Best Recording Poems

The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
     ...

Read more of this work...

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...

Read more of this work...

I grew a beard
while waiting for you
it looks more and more
like I'll never get through

My left ear was aching
I switched to my right
This perpetual holding
has...

Read more of this work...

Setting: A man and woman are reunited in a garden after an unbearably long separation. From the viewpoint of the man.



Now the sun is slowly...

Read more of this work...

**For Ruben O, My little Bro**

(This poem was written and a recording made for the contest sponsored by Team Poetrysoup which was deleted before it...

Read more of this work...

I love your heathered highlands,
steep cliffs and rugged islands,
hedges and gardens under
rainclouds of grey.
Old steeples rise above
those small rural towns I love;
your hillsides of sunny...

Read more of this work...

How do I tell you "I love you",
when all that's left to listen is a cloud?

And the tempest has blown away,
all that our hands built.

How...

Read more of this work...

A pen is more than just a pen;
more than just a recording device.
When I pick up a pen 
I take a journey
to another realm
and to...

Read more of this work...

ghost cameras
	recording spirits.
			Sure….

ghost riders
        	galloping entities
			okay….

ghost dancers
	shaking their booties
			What booties?...

Read more of this work...

*****To the naked EYE, this poem may seem like gibberish,
but I assure you it is loaded with 24 palindromes,
3 palindrome phrases, 1 hidden palindrome phrase,
and...

Read more of this work...

Modern Life
We are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
Except Monday mornings and Sunday nights.
What are they on about, at this place that...

Read more of this work...

2017 - year zero

They loaned to the poor, who cannot repay.
They stole from the old, who cannot recover.
They sold our future, for better or worse
and...

Read more of this work...

Oh heavy heart these PR men in power
Yellow waxen masks reciting lies
Discovered by research in college towers
Who watch flashing brains in MRIs
Recording as fear lightens...

Read more of this work...

New never is...  
	(Charles Wood)
	
	
	
	We are but voyeurs, 
	peering through the iris 
	of the painter’s eye’s recording 
	details of a scene 
	not meant for...

Read more of this work...

'     '''''''' '        ''   

Somewhere a hand is reading out loud
a Dickinson,...

Read more of this work...