urn
---chandler
and wilderness
---chandler
defy your best laid plans.
---chandler
you placed a gray bare urn out there
---chandler
upon the hill in my backyard
---chandler
in memphis, tennessee to catch
---chandler
the silk and rain and leaves again.
---chandler
you didn't want to place that jar.
---chandler
you didn't want to leave again.
---chandler
the river, like that cold gray jar,
---chandler
or like the wilderness, once tamed,
---chandler
is cold and cools the muddy rocks
---chandler
under the bridge
---chandler
to arkansas
---chandler
and now that you have placed your jar
---chandler
i watch you drive away.
---chandler
i watch the ashes drifting down
---chandler
upon the rocks,
---chandler
amid the leaves
---chandler
i watch you leave, i watch you go
---chandler
defy your best loved plans.
---chandler
the webs and water, leaves and ash
---chandler
and anecdotes you left behind
---chandler
that do not give of bird or bush
---chandler
are all becoming mine.
---chandler

perhaps simply "go" instead of the word "drive", i wish the language was more ambiguous.
--chandler
-------
This is just so beautiful. Beutiful. thank you. I like the word "drive", the image of the modern day vehicle, the people going on about their lives, (maybe it's a buggy, so what?) that's just me. I love this poem. Please keep posting.
sg
-------
this is a conversation i had with my friend wallace:)
--chandler

I wish they cremated all of you
---Anonymous
that aura of fear that lives in my throat
---Anonymous
ready to rise up and suffocate me at any moment
---Anonymous
and the memories of so many wasted years
---Anonymous
I wish that your drivers license did not have the same address as mine
---Anonymous
a grim reminder of how we were forever linked
---Anonymous
You are a kaleidescope of bruises
---Anonymous
twisting and twirling in my mind
---Anonymous
Forever gone
---Anonymous
but still a nagging memory
---Anonymous
of years of pain
---Anonymous
~~~~~
---ms, Rehoboth Beach, Delaware

`
---kaleb

the rain is just enough,
to smile sad,
and not want to fake it.


)Kaleb
-------
what is this? a poem?

`
---kaleb

dark light
tight tapered
faded stained
washed with stones
legs legs legs


)Kaleb

`
---kaleb

glasses
are nicer
in wind gusts.


)Kaleb

*Just for You*
---Silhouette, Selden, NY

The years
have not been
kind to me
as long
as I can remember.
~
Twists, turns,
heartaches, and pains.
But through it all,
I've always
had a feeling,
that there was something
else behind it.
~
Some alterior motive
to all the choas,
some reason t
hat it all played out
on the pallet of my life
the way that it has
thus far.
~
I'd sit
and contemplate it,
and I've spent
countless hours,days,
weeks, even years
trying to figure out
the enigma of it all.
~
I think everyone does,
we try and rationalize
what to us does not pan out
the way we wrote it
in our own lifes script.
~
After all,
I thought I
was the greatest
writer/producer
for my own lifes script...
one of Spielberg proportions.
~
Turns out
I wasn't even
a Jerry Seinfeld.
~
So then,
Why have I survived
things that nobody
should have survived?
~
Why have I been so
deprived of
the things I wanted most?
Or so I thought.
~
There WAS something
in my lifes script
I was meant to do.
Some reason for
the obscure
plot development.
~
My life
was never made for me,
see, I, was made....
for you.