Short Grinded Poems

Not Blinded But Open Minded

Rather than ever having been blinded, 
Would really want to be open minded;
Will repent;
Am always resilient,
And together my teeth never grinded.

Jim Horn...

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We played a lot of games,
the stars dancing of their loud laughs.

They seemed cluster of angels
surrounded me with their songs too.

I wanted to close my eyelids,
to listen their innocent voices.

Their sadness was still very lucid,
like hanging thistledown in space.

And their midnight painful pules,
cleaved and grinded me unceasingly....

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Finding my lost voice, 
 Beneath a stranger's lips, 
Looking for warmth, 
Being grinded by a foreign body, Rubbing against me to erotic lyrics, 
That make me wanna pin you to the floor, 
Oh my, 
Your lips are already sewing me to the wall. 
What's your name? 
Argh, 
It's the morning chapter, 
You're gone and I've already lost what I was after. 
         _lost-
             Elliepoet™...

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My way not yours
The path of the just
Re-kindle to rust
Grinded to the dust
With no believing gut

Howbeit to believing
Not to be existing
The future of my reading
In my meditating
At the cross over of a thing

ON the show at the cross
A path in gross
In my tears I burst
To see how he was slain
Agony of disdain

A prize is paid
For me not to be raid
So that I can be grade
Never to derail
The path of raid....

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l

Un moveable river's
Grinded in stone
Always' a season change
The sun above
Which shed's our light
The moon above 
That which shines' by night
 Always' a season changes
             ------
Wet and cold chills' blow
Rarely in the sky
A star be born
A relic from time
Only to become frost
On the window panes'
          Of life,
         ------
Far away eyes' do see
No stars' by night
So many clouds by day...







Gary Fields
Poet/Author...

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Un-moveable river's
Grinded in stone
Alway's a season change
The Sun above
Which Shed's our light
The moon above,
That which shines' by night
Alway's a season change
                 -
Wet and cold chills' blow
Rarely in the Sky,
A Star be born,
A relic from time,
Only to become frost
On the window panes'
         Of Life
              -
Faraway eyes' do see
No Stars' by night
So many clouds' by day

               GF...

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that smile hides a hundred truths inside
white lies lined up like tombstones
cleaned nightly, scrubbing away the
shame spoken and guilt grinded daily,
stained with coffee and wine swallowed
to swill down today’s fake smile, yesterday’s 
plastic smile, tomorrow’s practiced smile,
living as the smiling assassin to your own
sorrow when society’s smile frowns on 
anything upside down before you can 
even start to turn a smile that hides a 
hundred truths inside white lies lined up...

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