oh nostalgia i weep bitter tears for you
cased in gold unattainably fair untrue
i pay my pittance
renew remembrance
for a moments unlikely construe
paradise
paradise, thou are not true.
Night is not wrong, but often
You give us false hopes
And promise of gold,
And then we discover
The lies you have told.
For it is the common
And simpliest of things,
That make us remember
The mulberry rings.
Crystal
I've heard death
is crystal silence
Perfect in its pristine stillness
Awesomely untouchably beautiful
unmelting faceted coldest ice
So gone
as if never here
rage
Thank you very much, letty. I can't return PMs right now...
and in answer to your question - I don't think so....
rage is not my style
not by a country mile
but i will fight the good fight
for what i gage to be just and true and right
airplane
Good, snood; don't ever be.
Airplane made of balsa wood,
Tiny hands that glued and stood
Admiringly as it took shape,
Then testing it across the gate,
Ran to find it lying there
Wet and broken
Wings of air.
petulant
That last one was your best so far snood.
on petulent ground stands the bomber
his target and a vast amount of slumber
ing scruples with the click on the detonator
and we have now only to determine a number
albatross
Albatross hangs limply around
The neck of war.
Dead eyes looking nowhere.
Feathers tinged in sorrow,
No vision of tomorrow.
What are we fighting for?
Dove
Chickenhawks
All talk
Missed their war
A generation before
They are empty
-No fight for what's right
-No love for the doves
I can see them
Eyes all cold
Hearts lust for black gold
No souls
panic
Panic, the child of embryonic fear,
It loathes to be born
And cries weakened tear.
In the travail of leaving the womb
Collides with the walls of the world
In a tomb.
Birth
Birth, Marriage, Death.
Hatched, Matched and Dispatched
Newspaper Milestones.
Noddy
Noddy24 wrote:Birth, Marriage, Death.
Hatched, Matched and Dispatched
Newspaper Milestones.
Milestones in my shoes
sore feet makes me lose
all desire for a long walk
damn pebbles make me balk
poets
BBB--
Thanks.
Sorry people....the creative frenzy, you know....
Poets are those who really don't care
If the weaving of tapestry goes anywhere.
They unravel, reknit and replenish the yarn
With a thread of pure silver and a tear from the tarn.
Proteus
are you proteus or not
i dont recognize you any more
my ship anchored to the spot
i wont go sailing from the shore
illuminations
I had frustrations when my ruminations
ran out of illuminations
Then into my imagination
appeared a situation....
What if the whole nation
suffered an inundation
of spontaneous elation?
Would it be our ruination,
or inspire a new creation?
freedom
freedom is in your head
but the broken chains
and right to work and live
are more than just your brains
freedom is the word of choice
action makes the best refrain
freedom is the word of choice
action to shake away the rain
got to have the right to run
or stand or take the trains
to see your children straight and tall
can wash away your pains
man
Man, his ascent and fall
Continues to rise and play
With the pall that covers his soul.
Surviving from ashes of grey
In September, a memory
Of bleak in the coming November.
Cover
