First poem you posted in this Forum
Ms. Haiku
Washington DC Posts: 7,279
Go ahead and find it. When I can't find mine, Fins is able to find it for me. Then we can see how we have progressed.
There is no such thing as leftover pizza. There is now pizza and later pizza. - anonymous
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
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The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
la mort de la pluie
Do you remember that time in Pittsburgh…
...No
That time at Yama when I spilled my water glass
You laughed, and covered your cute nose and mouth with your hand
…that never happened
The moment when we heard the new record together
Did you put your hand on my hand on my leg and squeeze
because the excitement was wrenching?
...No,that didn’t happen either…
Do you remember the concert back in June when you smiled
and said you would never leave because leaving would mean losing?
…you left.
The time I called and you called back because my message was sweet…
…I’m confused again…
...creating snapshot images…
moving together - fast - forming a movie.
I gave you the Admit One
You smiled sideways…the way you do with your upper lip
looked at the car passing behind you - a four-door…something red -
slowly moved those hazel eyes to the concrete at your feet…my feet.
opened the purse you said you’d never carry
stuffed another one inside…wrinkling.
I said, “you’re beautiful from above”
You had a thought…he loves me
My eyes were warm, that night, with the purple-haze sunset inside
You brushed the back of your index finger down my cheek
and then put the palm of your hand on my face, smiled and said,
“I’ll talk to you soon,” to which I replied,
“I’m going to miss you…”
and I do.
from my window to yours
=====================================
Axis: a reference on which others are measured.
someone,
part of a
dot.com bust,
steals the
want ads
from the
public library,
which
closes early
due to
lack of
funding.
from my window to yours
I thought my first one was a play on "Elderly Woman in a Small Town", but I remember that this was posted at about the same time. How do you go back, anyway?
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
I want to take all these
dirty thoughts
Add some water
and some soap
Put them through
the wringer
Hang them out on
the line
And put them clean
back into the storage
of my mind
But who am I kidding
They'll only get dirty again!
*stops herself from tweaking it*
Ms. Haiku, you go to the bottom of this section and you'll see a section off to the lefthand side that has drop down menus, go to those and choose--sorted by Thread Starter, from the Beginning, and you can either choose ascending or decending order, and then hit "show threads". You have to go through many pages, but once you find your name, you can look through all your old stuff and everyone else's too!
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
No Longer
I walked you through the maze of my soul
with hope and smiles
Just for you to reverse and knock down all my walls
Why do I walk your winding trails
Just for you to let go of my hand and lose me
I give you all that I am with light and truth
Just for you to lock me in the dark with your lies
Compassion and sincerity is my gift to you
You unwrap it without value
Your selfishness dismisses my purity
My tenderness is whipped by your tongue
I've opened my doors and shared my dreams
I've given you comfort when you needed encouragement
I was a source of strength when you needed support
No longer will I
Jump into your life with both feet
I promise to be true to myself
and not let you watch me bleed
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
By the way, my first one was the lyric to my song Westgate To The Grey, which is on my Myspace page. No need to reproduce it again.
from my window to yours
Just Some Words?
Knew a person
Filled with vain
I wondered
How it affected their brain
It would drive me insane
Living with that pain
I'm behind the counter
growing older, not too tired,
though. Between taking orders from new diners
I fill coffee cups and sugar dispensers,
joke with the cook,
and write out sight-seeing directions.
We serve the best fries around, the ones that hit the spot
for weary couples and high school crowds
(just ignore the man with the black & white notebook.)
This may look small town to you,
but you're sitting in a Jersey diner booth.
The glorious colors of autumn always fool.
You may think I'm common,
my life not chosen, a chalkboard still blank,
but people my age inspire music when we walk.
We've worked hard for our calluses,
and proud of it!
If only you could see the tattoos on my shoulders.
One of the Garden State Parkway, the other an opened letter.
The Parkway tattoo - so I'll always find home.
The opened letter
designed by someone
another story, eh?
I've seen him once since
another story, some other time, alright?
How about more coffee?
It's a play on Elderly Woman in a Small Town. Like the woman behind the counter is responding - hence, woman responds. This was posted one day before Axis of Evil, but because it had a re-emergence it was listed a few pages later under my tag. Wow, that was fun to research.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
is it cold where you are?
are the blankets i slept beneath,
lofty on your bed as snow,
warm enough to chase the chill from your bones?
do you ever think of me?
have you wondered,
gazing out the kitchen window,
coffee in hand as we did, where i am?
have you ever watched a river?
seen the water move over rock,
leaves carried to distant banks
far from the tree that bore them,
and wondered if it ever rests?
i am that river
running over stone and mud
swirling in pools, then moving on
at times yielding to the banks
then overflowing them
carrying with me twigs and leaves and earth
and you, my love, are a leaf
brilliant and gold in the sunlight
dropped from a maple far north of here
floating forever in my waters
Of which we're caught in the middle.
A couple of lucky ones
Tangled up in too much love
~cowboy junkies
If only...
Sometimes, alone, I wonder
what could be if only...
no space, just time
and you were mine
But the oceans full of waves
and direction paves the way
Time slips away,
moves too slow
and who can wait?
I know I can
but you say no
So I cry and wait
just sleep and wake
and think what could be
if only
Elderly Couple Behind The Paper In A Small Room
Expanded minds between the lines they never walked
An image bred is hard to spread, they never talk
Taking comfort in the loneliness they share
between their hectic life and looming death
SOLITUDE THEIR INTERLUDE
It's all come and gone, the goings on, it's had its place
Too late to reach across the breach, it's hard to face
The planet revolves, memories dissolve and fade away
The falling sands and moving hands have their way
Silence fills the empty space left in the air
Words once roamed so often there
DUMBNESS THEIR NUMBNESS
Eyes shut tight, dark of the night, shadow of the day
Never so close, never so closed as when they lay
Metamorphosis of images insane
Still can't bridge the distance they maintain
SECLUSION THEIR DELUSION
Shall it return, cross bridges burned, bring back emotion?
Tired eyes watch rising tides of their united ocean
Ebb and flow, stopped long ago, starts to reoccur
Consciousness, laid motionless, begins to stir
Endless notions feel the need to be conveyed
Open eyes see that today is still their day
COMMUNICATION THEIR LIBERATION
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
Well mine was just about an elderly couple who don't communicate anymore, but are still together for comfort. It reminded me of (or perhaps was inspired by. I forget) the scene in Singles where the couple were sitting at the kitchen table, both behind their newspapers, not talking, so I kept thinking "elderly couple behind their papers" which reminded me of elderly woman, so I made the title to reflect that. The small room part is to show they are physically close but emotionly nothing is their anymore.
Okay.
You want One-Nil again?
Okay:
One-Nil
The evening went well, Jim thinks. They paid
him cash, always a boon for poetry
read live. A vital crowd. No, not the staid
old tweedy lot you'd mainly get. The try-
out of those newer pieces live was ... nice
road testing, nice ... A girl sat at the front.
She mouthed out her number to him twice:
Should have spoken to her. Hmm, you don't
Pass these chances up. That's what's at stake
in this: a lonesome gravestone. Shame the night
ended when it did, a little late to make
The Swimmers for last orders. It's the blight
of this old life: that words should be the curse
to keep one from good loving and the throng
of life out there. To write to make a purse
dries up the throat and falsifies the song.
Jim thanks the organisers, then shakes hands
and quits the 'net cafe. Coats and shoes
flap past him. Cold air breath streams past in bands
that smell of burger vans. Loud, banshee throes
begin to agonise his frosted ears:
Some lads, whose song "One- nil, one-nil, one- nil",
provokes in him an echo of the good old years
when no-one read his work. "I'd party 'til
I couldn't stand or talk, but never bore
and never spout out poetry. I'd swear,
love, curse, fall down, get up for more.
Then words came in the morning with my fear.
How dare these lovers mouth to me and rude
young louts shout out the score as if to chide
me, left to walk these streets alone? Plain, crude
words will mock my solitary pride."
He slaps his forehead. "Thinking like an ass
again, old James?" Moonlight on his boots
makes a moment's poem. It will pass
when he looks before him and he roots
through faces passing for that prettiness
he saw tonight. And there she is, just by,
behind another cafe window, her dress
offpink, seamed with one red butterfly
sequined, a flash of memories
of Jean, his first wife. Pah. A young man sits,
just opposite. "Don't listen to his lies!"
He mutters on the glass. The kid takes hits
deep from his coffee cup and starts to mouth
some monolgue. The girl's eyes narrow now.
"Oh no. A would-be poet. Stupid youth!
Girl! Run from his sham, his flash, his show,
His verbless scrawl without a period,
those metaphors he mixes,those broad
fat brushstrokes drawn to make a blob of god
inside his world view splodge. Run from that toad
and find a carpenter, a fisherman,
a coalman or a beggar, but don't fall
for someone with a notebook and a wan,
world-weary look and wish to offload all
that poetry on you. Get out of there,
live, start breathing, love, try not to care
about the Beat!" A pigeon raised its cere
to look up at him. "Tell me, does he scare
you, little birdy? Does your instinct say
That kid's a poet, summoning chill rain
over his lover's life? You'd run away,
dear bird! If only humans had your brain."
Jim heads through midnight crowds, and breathing in
he feels the river breeze upon his face
and reaches bridge still silence. There within
cool waters down below, there's the embrace
of lovers from high stars where no word
hinders kissings. Jim looks to the still
unrippling river belly where the cord
to good dream-motherlore remains. Until
the river ends, the heart of poetry
is nameless, moonknown, whiteblack; here
he knows in shadows where the song lies. "Try
not to make a sound", he thinks. "Not where
the light on water's all. I'll live from now
watching midnight water for the glow
of starlain lovers on the stream. And free
from words, I'll laugh, and dance, and learn to Be."
__________
i don't know where
you want to go
or where it is
you've been
the only thing that i do know
is you're never here with me
i sit and wait
and bide my time
i'm always all alone
the noise i hear
inside my head
is me forcing out the lies
and empty promises
you never keep
that are trapped
within my mind.
take a good look
this could be the day
hold my hand
lie beside me
i just need to say
May, 2003
Suppose Heaven was void
A Black Swirling antimass
of synapses loose
and not even bouncing
For space is too great
and too wide
and too roomy to encounter God
Would we,
our thought-processed soul,
Embrace it as whole?
Would sometimes we scream
for our flesh-bound gravity?
Singing, "Hey It's Good to be Back Home Again"
While tears sting our
waterless eyes?
Or suppose it's the promise
beat against the Rock of Ages?
Thumped upon the Good Book's
pages and filled with segregated,
wild-eyed Christians?
I hope my entry is more like
the digital helicopter pulse
of multiple orgasm
my eyes ripped open,
sucking up the universe
with my soul's spongy iris.
And then, in the calm,
being told every tear
I never cried
saved someone's life.
~lifeisworth, may 03
i've been writing on the pj boards for a long long time. i lost most everything.
In waking dreams the swirls convene,
to discuss epic tales of wandering chipmunks.
Clouds roll by not asking why,
the tax cuts aren't helping to make a longer lasting gum.
From atop their perch the sparrows lurched,
in the way of a neon antelope.
God resolved to take time off,
as man prepared for Joe Millionaire.
The band played on,
to a cheering throng of drunken plastic cups.
And alarm clocks wailed from shadowed vales,
as waterfalls composed Homeric prose.
Around the bend a frog defends,
his ancestral home from legless giraffes.
Wasps descend from now and then,
but are beaten back by the wisdom of the lampshades.
Boiled lobsters fly helicopters,
over fields of growing taxis,
over a river of moles that’s bridged with holes,
the toasters glide playfully by.
Where they pass by a herd of one-eyed interns,
who see their reflections shooting bread and bagels.
Elected fools with stoic drool,
rain dollar clouds over nickel earth.
While laughter escapes from a pebble called fate,
and comets hurl toward another rebirth.
But on it’s way the road is paved,
with layer upon layer of socks unpaired.
And naked feet fall back and retreat,
from the storm of burping sweatshop urchins.
So the stars are sucked in
to the shape of a grin
And physics no longer applied
life shows us a smile every once and a while
If you’d all take a walk outside.
i like this one very much.
take a good look
this could be the day
hold my hand
lie beside me
i just need to say
my first poem, from about 3 yrs ago or at least 2 1/2, was horrible. i challenge y'all to find that simplistic begging for nookie....
here is one of my favorites, a sonnet dedicated to Jimi, my favorite rock artist of all time, no exceptions.
first posted 05/18/04
jimi and the blues -
In a vision full music I did see
Jimi stretching strings, psychedelic blues,
Silk shadows, dance reflections of blue sea,
Colorful coral reefs of many hues,
The which would have been hidden if not for
Jimi's intense sonic whispers and screams,
His mermaid swimming on the ocean floor,
Castles on the beach, wash waves foam - the streams
In high mountains where his red house did stand,
Run clear, cool like rapids create vortex,
Waterfalls like crashing cymbals accent
The music in this vision of his band,
The circus mind, the textures will now flex
As I waken from the scene truly spent.
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
A westway to the world of freedom
you sang the songs, I started to believe in
a beat pounds, like my heart, I'm breathing
starting to achieve what my mind is dreaming..
I wish you had stayed
your words had such meaning
I wish you had stayed
hadn't gone and left me bleeding
London called and you screamed out
your words of warning, stark world dawning
a tommy gun with his heart in his mind
pouring it out with every song and..
I wish you had stayed
your words had such meaning
I wish you had stayed
hadn't gone and left me bleeding
The day I heard, I cried out loud
I felt so down, now you wern't around
played out your music proud
a white riot made it's sound
I wish you had stayed
your words had such meaning
I wish you had stayed
hadn't gone and left me bleeding
Not been posting my stuff for long here, this was the first one I posted a month maybe 2 months ago, and was an ode to Joe Strummer.
Working on some chords to go with it as we speak.
Inspired by Pearl Jam's "Alone"
On the stairs between first and second floors
she stops a breath between past and future.
She resumes after the pause consciously
thinking of this evening's dinner menu.
Within a prepared guest room she removes
his items from a labeled container.
She burns the contents and places remains
in a tray next to cigarette lighters.
Smoke in her eyes causes isolated tears.
Tired, she covers her face with her hands.
She revisits years of wrestled regrets
as stray grey hair brushes her next gold ring.
Pictures circa 1963 burn
with an official note of condolence.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird