Spontaneous Poems

AE: :wink:

Joe

By gosh, this thread's on fire.

:wink:

it's Sunday, it's raining, it's fun


Before You

Before you are nothing but a puppet
Still dreaming of being the Master
Your marionette strings must be severed
Until then, little puppet, dance faster

Pinocchio dreams will unbind you
Don't bow to the Overlord's whim
Spin off of the stage, unleash your rage
Discover the real self within

Please give me a new topic since most of the words come from previous poems posted.

Discover the real self within,
Find the reason why you are here,
Don't feed the monster that is sin,
For it is that which you need fear.

Discover the real self within,
And find out what you're looking for,
Feed the hunger, the need to win,
Until your spirit is no more.

I will use this "t's Sunday, It's raining, it's fun"

The Portal of Days


It's Sunday, it's raining, it's fun
Relaxing with nothing to worry me
Sitting by an electronic portal
That my able hands control

Connected to thousands
Who are connected to me
Strangers to each other
We speak in symbols

It's Sunday here but
It might not be Sunday
There where they live
Across the sea

It's raining here but
The sun shines on others
The sky lights my path
While dark night shadows some

I'm having fun this Sunday
Reaching out across the airways
Playing with symbols that
Bring knowledge of each other

good job, C.D.


Until your spirit is no more
Laugh, baby, laugh.
Happy spirits take you far
Laugh, baby, laugh.

Laugh at the fools who jabber and jest
Laugh at yourself before all the rest
Guffaw when the soufflé drops on the floor
Giggle at jobs you don't have anymore
Laugh up a storm when your car's in the shop
Give yourself stitches when markets drop
Don't start crying the minute you lose
Over worthless lottery numbers you choose
Or the purple bump on the side of your nose
Or the three-foot ladder in your new hose
Forget the terrible things that were done
To you, dear heart, when you were young.
Laugh at yourself when they're laughing at you
Really, there's nothing else you can do

Except laugh, baby, laugh
Until your spirit is no more
Try to exit laughing
When you go out the door

"When you go out the door"

The Door

When you go out the door
Heed those that are calling
Enter the white light without fear
Never looking back

Yesterday is no more
Over with the pain
Understand the change

Go meet those that wait, your
Obligations are passed

Observe a life past
Unwilling wrongs made right
To be at peace with all

The universe forgives, you
Heal to begin anew
Eternity is yours

Delight in this thought
Offend nothing living
Or those that guide your spirit
Remembering to love

(and so I close, my cyber-friends. good entertainment, right to the end.)

"Love is all you need"

Bring knowledge of each other
To the banquet hall of Life.
Taste the many-flavored wisdoms;
Quench the thirst of your delight.
For this day may be the last one
Before the longest night.
Take this time to toast each other
Gathered left and right.
Remembering, to love is
Living to the height

Living to the height
of men, not monkeys
making right of life, not fights
nor genocidal decrees

is this what we were made for?
how dare you come, for
how dare you make us die for
your green infernal oil war

"To the banquet hall of Life"

The Banquet of Life


To the banquet hall of Life
Only a few are invited

Each guest seated according
To their importance in society

At the head of the table sit the affluent
Cream of society whose god is gold

At the other head of the table
The leaders of people and nations

On the left side of the table sit the
Citizens that live off the misery of man

On the right side to the table sit the
Ones that sell themselves for gold

They all gorge themselves
For the banquet is free for them

And as they eat the crumbs that fall
Are eaten by the miserable ones of the world

#59

Alien Fortress

Maladroit and alien, when abroad,
Is one who, inexpressive and withdrawn,
Erects a castle of protective fraud
But is not King, nor Queen, but pawn.
The alien abides inside its walls by choice,
Thinking, seeing, hearing all - it saves
And waits for courage to give voice
To the warring dragons that it braves
Each day, alone, unknown, and mute,
Tethered only by its discontented mind.
For, would it not be Kingly at its root
If all deceptiveness were left behind?
This alien would gladly shed its shell
And find a better place to dwell

a hushed and darkened night
wraps its chill around bare branches
and whispers with the wind
as the first flakes of snow
begin to weave a blanket of warmth

"Begin to weave a blanket of warmth."

Blanket of Warmth

Begin to weave a blanket of warmth
With words that will reach my heart
And will stop the hurt that time left
At least for a fraction of an hour
From this world's eternal time clock
Before it repeats it's chiming again

Begin to weave a blanket of warmth
To temporary numb the pain of life
Before the throbbing agony begins anew
Press it tightly around the wound
To prevent my life's blood from spilling
Before my spirit abandons me to freedom

#60

Galleria

Landscape
Patchwork hills of rolling pastures
Where spotted cattle clusters graze
And horses race with wild manes flowing
Turning only when the split rail ends
Hillside tractors package grain
And leave hay boxes in the rain

Still Life
Chrysanthemums of burnished copper
Dusky plum and shades of red
Watery stems in crystal sparkle
Reflecting glints from the southern sun
Fallen petals of varying hue
Form a pattern on cerulean blue

Portrait
A face, composed in phantom time
Unseeing eyes gaze at unseen sights
Corn silk hair falls over too-pink shoulders
Blue lined fingers hold an unopened book
A textured image in a paisley shawl
Eternally wondering on the wall

"A face, composed in phantom time"

Composition of a soul


A face, composed in phantom time.
Chiseled carefully lifetime after lifetime
Not knowing if it will ever be finished.

The artist works with ethereal materials
Sure of the quality of its immortality.
Covering it, with three dimensional matter.

She works blindly, guided by phantoms
Guardians of past, present, and future.
Always present watching, inspiring.

Why does the artist work so hard?
Who is the essence she is refining?
The face of the life force, is her own

Ode to Anger

Condemnations, however most trite
For naught than dispensation of them
Casts a veil of red o'er my sight
Gave release to anger, once stemmed.

The least iota of ill, given breath
Senseless as him that birthed it
Filled mine cage black as death
Found the soul and smirched it.

Forever A Poet

I'm running out of time,
In this art, so sublime,
I feel I've done a crime,
I'm not sure when, sometime
In my jaded lifetime,
And I'm covered in grime,
But I'm just in my prime,
I'm not sure how long I'm
Able to keep this ryme,
'Cause I have no downtime,
In wartime or peacetime,
At noontime or nighttime,
"When will you stop?", you chime,
Never in my lifetime


whew!...that's the most concecutive rhymes I've ever written :wink:

The Night

When I look up at the dark night sky,
I see the stars, the moon, and wishes,
It's hard to concentrate on just why,
As the wolf howls and tall grass swishes.

The night sky is lovely, dark, and deep,
Next to it the earth seems gray and bleak,
And I find it hard to go to sleep
For the thoughts of that stellar boutique.

The night, I know, will always comply,
The people are gone, the sky is clear,
But it's hard to concentrate on why
The night, for me, holds so much revere.