Non Poetry Posts from the Suddenly Thread

[Tathagata]

Re: Re: born too late......

Good poem, last stanza very powerful, tara.

she, like you, blows me away with words

 

[echoes_s]

Re: Re: born too late......

jesus
you are good

she is...!

and you also

actually I am always amazed at the amount of talent, uniqueness of style and voice, words, prose and individuality in each and every one here.

not to mention kindness and heartfelt support touching and reaching out

 

[Tathagata]

Re: Re: Re: born too late......

she is...!

and you also

actually I am always amazed at the amount of talent, uniqueness of style and voice, words, prose and individuality in each and every one here.

not to mention kindness and heartfelt support touching and reaching out

kindered spirits hun

 

[echoes_s]

Keep working on it, or put it aside for the night and look at it again tomorrow. Sometimes, you need a break from a poem, so you can take a fresh look at it later.

sounds like an awesome plan, it will keep in my mind until I finish it...might be waking up in the middle of the night to do this
Thank you Eve

 

[WickedEve]

a cold and bitter evening
the wind outside is wild
I sit alone with my whiskey
and strum my guitar awhile
and i wish that i could hold you
but my chances are next to none
so I'll sing, this lullaby for no one

rest your head my pretty baby
rest your head my darling one
as the night cries ebony showers
blackened tears to hide the sun
and I'll hope that you are happy
safe and warm and having fun
and I'll sing this lullaby
for now one

I wish that i could hold you
and rock you into sleep
would it make the worry vanish?
would it make the pain less deep?

so close your eyes
take my hand
and from this world we'll run
as I sing
this lullaby
for no one

If you write one more good poem tonight, I won't be able to stand it. That's it, I'm going to have to write something... oh, I have something I jotted down earlier. It's bad. Not naughty, just bad.

Walking Observation 1
Weird Eye

That eye is telling me something:
private girl sponge for the shower,
or in the freezer with peas and pleas.

Maybe he just has a weird eye.

 

[Tathagata]

If you write one more good poem tonight, I won't be able to stand it. That's it, I'm going to have to write something... oh, I have something I jotted down earlier. It's bad. Not naughty, just bad.

Walking Observation 1
Weird Eye

That eye is telling me something:
private girl sponge for the shower,
or in the freezer with peas and pleas.

Maybe he just has a weird eye.

oh thats an old song Ive been re working all week
i like this version the best so far


My ice cream man had a weird eye
ya never forget it

 

[Liar]

oh thats an old song Ive been re working all week
i like this version the best so far


My ice cream man had a weird eye
ya never forget it

Hay, that ain't very 'all of a sudden', now is it?

Nevertheless, damn good.

 

[minsue]

black velvet
sliding like rain
caressing soft mounds
shifting to make way
and make day out of
black velvet night

sliding sleepy slowly
revelling ravishing
wonders of daylight
bright skin

straps finally
falling from shoulders
to release, reveal
what I achingly seek

but no, oh no

still clinging
to curves
by some macic
magnetic marvel
in those hips

you know
you know so well
how to capture
my soul my mind

how with nothing
but velvet bind
this heart to yours
forever and a day

with a slightest
of sighs
gravity conquer
your resistance
at last

and you
conquer me

*PHEW*

Dayum. Is it getting warm in here?

Just keep getting better and better.

 

[Tathagata]

Hay, that ain't very 'all of a sudden', now is it?

Nevertheless, damn good.

what did the sun come up over in........finlandianordic swisshuntergarten...?


Thanks

 

[Liar]

what did the sun come up over in........finlandianordic swisshuntergarten...?

Now that you menation it, the sun just went up.

Screw sleep.

#L

 

[Randi Grail]

Loving, chaste

I take rays from the sun
and braid gentled wisps
then lean, extended
tender touch your face
a wistful caress
from white willowy clouds
a whispered wish puffing breeze
to see you smile in your sleep

Absolutely breathtaking. I wish I could write like that.

 

[echoes_s]

Absolutely breathtaking. I wish I could write like that.

Thank you Randi, I was watching the sunset alone, the rays breaking up in the clouds, remembering how my daughter loves me braiding her long hair.

 

[tarablackwood22]

Loving, chaste

I take rays from the sun
and braid gentled wisps
then lean, extended
tender touch your face
a wistful caress
from white willowy clouds
a whispered wish puffing breeze
to see you smile in your sleep

In dream-filled meadows of deep
to sprout a grass length
and tickle the nape
of your neck as you lay
where infant hair curls
in baby browned tendrils
to kiss wet with dew
and sighingly breathe
then evaporate, condensed into you

How I ache your embrace
a misty trickled teemed pain
bleeding heart-wrenching deep
shivered wolves’ howls by the bay
reflecting shimmered delight
in the morning hushed rise
I doting kiss your closed eyes
loving, chaste

you make me float, echoes!

 

[tarablackwood22]

born too late...(1st 3 stanzas added).....

-

 

[Tathagata]

Re: born too late...(1st 3 stanzas added).....

I sense a dearth of truth, a loss
of piety, the buttons
so easy, the character of
cobblestones mutated to black, the

blessed sweat-shine
of holy fieldsmen and
fruit peddlers dried like parchment
on the brows and
smirks of small men who

do not know, have
never known, will not
know the honest feel of
plows that plant and sickles
that cut their supper.

There is no real
blood here, on
city streets, blood that
means, blood that
talks, blood that
tells stories
that matter.

Of course there are stains, and
pain. Someone who
delayed too long lacing
his shoe met a trailer
in this very spot, driven by a
hurried man, late on his rounds, but

that blood you stand on now
with your Italian leather
does not hold or
challenge the red and godly grace
of a Tennessee field
where just yesterday, coincidentally
at that same hour, a black man’s
bones were swallowed
by the blades of his
harvester, as he bent
carelessly
to lift his summer wheat.

Oh yeah
That makes all the difference


Great stuff

 

[Tathagata]

I will speak to you, not of love and loss,
heartache, war and vengeance.
I have no tale of erecting monuments
heroes blood spilt, and horizonless journeys.

I will speak to you, not of symphonies,
blues, psychedelica, religion, none of those I can give words.

I will speak, not of flesh, no words of wanton,
excruciating erotica exhibtions, flying, fucking,
flowing free on fifth dimensional carriers.

But I will speak,
of frogs, ferns and grindstones.
Dew at sunrise, breeze at sunset.
Soil, seeds and sandalwood.

Come closer child, and I will tell you,
all that matters.

Now that's nice

 

[Randi Grail]

Now that's nice

Thank you!
hugs the dirty old man

 

[Tathagata]

Thank you!
hugs the dirty old man

ROFl

you been talkin to eve haven't ya??

 

[Randi Grail]

ROFl

you been talkin to eve haven't ya??

You said it yourself yesterday.

 

[Tathagata]

You said it yourself yesterday.

yeah but we're suppose to blame Eve

 

[echoes_s]

I will speak to you, not of love and loss,
heartache, war and vengeance.
I have no tale of erecting monuments
heroes blood spilt, and horizonless journeys.

I will speak to you, not of symphonies,
blues, psychedelica, religion, none of those I can give words.

I will speak, not of flesh, no words of wanton,
excruciating erotica exhibtions, flying, fucking,
flowing free on fifth dimensional carriers.

But I will speak,
of frogs, ferns and grindstones.
Dew at sunrise, breeze at sunset.
Soil, seeds and sandalwood.

Come closer child, and I will tell you,
all that matters.

ermm, what did you say to me about my last poem?

This is beautiful

 

[tarablackwood22]

-

 

[tarablackwood22]

-

 

[Tathagata]

Re: the old Peterson place -- 2nd draft

the old Peterson place


the old house creaks,
whimpers in pain
as a wind bores
through her cracks
in a cutting curl,
releases a tortured moan
as she shifts, repositioning
to nostalgically watch the fog
make love to her cobwebs.

her jambs are rheumatic,
her steps a jigsaw spine,
her fence pickets slanted
like loose teeth.

arthritic doors
are joints too sore to straighten,
her withered backyard well
a parched and diseased throat.

rats and rain
are her tenants,
her skimpy glass
a target for rocks.

the sidewalk is fractured
by roots. I cross
with care, duck
past the strangling war
of choking vines and ivy,
tiptoe onto her squeaking porch
and through a toothless window.

her insides are ulcerated,
oozing walls, bleeding
rusty brown and foul,
the smell of body breakdown,
of age and infection.

there is still a bureau there
inside its mother,
bent and water-swollen,
split here and there
like the walls of its womb
where ancient veins exploded.

compelled,
I clean the child,
polish its mirror,
stripping the cataracts
from its eyes.

what scenes played here
before the blindness,
before pails collected
all the tears?

a crowded table
reflects off its iris,
a carved turkey at its center,
a pine wrath, hung
on a clean, white wall.

and there are sounds.
I hear hushed prayers,
the soft voices of children,
the high-pitched pings
of forks against china,
the crackling heat
from an open hearth.

what tore
these spinning shingles,
these bowels,
this wellspring, where babies
were born and fed?

why?

a saw can bite
with love,
and nails kiss,
but not here.
it’s too late
for affection.
she is just too old
for birth,
and too decrepit
to remember.






a rose at the grave of Michael

man you have a great eye for detail and re-work

 

[Tathagata]

Living in the Valley

Mayacamas rise feminine
to our west
soft, tree-covered
like supple earth breasts

Vaca Mountains jut masculine
to the east
sculpted in bronze
strong shoulders, biceps to hold us

Beside silver river on richest soil
in the valley between am I
fertile and lush
admiring and desiring both

welcome back Sis
; )

Nice stuff