|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
DANCING IN INK
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" I love dance and I love writing !!! "
One of my very first writerings
DANCING IN INK
My pen dances in ink
feathers quilled and twirl
in the excitement that is my pen.
My mood gives it rhythm
the graceful movement
to slide across my page.
The rhyme that flows from my soul.
Sometimes the dance is slow
so sad, bittersweet.
Steps of drowning tears.
The tears of my heart
pounding with drops of disappointment.
With other splashes of written dance
the mood and movement is angry.
I stomp.
Making my presents known across the page.
Yet on another performance of the pen
my ink dashes along the margins
in pure delight.
Ecstasy that can only come
from the ever passionate mind
of a dancers pen.
Feathers quill the rhythm
and rhyme inside my mind.
That is when my pen takes the lead
in this tango of words.
I become my fantasy.
My mind, lost
absorbed in what is my purest passion.
What more can be said.
Steps splashing in ink.
For me the two intertwine
as though they are the meshing
of two perfect souls.
Souls, separate but joined
tells a story.
One with the mind.
The other with the body.
In perfect union.
That is why my pen
DANCES IN INK!
Debbie Kelly ( Debbie Philly)
2005
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
~~RE Birth ~~
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
THIS IS A VERY OLD POEM ABOUT 2 YEARS Maybe 3 YEARS OLD...
REBIRTH
The dance is over, air expelling
from my lungs like exploding bubbles
I' am drowning , slowly descending
like a graceful butterfly who has lost
it's wings
A backward plunge into the
murky depths , arms expanded
in light freeform motions.
I must accept this chapter in which
I've just closed, set out to sea on
a barge of reverence.
My life is now movement in words.
The twirling motion of the pen writing
in the next move.
Rhythmical steps can no longer tell
my story. So I go gracefully, bow out
to pick up a new style of interpretation.
Extending a hand to clean white
parchment that waits for me on the
floor of this page.
The spot light no longer on the dancer.
It shines on a new truth now, fact that
I freely embrace as I lay the dream to rest.
Picking up a new dream , one of words
of tales, and of stories meant to be heard.
So drift down now sweet dancer in beautiful
dark arabesque motions, into the endless abyss
that was once clear visions.
Sleep now as I awake to a new day filled with
poetic beginnings.
Dance now in a different pattern, the moves
are changed but the world is the same.
Art of the mind while the body welcomes rest
Time filled with words yet to be said, spoken words
yet to be heard, songs yet to be sung, friends yet
to be embraced.
Swimming back up to the top of the waters
as a new hope is defined, the birth of a poet.
By:Debbie Mills Kelly
© 2012 Debbie_Philly
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
The Unmasking ~
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
THE UNMASKING
Lives laced with indiscretions the dance has begun.
Liars take the lead my muse sings the song.
Deception pierces the psyche wavering on the
edge of insanity.
The muse has been unmasked reveled is his
morbid soul. Contents purged of it’s deceitfulness.
Lost love’s obscure, soul mate obsolete in this
malignant web of duplicity.
Cruel heartless muse , why do you ridicule
your beloved? Fixation on unattainable acceptance
Chasing contaminated dreams that render you
inadequate of ever knowing truth.
Truth in life, love and real undying loyalty.
Incapable of true intimacy , bewitched is your
brain by meddlesome hags.
Your thirst will be unquenchable all your days
and lonely apathetic nights.
My muse has been unmasked, seen for what he
really is. I wish him well on his journey for love.
My heartbroken soul wonders aimlessly through
this realm. Numb, disillusioned concealed in a shell
TRUST may never enter my world again.
By: Deborah Kelly
© 2009 Debbie_Philly
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
I wrote this a long time ago... back when I Rhymed everything...;)
ANGELS BREATHE
Angels breathe so soft and sweet,
Runs down my spine and to my feet
For angels breath is always near, I walk
With footsteps charged without fear
Great armor cloaked on angel’s chest
I know that I now walk with the best
With wispy clouds and fancy flight the
Softest hands to guide my nights
Sweet dreams of sun and sparkle days
Come to my night time sleepy haze
I sit and dream with eyes wide shut
And leave my fears well in the dust
My angel’s breath is always there to
Warm my skin and stroke my hair
To let me know my days and nights
Should not be filled with fear and strife
Throw on the armor of sweet entity
And guide my hand to walk with thee,
For guiding my soul and sleepless nights
Will always be my angel’s fight
Sweet angel’s breath I love so dear
May your guiding spirit be always near
And when the day comes for my last
Breath, please guide my soul to eternal rest.
Debbie Kelly ~
2005
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
WILDWOOD DAZE
April 7, 2011 at 1:19pm
WILDWOOD DAZE..
As I ride this clanking some what rocky bus
we know as New Jersey Transit I ponder
my destination, while I joy ride to sunlit beaches
and do wop dreams that can only be WILDWOOD.
I sit here fighting that draining tired feeling that
always tries to steal my sunshine.
I will NOT allow it, for I am on my way to SANCTUARY.
AH' Sweet sanctuary the smell of the boardwalk , beaches laden
with jelly fish and the call of the fudgie wugie man waits for me.
The smell of my childhood vacations, nostalgia flows through
my senses as if I were ten again.
I may be inspired to write a brilliant Shakespearian piece on
my way to Cape May County, who really knows.
What I do know is , I want to run my toes through the glistening
sand , have seaweed wash past me as I yell " AH SEAWEED"
Eat funnel cake and Curly fries slurp down clams and play putt putt
ride the biggest coaster they have all while staying a t a two star
motel from 1964.
Where I can bring back my youth as I forget the crime ridden abode
I call my home.
Breath in salt air , jump through a crashing wave as it washes my troubles
away, if only for a few days
As a footnote.....I wrote this about 4 years ago on my way to Wildwood NJ....On the 2 hour bus ride...lol. Thank you...for reading :)i
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
October 8, 2013 at 2:34pm
Best Seat In The House
Sitting here at the kitchen table this morning
drinking the blackest of coffee letting the
most amazing cool breeze envelope me through
the back window I forget for a moment that I am
still in the city which for me is a love/ hate relationship.
Sun streaming through the screen wondering if this
should be my writing spot from now on........
As I let my senses wander, a flock of geese fly by
not seeing them... only hearing the sounds I let my mind
take over such a calmness it is new to me.
The cat trying to decide if she would rather lay on my
keyboard or jump over me to the window sill for a game
of let me THINK I can catch the birds,yet she is to confined
AS AM I
Why do the geese fly south for the winter why do they run from
the breeze as I run into it letting me feel like there’s a chance.
I have so much to do and so little time yet I let it get away
getting distracted so easily even the sound of the street cleaner
out front has me jumping up to go see while I’m in the middle of
writing. So many sounds... the stir of a spoon from across the alley
someone else is hammering on the wall two doors down.
Trains tooting their horns while the birds chirp frantically fighting
over a crumb... the wind chimes from the front porch make their
musical appearance right in the mist of the black cloud coming
from a speeding tractor trailer, today the best seat in the house
is the kitchen table where I draw my inspiration so I can actually hear
the words that I write in turn helping me to FEEL just that much more.
Debbie Kelly ( Debbie Philly)
10/8/2013
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
Expressions Of Self
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" a Poem about graffiti from the eyes of the tagger "
Expressions Of Self
Moon beats down on city streets
My need to express is so strong
As I roam the darkness, a call
To sing my song
Blank sheets of canvas, are all I see
As my can bleeds to be heard, my need
Gets stronger, more ravenous I need
Some airtime
Places to say my name, I just want to
To be heard, a need to be recognized
I am a writer of cold hard stone
Is that a crime?
The can is my pen, my easel if you will
In this warm summer night my paint will
be spilled, across these city walls
My colors and my thoughts will shine
With these expressions of self
My City’s shrine
By Debbie Kelly~
2006
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
Hot Child In The Urban Summer Dwelling
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" Poem about the heat in the city ....;) "
Hot Child In the Summer Urban Dwelling
The city streets are buckling under the sticky smoldering heat.
Urban life at this moment can be so draining while tensions are
high. People stop,wipe the sweat from their brow as they attempt
to inhale and breathe. "Hey I heard that wheeze from across the street Tony".
Heat choking the life out of us like a looming marauding monster.
Beads drip from angry faces while tempers flare, sirens roar in a city
of despair. Yes Will Smith's song "Summer Time" and the spark of
nostalgia from BBQ's help but its still Spring.
If you have the money you can take a drive down the Jersey shore
or to the Poconos cooling peaks.
A place to breath without choking pollution, heat advisory's and the smells of
unidentified unknown origins. Don't get me wrong there are allot of redeeming
qualities of summer in the city too.
Dinning alfresco, summer concerts, water ice, open fire plugs, Mister Softy
and block parties. Small reliefs of the constant three wheelers screeching
down the Blvd, fighting neighbors, and relentless dripping humidity.
As they say here on the east coast "If it weren't for the humidity I
wouldn't mind the heat". Sure you wouldn't ( wink)
Windows opened as the baby across the alley way cries and the guy
next door yells at his girlfriend while she fires back screaming
like a fish wife. The poor are getting their relief from a rubber hose
spraying water and the rich are relaxing in the Hamptons. Well I guess
if I had it like that I would enjoy it as well, then again I more
likely would open a home for battered women and children, build the
pool there. **** how I wish I had it like that.
I suppose theres no sense in complaining about the heat, just write
it out the best way I know how to deal. So excuse me while I leave
you now to step onto cool tiles of the tub, turn on the crystal clear
water and wash the clammy sticky heat down the drain. Into the Delaware
river of redemption as I take my sixth shower of the day (wink) .
By : Debbie Mills Kelly
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
I Cant Breathe
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" A bit of prose from my earlier days of writing... I just wrote what I felt. "
This is one of my earliest pieces of poetry
I Cant Breathe
My God someone help me please
I can’t see….. I cant breathe
There’s a room full of air
But I cant breathe
I lie here in a ball afraid
To look up because I know
You’re no longer there
My Choice, was it the right one
Oh God I don’t know, I do know
I love you, I always have
I wanted to grow old with you
Why do I always have to listen
To myself, why cant’t I go along
For the ride, why do I rock the boat
I know I love you, but did you ever
really love me, it barely comes out
Of your mouth, it’s like pulling teeth
Your words of love for me should
flow freely..Without effort or thought
I didn't even have to think about it
Ever… I just knew.
After certain amount of time you
Just know, there’s no thought
You just know…. And if you
Don’t, well then there’s no more
to say is there?
I made a promise to myself
I would be the love of someone’s
Life… no less, and if I’m not
Then I should move on.
I have way too much to give
I give myself freely , openly
I give my all and I deserve no
less.
So why cant I breathe???
You were my best friend, I
would have been there for
you till the end of time.
We could have held hands in
the after life.
I know.I’m not your everything
you still pine for another
whether it be from the past…
Or in your Future.
I’m not the one you crave
So I must let you go…
I will be breathless for a while
again I may never smile, but I
wont be an after thought any longer
A stepping-stone to your real life
The one that you’re waiting for
instead of embracing what you have
now.
Good bye my love….Take Care
By Debbie Kelly~
2006
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Debbie Mills-Kelly Poem
THE SNAKE
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" This was a Metaphor for a person that i was dealing with at the time !! "
The Snake
The snake is cunning, resourceful and sharp
looking for it's prey with ever watchful eyes.
Slithering undetected on its belly yet always
defensive knowing that in its low position getting
stepped on by unknowing feet is a given making
it the willing target of pity.
Although no one wants to step on the snake it does
not believe this making the venom it quietly spits
that more deadly.
Laying low eyes darting , scheming waiting and
convincing for its charms are unmatched. Holding
steadfast to its high position among the unsuspecting.
The snake can trick the smartest of men with its
forked tongue spitting countlessssss lies.
You may think the snake is unattractive and slimy
but you would be wrong, its glistening skin and piercing
eyes will fool the most notable scholars .
Somehow we always end up feeling sorry for the snake
its sad eyes and carefree the devil made me do it gets
this loathsome creature out of trouble every time.
Forever shedding its friends like skin is what brings
this creature to life happier with each new worshiping
prey.
Never being held accountable for its actions or words
yet being held high for its actions and words.
If you listen long enough you will begin to believe
the countless lies of the snake, the endless promises
and sweet nothings that drip from its fangs.
Trapped and disillusioned you become as it takes
your honor, common sense and questionable
sanity down into the dark blinding dirt.
So take heed boys and girls before you believe
all you are fed, listen closely and intently
so as not to become the next victim of the
SNAKE !!!!
By: Deborah Mills Kelly
Copyright © Debbie Mills-Kelly | Year Posted 2014
|
|