Archival Review

[Angeline]

I agree with you on this one Leon. This poem speaks, paints and draws us into the rose garden with papa, daughter and all the lovely dew drops awaiting the fall. I'm putting this one on my Fav's list, most def. a keeper ~!!

Beautifully written Ange .... did I ever telll ya I wanna be you when I grow up?

It's vastly overrated, this being me. I should know.

 

[LeBroz]

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Personally, I would have preferred it broken into the normal 3-line stanzas with the ending quatrain.


Come walk awhile (a villanelle)
by BooMerengue©


Come, take my hand and walk awhile with me!
I'll share the day with no one else in mind
our selfishness the gift we give for free.
You'll snuggle close as we walk towards the sea.
I'll cherish all the keepsakes that we find.
Come, take my hand and walk awhile with me.
Your shouted laugh imprints my memory
and racing fast the sunlight makes us blind!
Our selfishness the gift we give for free;
my joy in you explodes in raucous glee
when seagulls scream at us though not unkind!
Come, take my hand and walk awhile with me
as night descends we'll gather from the trees
the firelight that lets the day unwind,
our selfishness the gift we give for free.
The time we share is limited, you see.
We will not waste a glance at whats behind.
Come, take my hand and walk awhile with me
our selfishness the gift we give for free.

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[LeBroz]

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Have fun interpreting this, one of smithpeter's little oddities.


compass headings and evening
by smithpeter©


I wish tonight was last night
the one with all the heat
the spreading

do alarm clocks change
reality?
like a sudden change
in waking?

when fire used to feel good
when ice was the enemy
when gray was a color
not a way of life

someone reading this
knows the way of tent
stake
poles

-ignore this-
I prefer briquettes
over food scorched
by propane

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[LeBroz]

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This just seems so apropos to a Monday; it's so depressing, even with its H & W icons lighting things up. 2001 must have been a down year.


Coming Down

by RisiaSkye©


Sick of this life,
sick of this town.
Same old illness
I keep coming down.

Same old desire,
same restless feeling.
I need the release
that a needle gives me.

I'm still searching,
searching for something.
Looking all over nowhere
for an emptiness to fill me.

I tried to understand,
I tried to believe.
Followed you to forgiveness
that still refused me.

Same old chances,
same old mistakes.
Bound to this existence
by the choices I've made.

Sick of this life,
sick of this town.
Same old illness
I keep coming down.

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[LeBroz]

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Sangria and pizza — not haute cuisine but, as Syndra notes, I too know what I like.


Complexities of Wine and Poetry
by Syndra Lynn©


I love the feel of
soil on my hands
sounds on my tongue
these I understand

In a vineyard,
I can diagnose Eutypa or Botrytis
Itemize sixteen nutrients
essential to Vitis

In a manuscript
I can diagnose grammar or spelling errors
punctuate, articulate,
avoid tense related horrors

With these simple tools,
I grow healthy vines
create basic writing
with some meter and rhyme

Science of viticulture
Science of language
studied and mastered
in my class, above average

But grapes are not wine
and words are not poetry
Though both are richer
mixed with proper chemistry

I have the vocabulary
but can’t describe wine
with silly descriptors
about mice and white pine

And I can’t tell you why
a certain verse feels just right
But with both wine and poetry
I KNOW WHAT I LIKE!!!

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[champagne1982]

This poem illustrates a feeling I've had concerning where world leaders are getting off asking their people to fight on. I don't see them in the midst of a battlefield facing down a grenade launcher although, one wonders which claymore a certain president is gonna pick his foot up off of and blow us all into world war III.

Children of Enlightenment
by LeBroz©

Jefferson, Franklin, Paine and more
With Deist thought,
Wrote words to guide us all ~
Let Church and State be separate.

Now their words are overturned
By gangs espousing their own views,
Let Church's values rule us all.

But still I wonder, with all His might
Legions of priests, all confused;
Each with his own God's wisdom true
Which God wants political power?

 

[Du Lac]

This poem illustrates a feeling I've had concerning where world leaders are getting off asking their people to fight on. I don't see them in the midst of a battlefield facing down a grenade launcher although, one wonders which claymore a certain president is gonna pick his foot up off of and blow us all into world war III.

Children of Enlightenment
by LeBroz©

Jefferson, Franklin, Paine and more
With Deist thought,
Wrote words to guide us all ~
Let Church and State be separate.

Now their words are overturned
By gangs espousing their own views,
Let Church's values rule us all.

But still I wonder, with all His might
Legions of priests, all confused;
Each with his own God's wisdom true
Which God wants political power?

thanks Carrie for bringing this one to the front. It is filled with mind work that pierces the heart asking us all what can we do to stop the madness? Great work LeBroz
du lac

 

[LeBroz]

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Okay, so I'm six months early — there's still a bit of the macbre about this poem, if your mind travels in such strange directions. Still, a human head instead of a pumpkin...


Come, Sweet Jack
by JUDO©


(inspired by smithpeter's digital pumpkin thread)

Jack O'Lantern burning bright
In the misty pale moonlight.
I'll seek you out and lay a trail
To find your love and will not fail.

A carriage you will doubtless find,
Made from a cousin with spell to bind.
Four mice were changed to pull the thing.
I tried to teach them, but they couldn't sing.

To a castle, the carriage will fly
Up the staircase you'll be by and by.
In a room at the top that's silk encased
While the door creaks open, you'll be faced

With chains, blindfold, and handcuffs galore
Helpless you'll be as we go for gore --

We'll cut off your head
And scoop out your brain,
We'll gouge out your eyeballs,
But you'll feel no pain

As we place a candle to light within
And perch you outside upon your chin.

Jack O'Lantern burning bright
In the mistly pale moonlight,
Don't you have a lovely twin brother?
A matching pair just needs one other.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one of those marvelously weird smithpeter compositions. It just invites you to keep rereading.


composure
by smithpeter©


our writing pads are lily pads
floating in a pond,
ponder on deep muck

some of us cut adrift by rusting scissors
others by swiftly slicing shiny teeth
still others ripped by shredding

we have learned not to cry
as our limbs grow back
like children never severed,
without grasp,
sinking away

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[LeBroz]

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There's quite a bit going on here. This could be much stronger by breaking it into several stanzas; this would give the reader a chance to catch his breath. Read it out loud and you'll see what I mean.


Computer Shock Therapy
by WindChyme©


You always had some time for me
When second best would do
If people on your "A" list
Were busier than you
Your rolodex was tuckered out
From spinning round and round
And suddenly, I'd come to mind
I'd win on your rebound
I grant that you were open
And never led me on
My hurt was my denial
They came and I was gone
I begged you choose me now and then
From out of all your mates
But I was just a last resort
A garnish on your plate
Time flew; and you have withered
Like grapes left in the sun
Your life is just a keystroke
Your youth and health have run
You type some jazzy wordy riffs
To chase the blues away
And play a part. "I'm Hip! Young! Smart!
I'm home at last.", you say.
Your house falls down around you
The dogs have gone insane
The spouse is just as drugged as you
The kids... what were their names?
So play the game; regale your friends
Just pray they don't find out
That you're a fraud, a fallen star
You're atrophied, a lout
Real life circles down the drain
As you pontificate
Until you wake and smell the brew
This addlepated state
Will keep you from the real real life
You built for five decades
And keep you slaving futilly
To build your barricades
Your mind is slowly twisting
You know that it's askew
I'll wager you don't even know
I'm writing about YOU

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[LeBroz]

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It's Spring — that time of year for all the dangerous weather educational programs and activities that no one pays attention to until it means something, like no roof on your house.


conditions favorable
by sophia jane©


Tornado season again, weatherman points
to maps, pressures, miscellaneous jargon all
for the sake of the masses, saying
hide now, or, for the lucky ones-
watch: conditions favorable for disaster.

I have seen disaster, the torn pieces of roof
cars in pieces, my home not the way I left it.
And
I have seen my life torn, crumbled-
conditions favorable:

I want a sunshine day, a cloudless sky
laughter across blue, light breeze
And
just a hint of late day rain to sweeten the
memory.
But weatherman says:
conditions favorable, so I burrow deep
in the closet, and wait.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a purely descriptive pleasure. It's like seeing a small Southern town looking like time has stood still, with classic stereotypical imagery.


Confederate Square
by The Mutt©


A pyramid of cannonballs
beneath a naked flagpole,
as bees drink Coca Cola
from a green glass bottle stem,

Salvation Army refugees
sack out on picnic tables,
laid out like Sunday chicken
for mosquitoes and black flies,

A bent-backed colored feller
hacks the Johnson grass to ribbons
near a statue of the Colonel
who once owned his Mama’s kin,

A station wagon Yankee
shoots a snapshot of a traitor
while his children beg for Graceland
and his wife refolds the map,

Cement cannons guard the square,
their barrels stopped with garbage,
they defend against tomorrow,
holding ugly truths at bay,

And fat old men with bony dogs
squeeze one last drop of glory
from the one war that was fought
and yearn for honor in its fight,

Pick-up bumpers fly their flag,
their grandsons whistle Dixie,
white-washed columns keep the roof
from falling on their dreams,

And white sheets hang from cotton lines
like ghosts of broken Rebels,
and the crosses on the churches
pray for lightning so they’ll burn.

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[LeBroz]

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The title in this one really sets the mood. Keep it in mind as you read and you'll see beyond the superficial feelings expressed in word and rhyme. Then you'll feel the powerful emotions boiling just below the surface.


Confessions of a Drunken Divorcee
by Curiouswife©


It was a long time ago
almost in another life
just pour me another drink
and I’ll tell you I was a wife
I can recall it and not feel hurt
I can toss it off the tip of my tongue
meaningless these days
but yeah, back then it stung
though I got back on my feet
this girl can overcome
I can take care of myself
this girl don’t need no one
I can conquer with the best of them
now I’m standing first in line
I’m climbing to mountain peaks
I’m kissing father time
and it’s only now and then
just every once in a while
that I look around for him
and forget my glued on smile
but let’s not dwell on that
because it’s been a long, long time
just pour me another drink
as you can see, I’m doing just fine

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[LeBroz]

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Now here's a little pure silliness — let's see what we can do about those frown lines.


Congress Street at Midday
by jd4george©

- Silly rhymes and rhythms​

Machines... Zaa
Machines... Zaa
Grinding down
Grinding down
Machines... Zaa
Machines... Zaa

Eating hotdogs on the square
Pinstriped maidens golden hair
Swallow back while giving head
Booting cocaine land up dead
Watching Reebok sneakers fly
Homeless children cannot buy
Morning papers printed black
Screaming headlines of attack
Wonder of the noontime ends
Hustle bustle swirls and blends​

Machines... Zaa
Machines... Zaa
Grinding down
Grinding down
Machines... Zaa
Machines... Zaa




Assembly Instructions: Roll into a cylinder, placing
one chorus over the other. Commence reading, pausing
on occasion to repeat the title. Continue until bored.

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[LeBroz]

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Now on a more serious note, making up can be seen here to be so much fun as they ignore everything else and turn attentions toward each other.


Conjunction
by neonurotic©



Lying here on our backs,
the night looks so clear.

We sidestep into opposition
while Venus
loves her moon.

Napalm blasts the starlit sky,
fire torches cool attitudes,
eats the planet
with you and I in it.

And baby, we lie still,
watch it all burn in an instant,
realign, and reconnect.

Now let's make a wish,
blow out the world
because we regret nothing.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's something else we can look to to keep our eyes tuned to the night sky; imagination's all that's required.


Constellations
by foehn©


Constellations in the night
can’t know quite
the figures that they make in black.
They surely lack

a knowledge of their various parts –
the small, hot hearts –
the little points where lines might meet.
Their heads and feet

give equal fashion to the air
and go nowhere;
and having nothing, they don’t mind.
They only shine.


~

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[LeBroz]

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Now how about a poem with a soft romantic feel.


Connection
by Willow Rain©


Our friendship deepens
with easy slowness.
I feel your gradual trust
bloom,
my own tendriling out.

We learn with childlike affection
that each is safe for the other.

Fondness moves between us
bridging into tender vulnerability.
I think I will be your friend
a long time.

Shyly, we turn our pages
for each other,
our bindings stiff and tight.
We are careful with each other.

I don't read you quickly.
The writing in your margins
must be puzzled out.
I trace my fingers
carefully over the letters,
and you read mine
with brow furrowed
with concentration.

So serious
a soul.
So sweet.

You place some of my words in your journal.
I read them,
and feel union.

You understand me,
and my binding softens,
into buttery kidskin.

I am greatful for you
in my life.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a humorous little poem, unless you're a woman sensitive to the amount of time you might be spending in cosmetic preparation of facing the world.


Construction
by jthserra©


Construction

Placed, not poured, she flows into day like concrete
a liquid solid conforming to the forms
the wood-grained constraints braced in reflected light.
Each ripple of inconsistency re-written, set in powder
or rouge she stands: a wall before a river,
a dam before a flood, dries her tears and perseveres.
Weathered as time’s lines line her face
in lifts, layers, a strata of morning, daylight and night
fading, fading, fading in the mirror
she blinks, squints, and admires beauty
in the fleeting constructs of a Revlon dawn.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's another measure of her talent as this city girl writes up a storm over the far away Western scenes.


Continental Divide
by Angeline©


It's the West in your voice.
I understand

though I've lived always in crowds,
never escaping schtetl life,
even two generations later
in America, promise handed down
from brave young grandfathers
journeying past the edge
of another culture
until they transformed
to proper old European Yenkees
in fine suits with vests, hats.

My poems coast down avenues.
My muse struts grand fashion
or peers from tenement windows
writing wary East Coast poems
in hotel rooms, painting spatters
on word-washed city streets
alive at midnight
full of beep and flim-flam neon blink.

Not you.
Your poems swin in clear streams,
pan for gold off dirt trails
that lead to meadows
full of morning frost and whinny,
cabins and overgrown logger roads.

Your vistas unfurl above rivers,
and the distant ocean surrounds you
like a gentleman cowhand
with a six-shooter in one hand,
and a renaissance overflowing
the other.

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[LeBroz]

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Here we have a hard look at folks practicing charitable deeds.


Contoured
by bluerains©


Benevolent acolyte drones
in frozen faces,
move the tired, hungry, the poor
with resonating voices.

Paid to walk in peace clothes
they lick your wounds
with glowing promises
from tongues tangled
in shadowed wisdom.

Forgiveness lingers in
silent messages sealed in
tears and sweat and
pain drops slip sliding
into themselves,
their echoes exfoliated.

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[LeBroz]

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From every reader's viewpoint, perfectly descriptive of the opposite sex.


Contradiction
by irishcatsmeow©


Why do you greet me with joy one day
And show indifference the next?

Why do you come on so strong at one moment
And are tentative and hesitant the next?

Why do you see me as special and worthy
And then treat me as insignificant the next time we meet?

Why do you tease, joke and make me smile today
And then act stern and withdrawn tomorrow?

How am I to know that you care
When I cannot fathom your inconsistent actions?

How do I know how I should respond
When you are constantly changing?

How can I know if I should expose my heart
When you continue to play hide and seek with yours?

How may I discover the truth of the matter
When you retreat out of fear or unintended hurt?

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[LeBroz]

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Oh damn! I've been found out ~ she's got my number! How'd she know the sex was so good?


Contradictory Messages
by irishcatsmeow©


Terms of endearment taste bitter
when dipped in a chocolate sauce
of contempt;
even if topped with a cherry.

Proverbs ring untrue
when coated with the fairy dust
of sarcasm;
even if sprinkled by Tinkerbell.

Words of wisdom are powerless
when riddled with the ammunition
of arrogance;
even if defended by the king’s army.

Eloquent speeches are soon forgotten
when used with the prop
of condescension;
even if applauded by the audience.

Compliments are not remembered
when given with the notion
of insincerity;
even if a smile was present.

Messages on the screen are ignored
when crafted with a brush stroke
of deception;
even if a pretty picture was painted.

Promises remain in the dark
when told with the urgent need
of self interest;
even if the sex was magnificent.

Whispers of love are without merit
when worn as a badge
of obligation;
even if pledged by a boy scout.

Prayers are left unanswered
when said with the hesitation
of the unfaithful;
even if uttered on holy ground.

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[LeBroz]

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The ultimate solution to the frustration factor men experience when trying to understand a woman's mind.


Contraption
by bogusbrig©


I have constructed an instrument
Something like an abacus that takes account
With an arm connected to a piston
That lurches down
When the weight is unevenly distributed
Pumping subliminal information
Making a needle oscillate
Scoring a line between two axis’
Like measurements on a graph

The input data being translated
Into something I can understand
Allowing me to respond
To the statistics of someone’s mood
Having reduced the chance of misinterpretation
But there is one factor that stubbornly resists
The logic of my contraption
In fact, it’s burnt a fuse, over…
........................…the gender differential

I’ve tried the two sides of the same coin theory
I’ve tried the sliding scale spectrum theory
I’ve even tried to compensate with gender political theory
But each time, logic has been defied
And I’ve had to resort to the chaos theory​

I redesigned the superstructure
Making a few linear adjustments
And adding a couple of new features
A dysfunctional female intuition valve
With a certainty blinding lens
Plus a new gossip extractor, for good measure
Then painted the mainframe in gold and silver…
…for effect

But still the percentage error was too great
The needle etching a steady line
When it should have swung violently down​

So I dismissed this complexity
Considering we are all human
Working off the same base line
The fundamentals being universal
We are all able to understand
So now I’m shaping a tree branch
It seem s the Neanderthals were right
The only contraption that works…
.................................................…...................is a heavy wooden club

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one that says so much with so little; the type of poem you find yourself rereading to make sure how you've filled in the blanks.


contrived illusions
by anniebug©


contrived illusions

I like older women
he says to her one night
as she sits
typing her dreams
to the voice on the screen

remembering long-ago touches
of her youth
she settles for
filling the void
with chat

©edumke 2002

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[LeBroz]

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Here you go ~ the perfect answer to those questions annoying people are always asking, "What have you been doing?"


copernicus passenger
by Senna Jawa©

(what do i do these days my friend)?
i travel full time
around Sun​

wlodzimierz holsztynski ©

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