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Best Poems Written by Mark Junor

Below are the all-time best Mark Junor poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Mark Junor Poem

this noisy head i live in

this noisy head i live in
it just never quiets down
theres some motherf#@ker screaming at two am
about some unpaid bills or parking tickets
and some other idiot going on and on about some girl that left
somebody is allways throwing trash out in the common area
little bits of some ancient relationship
small parts of some old mystery
just want to tell em all ''will you all please shut up"
stop that godawful freakin racket
some fool on the roof shouting poetry just when your drifting off to sleep
another idiot in the basement throwing monkey wrenches in the works
always somebody causing some kind of ruckus
just want to scream
"can we PLEASE get some peace and quiet for five minuets"
this crazy head i live in
i want to move
to some nice quiet country house
where you never hear a sound
peaceful with birds chirping
where i can get some rest
not this confounded noisy head i live in
not this apartment building of lunatics i call a mind

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2014



Details | Mark Junor Poem

fairytale heart

moody girl
resting her head on me
while i purge my thoughts to the page
spilling like a dark red wine
its all sticky but the words lay down
in complacent indifference
i prod them with a wooden stick
wishing they would run and fly
wishing they would speak with their own voice
but they only give a sluggish lip service to the effort
she is breathing a sleepy word of her own from my lap
lover
i type with one hand while the other is wrapped up in her dreadlocks
this is my gem moment of the day
we are alone
and all the day is behind us
twilight gathers us in its gentle arms
and i can just live in the moment
i can explore her
always some new way to see this complex girl
always some new way to be with her beautiful loves
she makes my heart seaworthy
the depth her articulate eyes say things to me
that i would never had dreamt
the storybook of her open face speaks to me
romances me with her fairytale heart
i am her prince
she is my bride

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2016

Details | Mark Junor Poem

seasong

the rapture of a souls song plays out inside the mind
as she sits quietly reading in a late fall moonlight
trading the falling leaves for the keys to the kingdom of pain
she scours the printed page for flaws to crow about in the dawn
but she fails to see the falling tears and the raging snowstorm
she feels but refuses to see
all our childhood dreams lined up as toy soldiers
on a battlefield of right and wrong
of love and despair
with one absent minded finger dancing in her hair
she fumbles for the meanings in the steady rain
she feels out the sentences written in summer skies
the novella there in between the covers are the story she reads
but its the long silence in the room between two people
that shapes her fate
writes her tears
the rapture of souls song plays out
with a beautiful melody
and such heartfelt lyrics
but no beautiful song lasts forever
anywhere but in the heart
and her song still plays for me

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2016

Details | Mark Junor Poem

true spoken word

never before let it blossom like
roses in such fairest sunlight
he was a man of wilderness
strong and sure in his way
a creature of knowing and doing
a stranger to this game of light and shadow
of loves falsely promised and tenderness teased
of loves true touch tenderness felt in unison with another soul
a man of the hunt for wild beasts
he sought to ensnare her in traps of logic
but any fool knows there is no logic to the heart
and its romances are all she knew
such is a fiery burning bright and true to the heart romance
such is the knowing a woman's deep hearts desires
he calls out in moonlight her name
and she comes to him
and they share wild hours wrestling
body and soul
this is the true spoken word
there is no life without love
a man of the world now
no man can stand without a woman's hand

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2016

Details | Mark Junor Poem

loves intimate kiss

they say shes waiting for me
beautifully
they say that shes there
with loves tender embrace
with loves intimate kiss
softly waiting for the mad rush of my day to end
waiting for me to come home to her arms
but for now i'm just a tinker
down by the dirty river
lost in the back roads and shadows
dragging behind a fat sack of yesterdays
building better dreams for all the pretty people
filled with longings and desires
but ill make it home to her someday
where she lay in the peaceful moonlight
where she waits for me beautifully
filled with such tender desire
with loves intimate kiss
ill be there in her arms
home at long last
never to leave again
she is all iv dreamt of
she is waiting....

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2014



Details | Mark Junor Poem

steam engine

she set a polish to the brass pipes
with a careful hand she worried them
hours like a silent moving contemplation
she worked her way from one end of
the massive machine to the other
knowing every rivet
every dent and scratch
the hot steam leaving a sheen of sweat on her
the machines labored breathing filled her ears
alive to her she spoke to it
in a loving soft whisper
she felt the gauges and levers
with the familiarity of mother and child
knew its every creak and groan
with the heart of unconditional loving care
a steam engine is a living thing
a breathing feeling entity
a life of brass for bone
coal fire for a heart
powerful
deep
living
it loved her as much as she loved it

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2016

Details | Mark Junor Poem

pinky swear

i followed you along the silent train tracks
in the dark cold rain
stepping on photographs of sunshine
watching the world wash away the graffiti of possibility
cause you promised
you pinky swore
that we are a heartbeat away from love
that we are in the way of knowin what the heart dreams
i followed you into the winters night with romance on my mind
you never told me that i would have to leave it all behind
i still believe we will find love
still believe because
you promised
you pinky swore...

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2014

Details | Mark Junor Poem

unconquerable king john

a fire breaks out in his pants
whenever she walks into the room
but she just laughs
at how quaint he is
she has eyes only for the old man at
the end of the bar
his beat era leather socks are just up her alley
his pocket protector lifestyle is just
the thing for her wedding plans
she could always see herself
with his type of narrow shoe smart fella

he leaves her and her lover
at the dark bar
and wanders the lobster cages
looking to trap the feelings
that made him feel like
unconquerable king john
with his magna carta series pen
but this night is too full of babe sweet
and her pocket protector cowboy
so he goes home
to lay on his bed on imaginary nails
and suffer all the trials that good men should
wants to be worthy for the pay off
wants to be in line for the pearly gates

babe sweet and her man
live up the coast now
they own a bed an breakfast catering to the insane
who write great novels
on the walls in crayon
and spend their nights
hanging out on the roof singing ballads
to babe sweet
and her cowboy who lasso's the moon
its a wonderful life plays on the tv
every night year round
cause thats the dream they are sellin
that if you work hard
someday itll pay off

jerry garcia's picture hangs
in the lobby
he looks out at the changed world
with the shocked expression
of how did all these people miss the point
as the just go on beating eachother up
and crashing the gates
he is in the back room of babe sweets place
hiding from all the gretchens
and trying to redraw the lines of reality
we all got lost out there
gotta reinvent yourself
before the gretchens and the hangers on tear it all down
gotta bend the road before it bends you
just like unconquerable king john

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2014

Details | Mark Junor Poem

better butterfly's

she builds better butterfly's from the dust on rusting pipes
they fly in the starry sky while i cry
in a panic she paints them into a panoramic
but butterfly's recognize their own limited size
so they build their own chicken coop in my soup

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2014

Details | Mark Junor Poem

old brick wall

i dreamt
i moved into a apartment
with an old brick wall
and its decaying face
the old light hanging from a thread
swings on the open breeze
from the window
time seems to slow down to a crawl
so i can see each and every flaw
so i can feel each and every thing she wanted me to feel
so i can know each and everything she saw
and so i see the the moment captured in ink
on her sketch pad
a drawing of the wind in the trees
a image of the smell of the fresh cut grass
the thoughts of the passer-by
who looked with such stark wonder
at this open display of what we have all taken
for granted we could never achieve

the old brick wall
leaned into the wind
and held
for one more day
kept safe the world she held so dear
safe for one more stormy night
the old brick wall
with its spray painted messages
like how joe loves daisy
and how we should make love not war
the old brick wall
holds back the world
from coming into her quiet soul
into the paper flowers and lace curtains of her life

the old brick wall
was once the west most piece of
the boxers rebellion
he was sad all his life
torn from his violent profession
and forced to retire
and his fists lay idle
with objections written on them like scars
but after years he came to terms
with the reasons great and small
with the rationalizations made up and real
and found peace
he found his fists could be hands
and hands can pet a cat
hands can paint a masterpiece
write a love poem
hands can touch another person without hurting them
and he suddenly he didn't want to hurt anyone ever again
because he loved having hands
and all the beautiful things they could do
he would never have fists again
and that change in him  
was so profound that it became magical and
part of the old brick wall

so it will endure past its years
to protect her little scavenged world
her delicate life
her frail thoughts
because beauty isn't always
what the world thinks it is
a boxer can tell you that

Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2014

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