Thoughts... Poems - Poems about Thoughts...

Truth be told I knew what it was When it was pushed to the back of “that” draw That place where cucumbers of thought turn to mush They once held value, that thought, that cucumber Yet somehow slipped from the consciousness of concern There will be no “oh, poor baby” recollections No prodigal thought reunions No recognition of what they might have...

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train whistle, a seldom heard sound, long and low this morning I wonder if this train is transporting people or cattle or people treated like cattle or cattle dressed like people...

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If all is of mind, then what are we doing? Physical life, is it worth pursuing? So discouraging, so immature, How can mere man, ever endure? The mind can think in such jubilations, Creative thoughts giving sensations. We rush to create, with no time to spare, No patience displayed; we do not dare. Take our time, uncertain as it seems, Let thoughts mature manifesting...

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organ organ grinder get out of here orange, you do not fit! Oregon ornate ornery stop it orangutan or I’ll give you something to cry about ordinary orthodox or what? Put up your dukes...

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Second Thoughts** Falling in love with someone you can never truly be with can be haunting. We hide behind filtered photos—wearing a smile, using body language as our shield. As poets, we feel deeply; we observe and express our emotions through the words we write. My heart is weary—so weary. (Elizabeth Browning) Our tone...

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He pays. He leaves. And she bleeds quietly. Some come for release, others for control. Some come to forget. Some to remember. Some to be punished. Some just come because it’s cheap. It's sin. It’s not sin. It’s survival. It’s escape. It’s addiction. It’s barter. It's bargain. It's need. It’s ritual. Here, bodies are commodities. Sold by the hour. Measured by the weight, age and colour of the skin, freshness of smile, limpness of resistance. It is commercialisation...

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Over tech connected; drawn to a life infected' The moot is now mute' bad is the fruit.) War on lies.? Square root..' Much belies.' I read divide..Divide.! Up to the truths, full inversion.' Hate will grow, to genocides full immersion.! ...

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Before Midnite dark night in new moon phase cloying coils of black satin mere shapes of surrounding buildings I am lost in my thoughts ...

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Buried in the depths of my soul is the unrealized hope of a full explanation Covered over by shovels full of doubt and thoughts regressed Brilliance which lost its edge from lack of use lies in a state of degradation Can hope with its own will stir once again the creative mind Bringing forth seeds of thoughts that demand...

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Scattered Thoughts Overwhelmed from responsibilities. Need a place to run away. Surrounded by pessimistic poison. Sometimes a toxic relationship. Paralyzed to make a change. Drinking is the remedy. What is the root of the problem? Guilt and anxiety all around. Insecurities begin with bullies. Observe and recognize. Are thoughts holding you captive? Drowning from...

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Water dripping from the faucet I wish to tap in to it and flow Like red river from indigo soul Writing something that grows Like a seed esteemed and springing In each reader who is a believer And even those who are deceivers A word so good one salivates A poem so inspiring it breaks chains Chains of doubt Chains of caste Chains of...

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A mind, a quiet room, suddenly the door bursts open, uninvited guests with muddy boots, tracking dread across the clean carpet of my peace. They whisper, sharp as glass shards, "What if the sky falls, right now, a blue ceramic bowl shattering?" Or "Did you lock the door? Really? Is the stove off? Are you sure?" A fly buzzing, trapped behind my eyes, its frantic...

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I lay down my thoughts like an endless river, as the sun sifts light at dawn, I wish for you to smile, untouched by memories, without my heavy shadow, without the burden. I see you walking down the old street in the sun, with ice cream melting on your fingers, Among those who never doubted you, with eyes...

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I watch as she sleeps, the gentle rise and fall of her chest making sure her breathing is rhythmic Thoughts take me back years ago when we were playmates ~sisters separated by little more than a year. A tear escapes my eyes. I wipe it away for if she wakes and sees me crying, her tears will flow again. My sister, my best friend Always...

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Thoughts On War Questions When is war righteous? Isn’t murder a crime? Does not war murder? Can’t collateral Death be a crime too?: War can’t be righteous; Murder is a crime:- Wars do have murders, Collateral deaths Can be murders also:- ...

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