On Poetry Poems

Abandonment and Other Magic Tricks

I hope he makes you feel 		   at home
hope it’s sweet when he’s singing you songs

I’m sorry I choked 	  chewing on 
my own tongue for too long

You’ve moved out
		and moved on
Making vacancy space inside my arms
but there’s something I’m still clung on

Vagabond who can’t wander on
or let go of that glimmer

Many Best Friends on Poetry Soup

I have so many best friends on PoetrySoup 
It has been the go-to-place for me to meet people.
People from Australia, Africa, New York City, and Texas.
I have no idea where some of my best Soup friends live.

In the middle of the night, I will get messages from my besties.
Many of them have sent me points

The Composer

I am 1,248 songs of complicated rhythm. Prose and verses tell a story of my decisions…my indecision. I am skin shaped, in 42 different shades of foolery, a life lover doing my best to avoid an other, but they seem to be everywhere these days. Crawling out from under rocks, or latent in my twisted

Write on Poetry

What inspires me are the trees that surround me,
how they green in the Spring, how starlings
become leaves in the Winter, and the melodies
of sparrows, bluebirds and robins tug at my heart.

What inspires me is watching my grandkids,
they’re verve, vigor, and nerve make me float;
me and my muse amused by their mischief,
compassion and funny business.

What inspires

I Think I'll Go AWOL

    Poor me
      It’s plain to see
    My poetry’s flat
      flat as can be

    I think I’ll go awol
      a bit after nightfall
    Silence my critics ~
 

Fun Observations on Poetry

 


Like hard, dry toast, with no aroma,
Poetry minus heart and soul, puts me in 
an endless coma!


My brain short circuits, the longer the poem!
I get a poetic seizure and my mind
is lost and endlessly roams.


Then come the poets, who are would-be 
philosophers!
As fascinating, and exciting as wooden bean 
counters.


Finally, those poets, who think the

A I poems on Poetry soup

I wrote these poems – (that's a lie)
AI AI Woe
It's obvious they're all AI
AI AI No!

With a click click here
and a click click there
here a click, there a click
everywhere a click click

We should not tolerate AI
AI AI No!


Some poets cheat – they use AI
AI AI No!
Get poem of the day, how crafty and sly
AI AI

Final Word

After eighteen years
Of sharing thoughts and fears
Enthusiasm no longer drips from my pen
And I'm afraid it never will again

I was just a boy when I began this path
Sharing all of my anguish and wrath
But the flame inside me has finally died
And I feel like my tongue is tied

I accomplished more than I thought I would
And

Sipping on Poetry

   Perched in a leafy tree
     sipping on poetry

   eyes trained on rolling hills
     toggling ‘tween windowsills 

   points of vantage as yet unimagined
     heretofore ne’er examined  

   Dare one say ‘the thrill is

I Don't Crush on Poetry But ---

I'm not emotional about poetry to call it a 'crush'
Sometimes I get ideas, but hardly ever in a rush
to write them down like I have a bee in my bonnet
I'm not prone to compose a Shakespearian Sonnet

Rumor is that I like to crush people to be an irritation
and every time I hear that crap, it's

PORTFOLIO CAREER

PORTFOLIO CAREER

One could say I’ve had a portfolio career
Starting off researching in pharmacology
Slow solid progress, but make no apology
But no drug found to save mankind, I fear

I dallied with training some clients to drive
I also designed a machine to analyse EEG
Otherwise known as brainwaves, you see
But it was for other goals I had to strive

Then

Come Back

With blood on the line
He's sent down deep into an abyss
By his chosen true deeds
All trusted allies

With blood on the line
He's been defamed
Hell infringing upon his days
He melds, yeah, he's made

Unto him who listens amiss
Like a river wouldn't flow aback
He's been done hard about
He's back, yeah back and stronger

With blood on the line
Like a ragged-fine

Musings On Poetry

Looking for a punch line,
the plot of thought was lost 
but strong was call of rhythm,
though it came at the cost,
of a soiled algorithm.

Looking for a punch line,
although irrelevant,
spontaneity died
and as oft is the case,
dweller of our heart sighed.

Looking for a punch line,
a forceful quietus,
lazy reader addressed
but those who’d feel the mist,
shuddered at notes compressed.

The Problem With Friday's

The problem with Friday’s
Is as I do my emails
I forget how to spell Wednesday
And all my confidence fails

It’s a perplexing condition
When you can’t figure out what’s the cost
And all your balancing actions
Have all seem to been lost

Take a walk down regret lane
You’ve seemed to have wasted a week
And the secondhand circling
Makes you remember what
You forgotten

Love Is Leaving

Love to an always
Left to a leave
Stays to a silent
Less to a sleeve

Love to a resting
Assured to a find
Tells to a taken
Miss to a mine

Love at a leaving
Longs for an afar
Right less a reason
Misses to a mar

Love is a lasting
Longs to a see
Left to a follow
Marks to a be

Love is a missing
Miles to a care
All

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