Current poems in progress...

like the fire brigade calling after an ant
---Anonymous
I feel overrated & insignificant
---Anonymous
entitled, but not worthy
---Anonymous
On their fire the liquid plated has written
---K.H.Wright, OR
you are nothing more than stardust
---Anonymous
broken-faced teddy-bear
---KH Wright, OR

challenging :)

Requiem for the bees
---Wendy

In the orchard
while trees still dream
of apples and plums
peaches too
the offering of blooms
heavy with sweet perfume
sang the song of invation
sent it ribboned in the wind
but there was no answer
no dancing and singing
in summer that wore a shroud.
As days turned
the song withered
petals became tears
raining in the summer sun.
Now spring has come
and the trees still dream
but no blooms
with their sirens song
can be heard or seen
for the bees have all gone
they are now just a dream.
I can still remember
the taste of honey
the sweet flesh of apples
pears, peaches and plums
and the sound,
the sweet song
that is no more.
-------
Wendy, did you write the poem in the commentary? This is so good!
...BR
-------
Yes, I did and thank you.
-------
genuinely moving

When Dogs Come Home
---Anonymous

Step by step
through the days
numb in soul and mind
--
I asked my self
if you could see
would you really mind
---
when dogs come home
after wandering far
begging at the door
---
how long
how far
does this story go
---
pain comes to roost
when death comes to dance
when dogs come home
---
mans best friend
no so friendly now
blood shot eyes
---
dogs in suits of human
wagging tounge
wagging smiles
---
when dogs come home
better see who it is
might not be mine at all
---
bitter infects the sweet
breaks soul for a little while
bends a hole in the heart
----
rover done over
give the man a bone
when dogs finally, finally come on home.
-------
i like it

Do cows come home
---wendy

....1.
Promises in different jars
broken more or less
into future promises
the circle will be
complete.
.....2.
Trust in jars
just below the promises
drenched in colors
none of them
really matching
they are just there now
for artistic value.
....3.
Routines
as familiar as worn paths
in dirt or wood
waiting for me
to make change happen.
.....4.
I keep hoping
that one day soon
we'll hear on the news
that cows everywhere
are finally comming home
to their farmers.
.
I love happy endings
even when they are poorly written.
-----Wendy------

Notions of death
---Wendy

Houses of skin filled with life
...
Moments anxiously gobbled up
...
Grief stained life
...
instead of greatfulness stained life
...
These are the fruits we have gathered
so we may sing a song
that tells you how much your leaving
disturbed our life and comfort zone
...
We cannot believe its you
unless you have your skin on
...
We don't accept its you
unless you have your skin on
...
so your skin is really the you
that I'm going to miss for
the rest of my life
...
no wonder the idea
grandma comming to talk to her grandson or daughter
is too hard to belive
...
What we miss
what we hold dear
is in the process of decay
the moment it hits the air
...
The celebration is lavish
...
mournings trying to put on a brave face
...
lush comfort surrounds and consumes
...
low tones and wispers bounce melt into velvet
...
the house of skin is cleaned and dressed
...
for the one show it will always be the center of
...
For a few brief hours nestled in a few days
...
What we knew for a long time
...
we get to see one more time
...
no wonder death is scary to talk about.

Bent
---Wendy

Its hard to embrace any kind of creative daydream
with planes flying over head.
So I sit here
thinking about the days
when this was all so easy
someone had turned on a faucet
leaving it running.
.
Sometimes the words still come
easy
strange colored
unfolding in a few minuets
then its done.
Too much water through life
has marred the road.
Islands still exist
here and there.
Their patients
expressed deeply
in how at home I feel
when I find them.
...
Wendy

Tangent
---Wendy

Prelude
.
fishing in the right neighbor hood
Bait over load
over zealous secrets
hints at what's inside
.
Story telling
.
Warbling words
weaving and spinning
the spider looking human
playing mental majician.
.
Rejections
.
Dear John letters
flavor of the week
future wall paper
to hide the fact
that my walls are mostly nude.
.
Market life
.
Side show
snake woman mezerizes
slithering skin
undulates
her version of
ocean waves.
.
More market life
.
Barking gibberish
electric and eccentric
framed by wild hair and smelly breath
the animated version of life
offers the rarest of plastics
while dropping hints of scandelous peeks
just behind the curtian.
.
Endless sea
.
Jaded eyes
weary from the smell
of masses of human souls
as far as the eyes can hear
as close as suffocation will allow.
.
Climaxium 1
.
Returned for a final devouring
crowned hero by circumstances
unwanted and unplanned for
earned through swamp dancing
achieving the required number
of dead enemies now lacking
with all due respect
any thing resembling human at all.
.
Climaxium 2
.
Dressed in her finest falsetto
heroine demi godesss in her own opinion
pines in a whine filled derge
the many missed opportunities
mall raids on a nightly run
her head goes swimmingly
while demands for impossiblities
run rouge out of her mouth.
.
Plot Soup
.
Lovers like mismatched socks
pick each others fresh scabs of unfairness
validating their emo ego tantrums
until at last
in self serving platitudes
they consumate their unspoken itching
infecting the air
with squashing noises
not fit for human observation.
.
Disgruntaled Ending
.
Haggared from the trip
laundry stained with fun
won't escape from the suitcase
before morning coffee
while the anti climatic drivel drones
"give me, I want, I need, I, I, I"
it never shuts up
it leaves a rotten taste in my mouth
it was a waste of words
it was a diversion
but it wasn't what I wanted
it was a suckie thing to participate in
I'm glad it's over.
.
...