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5/7/2010 10:17:33 AM
Beach Combing Hi Robb, Your syllable count is perfect, your haiku is related to nature, and also as cute as can be, I can't think of a thing that you did wrong on this one. Wounderful haiku! Catie
5/7/2010 10:24:25 AM
Between The Stingers I crawl on your skin between the sting
and the caress, Oh, Glorious Love,
you have taught me the value of trust.
Not to be given carelessly
but held to my breast
where it may suckle,
A son-less mother.
Trust, you're a whoring lie.

Oh laugh, Moon, laugh!
You will be expelled like a bastard son
being popped out of some street urchin.
The sun has paled, white now, impatient
with it's own, devoid of rays.
Opaque, without bronze or ruby rays,
white-washed as high noon on a humid day.

Who do you seek to claim!?
I cannot be claimed, owned,
or even loved, and have exhausted
my concern over the tricks of fate.
The past lies dead like ashen leaves
becoming mulch on a moldy autumn trail
that has overgrown
and no longer leads anywhere fruitful.

To the dying!
To the dying!
To the dying of a day!

Yet, I crawl through the layers
of your saggy skin,
between the sting and the caress,
just one moment before
the caress fades to day.
edited by Catie on 5/7/2010
edited by Catie on 5/7/2010
edited by Catie on 5/7/2010
5/7/2010 6:20:45 PM
I just need to talk, but... If you really need to talk, rhyme or not, I am here for you, I am an excellent listener. Catie
5/7/2010 6:24:27 PM
Relationships I hate the thought that she makes you feel dumb. respect and gentle caring and sharing are important in any relationship, no matter what the age difference. Catie
5/7/2010 6:26:53 PM
Just found this section I share your concern. The wildlife did nothing to deserve this. It is tragic. I also hope they fit that thing over the spill where it is leaking out, and contain this asap. catie
5/8/2010 7:56:16 AM
Between The Stingers no pain, Michael, just imagination.
5/8/2010 12:28:26 PM
Master Builder Master builder
Building bridges
Bridging hearts.

“Build me a house of links,” I asked him,
and he built me a beautiful song.

“Build me a house of truth,” I asked him,
and he spoke from a warm heart.

“Build me a house of hope,” I asked him,
and he healed my broken soul.

“Build me a house of smiles,” I asked him,
and it was authentic and whole.

The master builder in my heart.
5/8/2010 12:29:13 PM
Between The Stingers Thanks Michael!
5/9/2010 6:05:03 AM
Master Builder You make me laugh, Michael. Thank you for your welcome comments. Catie
5/9/2010 7:25:18 AM
Between The Stingers Hi matt, I have considered your suggestions, my use of adverbs often puts some people off, yet... I worked hard on this one to get it exactly as I wanted it to be. This poem should be read with an attitude, a touch of anger with a huge air of indifference, as if saying, "I don't give a hoot!" In that light, the street urchin popping out babies works. Child birth is not always long for some women, sometimes it is as fast as popping out. Isn't mother nature a wonderful thing! Thank you for your welcome comments. The truth is, I do, and will continue to make changes when I agree with the suggestions, but I think I like this one just the way it is. Catie
5/9/2010 7:28:31 AM
Wrestling Rabbits and Dreams I gasp in his waters, awaiting composure,
and I am found wanting, wanting more
of his ebb and flow that washes away
my brazen a Capella of identity
that I cling too like a rabbit
clings to her virginal, white fur.
It's autumn, and in the calm before the storm,
when the last rays of a dying sun have set
and a dubious wind picks up, echoing

Brazenly I step out of the paleness of my skin
as my heart ventures forth, unprotected and insecure.
It's the loins of madness in a manic ache,
"Oh Woman...
Oh Woman of the Skies...
His waters fall soft and warm.
I bathe in his falls of light,
warming me, caressing me, touching me,
I give up this good night.

Oh, Don't touch me without love!
Don't touch me without love.

In the warmth of his firelight crackling,
his voice collective, stimulating, calming, divine.
He reads me the poem of him,
And I dream...
Oh, how I dream.

Chasing my dreams into sleep
before the cold winds of failure
swoop down on me of She-wolves.
"Oh, they will come,
They WILL come."
And I wrestle that rabbit for the purpose of fur.

I sleep with my head on his lap
and as he bows to kiss my blush
the harsh winds slow and falter
while I sleep like reflections on calm water,
And I dream...
Oh, how I dream.

edited by Catie on 5/22/2010
5/9/2010 7:34:45 AM
Dreaming I love this one, Michael. If I could make any suggestions it would be to change the word "laying" to lying, and instead of 'upon ground' I would insert the word "the", so that it reads 'upon the ground.' I love that nature has served it up, dressed, at that. Lovely poem. Catie
5/9/2010 7:42:30 AM
Dolphin I love the line, "A rebounding blue casket flash." Next, I think you need to look at where you are putting your periods.... Patting me tender. Wendell lived alone. and again, piercing my silvering sounds. and There was always a party with Wendell. and human-human companionship. Mad scientists run a muck about the land. In the last stanza, there is a typo, allowin should be changed to allowing. and the last line, I am not sure I understand what you were getting at, unless maybe, with a thirst for air, then add a line, a thirst for me. Just my thoughts. thank you again for your welcom comments. Catie
5/9/2010 7:23:53 PM
Poll Question: Featured Poetic Forms... I was just thinking about this last night, my thoughts were something like what if PS featured one type of poetry on the front page every so often. It would be a nice spice in the soup. Thanks! Catie
5/10/2010 8:26:02 AM
Lavender Children If I could paint a poem
I'd use shades of indigo blue
Amethyst, emerald and diamond too.
If a poem I could crochet,
I'd crochet the perfect lace,
flower petals gracing the boarders,
(Pink centers and lots of sage.)

White, let the white find color
Let the blue dance with crystal grace
Let diamonds scatter the light
Of lavender children at play.
Laugh, Oh laugh!
Dance on, dance on!
Lavender children at play.

If I could shine a poem
It would be the perfect reflection
Of the light that dances in their eyes.
A poem's perfect reflection.
I paint, crochet,
dance in the light,
to find the voice
that is my own.

So let the white find color
Let the blue dance with crystal grace
Let diamonds scatter the light
Of lavender children at play.
Laugh, Oh laugh!
Dance on, dance on!
Lavender children at play.
5/10/2010 8:28:50 AM
Lavender Children This one needs work, as I see it the lines

I paint, crochet,
dance in the light,
to find the voice
that is my own.

really have to go, anyone got any suggestions?
5/10/2010 8:32:35 AM
A Crystalline titled:Scrambled Hi Robb, I enjoyed reading this one, sounds like a lovely breakfast too! My only suggestion is to put a period at the end, thus completing the thought.
5/10/2010 8:35:28 AM
Static Very nice poem, Charlotte. Maybe the last line could read "Is the affliction of mankind." I like that you have held the perspective of the masses throughout, never once coming back to a personal perspective. You really did a wonderful job with this one. Catie
edited by Catie on 5/10/2010
5/10/2010 8:41:08 AM
The Inner Spy Very nice poem again! I think that the last line would read a little more smoothly if you take out the word 'for.' I hope you have a wonderful holiday! Catie
edited by Catie on 5/10/2010
5/10/2010 8:44:14 AM
Wrestling Rabbits and Dreams Okay... I never seem to get comments on this one, whats up, is it offensive? I really did work hard on this one, it is about loving a man whom all the girls hit on, and the feeling of cold that ensues. Catie
edited by Catie on 5/10/2010
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