I sit at my desk with a piece of dry wood,
Trying to write things that are misunderstood.
My brain is a constellation of static and glue,
Like a hamster in a tuxedo trying to chew.
I dip my sharp lead into rivers of ink,
But the paper is judging the way that I think.
Is it a metaphor, or just a bad smell?
My rhyme scheme is trapped in a deep, lonely well.
Oh, rhythm, you flee like a cat in a hat,
Leaving my stuck in a rhyme that is flat.
I procrastinate wildly by counting the dust,
My typewriter gears have all turned into rust.
If I fall short of your expectations, if all I can do is cry,
If the words don't come out properly, but you can see the love in my eyes,
If my soul cries louder than words can explain, yet my love and heart remain close,
If silence is the only way through while in my heart I already know,
We are closer than any every day conversation, and the rhythm of love is our tune,
Erasing the assumptions without judgement, giving less room to move,
When all we have ever known and seen is just that, over and over again,
And instead we choose not to lose that love, and silence becomes our friend,
When we value the other so deeply that mere words cannot even describe,
The connection means more than anything after we see the love through their eyes.
The poems in my mind
Always seem to rhyme
Not a single note
Comes floating out my throat
But rhymes all the time
Can't seem to get past
All these rhymes that last
And last
Before I last spoke
The rhymes floated out
Now I have added a drummer too
It's a band
In my silly land
Always in my mind
Forever out of time
The musical notes
Of which
I spoke
We are as music
watching a conductor,
a baton to follow
SAMBA
The samba from Morro Carioca
survived for the world,
Long live Mama Africa... !
ROCK
The rock and roll
runs wild
on the rocks...
SPEED GONZALEZ
In Juanita's canteen
mariachis and tequila
and bursts of laughter...
WALTZ
Oh! If I danced,
Ah! If I played,
The Viennese Waltz ...!
When I look into your eyes,
a river flows through me
The connection I feel with you,
In English or in Spanish,
there are no words to describe
Even though we're both far away,
you make every day a better day
Your voice,
resonates in my mind
My heart,
synchronizing in tune
to the rhythm of love.
~~ I wrote this for a guy I have been dating recently. (I'm 28, he's 30). Please be honest, would a 30-year old man enjoy this poem or is it too boring/basic, etc?
These streets I can feel beneath my feet.
I listen intently to feel their beat.
I'm walking to the rhythm of blacktop drums.
Subconsciously I'm in sync and my mind hums.
The tempo seems to mimic how I feel.
Imagined possibly, but for me it's real.
I now feel that someone walks with me.
I converse with those I cannot identify.
For some it's a reason to be locked away.
For me it's accompaniment to stay.
ChillNPsyco
Where have all the poets gone,
give up rhyming every one,
rhythm joined with rhyme well done
was once the way that classics run.
Alas, now no one reads the verse
of rhyming poets, and what worse
as they die off no more will come
to keep alive our wordsmith fun.
Is it now that minds depart
from seeing beauty in this art
or maybe none can see the need
to weave a web with literary seed.
If pen on paper flows with ink
then wouldn't I be right to think
that words, as well, should flow along
and fall on ears as poet's song.
Where have all the poets gone
that write, when all is said and done,
their words to gently roll and run
to give their readers much more fun.
Ivor G Davies
Let me sing this song
Dozens words in my yearning rhythm
Delivered within the wind of autumn
A single pray, only for you
In this moment of silence
Bearing clearly in my mind
The love we have given one another
In our years of sharing
You embraced me with endless love
A love that cannot be compared
And it lights my sky forever
Made me a woman I am
We are destined to have each other
Since my first breath, until your last
So I sing this song for you,
Mother.
the water pounds on the asphalt like a drummer to a drum
and the wind blows in a mobius pitch whistling tunes through its hum
the tin can joins in the whimsical that we lovingly call rain
and the rooftop offers dancing lessons like the taps on the window pane
the trees shake like maracas when the wind starts to sway
and the tires of a car plays symbols as it drives the other way
thunder cues the lighting flash as it rolls across the sky
but if i could hear one last song i would listen to the rain before i die
the soothing peace, that inner sense that is brought on by the rain
releases tension and calms my spirit and helps to keep me sane
Trees bowing in humble adoration
Dust up the air........from the ground
Humans having a feeling so sweet
Mild is the air,will it rain today?
Thunder? no! lightening? no!save the breeze
squeezed umbrellas,caps dancing upwards
leaves gathering to have an emergency meeting
everyone shut your eyes, some sands are passing by
it will rain, will it rain? rain it will
rain, rain go away come again another day
little ones chanting down the next lane
thunder strikes, lightening follows
drops of rain, showers, oh its pouring almost immediately
to your tents all the living
heavens water tanks are open
faded wallflower
shows no appreciation~
clumsily we dance
forest folk gather
birds echo the melody
nature's symphony
Cascading water
Natures untamed melody
Soothing to the soul
Poor desolate Niger-Delta.
Patriach of pipeline explosions
and oil-spillages.
From tale to a tale
your days shorten,
and your dreams lay asleep
in the cold of shallow graves.
Though i think of you
as destiny`s child,
you neither come nor go away.
In all my grief,
you are the chief;
as one who gives
all passion away.
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