workshop
`
Forget
the balm of barometric exuberance.
This night
no longer young, dissipates.
Recall
the dewy welcome of sun-quaffed green.
Yesterdays
revive severed umbilical dreams.
Peruse
the present with fleeting acumen.
Today
ceases yet emerges again tomorrow.
Ignite
the kindling of autumnal reticence.
Perhaps
genial kindnesses shall spring.
`
Glimpsing the suns face
The half cut moon drains pallid
Its dark side, hidden
solitude
solitude is quiet
in a
cacophonous sort
of way.
solitude is a print
with no
press.
solitude requires
endurance.
solitude is a memory
retold.
solitude is its own
price
paid.
When you're at school the buggers hold you down,
So many rules to control you
and make a child conform.
The teenage years are when most rebel,
Spirits are crushed under the heel
of expectations.
When you leave education behind,
Relief isn't found.
Eight hours a day under the boss man's cosh.
Pressure to conform and marry,
2.4 children and a terraced house.
Or at least be part of a couple.
I know this is two poems in one day but I'll be gone tomorrow and unable to submit. Hope ya'll don't think I'm stretching guidelines too much........scribbler
Well, there sits another bum
he's probably lazy, even dumb
I bet he pisses on the walk
and mumbles when he tries to talk
I wish they all would leave this town
seeing them just brings me down
pushing 'round their grocery cart
filled with crap they think is art
Don't expect a clever rhyme
or any big adjectives
or an attempt
at perfect structure
That comes in a song
or someone else's
poem
I simply type a line
and then another
they don't mesh
together all that well
the subject matter
isn't overly deep
or profound
And I don't worry
about proper punctuation
or make a conscious effort
regarding rhythm
or pacing
or alliteration
.....And in you I see a writer with a wonderful gift; capable of such beautifully eloquent writing. You are a true artist and are, in my opinion, unequalled in your ability to express yourself. I am, truly, your fan and enjoy our prosaic connection
bigpapadan
Wise Appreciation
Thy words of wisdom,
The evaluation
Of a prosaic poet,
Is in itself
A sign of divinity
Upon whose shoulders
Rests human dignity
To appreciate is in it
A gift divine,
It’s like drinking love
With eyes,
Like wine
As promised here are 3 more forms
Free Verse
The high wind swirls in this ravine
setting off whirl winds, scattered
mostly defined by dirt and duff
save one
A single golden poplar leaf
freshly fallen and still perfect
twists and turns pirouetting
joyfully
Climbing higher, ever higher
becoming a mere speck
then releases for a terminal tumble
floating in a lengthy falling
its final swan song ballet
Western Classic
sanctity of quiet
quiet is sanctity
of one --
an insouciance
caring free
nonchalance
as grape vines
burgeon fruit
a fly buzzes farmlands --
light shines
dappled between feathers
of birds in flight
not counting quills
to stay aloft --
avian brains
balanced as no others
know
but perhaps humans
who trod thin edges
of silent way
long and narrow
the path
pitfalls each on each side
A gun cause’s harm
To the innocent
Give justice to the guilty
Not so much the gun, but
The soul behind the gun
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