I was once a little twig with dreams of being a mighty tree
So people would come from all around just to look at me
As the years started to come and go I fell in love with the wind
I would open myself big and wide swaying to the music of my friend
My rings became many and my bark was as red as red could be
Then the day finally came I was the tallest of the tallest trees
I stood tall and I stood proud and everyone knew my name
As my rings continued recording my destiny to fame
Then the fateful day it came my friend and I had a fight
Looking back I can't recall who was wrong or right
I said, "You are but the wind something people can't even see"
" And I'm the king of them all the tallest of the tallest trees"
That night the wind started to howl she really started to blow
And I the tallest of all the trees learned we reap what we sow
My roots struggled to hold on tight but without a soul around
She who had been my dearest friend knocked me to the ground
The loggers came and cut me up then shipped me away
To my soul that truly was a sad and lonely day
Torn from all I knew and loved wishing I didn't have to feel
I was cut into boards and post down at the local mill
Now I'm back here at home just a few feet away
From where my friend the wind and I used to dance and play
I'm the deck on which you stand I lay below your feet
There is a bench made of me would you care to have a seat
Sometimes in life our roles change just take a look at me
The trick is no matter who are what you are be all you can be
See I was once a little twig who became a mighty tree
And now I'm a redwood deck as proud as proud can be
And of my friend the wind she visits me everyday
So I can thank her once again for helping me find my way
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007
eyes in the
wings of the
grain, have weathered many rains….
deep, fluid etchings, carved in the wood, stetching high over the hood of earth…
a thunderbird’s wings, perch a lofty plateau, above a graveyard of tales long ago…
over years, the curious swell, enchanted by spell of legends dwelling here
emerging from gold lands
so far and near
skin and bones
through windswept loam
thick with thistles,
with courage and fear
a river on their back
and a cloak of home
draped across shoulders
in a world unknown
tears ran rivulets on the white man's ground
drenched with forgiveness, from a crying sun
and the eyes of time, from a tribe now gone
as wind spins, curls, and winds
around the spine
of native vines... unfolding
old tribal codes
stories are told with
each turn of the pole...
in the totum pole ode
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011
You looked down at me, blue eyes intent on freezing, looked past my tears, and
said you loved me.
There was no expression on your face, no warmth in your kiss, you told me you
cared, and wanted only me.
I placed my hands on your back, kissed that mouth and told you how beautiful I
thought you were. Then you smiled that first smile you told me I was absolutely
When the sweat was dry, and the air was still, you wrapped your legs in mine, and
stroked my hair. You shared all the moments of your past, the plans of the future,
and the child like excitement of your dreams overwhelmed me into tears.
I fell in love with you. I fell hard. I fell for a man who felt nothing for me. I fell into
the arms of something that I dreamt was there, but faded, like the scent of your
skin. I never knew how blind I was. I never thought it would hurt to let you go. I
never thought I would have to. I never thought you would ever hurt me, instead
you crushed me.
You told me you loved me, and you cared. You told me I was worth everything, but
you left me. You just left me. No note. No call. No email. Nothing. You just
disappeared leaving me to feel like everything everyone had ever said about you;
everything you said you were, was true.
I danced with you. I let you in to my heart. You saw my soul. You knew everything.
You were everything to me. How could you do this to me? Why did you have to lie
and tell me it was only me? Why did you tell me I was it for you? Why did you tell me
you loved me, and cared so damn much? Why didn’t you stop to think about me
just once before eating that cake you so had to have.
You looked down at me, eyes still frozen, and begged me to have that baby. There
was a beautiful smile on your face, and you said you loved me.
You watched me move, and I heard you sigh. I thought it meant everything. You
said I was everything. You said you loved me. I thought you loved me
Copyright © April Marie Johnson | Year Posted 2011
We'd really like to thank you
i'm sure you left it here with love,
it really was so kind of you
but we didn't want your bug.
We thought you'd like to know
we really felt the pits
we thought of you quite often
when we had the squits.
Next time you come to visit
please leave your bugs at home,
'cause, when you bring them with you
they sure do like to roam.
So next time that we see you
I hope you come alone,
you can bring Rosie and Katie
but leave your bugs at home.
Copyright © jacque lee | Year Posted 2007
I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes,
your face was in the morning paper;
they shot you dead like a dog,
hunted you out all day and night.
They said you'd always been a bad seed
and youths were dying because of you;
they said you're a criminal on the run
with a dirty face and shaggy head.
But I know you better than they do,
you preached love to all the people;
you fought for them, young and old,
you lit up their nights with your heart.
And now as I see you lying dead,
it seems my dreams have vanished as well;
they can call you names, any names they want,
but I know there's only one like you,
there's only one like you,
there's only one Che Guevara.
You lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart.
Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007
She swept away the tired day
with purple broom that stained the sky
and the sun swept under the rug
was the sparkle in her eye
She walked on a bridge of cloud
with such glowing presence and luminescence
that it left crumbs of stars in the sky.
Copyright © Erica Lewis | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
More rocks than soil on those flinty hills
Where he tilled the grudging land.
He chopped the sprouts and manned the plow,
With cracked and callused hands.
No stranger to adversity,
Through hard and bitter years
He wet the dusty, stony ground
With a poor man’s sweat and tears.
He was not a man you’d hear complain,
Though hard times dogged his trail.
He faced the foe unflinchingly;
His courage never failed.
He cried unto his unseen Friend,
A Friend who always hears--
To the One who sees and understands
A poor man's sweat and tears.
The legacy he left behind
Was not of wealth or fame.
On history’s golden pages
You will not find his name.
He lived a simple, honest life,
In a world that little cares.
His name was written in the dust
In a poor man's sweat and tears.
No rocks, no sprouts, no callused hands
Where he safely dwells today,
In that everlasting Eden,
Beyond the Milky Way.
Where hope ends in reality
And joy relieves all fears--
A garden where no one is poor--
And no more sweat and tears.
Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2005
Do you remember Guernica—the Basque town once
flattened by Hitler's and General Franco's bombers—
with the blessing of “democratic” Britain and France?
Neither Washington, nor even the League of Nations
raised their voices to protest this vile act of genocide....
Only Picasso's “Guernica,” a mural-size oil painting on canvas,
reminds us of this monstrous crime—from Madrid to Kansas.
The Catalan homeland of Salvador Dali, Joan Miró,
Montserrat Caballé, Antoni Gaudi, and Pablo Picasso
is now again under a violent attack—by Franco's heir
and good pupil, Mariano Rajoy, whose fascist goons
have descended like murderous vultures from the air
upon the innocent and defenseless Catalans demanding
their country's liberty, dignity, sovereignty and fair share.
Where is the European Union, whose military jets killed
many thousands of guileless, undefended civilian Serbs—
just to give “independence” to Kosovo's mutinous Muslims?
Will the heirs to Hitler's and Mussolini's Neue-Ordnung guild
call now for Catalan freedom, justice and independence?
No, Brussels remains unmoved by the bloody outbursts
in Barsa, seeing them as a sign of democracy's ascendance.
Why the silence, governments of “democratic" Europe, why?
Copyright © Ross Vassilev | Year Posted 2017
In a dark room music plays with a slow beat,
the neon lights make you white panties and bra look like a street.
You move your body slowly and so sexy to the music,
while i look at you threw the darkness of the room set.
A big silver gun on my hip and a mountain of coke on the table,
and nothing can distract me from the beauty i see dancing so stable.
Your every move hypnotizes me,
I think I am going blind cause i am beginning not to see.
I look at your hair how it waves there so perfectly,
your legs move just like i want them to, so delicately.
You touch your breasts and you hold your but,
you give me that look in your eyes like your not wanting to stop.
You unbutton your bra and cover your breasts with your palms,
the music dies down a little and calms.
You walk up to me and than music begins to play,
that's when you start moving your body on top of me and asking me to stay.
You kiss my ear and rub my legs,
your breast rub against my inner pains.
You feel me harder than a rock,
than you decide to grind my cock.
Your body moves so sexy and slowly to the music that i played,
my body is shaking from all the excitement that is payed.
You go in for the big finish, and i tell you to get back up,
cause a lady like you should do all that kind of crap.
Be with me, be with a BOSS,
Who cares if the people i killed ever took a loss.
Dedicated to all the woman of the world.
PS: You are not trash, you are not ......... you are precious jewels. Stay that way ladies. I love you all.
Copyright © Roman Chebukin | Year Posted 2012
Oh how I wish
I could set free
the native American Indian
with pride and dignity
taking them back
across the great open plains
to their sacred home
in the lush green vallies
where buffalo are plentiful
so the Indians can live in peace
one with nature once more
where the eagles soar
setting them free as the wind
wild untameable as a magnificent stallion
running toward the setting sun.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2013
Ode to the farmer
We depend on your livestock
We're very grateful
Copyright © Jacob WÖLF | Year Posted 2008
Outrider early morn,
When training hours are borne,
They are the needed arm,
Sun, cold, wind, rain or storm,
Outrider in the sun,
Whose work is never done,
Where horses on the run,
Keep bettors having fun,
Outrider in the cold,
Ones with hearts so bold,
Their stories often told,
Of skillful ways they rode,
Outrider in the rain,
Sha'n't wait the weather wane,
Is there to help again,
When loose ones run insane,
Outrider in the wind,
An utmost needed friend,
May everywhere they wend,
Such godspeed be with them,
Outrider in the night,
No fear, no fame, less light,
Night racing at its height,
Make safe the riders plight,
Outrider by and by,
Whether wet or weather dry,
They heed the riders cry,
They're the best, we can't deny,
Many "Thanks" we horsemen reply.
Copyright © Lawrence Ingle | Year Posted 2008
Ode to the farmer
Carry on your hardy tasks
We live on your crops
Copyright © Jacob WÖLF | Year Posted 2008
KG, the "Big Ticket"
as you are fondly called
every game you bring it
playing so fierce and so bold..
From high school sensation
to NBA superstar
an MVP recognition
and a 10-time All-Star..
Filling up the stats
and lighting up the scoreboard
with each board, dime, swipe, swat,
and every hoop that you score..
The talent, the leadership,
the aura, the appeal,
the whole package, you have it
plus all those endorsement deals..
An outstanding contributor
on and off the court
a citizenship award winner
the community you support..
One of the greatest ever
but still without a ring
soon you'll get what you deserve
and be hailed champion, a king..
Copyright © Rany Fortuno | Year Posted 2006
Whenever tears roll down
and whether it brings joy, reward or pain:
it matters to someone
whose life, somehow, has broken him down,
or has lifted him up through grace;
it matters when one rejoices,
and sees in victory
what his bewildered eyes
couldn't ever have imagined it to be...
He chose the path to glory
without harboring suspicions,
or being frightened by unseen woes
and hard-and fast rules;
he made swift choices
and built up his courage from nothing;
and what his fearless mind couldn't perceive,
wasn't so impossible to dream,
but surely achieved
through grit and indisputable duty...
Whatever that solemn oath
relied on a certain promise, he never lost heart,
because his valor never seemed to lessen a bit;
and he was taken above and beyond his fears
by not foreseeing any disheartening defeat:
confidence had given his untiring feet a steady beat...
It matters to someone to be recognized,
and cherish that moment of gladness:
perhaps the only moment to be remembered
and be locked away in his past;
a brave soldier at his best,
never settling for anything less,
always going above and beyond his expectations,
to honor and safeguard the Country that he loves...
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007
Ode to the people of Norway
O, the darkness has descended on a paradise
Of Norway’s bounties of nature
On the people living a quiet life
Not concerned about the politics ever
A drug addict, calling himself a warrior
Taking pride of being a savior of Europe
Unmindful of the death toll of the young
Rejoicing in the tears falling from their eyes
A Hitler has raised his ugly head up
Polluting the minds of the old and the young.
But trying to take a refuge to insanity
Taking drugs to make himself efficient and awake
Priding over to start war for years sixty
Pleading not guilty to terrorism namesake
Though confessing to bombing and rampage
But remaining unaffected by what happened
Thus his plea assures him of future court hearings
By the attacks Norway is riveted with rage
By Breivik’s paranoid writings stunned
Hundreds thronged the courthouse proceedings.
With tears in their eyes people paid homage
To the victims laying roses a few feet deep
While the killer faces 21 years in prison
The stiffest sentence can be given by a Norwegian judge
His lawyer says the whole case suggests his client is insane
The Royal couple consoled people and tears shed
The prime minister called it a national tragedy
And summed it up “evil can never defeat a nation”
The killer may enjoy Halden, the luxurious jail in the world
Where cells have flat TV and designer furniture facility.
* I wrote this poem two years back when the tragedy took place. Not posted anywhere
Dr. Ram Mehta
Tenth Place win
Contest: Ode (Old/new) poetry by SKAT Love
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2013
Her heart is located in every part of her being
and bones, calcified with the vitamins of meekness.
Peace begins and ends her collection of any intention
and her reaction, irrespective of situation
always avoids its rights of being thorough.
Softer than a hot dough, and more flexible than a rubber band
even in the midst of hungry chewers
and the threat from playful band stretchers
she holds strong to the emblem of her personality
putting the eyes of calm in a shock dilation
to the awe of her tolerance and irritability.
If nations were like her, humanity would have no scar
her deeds incarcerate pride and incriminate greed
with an intuition structured by static trees
beside a slow moving river
enveloped by the faint whistling of happy resting birds.
The healthy mystery of such an existence
adds royalty to the privilege of being human
because she gets hurts
only when the devil himself directly strikes
with the mercenaries of hell yet unknown to possible actuality.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
BROTHERS and SISTERS
Brothers and sisters
Children of heavenly
Gather under the banner
Of our immortal
For love to bring
To mortals’ hearts
© Demetrios Trifiatis
21 January 2013
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2013
Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.
Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.
Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.
Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.
My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.
Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Family, the enemy of our souls wants us to believe
The lie that we are alone
He wants us to believe
That we are treading hopeless road
But the cloud witnesses who urge us on
Tell us another story
The road we tread with light and beauty and fellowship
My friends, we are never alone
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2012
a couple had a good son whom they sent off to grad school
his goal to become a doctor as he was smart and nobody's fool
now on his own he decided to no longer attend Sunday service
he felt that God had no need for his personal worship
some people tend to feel that God doesn't require their praise
the question of a debt of gratitude in their minds has never been raised
but what people fail to realize or even comprehend
is that it was God who gave life to them
Creator of the universe and every living being
Creator of everything we're touching, hearing and seeing
Dr. Albert Einstein once made a very telling remark
that seeing how the human eye works is proof there's a God
when viewing this wonderful world and all the magnificence it beholds
one can clearly see the hand of God that has uniquely unfold
a sunrise, a sunset or a rainbow after a spring shower
a solar eclipse, a child being born are all proof of God's great power
He created man and it was He who gave us the breath of life
He gave us His love and grace and His son as a sacrifice
things have happened in our lives of which we're not even aware
times when God has shielded us from the evil that's out there
He's sent His mighty angels to watch over our backs
He's sent His heavenly warriors to stop any and all attacks
an eternal debt of gratitude and praise to God we owe
but we're not the only beings who are in the know
the angels in heaven praise His holy name
the devil in hell also bows down to Him in shame
created in His image His likeness we now bear
we're His beloved children for whom He tenderly cares
He makes Himself known to us every morning, noon and night
He is our source, our all in all, our strength and our light
an eternal debt of praise from us towards God is due
and as you read this poem I hope you get a clue
God doesn't need anything from us He's complete on His own
It's us who needs God as we can't do it alone
God is great, God is sovereign, He is the King of kings
He's all powerful, He's all mighty and controls everything
there is nothing in this universe that is not under His command
and no matter what we think He holds the whole world in His hands
and today that young man who thought that God didn't need his praise
is now a doctor and disciple of Christ whose hands are forever raised
an eternal debt of praise from us the Lord God is due
because if it wasn't for the Lord God there would be no me nor a you
Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2010
Note: Giving good orderly direction.... " Give A little Obama Love "
To-day is a New Day
Time for people to Pray
If their were No Unity
Where would we be to-day?
Why is it..
That all of 'GOD' People
War Torn Today..
With nothing going on
With nothing to speak of..
So little to say!
So, looking back on Reflection
In a more Democratic Way
Let's give the Future back
To the Children
- And -
Let Jesus lead the way
So, Why not give them Love
Show them another way
Remember that Obama Care
Is a Health Care which is
Oh! so very rare..
It could really save the Day?
Do you know a better way?
It is meant for people with
Not for those...
Who just don't care!
For it is just an annoyance
Who really need Insurance?
So, if you have Insurance
And that is all that really
Matter to you...
Remember that their are
Men, Women and Children
Who needs' a plan too...?
For the Obama Plan is high
And Gods' People are too...
Note: Remember that if you need a Health Plan
then we need one too...
Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2012
Petty people lurking, preying on us all
Watching, waiting for someone good to fall
Staying out of sight, but never very far
Thinking they can influence feelings left ajar
Standing tall and strong, never showing fear
Maybe the best reply is to grin from ear to ear
Petty people lurking, hiding who they really are
I won't let them bring me down or leave me with a scar
Copyright © Cheryl Sheridan | Year Posted 2014
If I was Leonard Nimoy I would rush about the place,
I would hold my long pointy fingers in front of me as I sprang from door to door,
My pointy boots deftly propelling me from shadow to shadow my pointy ears sleek in the dark,
I would wear an elf’s cloak like a slender bony wraith and be like Pan in the woods.
If I was Leonard Nimoy, ceaselessly running here and there,
I would fondle things, peruse things, and look under things and open cupboards,
A real nosey sneak, climbing through windows and going through draws,
I’d sniff other people’s belongings with my long sensitive nose,
trying on peoples clothes, reading their diaries, wearing their shoes.
If I was Leonard Nimoy I would be a real cheeky bastard,
Quickly rushing about, hands in front, cloak flapping behind,
Stooping like a thief in the dark, arranging dinner dates, making phone calls,
Then I would vocally abuse people and adroitly cut them down.
If I was Leonard Nimoy I would use my Vulcan logic to orally molest people,
I would line people up with my stone hard glare and coldly hurl verbal perversions at them
Willowy fingers, hunched shoulders, flat black hair, pointy ears, spikey shoes, cloak fluttering behind.
Expressionless, cool, thin and dexterous, I’d cause a right awkward mess behind the scenes.
Copyright © Steve Humphries Artist | Year Posted 2013
Treasured land splendour and glory
Pearl of the Orient Seas
Soldiers of known best skills
The secret of velvet Three Stars and a Sun.
Fortified highest kind of water
Hallowed island of more than
Seven thousand and one hundred seven
Proudly yours no other can hold.
Through this bravest patriots
Giver of my calm sound of freedom
Giver of my light and peaceful mind
The best and will proudly shout my own.
Intellect, wisdom, skills and faith
Sun, earth, stars and sky of blue.
Falls, lakes, seas, and trenches
Bestowed by my loving motherland.
Wishing you stay at your best
Treasured land of splendour and glory
Of my Three Stars and a Sun.
Proudly my Pearl of the Orient Seas.
Copyright © jett franco | Year Posted 2012
I meet you in Laos
as a seed
just a simple
existence of hard rice
seeded inside Huay Xai’s dirt
until water plains
cradle and nourish your infant body
'till you sprout above water banks
where you tickle yourself
like a child who spends all
day with the wind
when you mature
people pull your roots
carry you in bulk back home
along with your friends
moisten your skin
steam under flames and
only a bath where
dirt splashes off
while you try to hold
your skin does not wrinkle
to stick with other rice
and sink in perfection
of the basket
where my mother’s hands
shake and shuffle you
into a ball
to roll on a plate
now fully grown ready to
liberate our hunger
with your body
that is how we meet
everyday even now
when I chew you in big bites
you never fail to fill
my head with steam
and make my tummy your
sometimes I eat you too fast
you burn my tongue
and mom says
I am crazy for eating too fast
but it don’t matter
when I can cool
squeeze to pebble-size bits
dip you in fish soup
or papaya salad
my family sits together
on the floor legs folded
or on a dinner table
you cuddle inside our bellies
warm our lips
in cold evenings with no heaters
you sacrifice to
fill our stomachs
so we can stick to each other
our love whole
Copyright © Krysada Phounsiri | Year Posted 2016
Outside I sat, to see the blue sky,
As the earth revolves, it passes by,
By the sea, I see the flowing water
Of its number amount, I ponder,
It's creatures, some meek some wild,
So the sea is seen both gentle and wild,
The men so wise,inovative,
So lovely and creative.
There is a thougth in my mind,
Which truely, is no crime.
What else is the greatest wonder?
Where foul and fair causes ponder?
Where polished woods are mistaken for gold?
How do we survive here with all the shots-cardinal wise;
With security as the pride of every nation
This can be proved in the "Daily's" headlines
Where it is been advertised.
Bribery seems the normal way
Else you die trying
The say it's survival of the fittest,
But I think the survors are super-fit
For it's an omni-wonder
To survive in such a wonder.
Copyright © Kanu Ekpezu | Year Posted 2014
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Once a year ower the Cumberland show,
Livestock, ter an' fro, ter an' fro.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Gypsies, jockeys, towns’ folk alike,
Appleby 'orse-fair awwer the dyke.
Red, Green, Yellow
Scotland has i's 'aggis, Lancashire i's ho' pot,
We 'ave uz sausage an' tha' does uz lo'.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Ice-cream a' Allonby shiftin' ter Silloth on sea,
Righ' round Wes' Cumbria an' back yam fur scordy, like eh.
Red, Green, Yellow
Up a' five an' ou' a' dawn,
The 'aaf-ne' fishers, early morn, like eh.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Keswick, Caldbeck an' Seascale too,
All the visitors passin' through.
Red, Green, Yellow
There’s Por' Carlisle on the warl,
People comin' yan an' all.
Yan, Tan, Tether
Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.
Copyright © Claire Heslop | Year Posted 2006
What's go great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is that of its jazz music and its voodoo culture. The city has been known as "The Big Easy" since the 1800s. It seems that all of the tourists from across the United States have considered New Orleans their favorite vacation spot. There's always a Mardi Gras every day, we've got people throwing beads at each other, jazz musicians playing their instruments (the saxophones, trumpets, etc.), and people dress in costumes every single day. But what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is that when spring breakers come to the city for spring break, even when they're still going to college. Everybody knows that the Big Easy is also known for its Cajun cooking, especially when the chefs are known for making a lot of jambalaya, gumbo, and a lot of Cajun foods. And what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is when MTV was there, especially when the MTV network executives had been recording episodes of "The Real World:" one back in 2000, the other was back in 2010. New Orleans, Louisiana, is the strongest city in America, even though it was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina back in August 2005. But the famous street best known by New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is the French Quarter and and one of New Orleans' favorite landmarks is the St. Louis Cathedral. And the New Orleans Arena and the Louisiana Superdome are home to the New Orleans Hornets (NBA-National Basketball Association) and the New Orleans Saints (NFL-National football League). Even the late Louis Armstrong was from the city. Well, I hope to go to New Orleans, Louisiana, one day. And if the City of New Orleans were to stay on the map for a long time, it's going to be like a Mardi Gras on a Saturday night and Fat Tuesday in the afternoon.
Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011
All hail to thee love, your swave "eh" intrigues me.
Your embattlements stack like wet cordwood
upon the pile of used newspapers in my outhouse,
making the use of a corn cob most appealing.
I feel the need of purification, rejuvenation by fire.
Like holding a match under your out stretched eyelid
or maybe, just maybe sweeter, a cold sore
on the inside of your lip; so neat on a dinner date.
At least these things are real.
The lip has to heal, which it can do even if left alone.
Not like made-up words which have no direction,
no qualitative analysis, and no meaning
in the perceived circumstance or illustration.
Just made-up words which fit a line,
and you call it poetry?
You schmooze a line of B. S. at the reader,
in trite cliché and rusted phrasal tone,
riding the pretense of the sublime
and you call that poetry?
But then geezzz...? what can you expect
from someone whose only goal
is to piss someone off?
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2012