Spontaneous Poems

what is it about this town, I wonder?
what is it that I forget each time I leave
and remember upon my return
it's not a friendly face
i don't know
but I'm happy to know
I'm feeling it now

Cinderalla came and went but left no shoe.
No shoe to call or ask about, no shoe at all.
Years later, when the young prince forgot her, she returned.
And they returned to the warm summer night air
Watched theatre, ate pizza, and lay under the moon.
Her large white eyes stared into his longingly;
he looked away, and there, by his side, was her shoe.
He wondered if he should just take it.

Stuh
That's a wonderful bit of poetry. Welcome to a2k, by the way.

Great poetry everyone!

Cav glad to hear that your wife liked the poem you wrote for her.

Thanks Joe, I always like your work. Especially the story you wrote of how you met your wife.

We had an awfully lot of rain and a lot of flooding. Thankfully, the floods here got about 2ft deep and never actually made it inside our house. Unfortunately others in my area, who were closer to the river, were not as fortunate. On trash day the whole area had an incredible amount of furniture and other articles set at the side of the road for pick up.

It floated down the river
The poem I wrote for you
It wasn't in a bottle
The paper soaked right through

It caught upon some rocks and sticks
The mud was caked on thick
I waded among the Lilly pads
And tried to grab it quick

But as I reached out, it floated on
The river rising by the hour
I knew that it was lost to me
And not within my power

I cannot remember it word for word
For it was spontaneous in part
With pen in hand I'll recreate
The words that pour out from my heart

Not bad, colorbook.

talk about a spontaneous poem...the first two lines popped into my head so i grabbed a permanent marker and a piece of paper from the floor of my car...the other lines wrote themselves without missing a beat. it's not the best but i it's pure and untampered spontaneity.

i hope this doesn't scare you
but if it does it must
because baby, there's more to this than trust
i could travel the world around twice
and not find a better wife
right now when you're so near
i can whisper in your pretty little ear
please, please don't let it end here
i know you have to go
but that's okay, I'll take it slow
if you're back here in a year
or two or ten
don't hesitate to call
i mean it

stuh505, that would make a terrific song.

In undulating ringlets of blood-red fire
Your hair unfurls, like the majestic white sails
Of a ship at sea, tossed upon the mad waves
Of your smile. To be that ship, navigating
The pleasures hidden inbetween your soft lips,
Feeling the strange sting of your opium kiss,
Tasting the breath of life that moves within you,
Taking in the subtle scent of cool jasmine
On your neck, gazing into your fluttering
Eyes, painted green with passion, and dusted black
Is such sweet sorrowful love, and my true joy.

Nice stuh, spontaneity catches us off guard sometimes...luckily you had something to write with, at that very moment.


Perfect poetry Cav, and so very romantic.

Walking away
glazed images, milling
illusionary heart flashes
knotting these feet
I can remember your eyes
that dancing green
Safekeeping

Your hand upon the door
Closing ever quietly
Thoughtful of my sleep
Not to awaken my slumber
Gentle footsteps fade silently
As lantern light flows like music beneath my door
I rub my sleepy eyes
And smile
To the sensuous aroma of coffee brewing

We were missing one of our two office keys at work. Everyone was annoyed including me. I joined in the condemnation of the anonymous 'moron' who lost it. Then, on Tuesday evening, while at work, I discovered the errant key in my jacket pocket.

I sent the following email to my co-workers:



We all have our hits and our misses,
Our lives are both sour and delicious,
Our ups they go up
Our downs they go down
One moment is dire
One moment propitious.


****


I sought not to sin,
I sought not to profit,
but the key found an inn
.....inside of my pocket.


****


I don't TRY to mess up this way
(I painfully hasten to say)
But my old cerebellum
Don't do what I tell 'im!
What's left but to mutter 'Oy vay!'

Good one, jjorge - and embarrassing. I am in the habit of throwing my keys into trash dumpsters.

I wrote some simple poems of freedom,
Wrote them for you and myself;
I never dreamed the past would see them,
Let alone you and myself.

I rode the freight train into Texas,
El Paso to San Antone.
I left the poems and the nexus
And I went home all alone.

I wrote other poems, other things,
Wrote them for you and myself.
I keep them near all my Spanish rings,
I keep it all to myself.

Edgar,

Yours is moving...poignant.

if life anew
be real and true
what change
is wrought
in being you

In dark dreams I carry
the weight of a thousand suns
the black yoke of Cerberus
the strange hearts
of the dead and dying
In dark dreams I carry the earth
and gaze upon it's plundered beauty
through the cracks
of concrete and steel
a single wilted daffodil
perseveres

now that the City of Toronto has banned pesticides!

Right, and plenty of dandelions out there too! Screw you allergy sufferers!