A blank mind, focusing on disappearing pages.
A pen looks for a rewind, taking back mistakes of the ages.
Yet nothing is swirling, nothing comes to thought.
An empty hand curling, with words that get caught.
Sorrow is nothing, but an influential guide.
What will joy bring, just a sense of new pride.
Thorough searches for a rhyme, something that will ease a soul.
Traveling back and across time, looking for a critical role.
At a loss of speech, at a loss of creation.
Looking for a creative reach, an idea now sation.
A work left uncreated, a page with missing points.
Critics not sated, by a poet who disappoints.
Forgive a weary head, for the night grows long.
In the hour of the dead, no choice but to cut the song.
Forgive the lack of choice, and the lack of sorrow.
Soon there’ll be beauty in the voice, try back again tomorrow.
Categories:
sation, writing,
Form: Rhyme
it's just the fascination, runnin' -
a way with me...
the start the turn the on the warm
the rev the run the front the storm
the moves the smooth the kinetic the peel
the center the taste the esthetic the real
the fruit the butter the bread the cheese
the sense the sation the smile the please
the hunger the thirst the quaff the juice
the filling the slake the adult the seduce
the frank the flame the desire the want
the flank the game the beguile the flaunt
the gaffe the rules the laugh the break
the slip the law the humor the mistake
the talk the shock the fears the grey
the shout the fight the tears the display
the swing the hit the hurt the bruise
the punch the anger the trouble the truce
the latch the click the clasp the key
the turn the hasp the open the free
the you - the me - the tuck the hide
the life the road - the way - the ride
the flash the light the idea the insight
the glint the sparkle the focus the delight
the exchange the change the like the best
the swap the give - the love - and all the rest
© Goode Guy 2012-12-28
Categories:
sation, life, love,
Form: Couplet
Dedicated to Zilpha Keatley Snyder author of a poem by the same name, I will print
it here.
Dreams go fast and far these days.
They go arrayed in lights or
In the dust of stars.
Dreams, these days, go fast and far.
Dreams are young, these days,
or very old,
They can be black or blue or gold.
They need no special charts,
nor any fuel.
It seems, only one rule applies,
to all our dreams-
They will not fly except in open sky.
A fenced-in dream will die.
From the Random House Book of poetry for children.
Tonight make sweet dreams fly.
Across your vast spinning creation
Slumber at peace, bubbly and rare
Magic becomes builder's sigh.
Building becomes your sation-
Life and dark eyes are fair
Swim on orcas, surf as fins
Split the starfires in embers, hun.
Tomorrow holds your dreams there!
By Doris Culverhouse in dedication to Zilpha Snyder
Categories:
sation, children, peace
Form: Light Verse