Hello my writing friend. Would you like to share some poems of yours with me? Here’s one I wrote today:
Voices around it are a hood
that can’t keep out the cold,
flapping like an eel against
a rock, this head, tucked into
the pocket of fabricated fits
yellow or black or gray
any kind of draw string
that pulls a tight and
dizzy wrap around an
excessive heat, not escaping,
not in the hand of a man
that might lay down the
the truth on a pillow like
a ring, or a king. Not hearing
the voices of angels, dead
upon lightless eyes, and
skies that run out of color,
steal burning fires from the
hearts of men, left hollow
as ghosts rising from smoke.
-property of Daze
I’m on my I touch right now at my parents house. but I’d be glad to share you one when I get back to my apt to my laptop. One of my older ones…I’ve kind of lost touch with writing good poetry lately I feel
Ok, anything you got is fine, I like all kinds. See you later.
I dreamt I fell
I dreamt I came back and went to hell
But I’m already there
So really I didn’t go anywhere
I dreamt of this guitar that I strummed
I dreamt I kidnapped but you didn’t come.
Held for ransom
But that still wasn’t enough to unite this tandem.
I played the instrument well
Top floor of the Marriott hotel.
I dreamt of the forest, trees, the bees
Beautiful women who don’t have to get on their knees, to get what they need.
I dreamt of blues and jazz
I dreamt of what my best friends neighbor has
I dreamt of food
Lots of food
I dreamt of this songs interlude.
I dreamt of dreams
Dreamt I wasn’t a fiend
I dreamt I didn’t have no foes
I dreamt of rainbows…united
All the battles had been fighted.
I dreamt I was no longer excited
About the future
Dreamt I could get off the computer.
I dreamt of you
Like what I would do if I could renew
Back when I was still livin right
When I could have had what I wanted all along
That’s all I remember…it was meant to be a hip hop song…I have it recorded somewhere. I have all diff types of poetry too but this one I remember, save a few lines. I’ll post some more later.
Yeah its good I love how they are like wishes those dreams
Do you want dream denied or dream fulfilled? I wasn’t sure. You don’t have to know for sure either thats the mystery.
Hey, are you still wanting to share poems? Here’s something funny I wrote today:
The face on my fist has a
mouth without teeth, a real
knucklehead, tongue in cheek,
a real fighter, fist bumps the ladies
like a head butt, lip synching in a
snap, in a finger roll, he works every
joint, singing and singing and every
golden layer of his skin pores more and more.
Until another hand takes my hand,
and then he has to be more than a
flat out refusal, he gets to be a drooling
mess when the palms get sweaty. He has
to be getting a grip now, getting a hold
of something good. He’s come apart from
the frozen fingers, the jaw unhinged like
an alligator now ducking into a dark glove.
Now the hand sucks on leather pressing
open, open, heart in my hand, reaching out
he is a motor mouth. He can stretch beyond this
stretch of road, stopping for a view, he curls around
my mouth when I shout out, “Heeellllloooo!”
property of Sheri G.
I could write down
all the things I
Never had but
the words bleed up and scatter
from the page
My hands were full
of gifts for you my heart
too quick to stay
my love longed
too short for you
a debt I could not pay
I never wanted us
to choke on this
for nevermore no hit
waters run dry
inside your ghost no comfort
This is how it happens
this is how it
I usually hate rhyming but this just came out that way 😛
Life’s like an old sock
Sometimes it smells but it’s comfortable
You get holes in it. But you still wear it
Until one day there are so many holes that you throw out that old sock and get a fresh new pair.
In moonlit thickets
I have only my short poems. The rest have to by typed into my new computer.
The bird in the thorn tree
sang a song to me:
“i live in the thorn tree
yet I am free.”
I ran from the thorn tree.
I didn’t want to see
the bird in the thorn tree
who’s all so free.
pre-The Thorn Birds era
Thanks for adding you guys. Sometimes a feeling takes flight and it becomes your saving grace in verse. But it’s important to set it free.
For a Childhood Friend
Did Barry Manilow have to be gay?
After running through our hearts as if
in a field of flowers wrapped around
our waists like perfect 5 petal hands,
stumbling over his lyrics now clumped
to our shoes like perfect 5 inch cakes,
and the way out of this softness is to
really put to rest the mess like a perfect
taking 5 to find our way back to ourselves,
and you made these fields upright as
playing the piano, the keys white as daisies
and the black ones the very center of our eyes,
playing again and again, he sat on that bench
and sang Mandy out in the wild when our
hearts went wild, wildflowers all around,
singing it to only us in the arms of the sun.
-property of Daze
Little cats prowl through the dark of night,
A hoot owl hoots in the moonlight,
By the white of his back I can see a skunk,
On his way home staggers a drunk,
He drank to dream, drank to scheme,
But now a shame he can only seem.
The snake searches for his night time prey,
About which the wise old owl can only say,
I too have my night time business,
And if I need God’s forgiveness,
I’ll ask him why he made us this way.
Reminds me a little bit of Robert Frost.
I came across a man sitting
naked, bestial, in a desert,
In his hands he held his heart,
And he ate of it.
I said, “Friend, is that good?”
He said, "Ah, it is bitter, bitter,
but I like it.
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.
The previous poem is not my own. It was written by Stephen Crane.
You should probably give reference to each thing posted, such as who wrote it, including yourself for your own.