jolana 
|
Just an extract that I always have in mind in April:
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering 5
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Reply #301. Apr 11 12, 4:12 PM
|
tezza1551
|
RAINBOWS
The sky is dull and grey
My heart is crying
The clouds are dark and heavy
Through the clouds
A ray of sunlight
Edging them with gold and silver
A rainbow forms
Arching the sky with magic colours
My heart rejoices.
20.04.04
Reply #302. Apr 11 12, 5:32 PM
|
satguru
|
Probably my favourite poem, I posted it in the forums a while back but sure new arrivals will see it here as well now.
Don’t- by Michael Rosen
Don’t do,
Don’t do,
Don’t do that.
Don’t pull faces,
Don’t tease the cat.
Don’t pick your ears,
Don’t be rude at school.
Who do they think I am?
Some kind of fool?
One day
they’ll say
Don’t put toffee in my coffee
don’t pour gravy on the baby
don’t put beer in his ear
don’t stick your toes up his nose.
Don’t put confetti on the spaghetti
and don’t squash peas on your knees.
Don’t put ants in your pants
don’t put mustard in the custard
don’t chuck jelly at the telly
and don’t throw fruit at a computer
don’t throw fruit at a computer.
Don’t what?
Don’t throw fruit at a computer.
Don’t what?
Don’t throw fruit at a computer.
Who do they think I am?
Some kind of fool?
Reply #303. Apr 11 12, 8:41 PM
|
Jazmee27
|
The Spill
The spill,
Last night,
Around 8:45,
TV in background.
Hand in bird cage,
Lost my footing,
Try to pull arm back
Without upsetting cage;
Unsuccessful,
Water and food everywhere.
Mistake, not checking food levels,
Not till this morning,
Maybe afternoon;
No food,
Just a few seeds.
Mom left work early,
Dentist appointment,
Stop by pet store
On way back to office.
Threatens to take bird away
If this happens again,
Birds have fast metabolism,
Can’t go without food for that long.
Reply #304. Apr 13 12, 5:04 PM
|
Jazmee27
|
Discrimination
Discrimination is
Synonymous with
Injustice, hardship, brutality.
Discrimination is
When prejudice
Divides us,
Tears us,
Flattens us.
Prejudice means
Dreams had
Destroyed, trampled
Under feet
So thick
With grime
It’s hard
To see.
Discrimination can
Affect some
Hard, others
Not so much.
Discrimination is
An ugly
Sore, cancer
Of the
Worst kind.
Discrimination colours
One’s perception,
Worldview, interaction.
Discrimination interprets
All acts,
Marrs all things,
Distorts everyone.
Discrimination clouds
The judgment,
Leading one
To do things
That seemed impossible,
Things that later
Make no sense,
And cause
Naught but regret.
Reply #305. Apr 14 12, 11:00 AM
|
Jazmee27
|
Sirens
Sirens, they make
One wonder
If there isn’t
Something going on,
Is it a fire?
Or an accident?
Sirens are
All around me,
As I live
Near a station.
Only three engines,
So when I
Hear so many trucks,
I start to wonder
Where they’re coming from;
Then when I]
Smell smoke, the
Questions tumble about:
Where is it?
What happened?
The day is warm,
The breeze is refreshing;
But I’m fearful:
Ground’s so dry
Fire danger
And so many sirens:
Indicative of
County help.
Reply #306. Apr 16 12, 1:10 PM
|
Jazmee27
|
Dream
Horror grips me close
As the dream
Tightens its hold,
I know what it coming
And am helpless
To prevent it.
My Grandma sits at the table,
My mind is screaming “no,”
She topples off her chair;
I feel numb inside.,
Here sad, dark music.
I wake to the sound
Of the phone,
Jump out of bed,
The terror still with me,
Though the caller hangs up.
I open the window,
Breathe in great gulps
And calm myself,
Only a dream,
Nothing to fear,
All is as it should be.
Reply #307. Apr 18 12, 7:24 AM
|
Jazmee27
|
Dreaming
She drifts off to sleep,
Begins dreaming of a hope
She was sure was
Snuffed out long ago;
Crunched under the feet
Of injustice and cruelty,
Just another thing accepted,
Because nothing could be
Accomplished by fighting anymore.
She’s dreaming now
Of bright days ahead,
The sun come out
Of the clouds, no longer
Hindered, unobstructed;
The rays of hope shining
For all to see.
She crawls out of bed
Feeling more rested
Than she has
For quite some time,
Beginning the day
With that bright promise
Lingering in her mind;
She knows she has to wait:
But with that faint glimmer,
That flame of hope,
She finds she can do
Whatever she must
Until the day
When her hopes and dreams
Can be realized once again.
Reply #308. May 06 12, 8:38 AM
|
Jazmee27
|
O BlueMan
O Blue Man
What irritates you,
Prompting that noise
I cannot stand?
Why don’t you communicate
Your frustration another way
One that I don’t find
So damn annoying?
O Blue Man
Don’t you realize
When you make that noise
That I want nothing to do with you,
That I distance myself from you?
O Blue Man,
Don’t you know
I love you,
That I want to be by your side,
That I enjoy hearing your voice,
And feeling you rub your tiny feathered head against my finger?
O Blue Man,
Why don’t you ring your bell,
I know how much you like it,
And talk to it
As if searching for your reflection.
O Blue Man,
You sound like
One having so much fun,
All those toys you have,
All the attention you give each;
It always surprises me
How you make time in there
To spend time with me
When I sit beside you.
O Blue Man,
You’re so excited,
Is it my hand that gives you a thrill,
Or something you saw in the mirror?
Reply #309. May 06 12, 8:50 AM
|
Jazmee27
|
MISERY
Misery is
The way you feel
When you’re sick,
When you want to move
But can’t seem to;
When all your plans
Just seem so distant:
When nothing much matters,
Except feeling better.
Misery is
Hot and sticky,
No relief in sight,
All you can do
Is nothing,
Hoping in vain
For a spot of relief;
When will it come?
How will it come?
It’s been far too long,
Languishing in this
Unsettling condition.
Reply #310. Jun 30 12, 7:13 AM
|
Jazmee27
|
Conflict
Conflict
I live it every day,
Every thought, every action;
How do I reconcile
The things that I would do
With what I have been taught:
For it seems
A battle
Between values
And my culture.
I’ve been taught
That revenge
Is a very bad thing,
That it’s not wrong
So much to think,
For that is human,
But to act
Is an evil deed.
In passing years,
I’ve found myself
Frozen by indecision:
What to do
When I can’t justify
My wishes and desires
To anyone?
It occurred to me one day,
That perhaps the answer
Lies in this one question:
What can I live with?
Put another way,
By avoiding certain actions,
Though they be “right”
In society’s view,
Could I live with myself,
Having made that choice?
Would I be satisfied,
Or would I regret
That decision for the rest
Of my days?
The only person
Who has a right
To judge if something
Is right for me or not
Is no one else, but me;
For only I
Can determine what
Is best for my own life.
Reply #311. Jul 17 12, 7:49 PM
|
Jazmee27
|
Aftermath
It’s the aftermath
Of all things
That’s most times problematic;
The processing of events,
Seeing things unfold;
Dealing with uncertainty.
Just last week,
I was convinced,
As was my mother,
That my Grandma
Made a huge mistake;
But now, I’m not sure,
For she’s doing real well:
Much better than some expected.
Sometimes, all we see
Is one single action,
Perhaps even two;
But we can’t see the end:
The result, the aftermath,
Not for weeks or months
Or even years.
Who’s to say
Her “stubborn” decision
Wasn’t the best
For her?
Does being concerned
Give us a right
To judge her choice
As poor?
Who’s to say
The “unsound judgment”
Truly was thus?
Without knowing the outcome,
The end result,
The overall aftermath,
One cannot know
Whether a choice
Is unwise or not.
So we must wait
For time to yield
Whatever answers it will.
Reply #312. Jul 17 12, 8:54 PM
|
Jazmee27
|
Best laid Plans
Best laid plans,
As I have heard,
Often don’t turn out
The way intended;
Twists and turns,
Result in ways
Unexpected and, sometimes,
Unwanted.
“I’m sorry you cannot go,”
She says, sadness evident
In her voice;
But it’s not me
I’m thinking of:
I can deal with upset,
With disappointment,
But what about my friend?
Reply #313. Jul 19 12, 8:08 PM
|
Jazmee27
|
It's Always Something
It’s always something,
Never a moment to rest;
One day a meeting,
The next an urgent call:
Or maybe a rundown piece of equipment.
I often envy
Those who say they’re bored,
As if someone else
Is supposed to entertain them;
I used to be one,
But then life sped up,
And now I just wish
That it would slow down.
If only life
Had a pause button,
Or at least something;
Some way to keep
Everything from
Happening all at once.
I used to wish
For more excitement,
But now I’ve got it,
I want less:
Sometimes, having more
Isn’t the best!
Reply #314. Aug 02 12, 9:23 PM
|
postal315
|
I see them there, just out of reach
People and places from my past.
Fifty years ago, you may not believe
The world was a different place.
In my Grandma's lifetime, manned flight was first invented.
Then the wonder of manned space flight.
Mankind on the moon.
I can hear her now
"that's just fantastic"
Said as if the fantastic thing
Was wrong or dirty.
As I grow older, I want more 'fantastic'
Rescuing Chilean mine workers
Decades before, they would have perished.
We mustn't fear, but welcome 'fantastic'
As we leave our carbon bodies behind
I hope what's left
Will flood my being with---'fantastc'.
Reply #315. Oct 02 12, 5:00 PM
|
postal315
|
I was going through some photos and such a few days ago, when I came upon a poem my deceased mother had written for my brother, I wanted to hare it with the poetry board.
To my son, Richie, for your ninth birthday.
Although your teddy bear has been put away
You still need cuddling at the end of your day.
Not yet a man, but growing so near
Nine years old, what a wonderful year!
Teaching you steps from right and wrong
Has filled your Mother's heart with song. Serious thoughts behind furrowed brow
What's making marks on your world now?
Although I'm not allowed to watch you grow
The Lord will keep you safe I know.
And one day when you're full grown
Perhaps you'll remember and re-read this poem.
My Mom always wrote with much underlining and exclamation points. She liked to draw copies of Disney characters by looking at the picture and then duplicating it free hand.
I didn't know she tried her hand at poetry. I think my brother Rich was living with his Father at this time. He's now in his forties.
It was great to come upon this family artifact.
A very rhyme-y style for this board.
Reply #316. Oct 04 12, 10:18 PM
|
Legal / Conditions of Use
|
Play Now! 
: