Spontaneous Poems

Hi, innie. I like your poems. I hope to see more of them.

Grieving

I looked in your eyes
and
I saw a river there.
Deep enough to drown me.

I listened to your words
and
I heard a song in them.
Lovely enough to dance to.

I helt your hand
and
I felt a warmth there.
Warm enough to melt my heart.

and then you were gone.

I looked at your picture
I read your old letters
I smelled your t-shirts
I slept on your side
and
I screamed
I cried
I smiled
I remembered our love...

-onyx

Touching, Onyx. I like that.

<---low but not overly dipping bow to the spontaneous poetry master.

Here this night I look at you
where you just were, your empty chair
your shadow lives in all these rooms
your love fills all the lonely spaces

Your step is silent, like love and ghosts
There is no tread, no dust, just quiet
A quiet, silent, gentle dance with no imprint
Just you, those eyes that see so deep in me

Here this night I look at you
The quiet places where you are
Your look, a glance, I slowly fall
I see your eyes, I could look forever.

It fell in rivulets,
like a cold stream
mocked by a cruel sun
four grandparents buried
within a year
the tears fell
like acid rain
and burned
and I yearned
for their lives back
and learned
in time
to try and let it go
let the spirits flow
to guide me

Thoughts while browsing one of Roberta's threads, about Parents, and all relatives.

Sad, Cav. Well done.
And, Diane; I didn't know renegade nuns wrote poetry. That's very good.

Thanks Edgar--bet you didn't know that the Dys man can move like a ghost.

Thanks Edgar ..... ya gotta check out the last one I posted ....

I feel awful for you, Cav; that topic was really sad for me...

I loved your poem, Diane; when love is strong enough, they stay with you forever, when at home and when away.

Working title: 'Persuasion'

So let us go now, as the guitars sing
Their funeral songs in flames and fire, the
White snow falls chastely upon the glass ground,
Rising, moulding, like two hands coming arched together,
Their sickle shapes the plan of how things should
Be; we all must clutch to someone.
One must burn bridges so to rinse the stains
Of past notions, burning past's tails like early shreds of tears.

How can we do it? We walk on, laughing.
The bushfire takes men, to tir'd to resist.
How they close their eyes, how we close our eyes.
Open them up to something easier to gnaw upon.

Morning Edgar ..... guess I owe you a couple of rhymes with this one. Some times poetry gets in the way of being a poet. :wink:

Someone lives within
someone is my pleasure
someone is my pain
as I face the fury
of the raging storm
someone is kept warm and dry
from the freezing rain
on the day I turn the last page
of this fable some call life
will someone be my guide from there
or will I become
the one inside

morning, drom. that's beautiful.

some love women some love gods
i love to dance like the arthropods
ready
wave eyestalks and move your feet
if ya got claws click them to the beat
heady
if ya make webs spin them fast
if ya fly ya gotta move your ass
steady
make one last try 'for ya hide
here come the nets and insecticide
really

Good afternoon, Edgar, and thanks! I liked your poem. You're very versatile; you should try to get published: I think that you'd never bore anyone. Or Craven should follow up on his A2K Poetry book idea; it would be interesting.

Consequence lay untouched,
Though undisguised.

I've thought about culling the best and cleaning it up for a collection. Just have a lot on my plate. I mainly write the poems to get my day going before I write fiction. Thank you for your kind words.

DOGGIE DOOR

Now I got a dog that needs to roam
All around the yard and inside my home
I didn't argue the why and what for
I just up and installed the doggie door
She went out and peed
And ran per her need
I thought all was wonderful and well
But that door made my life a living hell
She's a fifty pound pup called a lab
And what she wants to chew on she'll just grab
Like new shoes and sox
And porch support posts
I lost two ten foot banana trees
The dog got bored and took them down with ease
She once put in the wife's sleeping face
A sopping wet azalia's root (mud laced)
Brings in long tree tops
Insects even rocks
Tree chippers prob'ly make better pets
And are a lot less stressful on the vets
All in all I'd say the dog's a turd
But I love her so just take my word

Racing through the mists of time
the aardvark was, in a word, sublime
inquisitve nose, keen to probe
stay away from my ear lobe
dine on ants your surly beast
but let me be -- I'm no feast

gustav, gustav -
Actually that's pretty humerous.

Thanks, Edgar. I put a lot of time and effort into the composition of that particular poem.

I think it's one of my finest to date.

and I do appreciate it.