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wildsweetone
i am what i am
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- Feb 1, 2002
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- 6,809
63
63
They share the walk
They share the walk,
these cream-chested, squat birds
who look like they have donned the wrong head
for the grass-hunt dance.
They share the walk,
keeping their own space,
some invisible string
co-ordinating their insect search,
collapsing their family unity
as it becomes every bird for himself
in the wild sea of green.
They work the grid,
a slight pause to listen
or wait
for movement from below.
They are drawn forward,
hunger and hope drives them.
Whilst behind, a trail of fat blackbirds
walk the same path.
63
They share the walk
They share the walk,
these cream-chested, squat birds
who look like they have donned the wrong head
for the grass-hunt dance.
They share the walk,
keeping their own space,
some invisible string
co-ordinating their insect search,
collapsing their family unity
as it becomes every bird for himself
in the wild sea of green.
They work the grid,
a slight pause to listen
or wait
for movement from below.
They are drawn forward,
hunger and hope drives them.
Whilst behind, a trail of fat blackbirds
walk the same path.
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
4-4
They said you ate a baby;
not a trust-worthy source,
just one of those neighborhood legends
that everyone knows.
At first, I'll admit--
I thought the green was a bit flamboyant,
but, people rarely call something flamboyant
if it has razor-tipped arms.
I'd like to see if you really get that big,
in those backwater terrariums
by the swamplands.
(still far from done... it's a start.)
They said you ate a baby;
not a trust-worthy source,
just one of those neighborhood legends
that everyone knows.
At first, I'll admit--
I thought the green was a bit flamboyant,
but, people rarely call something flamboyant
if it has razor-tipped arms.
I'd like to see if you really get that big,
in those backwater terrariums
by the swamplands.
(still far from done... it's a start.)
champagne1982
Dangerous Liaison
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2002
- Posts
- 7,671
2007-2-15
A Prayer Of Lost Souls
The light in the temple
shines through shades
and fog of mystery
to pierce this shadow
with its warm fingers.
Struggle on along
the path of brightness
careful, lest we stray,
into that murky dark
and lose our way
into the sunlit day.
Smile for me and draw
me close. It is your
presence that banishes
the confusion brought
by night and dark whispers
as confessors tempt us
off the path, to be swallowed,
alone and in the gloom.
A Prayer Of Lost Souls
The light in the temple
shines through shades
and fog of mystery
to pierce this shadow
with its warm fingers.
Struggle on along
the path of brightness
careful, lest we stray,
into that murky dark
and lose our way
into the sunlit day.
Smile for me and draw
me close. It is your
presence that banishes
the confusion brought
by night and dark whispers
as confessors tempt us
off the path, to be swallowed,
alone and in the gloom.
wildsweetone
i am what i am
- Joined
- Feb 1, 2002
- Posts
- 6,809
Tzara said:
well, where's your poem? i got all excited that you'd begun a 30/30.
loserstyx
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 7, 2007
- Posts
- 171
5-3
Goal
I cannot miss another day
Fifteen is my goal
Not the thirty that so many have deemed their ambition
Alas I shall find it difficult to continue on my way
For this is only three and there is much work to be done
Between three and thirty
Goal
I cannot miss another day
Fifteen is my goal
Not the thirty that so many have deemed their ambition
Alas I shall find it difficult to continue on my way
For this is only three and there is much work to be done
Between three and thirty
wildsweetone
i am what i am
- Joined
- Feb 1, 2002
- Posts
- 6,809
64
(sorry anna... i didn't get to finish this today. it's ANZAC day here and difficult to get writing done - but when i'm finished i'll put it in your thread).
when i this, i that
when i hear of pitbull maulings
i tremble with anger
at irresponsible dog owners
who'd rather spend twenty bucks
on cigarettes, or booze,
than a leash for their animals.
(sorry anna... i didn't get to finish this today. it's ANZAC day here and difficult to get writing done - but when i'm finished i'll put it in your thread).
when i this, i that
when i hear of pitbull maulings
i tremble with anger
at irresponsible dog owners
who'd rather spend twenty bucks
on cigarettes, or booze,
than a leash for their animals.
champagne1982
Dangerous Liaison
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2002
- Posts
- 7,671
2007-2-16
Travels In The Far-World
The other day I lost my grip
on time and place. You'd pulled
and pushed my awareness
outside and beyond
sensation. Thankyou, thankyou.
I can't explain nirvana,
I don't know if I was there,
but I must have been nearby.
Heaven's not as good as this
when we start to flow together,
never knowing if our feet
will find purchase on the ground
after. Don't let there be an after.
I want to find the other day
once more and pull you into here,
outside and beyond.
This is eternity and there is where
we only exist, here I live.
Travels In The Far-World
The other day I lost my grip
on time and place. You'd pulled
and pushed my awareness
outside and beyond
sensation. Thankyou, thankyou.
I can't explain nirvana,
I don't know if I was there,
but I must have been nearby.
Heaven's not as good as this
when we start to flow together,
never knowing if our feet
will find purchase on the ground
after. Don't let there be an after.
I want to find the other day
once more and pull you into here,
outside and beyond.
This is eternity and there is where
we only exist, here I live.
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
4-5
said to me,
"you smell like a poet,"
she did.
a leftover aroma of sitting
in rooms clouded with
cigarette smoke,
spilled "whiskey, straight"s,
and carbon fibers.
i do reek like that,
if she pricks me
i trickle an adjective
in black ballpoint pen
onto the ashen white-blue line-white
canvas of my skin.
i never graduated to
college-ruled.
when she says
"goodbye"
i don't spill a single
black coffee tear;
that pain could be better applied,
on the page.
said to me,
"you smell like a poet,"
she did.
a leftover aroma of sitting
in rooms clouded with
cigarette smoke,
spilled "whiskey, straight"s,
and carbon fibers.
i do reek like that,
if she pricks me
i trickle an adjective
in black ballpoint pen
onto the ashen white-blue line-white
canvas of my skin.
i never graduated to
college-ruled.
when she says
"goodbye"
i don't spill a single
black coffee tear;
that pain could be better applied,
on the page.
AChild
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2006
- Posts
- 702
2-5
before, eating butterflies
from belly bowl and burping
used the shakes and sweat
to seem like part of the show
I got the paper with the
high marks to prove
I ruled the day
yet in the dream that night
they laughed so hard
the teacher helped me to my
seat
(?)
before, eating butterflies
from belly bowl and burping
used the shakes and sweat
to seem like part of the show
I got the paper with the
high marks to prove
I ruled the day
yet in the dream that night
they laughed so hard
the teacher helped me to my
seat
(?)
wildsweetone
i am what i am
- Joined
- Feb 1, 2002
- Posts
- 6,809
65
ANZACs
Their shoulders
carry the weight of the dead
as they march.
This time they walk on sealed road
not desert, nor swamp
nor rough terrain.
Their steps sometimes stutter
over the decades passed.
ANZACs
Their shoulders
carry the weight of the dead
as they march.
This time they walk on sealed road
not desert, nor swamp
nor rough terrain.
Their steps sometimes stutter
over the decades passed.
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
4-6
Gunslinger Gulch
This is me calling You out--
You know who You are.
Get on board and swab the deck
or walk the concrete plank,
and jump on in with those
Ground Sharks.
Gunslinger Gulch
This is me calling You out--
You know who You are.
Get on board and swab the deck
or walk the concrete plank,
and jump on in with those
Ground Sharks.
Last edited:
champagne1982
Dangerous Liaison
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2002
- Posts
- 7,671
2007-2-17
Freudianistically Speaking
I was saying, just the other day
that it's almost time for slow pitch
and how I look forward
to all the guys waving their bats
around. That's not so bad
really. I just like stirring
the pot and dipping my fingers
in for a glazing of that sweet
honey. It's heaven on a stick.
Sticks are really what it's all about,
joists, poles, balusters:
You name it, I'll be sure to get
a rise outta the men when I stroke
the dusting cloth along their hard
length and smile at the way
they shine beneath my touch.
Oh, how I look forward to the day.
Freudianistically Speaking
I was saying, just the other day
that it's almost time for slow pitch
and how I look forward
to all the guys waving their bats
around. That's not so bad
really. I just like stirring
the pot and dipping my fingers
in for a glazing of that sweet
honey. It's heaven on a stick.
Sticks are really what it's all about,
joists, poles, balusters:
You name it, I'll be sure to get
a rise outta the men when I stroke
the dusting cloth along their hard
length and smile at the way
they shine beneath my touch.
Oh, how I look forward to the day.
loserstyx
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 7, 2007
- Posts
- 171
5-5
Sixteen By Twenty-five
Sixteen by twenty-five
a small place to call one's own
where others seem so far away
in the solace of my home
Sixteen by twenty-five
a place where no one judges me
they come and go both to and frow
but never do they flee
Sixteen by twenty-five
this little hovel held
close to my breast and for the rest
it's here my future I'll build
Sixteen By Twenty-five
Sixteen by twenty-five
a small place to call one's own
where others seem so far away
in the solace of my home
Sixteen by twenty-five
a place where no one judges me
they come and go both to and frow
but never do they flee
Sixteen by twenty-five
this little hovel held
close to my breast and for the rest
it's here my future I'll build
wildsweetone
i am what i am
- Joined
- Feb 1, 2002
- Posts
- 6,809
66
Heaven fallen
While I lay there,
on the ground with a dirt lump
poking me in the back,
I thought about parting the trees above
with my fingers
so I could shout out
when heaven came into view.
I tried reaching up.
That was when the sky fell in
and stars rained down,
and you feasted on the tears
you wrung from my body.
It was later
when you wrapped your arms
around my cooling skin,
when you kissed my closed eyes,
that I realised heaven
had fallen and embedded itself
in my chest.
Heaven fallen
While I lay there,
on the ground with a dirt lump
poking me in the back,
I thought about parting the trees above
with my fingers
so I could shout out
when heaven came into view.
I tried reaching up.
That was when the sky fell in
and stars rained down,
and you feasted on the tears
you wrung from my body.
It was later
when you wrapped your arms
around my cooling skin,
when you kissed my closed eyes,
that I realised heaven
had fallen and embedded itself
in my chest.
Last edited:
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
4-7
There is a peculiar type of man,
one that when faced with
difficult decisions
will choose the incorrect path,
over and over again.
The dog untrained to the dinner bell
will endlessly press the wrong lever,
constantly seeking a Milkbone reward
that never drops from the metal chute;
electrical currents
are Fido’s supper tonight.
As I stand at this dusty fork,
an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia
slaps me like an affronted mother;
one path doesn't yet hold tracks from my boots,
but the other is so recognizable,
and the familiar signs are comforting.
When I reach this fork again--
for the fourth time--
I might just prove my hypothesis wrong
and stray towards the other fork,
and the unknown horizon beyond.
There is a peculiar type of man,
one that when faced with
difficult decisions
will choose the incorrect path,
over and over again.
The dog untrained to the dinner bell
will endlessly press the wrong lever,
constantly seeking a Milkbone reward
that never drops from the metal chute;
electrical currents
are Fido’s supper tonight.
As I stand at this dusty fork,
an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia
slaps me like an affronted mother;
one path doesn't yet hold tracks from my boots,
but the other is so recognizable,
and the familiar signs are comforting.
When I reach this fork again--
for the fourth time--
I might just prove my hypothesis wrong
and stray towards the other fork,
and the unknown horizon beyond.
champagne1982
Dangerous Liaison
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2002
- Posts
- 7,671
2007-2-18
Spring On The Prairies
Sweet Persephone I understand
your sorrow as your lover
dips low in the west.
I want to go to that sheltered
valley, where magnolias blossom
even as the snow remains;
my lover waits. By the shore
of a warmer lake he sends
a kiss of sunshine back to me
to where I sleep with dreams,
far to the east of where magnolias
blossom in that sheltered valley.
Spring On The Prairies
Sweet Persephone I understand
your sorrow as your lover
dips low in the west.
I want to go to that sheltered
valley, where magnolias blossom
even as the snow remains;
my lover waits. By the shore
of a warmer lake he sends
a kiss of sunshine back to me
to where I sleep with dreams,
far to the east of where magnolias
blossom in that sheltered valley.
wildsweetone
i am what i am
- Joined
- Feb 1, 2002
- Posts
- 6,809
67
...
It is the yin and yang of trees,
the northern side that bathes in sun,
the south that trades in wind and shadows
and yet the leaves all talk at once
as if answering the call
of the one legged heron
who listens, head cocked to one side,
body balanced above the grass,
and nods as if they have need
of his acceptance.
...
It is the yin and yang of trees,
the northern side that bathes in sun,
the south that trades in wind and shadows
and yet the leaves all talk at once
as if answering the call
of the one legged heron
who listens, head cocked to one side,
body balanced above the grass,
and nods as if they have need
of his acceptance.
G
Guest
Guest
07 2:1 Bees are Leaving
They should be buzzing flowers,
causing paranoia of their sting.
Instead, this April, it's wasps bombing
the eaves without the honey bees.
They should be starving, pollinating,
though they are leaving
their queen, leaving their hives.
To where, farmers don't know.
However, scientists do; it's not
global warming, bees like it warm.
It's the cellphones, humming
bee lullabies.
Cellphones let them sleep past Spring
and let them fly away.
Einstein said,
man would soon follow
but where? I know.
Dead.
They should be buzzing flowers,
causing paranoia of their sting.
Instead, this April, it's wasps bombing
the eaves without the honey bees.
They should be starving, pollinating,
though they are leaving
their queen, leaving their hives.
To where, farmers don't know.
However, scientists do; it's not
global warming, bees like it warm.
It's the cellphones, humming
bee lullabies.
Cellphones let them sleep past Spring
and let them fly away.
Einstein said,
man would soon follow
but where? I know.
Dead.
darkerdreamer
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2007
- Posts
- 680
4-8
I was the one saying
the "goodbye"s
for once;
I'd like to say it felt good,
but instead,
I felt like a chocolate Easter bunny--
hollow and edible.
It was nice to be the one
hanging up to the sound of sobs,
instead of waiting by the phone
for one last call.
I was the one saying
the "goodbye"s
for once;
I'd like to say it felt good,
but instead,
I felt like a chocolate Easter bunny--
hollow and edible.
It was nice to be the one
hanging up to the sound of sobs,
instead of waiting by the phone
for one last call.
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