He enters the room
we all start to stare
Bunch of women living life in such despair...
We all swarm like voulchers
Until he finally takes a seat
Seeing his pockets full puts us all in heat
As I approach him I finally sit in the winning seat...
I tell him lies and everything he wants to hear,
Poor him, thinking I'm so dear....
Come a little closer, now I got him in my grasp,
Telling me Im beautiful only makes me want to laugh...
As I dance for him inside im crying
I can only look at him and imagine him dying,
Now were done we go our separate ways,
Dont touch or look at me, its better off this way...
Go home to your wife while she sites at home and cries
You and I both live a life full of lies......
That summer your dad died
and we brought your mom
to stay a few weeks
‘til she moved to the nursing home
we drove east to Saskatchewan
the huddles of family
I’d never met
softly recounting your father’s fading
while Bessie washed dishes without a word
and looked for something
newly misplaced
Only you
her fiftieth gift child
who’d strategically shirked
corporate success
could flick the switch of recognition
her pleading eyes a conversation
translated in flesh
Back at home with a change of plan
to live together
as long as we could
with the front door swinging
the kettle screaming
dry on the stove
and Bessie shuffling the winding road
in search of church or bingo
'Til leaning down to hug “goodnight”
your eyes her open sky
where every memory softly whispered
Bessie back into the light
MORNING SEA
Come sit and watch, the morning's coming on,
make this your beach, your life, for just a spell,
there's nothing like an ocean breaze at dawn
to bring the peace mere words can never tell.
Out by the helm, shipmasters watch the shore,
and dream of home as home is meant to be,
we only guess where they've been charted for,
another world beyond the morning sea.
The shrilling of the seagulls lonliness,
makes one to wonder, home is what they see.
But you and I must miss it all, I guess,
forgetting home is where one wants to be.
Come sit a while, and watch it disappear,
and we can only guess at what was here.
My name is Loreen Parke and I’m from Detroit City.
I’m quick. My Mom calls me ‘Slick’
My friends say I’m Witty.
No wants. No warrants. No priors.
No dirty deals. Strictly cash buyers.
I’m a very busy woman with no time to waste.
I’ve got Big Dreams, High Hopes & Expensive Taste.
Think slow. Talk fast.
My connections are tight.
My options are vast.
Just like the ‘Kid’ I’ve got my ‘ghetto pass.’
I grew up here. This is my home town.
These are the blocks that I’ve been around.
Don’t think you can show up and start changing the rules on my play ground.
That won't fly. The bottom of the Detroit River is where you’ll be found.
This is Detroit. The Motor City. The One and Only Motown.
This is where I grew up. This is my Home Town.
Loreen Parke
May 22nd, 2004
Tired is not the word for how I feel,
Homeward bound from another day of work,
Enjoying the ride that becomes a perk,
During pen sessions, not behind the wheel.
A nice hot shower, and a home cooked meal,
In the comfort of the home where I lurk,
Leaving behind the memories of jerks
Yelling at me for a consumer deal.
Relaxation becomes my short term goal,
Enveloped in a blanket on my bed,
Positioned as still as a lump of coal,
Organizing the thoughts left in my head,
Resting my un compromised, weary soul,
Trying to forget every word said.
On television movie "Dirty Dancing" again
To tell honest truth I felt warm after glow
This looked like a fun thing to do from where I stood
I thought and on my "Bucket List" it will go
But when I moved from my sitting stance_no_no way
Even though this "Dirty Dancing" fanned my flame
At my age just don't have youthful energy left
I will just have to pen a "Bucket List" by name
A very long list of fun things before life's end
Seek map and then go down a never travelled road
Go on a surrey ride to hear the horses' hoofs
Would that my love and I for horse not be heavy
In a hot air balloon basket flow on warm air
Only so many years_go to states not been in
No longer sit at home breath very deeply sigh
I'll be able to tell generations where been
No longer sit home and watch each and every leaf
My life wil move now as if it was set on fire
Skateboarding looks like so much fun_might fall and break arm
Join circus learn to perform by walking high wire
When I look at my "Bucket List" I get so sad
Like New Year Resolutions that I never kept
Need a new list of very achievable things
When I seriously thought about this I just wept..
In dreams I return to a former time.
To a home long left behind,
To revisit the mountains beauty.
Bluffs covered with soft moss,
Woods where we often played.
Paths remembered for long walks.
Deer, moose, and bear could be seen,
In splendor they walked the hills.
Such magnificence held in memory.
When awake always wish to be,
Back home walking in scenic beauty.
Paths covered with trees multi colored.
To once more climb to cliffs far above.
To race to creeks flowing at mountains base.
To hear the rush of waterfalls deafening.
In dreams I return to a former time.
To a home long left behind,
To revisit the mountains beauty.
DOREEN CYR
OCTOBER 17
Are you serious,
the train doesn't leave till 8;30,
this train station is so dirty,
what do I do till then,
I'm not going to get home till ten,
I worked all day,
getting dogged this way,
it's just not fair,
I'm on a tare,
I'll take a walk to cool my head,
maybe I'll take a bus home instead,
no busses today,
much to my dismay,
back to the train station I go,
It's getting real chilly out,
what's that all about,
here I am back at the train,
waiting in vain,
they are calling it now,
here comes the crowd,
now on the train, I'll take a small nap,
and for this day,
I'll call it a rap.
A home is a place where you feel warm and contralbe. This house is your home to keep
you safe from all the climates outside. A home can be 4 walls, or a home can be just small
shack as long you got a roof over your head you have a home. My home is full of laughter
and sometimes tears, but most of the time there is a lot of love. You can always have a
lot of love in your home, when you know it’s going to be there ever time you come home.
He lies at home in his single bed all alone,
Conjuring up in his head another new poem,
About a lover who does not really exist,
But in his mind her image still persists.
He’s forty years old and has never been with a girl.
He’s afraid to leave his room for the outside world.
What he knows of love he learned from his TV,
Yet he amazes us all with his beautiful poetry.
His prose is full of pure, virtuous, sensual imagery;
He describes his lover in a woman’s perfect symmetry.
You feel his love full of romance and desire;
His words of lust ignite your passionate fire.
The man who writes verse about what he never knew
Produces images that no experienced lover can out do,
As he lies at home in his single bed all alone,
Conjuring up in his head another new poem.
Gravel roads untill the blacktop came.
What was once home is now foreign.
I left town in emotional rain.
When I came back it started pouring.
This town is my home I can handle the change.
It's on a personal note why I grew up estranged.
I flat out nailed my first interview
Young and dumb without a clue
Then hired on the spot, no lying
Nervousness was my only crime
When suddenly his questions stopped
Damn it man, our eyes locked
I stood up in fear, my hand out
Ready to go home and just pout
His words were "your hired"
"I like the way your wired"
He shook my hand withe ease
Then we talked about the leads
I then asked him for an advance
Five hundred bucks, a slim chance
So when I left that interview
Holding five hundred buckaroo
I felt I had conquered the world
I drove home to kiss my girl
Caught every single green light
First time for everything, right?
This is going to be a very long day
I just wanna be a kid and play
Got to work and make that money
When I get home give it to my honey
Outside in the hot sun
This job is never fun
I would rather go to the park
Play with the dogs and hear them bark
But I am stuck at this job
So sore I feel like I got beat by a mob
Sitting at home sounds like a blast
This day needs to fly by fast
Next I know I am beat red
At home laying in my soft bed
This day is finally complete
Tomorrow will just be a repeat
Tick tock Tick tock
Life fly’s by in the blink of an eye
Rush to work to watch the clock
Tick tock tick tock
Rush back home to start all over again
To tired to stop and enjoy the moment
Tick tock thick tock
No time to play, no time to waste
I must do this, I must do that
Time to sleep the day is over
Tick tock tick tock
Life fly’s by in the blink of your eye
Another day, another dollar
Before you know it your life is over
Tick tock tick tock
Your life has pasted you by; your kids are grown and out on their own
Your home all alone
Tick tock tick tock
I should have done this, I should have done that
Nothing left to do, nothing left to enjoy
The kids have all moved away
Their on a clock of their own
Tick tock tick tock
What will be my out come???
dribbles tackles action home run
how often seen on the 10 o'clock news fame is the blame for wasted talent when given the chance
to make out the hood
and have the young look up to you what pride at what price to pay whats going on when the
dribbles and the tackles and the action and the home runs
are to much over your head all eyes on you at all times haters wating for your down fall wating for
your talent to be taken away given talent taken behind bars were is the support when making it all
the way
were are all your fans now when down and out they up and run we all fall short of glory not one of
us can say other wise when given a gift not to many posses we tent to go astray away from whats
real being real to your self is staying gold
easy come easy go just as fast it can all be gone from the spot light curtains downone more name
forgotten one more wasted talent
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