Mothers love makes home|
a resting place of the heart
raise up call her blessed
Reply #181. Jul 23 11, 8:28 AM
Thanks, Postal-I feel better now :)|
Reply #182. Jul 23 11, 11:40 AM
Lol don't make me leave you a private note!|
Just teasing. I couldn't write a melody to save my soul. I do have a few lyrics or raps as they call them now.
I think Simon and Garfunkle wrote the most poetic songs, well Bob ylan. But sometimes you have to sort of decode his lyrics.
I'm having a famous insomnia attack. I'l be of and on all weekend.
Reply #183. Jul 23 11, 3:13 PM
"This, too, shall pass."|
Reply #184. Jul 23 11, 7:53 PM
Weep for the one|
Who is lost and lonely,
Who yearns for so much more than this;
Whose nights are filled with hauntings:
Memories from long ago.
Who can write of such horrors?
Things better off frgotten,
Yet so clearly cannot be;
On such days, the heart despairs,
And wishes for release.
Reply #185. Jul 23 11, 7:57 PM
Oh wow, you wrote that? I love that!|
I want to wait until Christmas time, then I promise I'll write in a couple of dog poems.
I have one I consider my best that isn't dog related, I'll have to look in my papers and check to see if I've put it here already.
Do you know how to do "a poor man's copywrite"? Where you type or print out a copy of your poem, then seal it in an envelope and mail it to yourself. When it comes to your house, don't open it. You have the postmark to prove the date you wrote it in any plagerism dispute.
Keeps others from taking your stuff, just for saftey.
I want to read that poem again.
Reply #186. Jul 23 11, 9:42 PM
Reply #187. Jul 23 11, 9:43 PM
I had posted it here, Dec 2010|
Tribute to the Oklahoma Bombing
I consider it my best work to date.
Jazmee you were posting very many short but touching poems at that time. Seeems more people were particpating.
Hey, maybe I put some dog poems already.
What a great walk down memory lane I'm having!
Reply #188. Jul 23 11, 9:57 PM
A chimney stands
And that’s all
Of my great grand parents' home.
Where the fire once burned,
The creeper grows
New arrivals to the district
Stayed their first night here
And came back for Sunday lunches
Three sittings, my mother
Their table lives again
And seating ten
People still gather round
But the food has changed
Home made bread to foccacia
Roast mutton gives way
To kalamata olives
And sun dried tomatoes.
The table is full
No place set for the stranger
No saucer of milk
For the small folk.
13th June 2004
This was written thinking about the old chimney on our farm
and how my great grandfather used to order an extra place always set at the table for the “stranger”. My great grandmother never went to bed at night without putting out a saucer of milk for the "small ones".
Their table is now at my daughter’s home.
Reply #189. Jul 23 11, 11:01 PM
Tezza, very evocative. You paint the story in broad strokes then narrow for emphasis.|
I'm happy to see your poems here again.
Reply #190. Jul 24 11, 8:37 AM
It's called "Shattered Dreams"|
Reply #191. Jul 24 11, 1:23 PM
And this one's "The Price"|
Why avoid the news
It keeps us all informed
Yet, for some reason, I do just that,
Until something, a word, a phrase, catches my eye.
“You can’t keep on like this,”
A loud voice screams within me,
And though I listen, I wonder:
What difference will it make?
A much softer voice waits patiently,
Staring at the angry face within,
Then calmly states her piece:
“The world is a cruel place,
And there are days we prefer to avoid it;
It doesn’t excuse our ignorance, but merely explains…”
Reply #192. Jul 24 11, 1:23 PM
I thought I was the only person who can't bear the news.
Reply #193. Jul 24 11, 5:40 PM
Back in business|
Water pump fixed,
Hot water more than a trickle;
Scuch a relief:
No more frigid baths!
Reply #194. Jul 25 11, 6:46 PM
Unconsious pulls me, at last, to bed.|
Many poems still in my head.
Let them simmer
Let them mellow
better ryhmes will soon be read.
Reply #195. Jul 26 11, 11:32 AM
Something I wrote as a young teen. It's about my first real girlfriend. I've never published this before.|
Once, we had loved
We walked and laughed
Over green fields
Innocent as lambs
Once, we had loved
But then we grew
The fields faded
Once, we had loved
We grew apart
Never to love again?
Once, we had loved
I retain copywrite.
Reply #196. Jul 26 11, 1:24 PM
A haunting piece.|
See above for poor man's copywright.
Reply #197. Jul 26 11, 2:40 PM
Here's the one published in Sheltie Pacesetter
One night last December I lay down to take a nap.
And the things that I remember got stranger after that.
When I looked into the mirror, my own face I didn't see.
It was coming clearer: I was "Delta", she was me!
I had her pretty blue merle face, she had my dark brown eyes.
But the biggest change had taken place---we were each the other's size!
"It seems we've traded places" said "Delta," clapping hands.
Happily she stated "Now I"M giving the commands."
We're still partners," "Delta" said "altough our roles reversed.
You look quite untrainable, still, I might've gotten worse.
Can you go out, can you weave, can you send away?
Pay very close attention, and do just what I say.
"Oh look, you knocked a bar. What shall I do with you?
You'll have to jump a little higher, one inch, maybe two."
Then she reached down and grabbed my ruff and gave me such a shake.
OOoh is that correction tough---and then I came awake.
And in a wink, she was small, and I was looking down,
To see my dog back to herself, there upon the ground
The lesson that I learned from this, and you can learn it too.
Always try to se yourself from you doggies point of view.
"Delta" and I competed in the Dog Sport of Dog Agility in the 90's he was a 12' Shetland Sheepdog, the first ever to win National titles. and then the National final against all comers. "Never underestimate the heart of a champion"
Reply #198. Jul 26 11, 3:07 PM
Ere Eros fell and Cupid reigned |
true love, not lust, brought us our pain.
But, as time moves slowly on,
and love is nothing more than song,
true hearts become a funeral pyre,
blazing forth into desire.
If only this were not so.
If only you could see below.
To where those dormant feelings lay
waiting to break forth into the day.
At last you'd see my torment bare,
it's you, my love, howe'er unfair.
For the record, I'm aware that Eros and Cupid are two names for the same deity, however I feel connotational differences make it okay to refer to them as different.
Reply #199. Jul 26 11, 3:52 PM
I will critique my own "Delta's Poem" It tells a story and is discriptive, but I find it lacks emotional content.|
It is 20 years old, but why they published I have no clue. Maybe because a new Dog Sport.
I won't re-work that one, but I'm glad that I can see a beginning work, not dazzled by my lines.
Reply #200. Jul 26 11, 10:06 PM
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