Spontaneous Poems

Thankee CD!

Yesterday's News

I knew you.
Redhaired, blue-eyed boy
loud bellowing
laughing
playing
small
you and your twin
bothered me and your Dad
while we tried so hard to
practice law
hard to do that
as the babies cry in the other room
and your mother soothed you two

I remember her fixing your stroller
while I typed up a will
and debated with your father
about the Rule Against Perpetuities
and while I was only a law student
but I was right
this did not matter to you
merry little boy
romping and banging
all around your Dad's home office
and out into the yard

That was twenty or so
years ago
and you became a teen
and then an adult
and you were troubled
I heard from my Mom
she knows your Mom
they talk

And you had issues
you were unsettled
there were chemical substances
they were not legal
and your parents had split long before
but we remained friends
and we were all concerned

You followed your twin
to college
and it's didn't work out
California was too far
or school was too hard
or the temptations were too great
or something like that

And then yesterday
my mother called
and told me she had read in the paper
of a young man walking,
walking on Jericho Turnpike
I know that road
and he was walking
and there was a car
and she saw the name
and it was you

And your parents prepare a wake for you
and your twin wonders where his other half went
and the papers say it was an accident
but maybe you wanted it all to be over with
we won't ever know that
we can't ask you

And when I heard the news
and I heard my mother's voice
and how I was thankful
that it had not happened to my family
but I remembered
how long we had all known each other
and your twin is like family
and your parents may be split
but they are still like family
your Dad gave me my first break
and I always remembered him for that
and your Mom was so comforting
when my Mom was sick
Nurses do that
but your Mom, she went above and beyond
and your twin, he went to Europe with your Mom
and my folks
but not you

And I realized I had never really known you at all

-- In memory of E___

Jespah,

A lovely, poignant remembrance.

My eyes are full.

Shiloh

I met you on the High street-you handed me the chalk.
saying, "Write frequency on the pavement"
where unsmiling masses walked.

You were testing for rigidity you told me with a wink-
so I wrote "Free Quincy" then "freak wins C"
and, "frequent sea,"
-and then I stopped to think.

"Enough, enough," you laughed at me-
demanding back the chalk
"You've passed the test," you told me
And then began to talk.

"Assailed by the world's demons
We must learn to raise our shield
But when visited by angels
We must lower it and yield."

And I knew what you were saying - though I wouldn't put it so
I'd say angels are felicity and demons simply woe.
Different words for the same thing - we agreed to disagree
But you said "that wouldn't stop me from inviting you to tea."

I laughed and said - "You're an angel -
you've brought laughter to my day."
And though I laughed, I realized,
I'll see things in a different way.

"I take my tea with sugar" you said
and my toast with jam and butter."
"Me too, " I said and then we smiled
One nutter to another.

"We're none of us so different-
we're all biscuits on a tray-
And all of us in danger
Of being eaten and gone each day."

And then I pictured God
This great sweet tooth in the sky
Randomly selecting
And not explaining why.

A latter-day sidewalk prophet
with a simple piece of chalk.
It's amazing what you learn
when you take the time to talk.

in just that moment i was mesmerized
it was only for a minute but it was enough.
my heart felt the pull and my eyes never looked away
but it was only for that moment i belonged to you.
now that i've blinked i've put up a wall
you're just a friend again like i've seen nothing at all.
but in that one moment i belonged to you.

to icexlily: Very good writing.

I have been reading your prose and poetry through- it is not only the style that appeals to me, but the heavy overtones of USELESSNESS coming through.
So much in this life we waken to, day beyond swift moving day,
And we do not see a need for hate and violent abuse, but there they are!
Mostly, the downtrodden are the cushion for the unashamed.
A sneering man reaches for the garment the small woman is wearing.
Grabbing the sleeve, he jerks her around, making her fall by pushing his knee HARD into the joint of hers. He jerks her up to his face and says, "Hey let's go in there and get it on!!" He slobbers a kiss onto her face, missing her lips, but pulling her face around.
As she stumbles into the darkened building- he pushes her onto a soiled couch and clumsily yanks clothing around- managing to get his skin touching hers. She yells, she prays, she squirms, she moves , she spits at him, she runs to the bathroom, she does anything to get away.
He follows her, and pokes his fist hard into her back as tho stabbing her with a knife. then he spits into her eye, snarling, "I will wait a while, but I will be back. you be ready now."
And there is never anyone to stop much of the continual actions of violent, lost and manic persons. they just keep running over us.

What I wonder; though, is Why? why would any person want to share personal intimacies with one they slap around and spit upon??

It is indeed a strange day we awaken to.

Its not time that kills me,
But your dreadful soul-
The way you come upon me,
Makes me want to just grow old.

My songs arn't meant for sages,
But yet you still insist,
That i am still a ragist,
and what I do is never missed.

My mind is ever flowing,
Yet you still attempt to stop it.
Whenever I stop knowing,
I then cease to exist.

I still am not sure if what I do is right,
You only confuse me, every day and every night.
Stuck in this confusion, there is only one more option,
And that option is to leave you dear, and seek a newfound problem.

Wisp, you have talent. I would like to see some of your writing in another few years.

Thanks.

In the end, we all are really dead-
Ours souls are old, and we're left with no friends.
Our minds are made up, together or divided,
But we will still ponder, where we will be reciding.

Many care about many things, but none as much as death.
I find as I harbor thoughts on wings, that there still ain't much left.
Whether home or grave, upon mercury glaves-
Their ain't much left cept you.

Your love has told us many things,
And made us all feel welcome.
The thoughts we get when you smile-
Well, thats more than just a little seldom.

In the end, we are all really dead-
Our souls are old, and we're left with no friends.
Our minds are made up, together or divided-
That there ain't much left cept you.

A steel gun, placed underneath your chin.
Your smile- is a cold as a empty freezer, waiting to be plucked from this earth.
Your hand shakes as it holds that gun, threating what is next.
I stare in awe, as I see your finger move- as it sets you to your final rest.

Words

They will always sustain me
But will never contain me
They serve to detain me
from despair's darkened door

I use them:
Codifying, inscribing
Solidifying and positing
thoughts to empty, grasping
and airy space.
Filling silent voids with bursts
of expression-
turning hope into a syllable
and love into a verb
I use:
letters for longing
in language that can
never fully describe or
define what longing is
or how it feels.
They are:
the dictation of a spirit,
the graphemics of a soul
deposited on paper
recorded on blankness
scripted from life
and as indelible as fate.

Words, words, so many words
that mean something, or everything
or nothing at all.

They will always sustain me.
But will never contain me
They serve to detain me
From despair's darkened door.

Aiden, I like your spontaneous poems. Please keep them coming.

Thank you Edgar. But what happened to your spontaneous poems? I remember enjoying those too.

My life purpose has taken a turn away from poems for now. I probably couldn't produce a good one if I tried all day long. One day I may take a notion to produce them daily, as in the past. Who can say?

Reruns - Stream of consciousness

Remember that day we almost jumped off the cliff together?
It was a rainy, raw mid- April day-
too cold and wet to do anything outside
So we watched all those reruns on cable
Poison Ivy, with Drew Barrymore who I hated and you loved.
Quantum Leap with Scott Bakkula who I loved and you hated.
And then we watched Oprah, the one about gold-diggers and Oprah was being all non-committal and politically correct, when suddenly some guy in the audience Jumped up out of his seat, and rudely interrupting her, said,
"Lady -YOU- got a PRAH-blum," stabbing the air with his
chubby index finger- and I think I even caught a glimpse of a pinky ring.
And we laughed and laughed at his chutzpah - imagine it, telling Oprah-
the new goddess and arbiter of our culture -
where she could get off- because she was trying so hard to be Oprah-like and gild some semblance of a nonexistent lily.

I think I fell in love again that day.

So then we watched McGyver. Because I liked Richard Dean Anderson
as McGyver , so resourceful, so innovative, so damn good at his job.
And you loved Teri Hatcher as Penny Parker - all innocent
And perky prettiness and not so scarily skinny back then
before she became Desperate or a Housewife.
And it was the one where the girl (maybe I'm confused and it wasn't Penny)
Was stuck on the rock face with McGyver and they'd been "just friends" for a
Really long time, but then she told him she'd always loved him
After which she immediately fell off the cliff to her death.
And we just looked at each other and said, "OH, ****"
And then we started laughing again, because it was just so absurd-
and we couldn't believe that's how they'd end it-
but that was the end for real,
so you said, "Let that be a lesson to you," smiling cryptically
and I pretended not to get it and said,
"What makes you think that lesson would apply to me?"
walking into the kitchen to chop vegetables for soup.
Then later we ate supper….
Over which you told me that you'd just made up a little poem-

"Self-preservation is a very good thing-
Although carpe diem has a very nice ring."

And I smiled and said, "I can agree with that"
And I watched your reflection in the blackness of the window pane
Because it was already dark outside and I remember thinking that I
couldn't believe that the day had already come and gone
So quickly.

These words want to say hello
I am words upon a screen
why does this make me feel like crying?
Maybe I am just afraid
and wish I was a real person

I want to make of my being a great 'hello'
that I shout to the world
and I will be that hello
and the hope that it holds

Maybe I don't believe in answers
or in communication
Maybe I only believe in loneliness
and the silence of my boredom

Help me, please
I need some love
If only I were just words
then I could transform myself so easily

I'm just about to die
these words that I am
snap out of existence
and transform into the future

Hi I am newbie here, and I am still browsing through the threads. I saw this thread, and I wrote a few poems that I would like to share here. I hope I am in the right topic?

I wrote this for my father when he died almost three years ago. This poem didn't come from my heart. It came from my soul. The poem was nominated for an award and I also got poet's choice award for it as well.

Hope you all like it....

THIS MAN


There was this man, this wonderful man,
Who suddenly left this world.
He was a man, that when he spoke,
His words were worth much more that gold.

Everyday, he would go to work,
So we can have a better life.
He was a man, who never gave up,
Never hesitated himself to sacrifice.

He always laughed, never cried,
He never showed disrespect.
He was a man, that warmed people souls,
With him, you'd never know what to expect.

This man, he was my father,
A husband, grandfather and a son.
This man, my dad, became a legend,
To each, and everyone.

Thank you Dad, for everything,
For unselfishly giving what you can give.
Because of you, I am a better person, B
ecause of you, I learned to live.

Adele Natasha Mohammed

Copyright ©2005 Adele Natasha Mohammed

Wonderful poems, all. A special salute to Adele and C.F.

Would you mind if I put your poems on the WA2K radio thread? I would like for everyone to see.

I don't mind letty, i would be very proud....