I live for tomorrow
I plot, I plan, I think, I scheme
Building castles, building dreams
If only I had second sight
I'd do it over, make it right
I count on tomorrow
You lived for the day
You ate, you slept, you stood, you bent
You gave, you took, you came, you went
You never had a troubled mind
You took what came and gave in kind
Your tomorrow was today
You needed me - I game you dreams
I needed you - you grounded schemes
You had days of joy and sorrow
I am waiting for tomorrow
i can tell you how i feel
how love was once real
now these thoughts i cant conceal
i was awakened by surprise
taken in by the lies
i then a had to realize
i was just a toy
another part of the ploy
my heart is the one of a boy
who's hope and happyness was destroyed
all i want to do
is wish i never loved you
but i know its not true
the feelings between us two
must have been fake
when we lay together listening to every breath you take
when i brought you cake
just to see you smile
when we were together for awhile
i walk over glass for a mile
just to make you laugh
now my hearts in pieces you were my other half
at some point we took different paths
if we could ever
get back together
id hold you close forever
never would i let you go
without telling you i love you so
i love you from head to toe
i have overcome my only fear
to not have you here
but i know your near
goodbye my dear
I'm putting the summer away
Though there's not a cloud in the sky
The chill in the morn' goes right to my bones
And I'm cranky for half of the day.
The early leaves clutter the ground
And umbrellas rotate with the breeze.
The gutters need tending, so do the spouts
Ahead of the winter's big freeze.
So, get thee behind me, oh Summer
And taunt me, and fool me no more
With days of bright golden honey
And nights of devilish hoar.
All stars do not shine,
In heaven, divine;
Once you've crossed that shining line
There's no way you can go back.
Wondering your choice
Without giving voice;
You certainly can't rejoice
When you're leading the attack.
Poem for a Monday
IT WILL BE A GOOD WEEK-
No it won't, it never is
THE WORK CHALLENGES ME-
Minutiae and mendacity, again
THE OTHERS COUNT ON ME-
They use you, admit it
WHAT ABOUT THE ART? I'M AN ARTIST-
Sure, keep telling yourself that
A JOB WELL DONE IS ITS OWN REWARD-
End of story
all the harvest times have left
thrashers bailers all bereft
cold ground hard icy breath
daisy lone sentry roll of death
Is it death, or is it sleep?
Shakespeare knows
Are there virgins in paradise?
Mohammed Atta knows
Is there life in the cosmos?
Carl Sagan knows
Might your ass burn in hell?
Adolf Hitler knows
Is love all you need?
John Lennon knows
What do women want?
Sigmund Freud knows
Will the Meek inherit the earth?
Mother Theresa knows
Will I see you again?
No one knows
September reminds me of Van Gough
Harvest colors and slanting sunlight
Crazy swirling blues and whites
A wind that blows both hot and cold
Upon a cluttered palette
It's not the starry nights, you know
Nor yellow flowers in a vase
It's not Postman Roulin's homely face.
It's the blood red sun in the purple sky
And black crows flying
That remind me of the Dutchman
Thank you.
I'm trying for a poem a day until the end of the year.
It's getting harder.
i stalk the tiger in my dreams
where can he hide
no mountains no hills
My temperature's 103
(39.1)
My head feels like a vat of ghee
(delirium's just begun)
I'm burning up
I'm freezing cold
I'm sweating in my bed
There's broken glass in all my joints
and nonsense in my head
They call it flu and say drink plenty
But my brain's on fire
and my glass is empty
Whew. Hope you are going to be okay.
Still reading all the new poems here...great work you guys
...I just have not felt spontaneous enough to write my own.
Distant calling
Falling leaves
Rivers Running
a fall sneeze
sunshine extolling
hot oatmeal and bed
Frost melting
and crumpets warming
reading books instead.
Lapping up the
flickering sunshine
thoughts and memories
merge...
Let there be Peace on earth
and pie on everyones Plate.
If I were king of the forest...
I'd take new Plagerite the pink pill
for curbing my urge to Plage or Rise.
My old wreck
Camouflaged with rust
Dinged and dented bumpers
Under a coat of dust
My old wreck
With spring protruding seat
And wishy washy wipers
And tires like clay feet
My old wreck
From the bottom of my heart
I beg you, "Start
Please start. JUST START!"
Put-put-put
(Thank you)
