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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/21/2005 6:14:20 PM | When I saw the thread
Terse Verse While on a Nurse on a hearse
I had a flashback, a memory
Long forgotten, buried,
Sublimated
But with amazing clarity
It all came back to me
London, in the early 70's
Carnaby Street, Free love, Bee Gees
Boyfriend played Rugby for fun
A team called the Wanderers,
Didn't care who won
Rugby songs and beer were number one
I was a student of nursing then
Enjoying my first taste of freedom and men
Followed the team around cheered them on
Didn't care if they lost or won
Loved the ride home as I sat on my perch
The team car was an old Princess Hearse
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/21/2005 6:44:17 PM | Post n' run...too hot for me in here...I'm melting...melting....errrrggghh...
Oh, here's the poem:
========================
A Belated Father’s Day Poem
My father has no ass, of this I am certain
When he sits down, it must be his pelvis he’s hurtin’
I remember when I was an impudent child
I was untamed, with a hairy back and wild
Dad often complained – heck, he often ****ed
That my energy and antics often made his butt itch
I’m sure that over the years he would dig and he would pick
At that butt while he wished my own ass he could kick
Over time all that frustration made his ass erode
Until could not sit and had to hover over the commode
===============================
Sorry Dad. I hope your ass grows back one day.
Okay...to the great outside where the air moves and doesn't smell like socks.
Later, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/21/2005 7:53:11 PM | Hey ho all---Miz, Kobold ;-)….and hello to all those nameless ones who pass through these barn doors.
....This heat is killllling me..... ughhhhhh…..The beach is overcrowded with young people....
Rory ......Loved it, such talent!! ......and thanks again, for your words....A wise poem...nah, just a warped lil mind I have......The things that lurk in there... yikes...
Ahh, pickles ...I wish your move was going better....I'd give ya a hand if I was near, or share a beer....My boxes leave Friday….I am stuck here until the beginning of August.....
And you, old melting Goat…… You are near to my heart…
Have a good night all!
A man alone
On a bench
Cap pulled back
Eyes to the sun
A field
Dusty and bare
His life lived
In silent despair | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/22/2005 3:42:54 AM | Each day I pop in to take a peak and read, and what I see are such wonderful talented people, their words always touch you in some way, by bringing back a memory,helping with a thought, or by giving us longing and hope.....
Rory, thanks hun, how are things going for you? seems like the cupid hit the old barn pretty good this past little while...lol
Pickles....I wish I could help you move hun, or at least offer the refreshments like breathing said...a nice cold beer or a margarita on a hot day sounds so so good..lol....
just remember that through all the bad there will be some good, and once your settled, its all yours and a new start....an adventure so to speak....
well breathing....I know you must be just itching to leave, time ......and it will move fast, I find especially when your older(like me...lol) time seems to fly on by...sigh, wonder where it goes?...anyway...I wrote this awhile ago, not sure if you read it, but it will be reposted today, so anyone who has forgive me...but sometimes double posting needs to be done...lol
Take care everyone....talk with you later..
The right place
The gentle breeze blew in
as I walked along the shores
making my hair flutter
like my heart wanting more
My thoughts are deep of you
as I gaze upon the bluest sea
longing for your touch and love
the day you belong to me
A seagull cries the lonely cry
above the waters blue
that is how I feel right now
knowing I can't be with you
I want to hold you in my arms
but we are so far apart
many seas and shores keep us away
in distance but not in the heart
No matter what the distance is
in my heart you will always be
memories of us will keep me strong
until the day that your home with me
As the breeze gently blows
I feel your hand caress my face
I turn to see you before me
in my sights, home,the right place...
Miz
:  | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/22/2005 5:11:13 PM | hey,,,, fellow barn dwellers....I hope the day is treating you all well and good?
Miz, you old gal you... I think I have a few years on you and I don't feel too old, yet! ;-) I am waiting to get on the road and head east...Miz, your poems always touch the heart of life....
And Goat...What can I say... You are with me....
I rise to greet the day
A wind blows
Settles on the shore
Taste of espresso on my tongue
My eyes begin to focus
A water lily wakes to the sun
A daisy sleeps in the grass
My heart stirs at the remembrance of his words
A touch of poetry in the night
I sit with Eats, Shoots and Leaves
An early morning breeze
The scent of worn pages
Reminds me of his essence
Just a sunrise of thought
A glimpse of an autumn day
Snapshot of his youth
The touch of truth in his eyes
Today he stands
A gentle man of strength
His smile casts a beam of light
Softly flickering through the night
A soul upon a rock
He savours a morning cup of tea
Each moment a fragrance of patience
Gentle thoughts as I begin my day
I‘ve traveled a long path
Gotten lost along the way
I settled in time
With trust in my heart
I was no longer seeking
It was then that I found
The quiet knowledge
Of a love that runs deep
I am blessed
I’m going home | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/22/2005 5:31:55 PM | That's lovely, breathing.^^
DOWNTOWN TIGER
"Jane Jones'
circus now
performing with tiger,
exotic birds,
anaconda.
Held over."
Men with jean jackets, suits, paunches,
with their nude money crisp on payday,
scurry in and out of the high-tech bar.
The kitchen worker flings the stuffed bag's
disgust into the container. A stripper in spandex
flags a cab. The lined lights blink,
leading, over the doors, warehouse-like,
over the pastel-blue painted cement.
Two crows, then a score, gather on wires.
The pink sun gives up on the south horizon.
The parking lot's
lines are faded,
diagonal under
the domesticated
tiger, obese,
drugged super-
fluously, as it parades
in its asphalt circle,
a gaggle of spectators
congregating
at the restraining tape.
Flashbulbs pop.
Body of cartoon
stripes, yellow
and black, swings,
peers under
the tented trailer
for a cobbled image
of southern passion
padding the perfumed
hills in morning. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/22/2005 6:22:34 PM | Howdy all...good to see you guys here.
Hello to Miz (you still have it, my friend). Howdy to Rory...excellent post...I still wish I could lay down the images like you can. And then there's Breathing....ah, you...the power you have with your words is indescribable. You got me all a-tingly when I read your last poem. you are amazing.
As for me, I have something less amazing. After a day of work and biking back and forth in the heat...well, this kinda fell out:
===============================
Humidity, Schumidity – It’s Freaking Hot
“You know…it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.”
I heard someone say, almost helpfully
As if that will explain away the scorching blaze
That has replaced my once cold, rainy home
But I wonder…
If it gets up to 100 % humidity,
Does that mean the air turns to water?
==================================
I don't care what the weatherman says -- 30 C is not nice, it's hot. My comfort zone is towards the freezing mark, so this is pretty nasty hot. Ergh. Must. Cool. Off.
I'm hitting the showers. See you guys tomorrow, eh. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/22/2005 10:34:30 PM | Hi Goat, Miz, Rory, Pickles, and Breathing! Miss anyone? If so-sorry-I'm beat! Late nighter. Hate the heat too, Goat! I'm a 60-70F kinda guy myself.
Droppin' another one.
Alas
Stare into the eyes of dawn,
Take heed of its rising light,
Its innocence now withdrawn,
As retribution becomes forthright.
In no corner will darkness hide,
Judgment is now at hand,
The four horsemen in turn ride,
Sowing their seed upon the land.
Death and pestilence now rule,
A blood red moon rises in the sky,
Prophesies once thought to be of a fool,
Now seen as truth as we each in turn die.
Logic and reason once thought to dispel,
There were any consequences for a vice.
Now comes heaven or hell,
With eternal punishment or paradise,
A new beginning was promised and foretold,
As our end now comes to pass,
Depending on to whom your soul was sold,
But its now too late to change, alas, alas!
~Kobold~ | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/23/2005 6:57:28 AM | well done kobold...
it is so nice to see one of my favortie authors around and writing again, well at least sharing again....missed you...
Breathing and Goat thank you both for your kind words,good to see happiness flow freely around you two...
Rory, I agree with Goat as always your words paint vivid wonderful pictures....nice to see you around
well I don't have anything as of yet so will post and run for now...
Take care all..
Miz | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/23/2005 5:40:35 PM | Thanks, Miz, I always look forward to your writes.
GALVANIZED STEEL
The steel beam gives off a sickly gleam
as reflected by the distant, glaring inlet lights.
I slide the steel forks under its belly
roughly and carelessly, a four a.m. summons.
It rattles noisily as I drive past
its relatives, other cold, half-ton beams
linked by chains, ugly and ignored in the steelyard.
I deposit it by the acid tanks to be stung
with pungent perfume, I'd say almost awake
until the gallows cranes dip it irrevocably
in molten zinc, the exploding silver streams
a lurid display of a dead thing being killed.
Raised out after baking, two scoop off
the cooling dross-- chain of thick tears.
I weigh the stiff, steaming beam, circle
its number, tag its foot, press a button,
and the hoist carries it back outside. Later,
it's a steady, durable, tensile bridge support
with hundreds of similar sisters and brothers,
strength with arms intertwined in their double negation,
a welded kiss the trust for those above. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/23/2005 8:08:07 PM | Howdy all...another post n' run.
Here we go:
==========================
I Don’t Want To Stop Breathing
Time has crawled and then it has sailed
Past all my abilities to measure it
Still, we remain together across great distances
Soon to be closed to nothing
A great wide loop starting in a flat land
Going to mountains and then back
Back to wind and wheat and sun
Back home
Her photograph hangs just above my eyes now
That smile is the first and last thing I see
In the course of a day
A drowned rat, she said of herself
I've never seen such a beautiful drowned rat before
If the wet is what gives her beauty
Then soak that elegant rodent
Drench her and let the radiance commence:
That sparkle behind those storm-tossed eyes
The graceful arc of neck where it luxuriously
Meets the gentle jawline
Lips will arrive there in a short while
But her physical self is a small part
Such a fraction of who she is
There are no real words to describe her character
Her heart, her laugh, that direct common sense
That posesses her and carries her so regally
Through the days that can suppress, compress, repress
So many of us
"Pshaw!" She'll declare to all of this
All of my teenage fanboy gushings
I have not met anyone like her in my life
Unless they were 50 years old, fat and tragically Buddhist
It is as if she were plucked from my fondest wishes
And made real
====================================
Ah...I was inspired tonight. Hope she doesn't mind...
Okay...I'm sacking out. G'night youse guys.
By the way...it's good to see you guys here...Kobold, Miz, Rory and (of course) Breathing. This place wouldn't be a decent barn without ya'll.
Alrighty...g'night. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/23/2005 8:30:59 PM | Breathing wanders in to drop a few words, a poem of sorts...Then .....I read the words, the image that hangs above me....I am speechless....What can be said to express my wonder and respect for you--- dearest, charming Goat....ahhh, breathing Bows to you~ Namaste, my love
And Yes "Pshaw" I say.... ;-)
Thank you for your words Rory....You stand among the best...I agree with Goat-- If I could cast light the way you do - Give life to shadows as you do, well hey- I might call myself a poet… Miz- Such a kind soul, y’ar. Hey Kobold -- good to see you wandering about!
Morning news
Her greeting is an empty smile
Cleaning octagon tables
Arranging checkered flowers
I sit and watch
She tries to hide
Black and red marks
Beneath a cloth of vinyl
Plastic sweet peas drops of her tears
She whispers specials
Hands shaking she pours
Coffee in a chipped cup
Feet shuffle across the floor
Bellows from behind the grill
Order up
Eggs basted, asparagus and brie
Morning words of a lonely heart
She looks to be wandering in rage
Aching to be free
Sad eyes working for minimum wage
G'night y'all.....you all Inspire me, you truly do | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/23/2005 9:12:46 PM | 
Place for poetry ?
Not all of it rhymes ?
Perhaps I'm too serious about my expectations.
Here is one I wrote. I hope it doesn't appear too immature. :)
- - -
She stands there by the frozen pond
Her eyes so gentle, her hair so blonde.
She smiles to me and nods her head.
I catch my breath; I feel the dread.
For this isn't how I first found my love,
But I wish I could, from heaven above.
For when I cannot express on how I feel,
Then love is a Fantasy, it is never real.
And now I am holding a woman's hand,
There's memories inside, like soft sand.
It trickles through my fingers and though
She catches it all, she doesn't let it go.
My heart, my head, the tears are shed.
She pulls me closer, my soul is fed.
A hollow sound rings within my soul
Hers chimes with mine, she paid my toll.
My animal calls to me, it is not her.
It's deep within me, beginning to stir.
But amazing things I have not yet known
when her Animal pounces on my own !
The journey of life as some may see
is not complete, no-one is ever just ME.
But perhaps I cannot tell what I think
It may be you, I ask your life to drink.
- - -
Puberty and maturity are interesting times.
The girls which we so despised growing up
does curious things to our head. We feel
the hunger but know not the food.
A woman is always right, especially when she isn't. :)
Is it such a large price to pay by giving unfailing respect and commitment for a moment within her eyes and the sensation of her touch and her allowing the same ?
David | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/24/2005 5:23:14 AM | very good....
not all poetry rhymes.....poetry to most is just an expression of the soul, the heart, and the mind....it comes out in many forms and at times can have many different meanings, it is how you perceive it...
there is no wrong way of writing how you feel, here there are no rules, no criticism, just people learning and reading and enjoying other poets...
Miz | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/24/2005 2:56:56 PM | Hi to all, but especially Goat Rory Kobold Miz Breathing and MariSam
Move is done...
TY Miz and Breathing for your support
Computer still has to hooked up...this w/e
Loved the poems posted here recently...
Hope my Cerebral cortex will get beyond brown boxes, and bubble wrap 
B'day tomorrow so will take the day off 
Hugzzz | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/24/2005 7:56:36 PM | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~hey hey… happy birthday pickles, happy birthday to you……I hope you Relax, Kick back and ENJOY!!! Hugzzz ….I’ll have a beer in your honour :-)
You are one of a kind dear Goat……
Hello to you Dw817, nice write and a welcome to you!
Has been a day here…..G’night you Barn dwellers
The sun gently pulsing
In perfect rhythm
A morning wind rustles
Night sleeps inside trees
A shadow of flames awaken
Diamonds dancing on leaves
Branches leading the serenade
A minuet of the day | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/24/2005 8:26:05 PM | Happy Birthday to Pickles!
Howdy to all...hello Breathing-dear. I'm sorry to drop this in the barn...I was working on something and got distracted and well...
=========================
We Interrupt The Regularly Scheduled Poem to Bring You This:
A poem is being born, but it’s a difficult thing
Without an epidural
And me without my poem-bearing hips
It is especially difficult
When laziness creeps in and even the pangs
The almost Rilkean pains
Contract and demand a poem come forth and live
And step an unsteady foot in this barn
So, after a fashion, a poem spewed forth
Lying, covered in grammatical afterbirth
So impossibly ugly, malnourished and malformed
It met all the regular criteria for a Goat-poem
It was crass, kinda descriptive and mostly wordy
But it weren’t funny
I so wanted to it to be funny and it wasn’t
A good night’s sleep, a strong pot of coffee
And it will be re-shaped
(dare I say “fondled”)
Into a new form – a funny form
Instead of the lame, tragic thing it is
Bear with me
==================================
Okey-dokey-smokey....I'm heading to the showers and then to sleep. See you guys tomorrow, eh. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/25/2005 3:08:36 PM | BAR ROOM TANKA
Bar band belts the blues
base line a booming beat for
glaucomatous blood--
cords of thick, helical smoke
trapped by stage lights red and blue. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/25/2005 6:33:46 PM | Post n' run...heads up!!
===========================
Commissioner Gordon’s Been Drinking Again
So much depends on a red phone
In a cave
Tucked under Wayne Manor
Manned by a man who is a bat
One Friday Night, one late hour
The Batphone rings urgently
And the man-who-is-a-bat speaks:
Yes, Commissioner?
Yes, Robin and I are ready…what is the emerg..?
Sorry?
Uh, well…I’m wearing my uniform
De..describe it to you? What for?
Haven’t you seen it hundreds of times?
Yes, I am wearing my Bat Utility Belt.
Sorry…?
I…yes, yes
I’m taking it off and letting it fall to the floor…
Commisioner, is this really necess..?
…
I’m unzipping the back of my uniform
And sliding it off my chiselled body.
Sorry..Bat-body…
My..muscles still slick from fighting crime
All day
Leave the cape and cowl on?
Uh, okay…
Commissioner, are you drunk?
Si…since noon, huh?
…
Ah…
Okay…okay…take it easy, Commissioner
Uh..alright…I’m running my hands across your
Distended…
..okay..slightly distended belly
Through your grey, matted body hair
Slowly moving in circles
Wider
Wider
Wider until I touch…
…Commissioner?
Did you want to speak to Robin?
He’s right here
Robin!
Come here and take one for the team!
===============================
And I'm a-runnin'....see yer tomorrow, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/25/2005 6:38:14 PM | | Just when you think you've seen it all, we get this. Wow. That was surely something, alright. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/25/2005 10:52:55 PM | BARN JANITOR
Well, ten hours till the Goat lets fly
With wise words, and smells from on high.
Should I scrub the pulpit now,
Or steam-blast his sweaty brow
When his arms flail, cheeks aflutter
With rancid gases from the gutter?
I should be paid triple time
In this stinky church just to climb
The fetid steps to the altar.
Someone pass me a nose halter. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 6/26/2005 7:04:25 AM | An excellent introduction...thank you, Rory. I like the hot wax under the armpit and on the genitals. Yes...oh, yessss...
Uhm...? What do you mean you don't get paid enough for this?
Well, I'll just hire some illegal immigrants then.
Hello all...a rainy Sunday morning greets us as we gather here, around the hay bales for another reading from the Book of Goat. We'll dispense with the "please rise" and "please be seated" crap. I'll just say "park it" and "zip up the ol' pie hole".
Ready?
====================================
Psalm 40 – The Book of Goat
Wish not thou for that “old school love”
For thou never knowest which school your partner
Hast attended
In Thy Lard’s school
Love grew out of bush parties
Like weird weeds
That shot out of the beer-soaked ground
Where two would meet, staggering
On the bonfire-lit battlefield
And engageth in a vigorous game of
Lick The Tonsils
Whereupon one wouldst Barf
Most heartily
And immediately go back to necking
Together they would fall in that liquid yarg
And try to stumble through love for an hour or two
There are other schools, O yea
Going back a little further to more sturdier schools
Thou wouldst see every man and boy in a shirt and tie
The alpaca sweater vests were optional
For the most part
And everything was “swell”
Girls looketh “swell” in their chaste party dresses
Boys looketh “swell” with their hair deep-fried
In Bryl-Creem
Mom and Dad were always “swell”
Her in the kitchen and Dad in the living room
Smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper
Advising Young Chip that things will get easier over time
But Very Much wanting to tell him to stick it in a "swell" watermelon
And forget about Suzie for a few minutes
(Godammit)
Old school love is a varied thing
Thy Lard is sure He can think back to a time
When the only school of love was to
Seize thine partner from behind
And proceedeth to
Wham, Bam…thank you, Ma’am
Pick up thy club and carry on
To the next romance or fight
Or both
(Actually, that sounds a little like the 70’s)
So, Thy Lard sayeth: Be specific for what thou asketh for
For thou may come home one night
With a phone number on a cigarette package
Smelling like puke
With itchy thighs
And an alpaca sweater
Amen | |
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