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Charles Dennis Poem
I watch spring bud from my window.
I watch my life go by without a flicker of hope from my window.
I watch summer blossom from my window.
I watch and wonder why from my window.
I watch autumn turn to a spectrum of color from my window.
I watch as time starts to die from my window.
I watch autumn fade from red and orange
to winter white from my window.
I watch as I die from my window.
© 2010 Charles Dennis
http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Dennis Poem
I watch the Finches fly float flutter dive
across the field they chirp and sing
yellow in color they dot the tops
of the thistle among other natural things
making scalloped patterns as they glide
gracefully moving through the sky
a tiny moment from the day that
helps my troubles fade away.
© 2010 Charles Dennis
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Dennis Poem
The brain is an ever changing vessel filled with first
impressions, truths and lies of what life gives and also
takes away.
It is a vessel filled with hope, regret sadness and joy a place of
learning yearning forever's and goodbyes.
The mind delivers tragedies break ups make ups illusions
confusion love of what there is and what there’s not.
Hope and sadness sorrow pain as we go through life looking for
some type of gain walking on our heals one step ahead but one
step back lost like spitting into the wind.
We strive, connive and play our cards and what is shown is what
lie, all for a glimpse of what is ours.
The vessel drains then it fills overflows gives us thrills, it beats
our heart and pumps the blood it gives us life. Is that
understood?
Yet we abuse infuse but try not to lose our way so we can stick
around another day to play the game of life for which we pay.
© 2010 Charles Dennis
http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Dennis Poem
I loved you long ago and I can see your face - it glows.
A photo maybe? Or a scene extracted from a play?
With love, I remember those days.
We sat, we talked, we laughed,
we loved, not in the physical sense, but we both
knew what we had done.
I don’t know where you are, what you’ve done or
where you live, but I would really love to
do what we once did.
© 2010 Charles Dennis
http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Dennis Poem
The winds whisper stories through the
pines, and as the scent of evergreen and
fallen leaves waken our noses, we climb.
With beautiful views of a lake far below,
we become entangled in a story we do not know.
We ascend farther into the dark
and shadowed wood that now
surrounds us, our ears abruptly filled
with the sound of rushing water, we
emerge and are witness to the
most beautiful sight we have ever seen,
water appears as if out of nowhere
and falls for what seems forever crashing
over rocks, creating white pockets of foam
and spirals of deep blue. Yes, the winds do
whispers stories through the pines,
watching, listening as our lives go by.
© 2010 Charles Dennis
http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Dennis Poem
I’ll watch the sky tonight and think of where I’d like to
be. I’ll gaze upon the stars, as stray moonlit clouds drift
high above like dreams.
Steady breezes blow the leaves tonight, as they scrape
and rub against each other, creating the soundtrack of
what once was and what will be.
My body, mind and soul, now as one, I ride upon the
dream filled clouds that float so high above.
I will not rush these moments. I’ll watch the sky tonight,
and gaze upon the stars, and think of
where I’d like to be.
I hope tomorrow, I’ll see my dreams drift
high above on moonlit clouds, but a little bit
closer, and not so far they’ll be.
© 2009 Charles Dennis
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Dennis Poem
As the bright sky begins to fade, I see the sun in shades
of yellow, orange, blue, and gray.
Why is this atmospheric achievement so grand,
as the colors spread joy and hope across the land?
Each day we see this spectacle, an explosion of truth.
We may find another to share our thoughts, as we
watch this astonishing drama take root.
The sky now black, as diamonds appear, sparkling and
shooting through the atmosphere. With infinite chances
for our heart to take flight, we fall in love by the
glow of moonlight.
In this world of confusion, struggle and strife, we should
all hope for our own shooting diamond of light.
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© 2009 Charles Dennis
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2009
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Charles Dennis Poem
Every time I look into your face, it slides from gladness to
gloom. I don’t know where or when I lost you, but it seems to
soon.
When each day starts fresh, I have hope in my heart as I catch
sight of your shimmering smile and flowing red hair, I know God
is proud he created beauty such as yours to share.
Where did I go wrong? What have I done to have this pain
stacked upon my shoulders? To endure the hollowness I feel.
When our eyes fall on one another’s view, you see what I and I
see what you and as the spears of shooting white light subside,
we fall in love again, you with me and me with you because we
caught a glimpse of each others view.
© 2010 Charles Dennis
http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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Charles Dennis Poem
If there is a word that describes best what
poetry is, I would say intimate.
Is poetry intimate?
Are not all works of poetry?
Or are they just collections of words laid on paper in nice
organized ways, to make them look professional,
as if they make sense?
I would hope we as poets, writers, or those who think they
make literary sense would believe the former.
As we let our minds spill over onto paper words that flow,
flow from the heart, or flow from some deep secluded
place within our soul.
We scribble on scratch paper random thoughts, things that
make no sense, just so we can remember what we were
thinking in that fleeting feeble moment, only to throw it in
some over stuffed drawer to find some months later, and
then possibly throw back in.
I would say yes, this is intimate, revealing our most
vulnerable feelings of how and where the next valuable and
honest word will show its worth.
What greater joy could one experience, than to have an
affect on a persons life through words? Words that have
emerged from the deep recesses of our mind, body and soul
as if we had laid open our life for all to see, exposed our
self to the world, as couriers of all things good or bad.
Delivering hope and joy, sadness and pain, and answers to
some. We as poets splay out onto paper all of the things
that reside in all of us, only in that organized, unorganized
way that some can understand.
Poetry belongs to all who read it and translate these words
into any one of a thousand different meanings.
Are we poets? I can not say for certainty. Or are we just
another Joe who shows their life in words written in script
in hopes someone will find them?
I Do Not Know!
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© 2009 Charles Dennis
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2009
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Charles Dennis Poem
Time can not be ours.
All moments become worn.
Are we bound by death?
Have we come to die
as the water calm? Will our hearts be
still as the days are long?
Do we leave behinds behind to begin at endings end?
To feel our lives born again, will we throw away lost
memories of how it could have been?
We are bound by death.
Copyright © Charles Dennis | Year Posted 2010
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