grass is all but crisp
sun's rays have taken life
as we pray for rain
Categories:
dried up, death,
Form: Haiku
Like a dried-up fountain, I sip from my shadows,
Dusty memories, like forgotten books on shelves of dreams,
I swallow my existence, like a sea of silence,
And let it flow, spread, dissolve into verses.
I would like to open my heart, to sprinkle my blood
On the white paper, to write with the venom of melancholy
And to see how each word becomes a stiletto for me,
Deeply embedded in the flesh of readers, in the flesh of the world.
I need life to feed my death,
To feel how each breath becomes a verse,
How each heartbeat becomes a rhythm,
An echo of ancestral sadness,
And how my soul transforms
Into a river of murky light,
Flowing between rocks of pain, through valleys of longing.
Even if it kills me, I will scatter into words,
Like a rain of shooting stars,
Like a wind that whispers the forgotten names of ancient gods.
I need it!
Even if it kills me,
To feel how each letter absorbs my life,
How each sentence feeds my death,
And to know that I have lived, that I have existed,
In an ocean of words, in a universe of sadness.
I need it!
Even if it kills me.
Even if it kills me!
Categories:
dried up, fantasy,
Form: Free verse
Once I was a spring -
words and art flowed forth from me.
But now inspiration is an ooze -
a slow and tortured trickle.
No longer refreshing, cool water,
but a sticky, sour sap.
So the leaves and pages wither.
Like an oil well drilled in shale
so abundant at first -
yet so quickly does it fade.
But surely creativity is not limited -
except by time.
I must find my way back to the source.
I need rescue from this nightmare -
of being awake, yet unable to delight in life.
Far more terrifying than boredom is interest
without the will to pursue it.
13 June 2021
Categories:
dried up, depression, inspiration,
Form: Free verse
Washed up, dried up,
the bones on the beach.
Having had their day,
the stars were out of reach.
Their songs had been sung,
heads were hung.
Bones were glistening on the sand,
as far as the human eye could see,
all across the land, into eternity.
Categories:
dried up, imagination,
Form: Rhyme
Cry no more,
Those who tells liars about you
They are irrelevant
They are insignificant
They are not included
It is your journey
Cry no more
Those who are eager to be you
They could not be
They were not born to be
They are not you
It is your journey after all
Categories:
dried up, adventure, appreciation, change, character,
Form: Free verse
Absurd situations amuse me; they get written into poems.
Foolish generalizations about groups of people infuriate me;
they also get written into poems.
All Irish, all whites, all English, all red-heads, there is no all.
It makes not a whit of sense.
But the one thing that has gotten my goat faster than any other thing?
“All women over forty are dried up.” Yes, I know. It is crazy, but I heard it.
When I was forty-four, twenty-two years ago, and it still irritates me.
When I think of it, which is not often, I relish in the thought that the man who used it is incarcerated now, using all kinds of other silly sayings,
that probably get him whooped daily.
He loved to generalize groups of people. “All men in their twenties,
all Swedes, all people who wear overalls, all women who wear gloves…”
I soak myself in friendly waters, not worrying about this stuff usually.
Tonight I slathered my worn-out self in a luxurious lavender bath when I thought of it again.
It is weird how the most random stupid things will pop into your head, irritating you at odd times.
Categories:
dried up, age, bullying, conflict, hello,
Form: Light Verse
Colored Memories ARTIST BOX OF DRIED UP MARKERS
I'm a temperamental artist
In instants I'm prompted to draw
Choice of tools to use my favorite are markers
Colored markers, orange-blue-red-green yellow
Each one that I pick up not writing
I'm all caught up want to draw a picture
But each marker I pick up using
All dried up
So I fuss
The sun is shining my imagination rising
And all my markers dried or drying up
So haphazardly I placed them in a box
Not to throw them out but to mail them in
On Ah! In an return recyclable envelope
Colored markers, orange—red-yellow-green blue -turquoise
I will return these empty dried up colored markers
That I've gathered in a box to recycle
Temperamental artist guess I have to go to the art store and by some more
Purple-black-orange-red-yellow-green blue-turquoise markers
Colored Memories Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:craig cornish
9/4/18
Categories:
dried up, analogy, anxiety, color, conflict,
Form: Free verse
Soft, rosy cheeks;
Turn moist and wet.
From all the tears that leave,
Tragic traces of hurt and regret.
But I don't contain,
Seas and oceans in me.
For the tears to be eternal,
And just keep on flooding out freely.
So when they dry up,
Doesn't mean that I stop.
Because When my tears dry up,
The blood, will surely drain and drop.
I'll cry tears,
Of pure red blood.
with every little drop,
I will drain out all the love.
Each last drop,
Of blood, I will cry.
Till all of it drains out,
Till it just stops, and I die...
Categories:
dried up, depression, hurt,
Form: Rhyme
Harsh words & violent blows hidden secrets nobody knows.
Eyes are open hands are fisted deep inside I'm warped & twisted.
So many tricks & so many lies too many whens & too many whys. Nobody's special, nobody's gifted, I'm just me, warped & twisted. Sleeping awake, & chokin on a dream.
listening loudly to a silent scream
Call my mind, the number's unlisted.
lost in someone so warped & twisted.
On my knees, alive but, dead.
Look at the invisible blood I've bled..
I'm not gone my mind has drifted, don't expect much, I'm warped & twisted.
Burnt out, wasted, empty, & hollow.
Today's just yesterday's tomorrow
The suns died out, the ashes sifted
But I'm still here, warped & twisted.
Categories:
dried up, absence, art, betrayal, death,
Form: Dramatic Verse
He struggles with emotions
He struggles with emotional wounds
He struggles alone unable to share
He struggles alone slowly self destructing
For his well of tears is dried up he cant cry
He was socialized to believe men don't cry
He was made to believe men don't show weakness
He was made to accept men never admit weakness
He struggles alone unable to shed those healing tears
For his well of tears is dried up even hurt he cant cry
The soul wound festers making him maladjusted and bitter
The once jovial youngster now days is all gloomy and sad
The once promising destiny has now been poisoned by fate
The once radiance person now walks with his head cast down
The well of tears dried up but id rather he digs deeper- tears
Categories:
dried up, hurt, wisdom, word play,
Form: Blank verse
Dried Up
Time – Mother Nature – guiding forces of the Grim Reaper,
that guardian Angel, that patient gate keeper.
Autumn leaves, clothed in reds, browns, yellows and gold.
I, a man of experiences, of age – this life has grown cold
in the warmth of the sun, days that are kept fair
- under blue skies, in my crown of white hair –
in time – callous – laying in dark shadows, to wait,
to watch it all crumble – in hand – my fate,
as it is for all, - skeletal remains - as all turns to dust,
as all, in the end, in the final analysis, must
in order to set free - for the soul to be –
all, as all reaches out to become a part of eternity.
Life’s great, glorious ship, set adrift in that black ?, sea,
is life’s journey, what lays ahead for you and me
as we move on into – that question - what will be,
for us, consciously, never to see.
B. J. “A ” 2
September 3rd 2004
Categories:
dried up, death,
Form: Rhyme
Never say never
I was still laughing,
still having a blast
giving my two cents
on what’s hip and what’s not
little did I know
it’s so not me
that’s definitely not my calling…
Wearing my hat half skew on my head
jeans so baggy
I almost tripped
thinking I look so fly
only thing missing was my rhymes
“whasup my peeps!! how’s things rolling?”
silly me!
Should have seen those quizzical expressions
as if to say, err what the hell or who the hell are you trying to be
silly me!
thinking to myself…
What to say next when you silence a room?
earth open up and swallow me whole
it happened that day my whacky words dried up!!
Categories:
dried up, funny, imagination, social
Form: Narrative
Once thought in a dream, lost in the night
Slipped through the cracks, not enough light
Who would have known after all the money and tokes
That all of it would be forgotten, just a joke
Young drive left behind in the dust
Took off so fast over fake love, also known as lust
I can fault myself for the wrong way traveled
On hell of an enabler was by my side to watch me unravel
Dried up, I stood around not knowing what to do
As she ran off again not caring what she put me through
I don't pass all the blame but it hurts not being the same
How can someone walk away just like a game
Genuine love from the heart isn't always easy
From me it's such an honest feeling, u can't see
I'm the one who held you up so strong
In the end you did the only thing you know, me wrong
Categories:
dried up, life, me, people, sad,
Form: Rhyme