The ongoing poem- supply the next line.

But hearts do not reside in wood and stone
Nor memories pass with age and dust
So when night's shadows you must face alone
Remember faith and so, remember us

And thus may darkness seem a little less
And hope for morning, new, and bright, and clean
When earth will don her blossoming spring dress
and fill our eyes with graces yet unseen.

And thus may darkness seem a little less
And hope for morning, new, and bright, and clean
When earth will don her blossoming spring dress
and fill our eyes with graces yet unseen.

'Cause true is that this life is like a flower
At dawn of life we're all but tiny seeds
That hide within them life's mysterious power
That manifests as blosoms bloom proceeds

'Cause true is that this life is like a flower
At dawn of life we're all but tiny seeds
That hide within them life's mysterious power
That manifests as blosoms bloom proceeds

For after a time of cold wind and rain
Followed, though we may have to wait, by sun

For after a time of cold wind and rain
Followed, though we may have to wait, by sun
Come cleaner days, washed away yesterday's stain
And welcome are days of endless fun

But all may come to naught in winter's twilight

But all may come to naught in winter's twilight
As a love we had for each other once and now fades
Unless we endure the toughness of life and fight
Those dark clouds we see ahead as fearful shades

And embrace, laughing, the shining horizon

For after a time of cold wind and rain
Followed, though we may have to wait, by sun
Come cleaner days, washed away yesterday's stain
And welcome are days of endless fun

But all may come to naught in winter's twilight
As a love we had for each other once and now fades
Unless we endure the toughness of life and fight
Those dark clouds we see ahead as fearful shades

And embrace, laughing, the shining horizon
The grace falls back to the mines of love
And wait for everything to fall apart in cacoon
But still see the light in everybody's home

After fourteen days of rain, the sun rose streaming

After fourteen days of rain, the sun rose streaming
The water in mists the grass and clay vacated
Bearing witness of the end of seasons for dreaming

New poem




Summer evening, golden meadow-sweet

Summer evening, golden meadow-sweet
A blanket from horizon to my feet
Cotton clouds and fire fills the sky

Summer evening, golden meadow-sweet
A blanket from horizon to my feet
Cotton clouds and fire fills the sky
It's as if a dream is scrolling by.

Summer evening, golden meadow-sweet
A blanket from horizon to my feet
Cotton clouds and fire fills the sky
It is as if a dream is scrolling by.

But bouncy steps reveal this be no dream
And pollen in the air does make it seem
As real as any landscape with a breeze
Especially since pollen makes me sneeze

Summer evening, golden meadow-sweet
A blanket from horizon to my feet
Cotton clouds and fire fills the sky
It is as if a dream is scrolling by.

But bouncy steps reveal this be no dream
And pollen in the air does make it seem
As real as any landscape with a breeze
Especially since pollen makes me sneeze

So bounce on home and take some benadryl
have a nice cup of tea with your antihistimine pill
Then take a warm bath and get ready for bed
Cover up warm and rest your stuffed head.

When you awake, how much better you'll feel

A little shack abandoned on a field
Tin roof rusted, floor boards busted, door ajar...
Stood lonely under moonlight on the hill
and gathered light like silvered waters from the stars.

The lake where once, in summer days, we swam--
At night time this mysterious moonlit pool
reflecting on its face the Twins, the Ram,
the constellations in their nightly duel.

And by the shores in deepst thought I stand
And see myself reflected in the skies
I wonder idly where the future lies
My Soul is yearning for the comfort of your hand

My skin remembers your faintest touch
It's vague recollection giving substance to desire

sorry...wrong page.

wrong page, but so much nicer...sometimes it's good to go back

A little shack abandoned on a field
Tin roof rusted, floor boards busted, door ajar...
Stood lonely under moonlight on the hill
and gathered light like silvered waters from the stars.

The lake where once, in summer days, we swam--
At night time this mysterious moonlit pool
reflecting on its face the Twins, the Ram,
the constellations in their nightly duel.

And by the shores in deepst thought I stand
And see myself reflected in the skies
I wonder idly where the future lies
My Soul is yearning for the comfort of your hand

My skin remembers your faintest touch
It's vague recollection giving substance to desire
Just as wings to sky and notes of song to lyre
Our hearts belong as one near nigh as much

*hope none of you guys mind, but I'm copying and pasting this one into my little poetry "anthology"- it's only for my private enjoyment- and I'll make sure to go back over it and figure out who wrote what lines and attribute authors appropriately.

Good to read it again

hehe.. It turned out better this time too. It paints such a picture in my mind. Fun that a poem written by many in this way could end up conveying something so personal or individual.

So, what now?

Now we take leave of restraint and write
And after verse and line just might
Come grand finale, come shade or sun
We must decide, and it's all for fun