|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
I am so inclined to read for I wish to know.
Although first it seems I have to understand the question which I seek to answer.
Unfortunately I do not yet have this question.
I would ask as many before me of love,
But as they have asked before and given the way the world still is,
To no success,
I fear that the question of love is not to be answered by humanity.
So then I just read.
I am torn from left to right, up and down,
About the existence of God from Voltaire
And the definition of the beautiful and sublime by Kant and Nietsche.
Contradictive the former is to the later.
So where then will I find some sort of universal truth, if such a thing exists?
I read more and I feel sick with a sense of digression from my first position.
I read of war
By writers who have experienced and had the knowledge to express it
With structure and form,
Writers that have passed times test and are regarded as the greatest,
Only to be contradicted by another who is held to an even higher standard.
I feel that I am watching this world pass by in third person,
But I believe myself to be waiting for truth that I can utilize
As a tool to make the best of my world.
Although I do not look to define love nor even read specifically about it,
I know it to be fact that answers lie somewhere in that single syllable,
Four letter word.
I believe this to be similar with my studies of literature
And all that the study entails,
To the way a scientist knows answers lie in the relation of gravity to magnetism.
But like them, I know not of a question,
I merely know that there is an answer.
In all of this said, I believe I have said nothing.
My previous sentence should define my life if I continue to look.
And so I turn to love once again,
Not to be defined but simply to act.
J’aime, and that should conclude my thoughts on the subject.
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
In a pile of leaves
Made into a bed
Under a tree
You lay down your head
To stare at the sky
And dream of a day
The river will flow
And take you away
So gentle the stream
So calm the air
And muddy the water
That takes you there
Stained are your clothes
From the places you’ve been
A constant reminder
Of morals within
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
To be with me?
Well take my hand and let us see.
What dreams may come,
What things could be,
If you my love,
Would be with me.
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
So I’m building a spaceship,
But where should I start?
When the spaceship I’m building
Is made out of art
Books for the seats
And paintings for the walls
Cause this type of spaceship
Goes nowhere at all
I do not want it to
Why should it go?
To travel to space,
Where I do not know?
When in my own room
There’s mystery and tale
In pages of books
In pictures on nails
I will set up two chairs
Connect them by sheets
Webster can help me
With good wordy seats
I will need a good staff
I will need a good crew
To narrate our path
To guide us all through
Virgil can help
He’s a good guide
He knows the maps
Of the spiritual side
And there’s only one doctor
I could put to good use
The greatest of time
The old Dr. Seuss
A friend of Ernest
Our pilot to be
An old timey sailor
A man from the sea
A hatch I will make
Of a copied Van Gogh
The stars through the door
Oh how they will glow
Our ship will be waterproof
So that’s no concern
But in case there’s a problem
I will bring Jules Verne
A clock I have seen
That hung in the hall
Created by Dali
Will make up a wall
I believe that is it
That’s all I will need
I’ve got my good paintings
I’m ready to read
Oh no but wait
I almost forgot
Shakespeare, get in
We’re about to take off!
And away we go
On a journey tonight
To return tomorrow
At mornings light
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
I told the truth and lied to myself
Both at the same time
I'd love you forever
Through sickness and health
And still you won't be mine
What am I to do
I expose my bloody past
Attempting to be trusted
Pulled from the salvage
Placed at your feet
Broken down and rusted
I lied cause I showed you
And broke a promise to myself
Hoping for acceptance
But now I sit alone
In the dark with all my past
Begging for forgiveness
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
Rest in ease beside me my love
With grass pillows amongst these sprouting flowers
Destination uncertain but they shoot for the sky
And they long for love that’s wonderfully ours
Hold my hand and pray with me
Those false lives’ they live in ovals will never define them
Ask that truth present its beauty
And love may blow the dandelions’ outside the atrium
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
Adventures and Allegories
Angst and Animals
Anniversary Art
And African Brothers
Businesses and Caregiving
Childhood and Internet
Confused Cowboys
And Daughters Death
Dedication and Depression
Devotion and Education
Epic Faith
And Family Fantasy
Fathers and Food
For Children and Forgiveness
Friendship's Funny
And Girlfriend's Happiness
Health and History
Holiday and Hope
Husbands Imagination
And Inspirational Introspection
Life and Loss
Lost Love and Love
Mothers Music
And Mysterious Native Americans
Natural Disasters and Nature
Nostalgia and On Work and Working
On Writing with Words
And Parody Passions
Peace and People
Pets and Philosophy
Places Political
And Recovery From... Sadness
Satire and School
Science and Science Fiction
Seas and Seasons
And Sister Socialism
Son and Song
Sorry and Space
Sporting Sympathy
And Teenage Thank Yous
Time and Uplifting
Urban and Visionary
Wars and Weddings
And Wives who Work
All these choices
And I had a block?
Thank you dear soup
For the key to the lock
There's something to be seen
We are jailed by the list
Fifteen more
Or so that you've missed
Writing is freedom
Make Other a choice
Stop choosing for us
And give me a voice
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
Are there still pictures hanging up on a hook
In a room with a candle and a bed that once shook
Are there wrappers of beauty preventing a birth
Covering the floor with the sin of the earth
I'm sorry I'm the man that broke my heart
By taking the beauty away from the art
I am my own sin, I dwell in it well
Welcome to the world, my personal hell
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
I dream of a time
When I speak my mind
For mothers
For women
For
Her
But all of this dreaming
Has got me rethinking
Oh what
Sort of
Ruckus
I'd
Stir
What people would think
The size of the stink
I'd cause
With the
Right I
Deserve
So who has the right then
To stand up and fight then
For honor
For pride
and for
Her
Well bring out your colors
We'll stand by eachother
Together
We all
Will be
Heard
So First to the items
Whose creators defined them
As beauty
As sexy
As
Hers
Here's to the UGGZ
That whored us like thugs
You keep
Your leathers
And
Furs
Here's to Ed Hardy
The life of the party
With vodka
and coozies
To
serve
Here's to your Secret
Victoria you keep it
We don't
Need your
lines or
your
curves
Here's to our Coach
Who took the approach
That women
Are defined
By a
Purse
Here's to the poor
Design of Couture
Your Juicy
Fit tight
And looked
Worse
But the strongest conformity
I've seen is sorority
Your t-shirts
The billions
Dispersed
Now onto the role models
You know one that you've modeled
The great
Women
We see
On
TV
So thank you Mrs. Cyrus
For helping inspire us
To look
Better
At parties
In
Boots
Thank you Mrs. Gaga
Your language of blahblah
And sorry
You dropped
All your
Clothes
oops
Thank you Mrs. Hilton
No really you're great when
Your sex
Is firmly
Your
Roots
And thank you Mrs. Simpson
An honorable mention
Just dumb
With the
Hair that
Suits
(In a different form now in order to provide emphasis ; )
And last but not least
It's Palin the beast
And here
My heart
Goes
Out
To a gender in pain
From a woman insane
The world
Would be
Better
Without
Now is it easy this far
To see how we are
affected
by material
things?
And if you can be the leader
And give influence the finger
Then stand
And spread
Those
Wings
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Micah Freeman Poem
Tears formed in my Grandmas eyes
In her chair, in her room, when Grandpa died
I knelt down beside her, Pa in the bed
Without one word she bowed her grey head
I took her soft hands and began to pray
Hallelujah to the Father Pa’s home to stay
Fly with the angels my Grandpa my friend
My partner my buddy who loved to no end
Comfort my Grandma while she’s all alone
Be with her Lord until she comes home
With tears in my eyes at this prayers end
I kissed her sweet head and prayed amen
Her hands were cold her face was pale
Her shirt was soaked and the air was stale
I laid her by Pa and sat in the chair
Together forever is a love so rare
Copyright © Micah Freeman | Year Posted 2010
|
|