Wire Poems | Examples

3 Copper Coins, And The Kite Caught In The Telegraph Wire

The man was
handsome, intelligent,
and good in bed.

But he just
had nothing
to say.

And all of his days
were the same.

Monochromatic
introspection followed
by a sort of smothered
self-expression.

He never
felt like himself.
And he always felt
worried about what
other people thought
about him.

Who even was
he?

His routine?
His career?
His interests?
His beliefs?

Beliefs?

The man had
no beliefs, the
man didn’t need
to believe.

For if he started believing
in something, he may have
actually needed
to start existing.

And that idea
scared the
hell out of 
him.

Barbied Wire

Barbed wire, it sure ain’t pink
Poor Barbie, she can’t think;
she’s a smart, sharp dresser
wire’s a sharp oppressor.
She stares with steely gaze;
wire’s steel, invokes delays.
Barbie is a girlfriend, true;
wire’s no friend of me or you.
The whole world is Barbie’s kin
barbed is there to fence us in.

Chirps on a Wire

Growing old
things loved and cherished come and go
phone calls- text messages thinning 
tossed aside in a world of folly and frost-
 Growing old 
in a world that keeps getting colder
hard faces-hovering over graying steps
cobwebs in the corner of an empty nest
Growing old, another funeral procession -one friend less 
life becoming endless blue eulogy-nothing more nothing less
layers of experiences - wisdom made very little difference
the pearl got lost in the yellow froth of my mess.

  Growing old 
what am I to leave behind...
a fistful of photos- memories forgotten
a few half assed poems 
a small sac of dirty dimes
Where does time go when its tired
years lost to a breeze-like a willow in spring
hard times and regret chirp away at the mind
like sparrows on a line-so little time
Where did the time go
I wish I could buy a little bit more
to release dream from chrysalis
place barbed words back in the voice box
to pay for goals unmet
to water parched apologies  
to tether forgiveness to regret
where did the time go
growing old.

The High-Wire Act of Love

Walking a thin wire
way up high above
whichever way you lean
you just might fall in love.

At times there's nothing better
the feelings are so great
mistakes do sometimes happen
when love has turned to hate.

It's hard for some to figure
why everything did change
but love is an enigma
and sometimes even strange.

So get back on the wire
better balanced than before
another chance at falling
for a love that will endure!

Trip Wire

I have a story to tell
Where survival and pain
Literally broke the veil. 
It took years to see
The truth of my abuse
And the memories of my hurt
Has given me my muse. 
I fell into men that craved control.
I knew one day I would get rest
For my weary soul. 
Physical pain was a common norm
And my abusers have released my storm. 
I take no orders.
My boundaries have no give.
I’m locked away tightly
Behind iron doors
Where I will shine brightly. 
My wires are set.
The traps are laid out.
Anyone trying to enter
Will leave with a pout. 
Tread with caution.
or trip a wire,
your gift will be an explosion of fire. 
You will burn down to ash
with nothing to recover.

eight doves on a wire

eight doves on a wire
together
friends on bar stools

Crusible

KERATIN is extracted from
cows hooves to make to
make foam for fire extinguishers.
............................................

They butchered the shank
to make disks
to serve with beef cheeks.
the wine sauce would be cooked
separate and and made of
wine
chicken feet
thyme
bay leaves
cayenne
carrots
garlic
onions
sun dried tomato's
 3 anchovies


we would need
 15 pounds of cheeks
20 pounds of shanks
6 pounds of chicken feet
( to make chicken stock)

the oniony, tender 
meltingly beefy
goodness of meat
served with vegetables
and creamy mashed potatoes
ah- God 
Mercy on these
people!


The make shift area would be chicken wire two sides
with sand and cement mixed with a cob material
and plastered
to create walls
with a tin overlapping roof.

The Wire

The wire's wound tight, and so taut 'round my neck.
And I know, 'less it snaps, I will soon lose my breath.
But my body and mind an innumerable wreck,
I can only just smile at the prospect of death.

Digital Heartbeats

In circuits of gold, our hearts still beat red,
Screens flicker bright, yet souls seek to glow.
We dance with data, but are we truly led?

Through labyrinths of code, our stories are thread,
Algorithms hum, but empathy must flow.
In circuits of gold, our hearts still beat red.

Keyboards connect, or leave us unfed,
Touch-starved fingers swipe high and low.
We dance with data, but are we truly led?

Compassion our compass, as forward we tread,
In digital realms where cold winds may blow.
In circuits of gold, our hearts still beat red.

Innovation soars, yet kindness mustn't shed,
In classrooms where ones and zeros grow.
We dance with data, but are we truly led?

Let's craft a future where both paths are wed,
Where tech and humanity together go.
In circuits of gold, our hearts still beat red,

We dance with data, but are we truly led?

Bird on a Wire

A bird on a wire
Taking in the world
Looking around about to fly
Into the beauty of the sky

Ruffling of feathers
Body tensing for take-off
Jumping from the limb
Flapping of the wings

As it soars majestically into the air
Stretching it wings to full length
Sweeping down into the Valley
Hunting for its prey

Screeching through the air
Stretching its claws out
Grab what is his
An afternoon delight

Chain Wire Fence

A tall, chain wire fence
surrounds the perimeter 
of the power station, casting
its evening shadow over a wide
bank of grass leading down
to the river. Sometimes I sit there
just to listen to the sound 
of the wind make music through
the wires. 

It is a soft, melancholy music
that carries a certain sorrow.
Uncoupled from a name,
it seems a composite 
of the sadness accrued 
in the wordless wells of the soul
that finds voice here.
It has a strange attraction,
an addictive beauty

which keeps me coming back
though each note strums
a nerve giving a little hurt.
At times I can almost hear
human voices weaved
into the music, a tone 
echoing out of places 
made restless with longing.

It is the music that lovers make
and gently plays at the center
of all good art, sad prisoners 
of time, composed by the heart 
to mourn when what is loved 
and what is beautiful in this life
passes from us, 
and let go.

The Rapture Of Barbed Wire

Lay me down in a field of barbed wire,
I’ll fulfill your noxious fantasy;
It is mine too; 

Let the messenger speak,
The broken arrows on your letter 
I assure you were received;

Now lay me down;
Pierce me the way you want to;
Let the scratches bleed me;

Mingling with our scarlet telepathy
desire marries us by blood oath;
Forever miscible;

Let your latent paroxysm indulge,
I assure you it’s rough healing;
Meant to rupture false rapture;

Lay me not onto petals
but barbed wire, this is noxious;
Your message is my fantasy too.

A Call For Peace Now

This is the news, a dream of peace,
an echo from the Middle East,
where children cannot understand,
the broken bones of broken lands, 
their only hope, for war to cease.

Every imam, rabbi and priest,
can hear the loss for those deceased,
while leaders watch or wash stained hands,
this is the news.

Hope is a hostage for release,
a call for all the bombs to cease,
while children cannot understand,
the razor wire of war-torn lands,
and parents only dream of peace,
this is the news.

Lonely Is the Wire

Lonely is the wire where no bird comes to rest it's feet, as if the message once flown to you, is numbered incomplete. How does love live lively in the flight upon their wings, throughout  the barrier of love between to gather in the light 
That love it brings.

Yellow Bird On a Wire

Now that I am home
Home and home and home
The porch is my outside
Lucky me 3 stories high

The mesa to my left
Mount Zion to my right
On my narrow porch
Spring greens oh my

Time to watch a season
An hour and an hour and an hour
The yellow bird on a wire
Spring a new migration

Talking to the birds
A flute player tweets
Bird language
Naturally sweet

The yellow bird 
Tweets and tweets and tweets
Has so much to say
I answer back, the yellow bird stays

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