. ‘Violin’ was written on a soft dark velvet night,
As I drifted - in the dreams - of the flickering - candle light;
Ne’er pre-planned - nor pondered - nor was she - pre-conceived,
She came from deep within me, appearing on the screen,
As did my favorite poem - my darling ‘Cannon Lee’.
‘The Love of a Gentlemen’ - and ‘Where the Heart Resides,’
Came from treasured memories - I tried to keep alive;
With words - chosen carefully - to create solidity,
I brought them back to life - to live eternally,
In vivid hues - more beautiful - than all the autumn leaves.
Others - fell like drops of dew - from flying fingertips,
That raced across the keyboard - in hopes they wouldn’t miss,
The chance to share the beauty - my eyes now fell upon,
Through the kitchen window - across the river - and beyond,
Where fields of liquid diamonds - glistened in the early dawn.
Others came in metaphors - disguising secrets held;
To painful in reality - for me to ever tell.
‘The Rose and the Thorn’ - poured herself upon the page,
A sonnet of over-whelming grief - rising up from hidden rage,
Releasing me forever - from my gilded cage.
These poems I write - come day come night,
Come candle or come neon light,
Come wind, come rain, come joy, come pain,
They are the life - the Great Creator - breathed in me;
They are my breath!
They are my poetry!
Author: Elaine George
Written: January 13th, 2010
Inspired by: Deborah Guzzi's contest 'How Do You do It - How do you write your poems'?
Authors Note: This poem was written on route to Bath, North Carolina via Ferry
crossing. It was written on a note-pad from the' Hampton Inn' and transferred
to my lap-top after returning to Swansborro.
A puzzle piece you are to me
Like a vine without any leaves.
Your heart is pure your soul is
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes
it seemed, knowing they said
no babies for me! Always a
surprise you seem to be just
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months
you walked but not until 4 did
you first talk! Always a terror
making a beautiful mess always
a surprise that has yet to be
met! The twists and turns I
know we will see will seem
somewhat like a roller coaster
to me! The milestones and
special gifts you bring will make
my life seem Like a dream, my
special boy I have always said
How special I knew not till
Aspergers they said! The
journey will be trying the
journey will seem long! But
with our family together we will
chug along! My special boy I
love you so and cannot wait to
see you mature and grow! Now
we have a goal we have our
dream you see to make you the
perfect fitting puzzle piece!!
Written by: Christina Kirks
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr
Mommy loves you to eternity
and beyond! Forever and
Smell me in my various scents.
Buy me at stores and spend all those cents.
I’m too much sweet for girly ones.
Way to attract boys for a flirty one.
Trap me in a bottle.
Use me when days are too subtle.
I’m too strong for hot guys.
Wonder I’m one of their best buys.
Use me in different occasion.
Define you to be a man of perfection.
Use me on your dress.
Just give a blow when you made a press.
I don’t mind if you use me tonight.
Won’t even sleep though its midnight
Spray till everyone smells.
Place would be fragrant like nobody else.
Familiar avenue, follies in the midst abandoning themselves to the fresh-air moon,
lured by old hallway allies into the bedroom bay, where the garden will still be, with a
The laundry turns,
the night dries.
They harass and blame those who follow far behind, await a signal from inside to
let 'em starve, ignore as they toe past the prow of the porch, past the tattered
drapes, tilting their tails;
old memory prints on window panes, that, at first glance, still have some taste
evaporate from a distance.
The prowlers aren't afraid to be strays, and they empty into the streets with
ashtrays, living their own way, solely opportunistic,
they usually pay for it in the end, if they ever get a glimpse.
And inside was a lifetime ago, as was her childhood, still stirring outside, roadside
across Fifth Street, underneath anything, to fall slowly, and awake sleepless,
remembering sounds of talking news.
* * * * *
At first light any morning, we blew smoke in the corners, a breath across the
covered picture frames wrapped in winter quilts of old coats that filled the front room,
memory replaced with swamped cardboard and wet newspapers
from the guest bedroom, and a mattress of molded mothballs.
Those last few nights, her friends came to visit but they hand’t returned;
the well-wisher and rubber neck gave more than some passerby;
left and chose not to write, ditched fifty miles east, right at the bend, on the back
fork of a highway river without a number.
© 2013 Wesley T Cutlip
ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. it hurts our feelings when you say were not wrappers were wrappers. some people say wrappers are invincible were vincible. ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. i ask my friends to post on my poems but they just say behind my back that its close to terrible. ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. have you ever been told that you dont write poems. I WRITE POEMS you just dont know what poetry is. it is whatever comes from the heart! ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings.
I COULD WRITE...
1 quote 4 that!
I could write the many things i wish to say,
Here, now, just to enchant ur mind
And then, to delet all i wrote, in the next day,
Just to show you that was nothing written yesterday,
And u was blind...
I could write the many things i like to do,
In quick phrases, to satisfy ur curiousity, today,
But later, i will erase all the words i wrote you,
And all u'll see will be a clear background, grey...
I could write a lot of words, describing myself,
Just to show how interesting person i can be,
But right after that i won't say anything,
And i will leave and let u solve that mistery...
I could write u a collection of books with my life,
Just to show the beauty of Life,
But right after that, i will burn those books,
Cos the complex words are nothing to me,
But only the simplest ones,
Full of truth, cold as ice,
Will be those musical tones,
That i always wish to hear,
So, then, these ones are written but not deleted;
These truths, now, were stated.
I SPEND HOURS OF MY DAY
WRITING ANOTHER STORY TO SHARE
NOT A NOVEL OF ANY KIND
JUST DESCRIBING IT THROUGH A RHYME
SOME TIMES THE WORDS COME EASY
OTHER DAYS I FEEL SO EMPTY
THAT'S JUST THE WAY IT GOES
BEING A POET,
ALL THROUGH LIFE YOU SEEK TO FIND
THE RIGHT WORDS TO DESCRIBE
WHAT YOU PAINT IN A PICTURE
TO SHARE WITH OTHERS
HELPING A STRANGER KNOW WHO I AM
I WRITE FROM DEEP DOWN
EXPRESSING FEELINGS I CAN'T SPEAK
THROUGH THIS INK
IT SENDS A MESSAGE WITH LOTS OF MEANING
THIS THING I ENCOUNTERED YESTERDAY
I DIDN'T THINK I COULD EVER WRITE
SOME THING LIKE THIS IN LIFE
STRUGGLE YET THE WORDS FLOW
COMING FROM DEEP WITH IN MY SOUL
HOPING WHAT I SHARE WILL HELP
ANOTHER LIKE MYSELF
TO GROW AND CHANGE
ALL THESE THINGS DONE WRONG
I CAN'T JUST ERASE ANY OF IT YOU KNOW
THATS WHY I WRITE THESE POEMS
SHOWING FIRENDS ANF FAMILY AND STRANGERS TOO
THAT NO MATTER WHAT YOU CREATE FOR OTHERS TO READ
IT'LL ALWAYS BE A PART OF HISTORY
SOME THING THAT CAN'T BE REPLACED
ONCE IT'S CREATED IT FOREVER STANDS
IN THE WORLD WE KNOW
HIDDEN AWAY IN A POEM
DEEP INSIDE A MIND I DON'T KNOW
SOME TIMES I STRESS MY PAIN AND ANGER
IN THE WORDS I WRITE
OTHER TIMES I SEND JOY THROUGH THE PICTURES I PAINT
WITH THESE WORDS FROM DEEP WITH IN......
Have you ever had, Dark Visions? I have,when I was seven or eight
I had a dream one night, That was a nightmare, so vivid and so frightful
fear so intense, I wet the bed. My Father wore a badge and I told him what
happened, and with much insistence we phoned the local authorities. ( Which he knew all of
them) My Dark Vision was of an Airplane a jetliner, on fire, going down.
I saw the flames, faces, colors and style of clothes. I heard screams, pleas to God for
help and prayers. When I woke up I was praying too, in a wet bed. Two days later the FBI
knocked at my door, with questions after questions until they were satisfied. I felt
berated and alone. Thank God for my Dad. Then it hit me their last words to my Father," If
we have any more questions about the accident we'll contact you" it..it..was real, it
really happened. My Dark Vision,,For thirty years I kept my Visions to myself, until one
day at work a friend of mine Marjie came to me and asked me if I saw things, things I
can't explain. I was floored, dumbfounded. I didn't answer. She said" I sense you had a
Vision and saw something you can't explain" How could she know? I said " What do you
mean"? " I sense you had a dream that is troubling you, because it was more than a dream"
Gig's up, so I told her. She told me to write it down always write it down, So I did and
let her see it. 3 days later she came to me with a VCR tape, we were alone in the TV room,
so we played it. Suddenly in an instant I was flooded with the whole Vision, everything I
saw and heard. Shamefully a puddle formed on the floor at my feet, as I shook. Everything,
the Bus, the explosions, faces, the Soldier, the old man in the beret, The red headed
woman in the yellow dress and hat. It was in Israel. She had taped it from the news the
night before, the day it happened. 2 days after my Dark Vision.Now at 48 with many
conversations with my Priest and Spiritual adviser, I realize, what I thought a curse, is
actually a Gift From God. Because I am praying with them in my Dark Visions, I am helping
them. One thing I always remember from them is I tell them God is waiting for you, every
time. Then I wake up.
I believe my being there has brought some comfort to those souls as their end is near.
That comforts me! God does work in mysterious ways..He has in me with...
My Dark Visions!
Bring me back to life,
When the world,
Will know my name,
Cutting like a knife,
And a bleeding heart will drain,
The words that have I;
Yes, I must live again.
I should not reside,
With silence in my way.
I must be alive,
Like the sun,
To rule the day;
I should not reside,
With silence in my way.