I love my cat.
She has 4 legs
and a tail
and nice ears
and a cute little nose.
She is gray with black stripes.
Her eyes are kinda green
I don't know what colour this is?
Her name is Bast.
This is the name of a very pretty cat goddess
who lives where the pyramids grew.
When my cat is happy she purrs.
So do I.
My cat is soft and warm.
My cat likes to eat food.
Right now I am feeding her special food for young cats.
She likes this better than the last stuff.
She eats all day long.
I do too.
If I become fat
or she becomes fat
I will cut down on our food.
My cat also likes to drink water.
So do I.
I got rid of her cat bowls.
Now she uses the same bowls I do.
I think this makes her feel extra special.
When my cat wants to play outside
she meows and scratches at the door.
This is how I know if she wants to play outside.
My cat poops in the neighbour's yard
so I don't have to clean her litter box too much.
I love my cat.
If I was a cat I would marry her.
We could have a honeymoon in the park.
I would dance around
and watch her climb trees.
At night my cat sleeps on top of me.
If she moves around too much
she wakes me up.
This makes me mad.
But she doesn't care.
She just looks at me.
And looks at me.
Then waits for me to fall back asleep
so she can sleep on top of me some more.
But I still love my cat.
Even if she makes me mad sometimes.
But only now and then.
She creates far more happiness than anger.
I suppose this is how it is for some married couples?
Cats are great.
I wish more people had a cat like mine
because then everyone else would be happy just like me.
One great big happy world
filled with peaceful thoughts instead of so much pain and war.
I hope she lives a long time.
When she dies I will get another cat
because they are so nice.
And when I die
I will meet all of my cats
up in heaven.
I love my cat.
And she loves me.
I did not mean to snatch your heart
Like with the claw of a vorocious bird of pray
You fell into my unset trap
Speared yourself upon my harpoon
Which had only been hanging on the wall
You threw yourself into my way
stole my arrows and brandishing them with cupids blood
Punctured your heart without a thought
Other than the whisper of my name
You claim that I'm a siren
I've led you to your death
But it was the birds i sang to
Your name did not leave my unforgiving lips
With swollen eyes from crying
Filled with swirling colors of obsession
You beg to me and plead with me
Blaming me and cursing me
Claiming that i drug you here
Forgetting it was you who snuck in through my balcony
To watch me in the fountains
And listen to my voice
To see how the animals follow me
And witness how the moon becomes my robes
And the stars become my eyes
How the setting sun remains all night
Within the silk of my hair
how roses color my cheeks
In the darkness of the cold
And the world surrounds me
And the beauty of the light i behold
Where in this story did i bewitch you
Where did i make you call my name
Did i once respond or invite you to play a game
you claim i did this to you
When you only did it to yourself
did you enjoy your gaze upon the child of Cerynian
Did you think I'd become your obediant wife
When did i claim i loved you
How quickly you think of these blasphemous lies
Your not in love you simpleminded mortal
Your infatuated and in lust and your lust is a lie
Say not to me,
that it will not matter a hundred years from now,
that I was here.
For surely I have touched one life in a positive way,
perhaps in daily prayer
I've called your name one day.
Having no profound accomplishments or delusions of fame,
and leaving no progeny
to perpetuate my name,
still, it will matter that I was here.
For I have quietly endeavored to sow, and I have watered.
I love and am loved--should one desire more?
Life is good and hopefully God is pleased.
The tracks I'll leave, it's true,
will not be so ingrained as to stand harsh winds of time
and they shall fade as the evening sun,
leaving somewhere, only a name and date chiseled in granite.
Perhaps, if only in thought,
one pausing o'er me should question, who was this man?
Let God simply whisper, that I am His.
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone.
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs
like dandelion seeds blown from
My wistful lips when I was
waiting for them to bring back my wish.
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from
your father’s funeral.
It was the only time I watched you cry.
There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through
their watery colored reflections.
for the way your skin repels from my
Touch, quivers as though my finger-
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss.
You left her waitng..always.
I have been special to you,
she replies to your
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.
My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.
We will divide our booty
Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.
for the morning
now knocking on my window.
I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
the tangle of these vacant sheets.
Rain, if you were warm I would dance in you,
I would be like the breeze and whip around you
Rain, since you are cold I'll stay away from you
Its such a bummer cause I want to play with you.
Thoughts of running through the rain with you
Makes my heart go insane for you
I'll hold your hand and slow dance with you
Alone in the grassy meadow just me and you
What would I give to beat along with you
Dripping on the tin shed of the roof with you
Making sweet music on the wind chimes with you
Wet and soft on a blanket in the fields with you
Rain, I'd spend the entire night with you
Enjoying the touch and feel of you
No looking back when I'm with you
Rain oh how I would love to dance in you
Rain how intense is that storm the comes with you
The thunder and lightening that stays with you
Its okay because I still want to change with you
Rain oh how I want to become one with you.
Wind Wind whistle,Blow his name up in the sky,where it belongs.
Blow his name amongst the Stars,where radiant angels play their
golden harps and Faries play their horns.
Clouds,Clouds,be his cushioned pilows,the place where he can rest.
Moon,Moon shine his darkened night,and be his rocking cradle nest.
Crickety Crickets play in clattering melodies,as raindrops fall in
tick tick waltz on the dancing trees in wafting breeze.
Handsome red chested cardinal,open your wing of passion to your
silky whitye pure dove,as the wind blows her to your shelter,
Sing for her the song of love.
Wind Wind,whirl again and blow his name up in the sky,above all
Greek gods,above highest of the high,where she holds him,
till all crushing waves,wild tides and oceans die.
Don't leave me hanging sis !
I came out of no where with an agenda on the mind.
Joining the soup to be near my favorite one
knowing she is not hard to find
a game I did not plan to play
Until he called upon the first round.
giving it my best shot
than came round three and more.
The poets here I started to explore
Not taking my poetry seriously
The writing just happen naturally
now I see why she visits everyone at the soup.
My sister who puts on a show with words
Is adored by her very own group
the Destroyer was my pet name
She gave me when I was young
So envious of her, I broke the head of her only dolls.
using her poetry was the way she tortured me
sitting me down while she read me her cr@p
In side me she bestowed a poet of mischief
Killing and teasing my mind with words
enjoying all her flow
until I do not see her glow
did she abandon me this one person I adore
If you can help me find my sister on this site
I beg you to tell her it was just a stupid fight
So if you can please go tell her.
All of you know her by the name of............
(((for contest**Leave me hanging)))
Love is writing her name in the air with SPARKLERS!
I need a new heart!
Like the one I had when I was 5,
when I wrote her name in the air.
When the deep red held us up,
and I thought Birds touched Bees Beneath the lilies
because that is how I touched my Grandmother and the cheeks of Horses.
I need one,
that will not grow up.
One that will hunt for carnivals in August.
One that keeps filling.
One that carries salt and a pairing knife through the garden when it’s hungry.
One that still sleeps on the bellies of yellow dogs.
I need one,
that still falls in love.
LOVE I SAY!
Love that is simple
and feels like birds must.
When they warble a deep red and
carve the air.
Like sparklers into the sky.
If you think you have such a heart I will to pay!!!
I have a savings of over $15,000 and I am willing to have wages garnished.
*an installment plan with interest negotiable.
In the exchange of hearts you will receive mine for as long as is needed or until a
preferred heart is available.
It is a sort of sad thing this heart.
Slowly folding over onto itself, collapsing inwards like a shipwreck.
However, its meter is quite steady and will be an adequate replacement until another,
more suitable heart is found.
* Serious Inquiries Only!!!!
. ( )
( ) ( / / / )
/ / / / / / /
/ / / / /
Like the disappearing sun of yesterday ( )
So has her childhood dissolved away ( // )
With two white steeds that are the trees ( / / )
She is the leaf, marauder of the breeze / /
She rides against the wind
/ / /
Her name is Rain
Born with the grain of knowing
Sight to the blind who cannot see tomorrow
Or view the valleys of the past
/ / Tho', ...be not envious of her rampant blood!
Where origins are buried in another world
Where voices speak in lost syllables
In a language of no forgetting
Where the laughter of the birds is still
And clouds shed only a torrent of tears
/ / /
For she would rather turn her face to the sky
/ And feel the gentleness of the mist
She has a burning desire to be free
Free of the gift
/ / Free of the burden
Free of the knowledge that has taken her innocence
// // /
A voice of the thunder calls her
Invites her to fly beyond the clouds
So the earth can be beautiful
Where the sun comes after the rain
/ Where the drought is over at last
/ Where rain becomes rainbows
She is the leaf.....maurader of the breeze
/ / Her name is Rain
For Constance La France's contest "Rain, The Story"
By Carrie Richards
Poet, stand up!
Your name is your seal!
Your works let their story reveal.
Though you be enamored by great poets,
don’t shy away or get disheartened.
Rid your heart of nervous anticipation and forget
about word-perfect dictation.
Through your internal debates and bouts of indecisiveness
Find a style that’s uniquely you.
Make your stance stronger.
Stand aside when it comes to gossip.
Stay away from petty jealousies.
Too much connectivity hampers creativity.
But by all means know when to pick up a fight.
Stand back, ponder, and align your ammunition.
Then be ready to stand up for
what you believe in and make a passionate defense for what is right.
Accept correction – it is the heart of positive retention and
the means to sharpen your abilities and enable your work to
stand up to
Smile at genuine curiosity but never tolerate ignorance.
Or how will you stand up to bullies intent on creating havoc and those
quick to impose their sense of ‘correctness’?
Build yourself up but desist from putting others down.
Identify talent and stand over a budding poet, gently giving
them directions but be careful to let them choose their path.
And when the time comes when your light dims
and all you can do is ruminate mentally on things already past –
Poet, stand down!
Yours is a life truly well lived!