Christmas Wish

feeds@yuku.com (wordley) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 12:15:19 GMT

Crisp and cold, those nights of yore,
In the desert when stars look down;
So warm in the straw, his infant brow
Awaits the heavenly crown;

So warm those days of innocent youth
That lead to the water's side
So all due process must be fulfilled
And in him, all sin died

So alive the sermon given on high
In loaves and fish he expands
To the child so pale, beyond death's door
And the laying on of hands

And so,...

You know it's true for M lady Nessi

feeds@yuku.com (poeticpiers) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 06:42:26 GMT

You know it's true.

Dreams can come true.

Now and Zen for M lady Lisa

feeds@yuku.com (poeticpiers) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 12:25:18 GMT

Now and Zen

My navel which I contemplate,

when in the mood to meditate.

The Value of My Tears

feeds@yuku.com (Cottagerose) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 03:00:44 GMT

The Value Of My Tears
(My Husband Died)

My tears feel like big words
made to say with love to you

They come in sudden gushes
emotional and tenderly yours

I have no reason to explain
never try to give any alibis

They lie there on my cheeks
the conversations lost to me

I whisper "My husband died."
to honor the value of my tears

So that strangers nod and try
to smile through their own tears.

...

Shoot me

feeds@yuku.com (dolcepeccatore) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 01:21:47 GMT

How much more tears will shed?
How much more pain will my heart endure?
What more belittling words will I get from you?
How many days will I still count until the same old you is back?

When are you going to pull the trigger and shoot me?
Will it make you happier if you'll see dead?
Am I going to hurt no more in death?
Is there peace in heaven?

Perhaps death will delete my memories of you.

Time's Last Rose.

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 22:08:33 GMT

I wait where Time's red roses grow
upon the Summer Tree,
I wait beneath the darkening skies
and watch, my love, for thee.

The gloaming stars that glow at dusk
are pale and ghostly blooms
that sadly call across the void
of old and ancient dooms.

I reach to touch the clustered fruit
upon the hedgerow glowing
- its guardian thorns tear my flesh
but still my thirst is growing.

My lips stained purple with earth's...

Sources of Inspiration.

feeds@yuku.com (poeticpiers) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 09:47:38 GMT

Sources of inspiration

I choose a country randomly.

And then I Google poetry.

Old friends and marionettes.

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:21:50 GMT

Old friends and marionettes
broken bottles and cigarettes
melting clocks with hands that turn backwards
long necked giraffes with fiery necks
idly watching television for thirty-five years
I become trapped in a surrealistic painting
of a man in a cubist landscape waiting for the adverts.
I tried to reach the tuning dial but all it did
was read some obscure manifesto in Italian
and give me an ingratiating smile.
Van Gogh passed this way...

Favourite Daddy

feeds@yuku.com (Willowdown) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 20:07:19 GMT

She keeps a lock of your first head of hair
in a little wooden ornamental box
on the mantlepiece
next to the clock and an African sculpture.
There are stars painted on the ceiling.
Outside the window, in the deep cold winter sky
are many more stars -
but these have razor sharp edges
that will cut you if to try
to grasp them too tightly...

She fed you with milk
from aching, over-ful breasts
- she could squeeze a breast and send...

If I lose my eyes

feeds@yuku.com (wordley) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 04:03:21 GMT

If I lose my eyes, would you be any less beautiful to me?
That I could not see you would not change the love I feel
Nor alter the the way you fit inside my inner heart's lee
Where you are kept safe from sadness's cruel ordeal;
Two useless orbs of tissue cannot capture all that is you,
When working, they saw only reflected light, a part
Of the greater goodness that fills my soul, and through
All time I shall know the essence of you, sweetheart;
...

For you.

feeds@yuku.com (Grey) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 10:21:42 GMT

Don't do much..
cuz I'm supposed to surrender
something.
A smile less then slide the sideways grin.
Hey maybe kiss my ass.
Such assumtions..
I don't know how.
I'll never..ever...
ever be when ya thought I was.
back,
your wish is hurt and wishing..
I might have thought you
could maybe recognise me
shade and thought.
More then imagination..
probably is how your knees
feel skinned

Take care and be prepared

feeds@yuku.com (poeticpiers) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 10:36:52 GMT

Take care and be prepared.

The desert plains of ice and snow are not a place I'd choose to go.

Nor sandy wastes under the sun dry deserts don't suit everyone.

when they sing me Dxiie

feeds@yuku.com (Gala Of the Garden) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 08:13:52 GMT

Oh please,
spare me organ pipes,
and sacred songs
sung by unwilling voices---
when its my time to fly
i want a dixieland funeral band
with a trumpet player
they robbed from heaven,
to call them all in line.

Make my last dance a samba,
or a conga,
and tell them I don't require
tears, or black bunting,
just a few precious souls
to shake it in my honor,
with a little s-e-x
in the hip action---
so they...

unalone

feeds@yuku.com (Gala Of the Garden) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 04:04:09 GMT

Bonnie is doing something
to a song about silver linings
that can't even be legal
in that taxing state of yours.
I chose that one
because fall brings you
always a finger touch away.
Your eyes call me that,
something moon kissed fine
that comes unbidden,
calls you to travel light,
leave the baggage by my door
and come dance with me slow,
no thought to what we owe,
not a mention of the interest
someone else might...

all and nothing, a late September morning

feeds@yuku.com (nessi1) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 07:09:33 GMT

in the moment these words
are all that I have
but nothing I write
seems enough
this reality, this now
escapes my comfort zone
but this is what I have
the deer ate the flowers yesterday
I no longer live near my grandchildren
my heart is lonely
even with knowing that the blessings
outweigh the tears
that I cannot help but cry

The only way to go.

feeds@yuku.com (poeticpiers) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 23:53:27 GMT

The only way to go

Some choose to grow old quietly

but others take a different view.

Rejection is a two way street

feeds@yuku.com (poeticpiers) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 07:50:20 GMT

Rejection is a two way street

Your fulsome praise cannot erase

the unforgotten yesterdays.

I still remember...

A Falling Star

feeds@yuku.com (Cottagerose) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 23:08:19 GMT

A Falling Star

I think I see your face
hiding in the clouds
somewhere near
the moon

I watch a tiny star
smile to see it
shine

Cry out "No, No'
when it begins
to fall

Your face has
two tears
one for you
one for me

We weep
for the death
of the tiny star

I weep for the
death of you.

Sylvia Sammons Spivey
2-2009

...

Aide Memoire

feeds@yuku.com (piers reborn) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 01:25:35 GMT

Aide Memoire.

Love tokens often signify.

If the body knows

feeds@yuku.com (roger ramjet2668) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 20:35:17 GMT

Why bother with the always waiting

If the body knows

What the mind has yet to learn.

It's a gift that's waiting

The Garden Gate

Christmas Wish

You know it's true for M lady Nessi

Now and Zen for M lady Lisa

The Value of My Tears

Shoot me

Time's Last Rose.

Sources of Inspiration.

Old friends and marionettes.

Favourite Daddy

If I lose my eyes

For you.

Take care and be prepared

when they sing me Dxiie

unalone

all and nothing, a late September morning

The only way to go.

Rejection is a two way street

A Falling Star

Aide Memoire

If the body knows