Poetry

[samrw3]

I have a more difficult time writing stories and tend to write more in poetry. Hope others join me along the way.

Alone
My mind drums emptiness
my soul sucked out and left scarred
the bitterness rages and haunts my every breath

alone again I cry

the voices haunt me at every corner
they are too consumed to notice or care

alone again! I rage to the sky
the sky does not listen, not even to glance my way

Every moment the emptiness gushes out of me
I shake and then collapse in my own misery

The empty faces laugh at me
more faces ignore me
I am not dead for I have no respite

I am empty
I am alone

all alone
nothing matters

the pain is laughing
every fiber trembling and yet devoid

there is nothing left
just my emptiness that fills my universe

alone again,
pain is laughing inside

[Linna Heartbooger]

I don't do much poetry, but when someone else is writing some, sometimes I can be persuaded.
(Also, there are some fun poems on the thread above called "Win deer's White Gold Dollars" ...she ran a few poetry contests a few years back.)


In a spirit of contrariness, here's what I thought of, starting with "alone."

"Alone?" she said.

"I barely remember alone!"
She turned around; I saw her face.
"Well, not for long," in a softer tone.
Her eyes the memories seemed to trace.

Sunlight on the countertop.
Two kids careening down the stairs,
jump the last three steps and then you stop -
Enough to give a mother scares!

The woman laughed as she shook her head,
Wiped her hands on the towel there,
All "Want some coffee?" and "I made bread!"
Moved cups and plates, pulled out a chair.

[samrw3]

Yeah Linna Heartlistener! Thanks for joining this and contributing. I have read many of your writings and I appreciate all of it.

[quote="Linna Heartlistener"](Also, there are some fun poems on the thread above called "Win deer's White Gold Dollars" ...she ran a few poetry contests a few years back.)

I would have never thought to look there for poetry but there is good stuff there for sure.

Which brings me to a question if we know a relatively recent thread like exists is better to add to it or create a new thread. My gut is telling me to create a new one since the other one was a contest and had no activity for quite some time...but hey what do I know?

[Linna Heartbooger]

I remember when I was newish to the Watch, I was always nervous about creating new threads. ("Oh no! Someone will say that really belongs THERE.")

And often if there's a thread that's like an -exact- match, well go to that thread and re-bump it.

BUT in this case - deer's contest is not an exact match.
So you creating a new thread works.

Disclaimer: Anything a mod says that may contradict this is to be taken as more authoritative!

[samrw3]

Thanks! that is what I kind of figured - glad to know I am correct once in awhile

Creak

Heart racing...
I cannot make a noise....
I labor up the stairs waiting....
every step seems like eternity

the damn stair creaks below my foot
trying to be so quiet...

almost there....
creak........damn stairs...must be quiet

I see the room so close.
I am scared,
what if I cannot do this after all....

creak...damn

my heart jumps more beats
thoughts racing
I inhale my breath,
waiting

I cross over the doorway
It lays there seemingly peaceful...

I inch closer....creak...damn

I have been gone,
now is the time to face my future...

I stare down at my little baby boys face

pure bliss

[samrw3]

Swingset

the wind kicks up the swing clanking eerily into the night
the dirt creeps across the sunset night

...little boy sleeps peacefully...

the night shifts into day
perfect blue sky
just a soft whisper of wind blows

little boy runs across crisp grass
the grass bends and springs back

his small hands shift over the chains
he stretches his legs and aims for the clouds

mama and her new man come close by
daddy left...don't know where....
small hands clinch tight on chains

mama's man comes to push

little boy runs...runs...runs...
glances back, hears mama's tears

night shifts darkness back
little boy lying tucked tightly in bed
tight fingers clench the bedding
staring at ceiling
and nothing at all

mama's hushed voice

the darkness grows

little boy drifts away

....
mama looks down at little boy
"sorry" and a tear
.....

the wind kicks up the swing clanking
the dirt creeps across the hushed night
and into the new day

[samrw3]

Love Conquers All

They say love conquers all.

But I am just a simple man
hoping to breathe in my own space.
I cannot give much
And flaws too easily seen.

They say love conquers all.

But my fears seep into my soul
and etch pain in my words.
I am stumbling,
falling.

They say love conquers all.

But it is all I can do to stand
and move forward another day.

I cannot conquer all,
sometimes I just hold on.

But when I see you there,
I will come hold you close
brush your hair with my fingers
and whisper:
"I love you"

Come, crash into my arms.

[samrw3]

PS - to all I am not trying to hog this space. I have purposely left time for others to contribute and I hope others (like Linna did) jump in and add poetry. Some of the poetry I have read on this site is great - so please jump in!

[samrw3]

Whispers

The sun whispers
let me light your way

The clouds whisper
let me shield the hot rays

The wind whispers
let me cool the path

The grass whispers
let me comfort the journey

The stream whispers
let me provide the drink

The trees whisper
reach up and obtain the fruit

The leaves whisper
lay upon us and rest

The Lord whispers
look around I am here

[Skyweir]

PS - to all I am not trying to hog this space. I have purposely left time for others to contribute and I hope others (like Linna did) jump in and add poetry. Some of the poetry I have read on this site is great - so please jump in!

Post on Samboy .. its good to read what floats your boat, navigates your boat and comprises your boat .. post on sunshine .. thats what the thread is here for ..

[Skyweir]

BTW could I claim that as poetry

[samrw3]

Tears
Today I wanted to cry
a mighty tear
that would shake my heart

silence aches

as hunger hurts

world is crushing

arms to heaven -shouting for escape-

emptiness deepens

world is dropping

- falling -

tears are mounting

tears enough to drown the earth

tears exploding

pain suffocating

tears surround me

it is enough,
I am void

I draw the tears
back unto myself
I will survive
full of tears.

[samrw3]

Sadness Cries
Sadness clings and holds tight
the pain sings to my soul
enough!
there is no fight
no will to give

my heart has robbed me blind
I am lost
no one can find me!

the world what a bitter friend
its laughing in my head

just want to be loved
the sadness creeping in

hold on

just hold on

life is mocking you

but there is joy
beyond your tears

open your eyes

it is rough out there
hang on tight

the boat may sink
and rain drown your cries

but there is hope

there is life

hold on
hold on

just struggle my friend
struggling means you are alive

feel your heart?
it is alive

there is hope my friend
hold on

[Sorus]

I like that. I wish I could write poetry. I'm too confined by the fear that I am 'doing it wrong'.

[lucimay]

I like that. I wish I could write poetry. I'm too confined by the fear that I am 'doing it wrong'.

there is no wrong way to do it.

i think i first started writing it because i wanted to control
how the reader read it. like with line breaks and stuff.
i started reading poetry when i was pretty young,
my dad read the tell tale heart to me when i was 8 so
then i got on a Poe jag and couldn't put him down.
Lenore, The Raven, etc.
then i became obsessed with ee cummings and amiri baraka (leroi jones) and nikki giovanni and they were all breaking all the pome rules!! so i guess i just grew up not realizing there WERE any pome rules! lol!
i was enchanted when i read my first villanelle! i can't WRITE one, but i do love reading them! heh.

i was going to post one of my pomes but i keep getting a stupid error message. i'll try later.

[lucimay]

there. that worked. here is
Counting on My Fingers




I am counting on my fingers,
one car goes into one car one time.
I was going to Bolinas,
that secret zip code,
but now,
I am doing calculus,
beginning at binary,
one zero one zero
and I am losing even this aggregation,
in out in out
figuring,
two drivers
six passengers
three pedestrians,
equals eight white lights
on the ceiling of an ambulance.
Is it division or subtraction?
I weigh one hundred and twenty pounds,
I am thirty-five years old,
go to the next flashcard,
where was I going?

I am counting on my fingers,
and these digits do not belong
in this formula,
this sequence of numbers,
they are on my hand,
operational symbols,
on the dashboard of my car,
pushing away from a collision,
take away, take away take away,
and then,
aftermath,
I am standing in the flourescent, antiseptic
hallway of County General,
and impact finally occurs,
a shadowy vehicle that will not stop,
a fist in the face,
a moment I cannot apply to this
anomalous equation,
and as it comes,
like a ridiculous motion picture fiction,
all around me goes gray and still,
and I am counting on my fingers,
counting on my fingers,
counting counting
and I ask,
is there a doctor in this house?
I have lost time,
lost my footing,
but no one is looking,
no one is listening,
things and beings
have not really stopped moving.
I am the only woman on this island,
and the fog is thick and cold and
makes my head hurt.
Let me have my lover, I beg,
he knows how I am stranded here,
but they only blink their blank eyes at me
and ask me to sit down.
And this is the sum,
I am angry at the examination table
because it does not fit my body,
I am angry at the blanket
because it is not soft enough,
I am angry at County General
because it does not seem to care
that my life has been disrupted,
I am crying, I am afraid,
I am alone and altered,
mathematics evade me,
and I am counting on my fingers,
counting on my fingers.

[Sorus]

I like that. Very visual. I can never seem to get the meter right. I can start a poem, write a stanza or whatnot, but I can never figure out how to wrap it up.

[lucimay]

I like that. Very visual. I can never seem to get the meter right. I can start a poem, write a stanza or whatnot, but I can never figure out how to wrap it up.

I rarely ever work with meter OR rhyme myself. most usually it's just stream of consciousness blather! lol! or possibly confessional! (yikes)

I have done some metered work, attempted songwriting. pretty much a bust on that! hahaha.
but the reason I write...pomes (that's what I call em anyways, or pieces) is because I can usually FINISH them! stories and longer stories...not so much!
but a lot of my pieces are story-ish. like this one...

Playing Pool with A Stranger


I wait for him to pick up the cue,
I cannot hit hard enough to make
the break. I am a girl.
I watch as he bends his body over the table to line up the shot.
His hand goes down to that vast plane of green felt in slow motion,
and the stick rests in the curve of his long forefinger.
He loosens his grip and swings back and forth
to make sure it will strike the white ball in just the right spot,
swings his hair to one side,
and then,
the music begins.

He runs the table.
I am not even allowed a poor attempt at competition.
This is a man's game.
He plays it with grace, and he is good.
He makes every shot with a mathematical
certainty that I do not possess.
I have seen this before,
this quiet, electric superiority.
I have passed in and out of his field of vision a thousand times,
joking about my incompetence, making sly comments on his prowess,
trying to pull his attention from this game to mine,
and always without success.

I might as well be ten years old,
sitting at the bar, drinking seven-ounce returnables,
watching my father, instead of thirty-six, watching Frank.
They are both strangers to me.
They are both immersed in a culture and camaraderie
that I do not understand, indifferent to any female
who is not one of the guys.

For years I played pool with strangers like Frank and my father,
trying to gain access to the arithmetic of cool,
genderless and depressed because I could never improve my game.
But tonight, I will not put my name on the board again,
tonight, I will not stain my fingers with blue chalk
and tonight, I will not let Frank beat me.
I will play out the table until only the eight remains, and then,
I will scratch and beat myself and
take away his smug sense of self-importance.
I no longer care to be admitted into this silent, pre-arranged loss.

I will not go into this bar with you again, Daddy.

[Avatar]

Don't curl your forefinger over the cue, get low, and keep your elbow at 90 degrees.

--A

[lucimay]

Don't curl your forefinger over the cue, get low, and keep your elbow at 90 degrees.

--A

listen linda...I've had every pool shark I know try to teach me how to do it. it's a lost cause. AND...as the piece above indicates...I no longer CARE! but thanks. hugs and shit.