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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 7/29/2005 4:48:37 PM | Hello all yee talented barn dwellers......
I arrive home, in Saskabush, on Sunday ....That will make it a special Sunday sermon
As for a poem today ...ughhh ---- what lurks in this mind....
Well , we have .... uhm, and we have....errrr ... a bit of a daft brain...
You see -- My mind is filled with goat thoughts....
Don't get me wrong, I think the rest of you are all Wonderful!! I Do
It's just, well, the Goat is the best......
'
If ya know what I mean
Sweet, amazing Goat thoughts
Quiet moments along a prairie highway
The eyes of a brilliant soul
The sun setting over wheat fields
The feel of a first touch
A Prairie thunderstorm I long to see
Ah yes, and a sweet sip of tea
Well, I gotta run .... see y'as tomorrow
Still Breathing | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 7/29/2005 6:59:50 PM | Post n' run night again...
Hello all...hello to Miz and her fine and elegant writes. Always love seeing you here, Miz.
Hello to Breathing-dear....thunderstorms and sips of tea await you here. But it may be quick drizzles and iced tea considering the weirdly hot weather we've got today. You're still amazing...you is...
Me? Well, I whipped up something awful:
==============================
It’s Not Your Father’s Limerick
There once was a goat from Saskatoon
Who was one part goof and one part loon
He composed a meal of lentils and soy
And gave birth to a brown baby boy
============================
He's nine pounds and ten ounces...and smells like a tire fire. Urf!
Okay...I must depart for the day. G'night all! | |
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| Murk
Posted: 7/29/2005 7:02:01 PM | Emptiness
I feel empty and so alone,
Many a night as I think,
My life set in a dark tone,
Into my depression I shrink.
Such helplessness I feel,
No control of my state,
The emptiness so real,
Is this really my fate?
I don’t really have a clue,
Nor an answer to my plight,
There’s nothing anyone can do,
My state of mind, my fight.
Alone to thought,
As time passes so slow,
More anxiety wrought,
And more it does grow.
I wish for peace,
Found only in slumber,
At the end of life’s lease,
When death has your number.
Sleep is my only serenity,
Into the realm of dreams I slip,
Where from emptiness I flee,
Until the drink of death I sip.
~Kobold~ | |
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| Up from the Murk
Posted: 7/29/2005 9:52:28 PM | I posted this in another thread. It's heart felt-probably more so than any other poem I've written. So much of the stuff I've written is dark. Probably most people don't know that I actually went to college to be a minister at one time. But we each have our "gifts", or "calling". The place where we feel perfectly at ease and at peace with ourselves. The darker stuff is where I'm at. I've been judged-wrongly so by some-maybe even God? That's where this poem stems from.
Dear God
Dear God, set me not asunder,
Afflict me not, with judgment of thunder.
I’m a dark soul, yes this much is true,
But I harm no one, in all that I do.
For the light of kindness, I hold dear to my heart,
And only express my dark side, here in the form of art.
Set your piercing gaze, look deep into my mind,
There in the dark shadows, your light you’ll actually find.
For to deal with the insanity of the world, it’s in darkness I found my niche, my space,
Like a diamond buried deep in a chunk of coal, in my darkness you’ll find your grace.
Dear god, I am what you made me,
A hidden child of light, adrift in a black sea.
~Kobold~ | |
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| Up from the Murk
Posted: 7/29/2005 10:13:31 PM |  beautiful kobold
i wrote this in the same forum he did so i wanted to share it with you guy's
Dear God
Why has my life been nothing but pain?
You've blessed me with an angel, but why is my angel going to see evil.
I feel like you have neglected me, why?
All i have done is give my love to you.
Will this life get any better.
There are times when i swear i know your here, when i forget my fears.
My hope seeks what my furture will brings, when u wrap me in your arm's and take me where you are.
Where are you now? now that i need you.
These are the word's from a broken heart.
I wonder have you ever been inlove so bad?
Have you ever had someone steal your heart away, but you could never have them?
All i wanted was my true love that i can't have why?
Is my love not worthy of him?
Why would let me meet someone i gave my heart to, but only to find that he won't give his heart to me?
I guess these question's won't be answered as i sit here in the dead of the night.
Even tough i hold it in i never thought i'd have so much pain
Just like a knife that cut's you the wound heals but the scars always remain.
Well God i pray soon time will heal all and you will walk me threw the rest of the way until it leads me back home to you. | |
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| Up from the Murk
Posted: 7/29/2005 10:51:55 PM | i'm new to this but a friend said yesterday i need to have others read this poem so here goes it's a bit long
Timeless Illumination
Our world of linear time,
sunrise to sunset,
youthful beginnings to
inescapeable endings
separates the two of us.
For you are as near to dawn
as I to dusk,
and our linear division feeds
my reluctance to express
the ways you have captivated me.
Your voice as soft as your curves,
as sultry as a humid midsummer night
echoes Coatlicue's visions
of the plurality of a woman.
She yields her power
to stand along side you
together as one,
and I'm lured into a world
filled with the eclipsed secrets
of your desires.
You renounce
roses growing in the snow
as an image too limited
for the breath of your vastness.
You envision a life
not of accepting righteous suffering
but of forging brilliant horizons,
and when most men hide
their eyes in shame,
I open mine
to behold the glories de la mujer
embodied in everything you are.
I draw nearer
to see you stand
as a contradiction
to the unsettling
oppression of man.
I look into your eyes
and wander around
floating gardens
and ageless pyramids
to see a priestess
chanting songs in celebration
about a life as unrestricted as dreams.
Your body glistens from
the heat of the day
enhancing the sienna darkness of
your smooth indigenious skin.
From a distance I noticed how
tender brush strokes designed your beauty,
exposing the depth of your dimensions,
as your hair with a managed unruliness
and as thick as history
streams along your face.
You sacrifice yourself to me.
I sacrifice myself to you
as we lie together atop Tepeyac.
In the shadow of Tonantzin
our bodies merge into
the best of the past,
the honesty of the present,
the future is ours to determine
if we have the courage
to forsake imposed limitations.
I trace your sensuality
with an ice cube
down along your neck.
Muscles tightening-- relaxing.
The water rushes ahead
impatient to find
the hollow of your throat.
Liquid weaves a path around
tiny hairs that rise and fall
to the songs of your voice
and leaves in its wake
a single silver strand necklace
grasping
a diamond pendant.
Encircling your nipple.
I watch as your flesh hardens
from the cold and excitement.
The ice cube releases
glistening drops that
find the easiest path
down your breast
to settle into a pool
I wade through
with my tongue,
briefly tasting
your delicacy.
Slowly and evenly
I move the ice down
past your heart.
No need to rip out your essence
acting out the ritual sacrifice
of our ancestors.
For it is not the ending
of the heartbeat that awakes
the sun from its rest
but the beating of your heart
that revives the sun
for future generations.
I give up my need to subdue.
You give up your need to protect,
as the water moves
to the beat of your heart
with gentle waves of silence.
Each drop becomes an ocean
dotting the landscape of your beauty.
The ice moves down your stomach
as my tongue paves a waterway through
your tangled forest of hair.
We move through time
unaware of its passage.
Linear divisions wash away
as we focus on our bodily rhythms
swaying to the age del sexto sol.
Our lungs fill with the aroma
of our mutual hunger for intimacy.
I smell your scent
as it lingers in the air
with the richness of life.
I hold the ice cube inches
above your skin.
A drop silently falls
and your body responds
with a sensual shutter.
Heighten by
the gentle flicking
of my tongue,
ice, tongue
immersing, teasing
your anticipation, your willingness
and our bodies rise and fall
with each new droplet.
I rub the ice along
the ridges of the enveloping skin of your most hidden recess.
Your legs move further apart
to invite me in.
Inhibitions give way
to the affirmation of our union.
Your wetness is
like a taste
of an ageless wine
intoxicating the two of us.
I enter you fearful of the
vastness of your inner being.
Each thrust in tune with
the timeless rhythms of love.
Each rise a new day.
Each set a new night,
and countless millenniums rush through us.
You move your body up
to meet mine in the middle of someplace
where we transcend the limits of the world.
We embrace as if to let go
would lose ourselves,
rise, set.
I feel myself sinking
deeper and deeper.
To the deaths of your being I touch
lightly, gently
like a shadow.
We move to the ever quickening
torrent of indigenous drumbeats.
Sacrifice to sacrifice.
Our hearts in a joyous symphony.
We sing an opera without words
that inhibit the messages of our bodies.
We become instruments without form,
rise, set
We embrace skin against skin.
Your wetness smolders
and flows between our legs.
We rise to feel the fusion
of penetration and envelopment.
Our brown bodies
become like dancers
forever locked into a duet.
You lower yourself down and
your back arches like a bridge
spanning our intimacies,
as our spirits rise up
towards the heavens
of our existence.
Sweat pours from us
escaping from
the blaze of our intensity.
The drums beat
faster, faster.
In unison, we
rise, set.
Your legs wrap around mine
our ankles entwine.
faster, faster
Our fingers interlock with
a white knuckle grip.
Our breaths become shallower
unable to take in
all that resides
in the moment.
Out of control,
we merge
our bodies into one,
control, out of
control,
our movement
become like swiftly
flowing rapids
out of control,
set, rise,
our backs arch
like two waterfalls.
We freeze.
No breaths, sounds, movements.
An eternity passes between us
as our fluids mix
and flow into an
ever widening river
that erases the borders
of our existence.
We collapse
into one another
ankles locked,
fingers frozen.
Our bodies melt into
a form unrecognisable
to anyone but ourselves.
Our lungs suck in cool midnight air
saturated with the moon's presence.
Our bodies fill with the power
to defy
the unseen constraints
of our sexuality.
Beyond existence we travel
and find ourselves surrounded
by the boundless energy of life
and we concede that
ours is not simply
a fulfillment of lust,
but of a new territory
void of constructions and judgments
and full with the celebrations of life
that justify our unity.
The smoke from our cigarettes
struggles to filter through the passion
hovering in the air,
and for a moment,
yours is not the dawn,
and mine is not the dusk,
but together,
we are the timeless illumination of day.
. | |
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| Up from the Murk
Posted: 7/30/2005 12:03:37 AM | Wow ! Great entries recently, and especially wonderful to see new people again in the Barn.
Kobold, indeed "Dear God" was a strong, personal statement. Honest and raw, and of course very good, as usual.
portuguese mommie, thanks for your poem. Heartfelt and questioning, I liked it.
carlito, that was a tour de force, imaginative and moving in parts. I hope you post here again.
Goat, I'm happy for you and breathing. Glad the big day is almost here for the both of you.
Miz, hi, and to pickles, the mysterious BonBon oh canada, and mari sam, as well.
====================================================================
BURRARD INLET
The sulphur pile protrudes from the dock,
a pointed arrogance, glistening
in direct sun, p.m., three o'clock,
a pyramid afire, as I'm listening
at my feet to the dying waves repeat
their lives at sea in seconds of emotion,
some resigned, some angry, others puzzled or meek
as they purl silently back to the ocean.
Dead leaves, aflame and drenched, wave fingers,
are jostled by isochronal swells,
wind ridging them like a worried singer,
breath thin and ragged with stories they tell.
Seagulls stand on their comic-book legs;
two children chuck popcorn to attract another score;
one bird fights another as another begs.
Barge chaff is nudged again at the shore.
Sand is caked and pocked, making
small shadows, contrasting in relief the dunes,
little and ridged as the sun keeps baking
its signature on grains. Now the moon,
fat and full, peeks through the haze
while I leave the beach, content, amazed. | |
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| Up from the Murk
Posted: 7/30/2005 4:58:48 AM | welcome to the new stragglers of the barn...
Hiya goes out to all my dear friends here....
Kobold as always you blow me away with your writes, what talent you have dear sir....I have enough of a time trying to rhyme every other line and you go and do the whole poem that way...wow....Your dear god poem was great, yes you do have a dark side that you do well, but that doesn't mean your dark all the time, you also have passion that we have seen in writes.....
Well I have nothing, notta,zip for now, but I will be back later on today to post something..
Have a great one, breathing and goat make your meeting memorable, something you can always look back on and smile....
bye bye
Miz | |
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| Up from the Murk
Posted: 7/30/2005 10:30:40 AM | Hello all. Man, there are some real powerful writes here lately. A big credit to Kobold for that...you have really outdone yourself, pardner. Such strength flowing under those words, man...like the Liard River up in northern BC. It looks calm at times, but there is a current under it that can move heaven and earth. You have that same power, Kobold. And don't friggen deny it either. I know where you live, mate, I can give some wicked wedgies when so inclined.
PortugueseMommie...welcome. I don't think Kobold's works could have been followed any better than by what you wrote. Thank you for your timeliness and for choosing the barn to post it.
Carl...holy crap! That was a pretty vivid poem and quite a well-illusrated journey. You're one of the few people I've read that renders me speechless and wordless. That one is a long, winding, passionate walk of a poem. Excellent! Thanks for putting it in the barn and welcome to you.
Rory...again, you amaze me. You know, you illustrate what poetry is to me. It's the extraordinary examination of the ordinary everday things of life. A celebration of the small, crystallized by turns of phrase, formatted with wisdom. It's the combination of objects and actions and similies that aren't usually together in "normal" language. It's linguistic creativity at it's peak.
And then there's Miz...hello there. No worries if you don't have a poem -- it's always good to see you here. And thank you for the well-wishes...Breathing will arrive here in Saskabush tomorrow and, well...I did write a poem...because that's what I do:
============================
The Day Before Breathing
A four-month journey concludes
So many steps, so many carefully arranged letters
Small, tired voices squeezed through phone lines
Great, unwieldy passions hanging on written words
Breaths and pauses held by punctuation
Two-dimensional smiles
Illustrating your beauty and inarguable grace
We have arrived at this point
You and I
We have shared as much as we could
Over that once-vast distance
Penetrated the mountains
Strode over the foothills
Crossed the prairies in large steps
Like a colossus
You demonstrate such courage
Willing to leave a place you love
To come here to the flatness
To a place where combines crawl the earth
Like patient busy insects
Where the smell of cows hangs in the spring
Where no mountains grow
And you can watch your dog run away for three days
Four, if it isn’t raining
We have arrived at this point
Patiently
We have arrived at this point
Because we want to
We have arrived at this point
Because it makes perfect sense
You will be here tomorrow
Because you love me
And I, you
==================================
So, yeah...she's going to be here. I'm shocked and amazed and thrilled and beside myself and having an out of body experience all at the same time.
Breathing. Will. Be. Here. Tomorrow.
Okay, youse guys...there will still be the regular Sunday sermon tomorrow. Stay tuned. | |
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| Up from the Murk
Posted: 7/30/2005 1:18:46 PM | ok thats not fair..your supposed to make me laugh not cry darn you......
thank you for sharing your thoughts about breathing and her finally coming home so to speak, I am happy that this year seems love has found many people, and more and more smiles are to be found...
Congrats and we better take a raincheck on the sunday sermon, I will kick your butt if your online!!!!!!! monday is a holiday so you can serve it up then......take sunday off, a very special lady is coming your way, a wonderful welcome is in order
Take care and thanks again for all your kind words and for letting me hang out in the barn....
Miz | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 7/31/2005 6:50:49 AM | Oh, er...sorry Miz. And I guess I'm doubly sorry that I came here this morning to post the Sunday sermon against your wishes. I wonder now -- can you actually reach my butt with your foot? I mean, my ass is all the way on my back and all...
But Breathing isn't due to arrive until much later in the day. It's not even 8:00 am here yet...plenty of time to do the goaty thing. And here it is:
=============================
Psalm 909 -- The Book of Goat
Bless these man-panties
For they mark the end of a Laundry Cycle
When boxers
-- turned inside and out beyond their usable range of cleanliness –
Have expired
And wait for the Great Washing of Mismatched Socks
And other things that are too soiled for public display
The man-panties
Bind
And creep up Thy Lard’s Great Divide
They serve as a constant reminder that
Fabric softener should not be forgotten
And to not forget to wash thy skivvies
An entire week of man-panties
Wouldst not be pleasing to Thy Lard
Amen
================================
Okay...let's get out there and embrace that day. It's already warm here and that sun is calling me out. Breathing will be here later, my skivvies are washed and the evening is going to be totally unplanned and unscripted. That's just the way we like it.
I will be back here tomorrow a very tired, but elated, goat.
Later, eh? | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 7/31/2005 9:41:31 AM | Good day all.... Tis a special sunday today!! I am about to head out to Toontown....WOW!!!
No time for reading today, looks like I have a few gems to read through on Tuesday :-)
Goat-- your words, your heart ...."The day before breathing"... Thank you for the man that you are and the Honour of loving you.
Quiet moments
I recall the wind tickling leaves
The smell of sun kissed trees
The lingering scent of cedar
Mountains asleep in the western sky
I feel the love in his eyes
As I quietly I look to the east
I see the gentle heart of this man
With an old photo it began
I saw his soul alive on the page
I listen to the stillness of my heart
The life we are about to start
I am honoured to walk this path
One last step on the journey home
Well all...see you ...soon
breathing still | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 7/31/2005 4:01:24 PM | Ah...she is amazing, isn't she?
Ohmigawdohmigawdohmigawdohmigawdohmigawd.....
She's going to be here any time...
Uhm...
D'ya suppose I should, like, get dressed or something soon?
Hmm... | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 7/31/2005 4:05:28 PM | | Nope...but I stuck a citrus candle up my a*** and lit it. At first it was uncomfortable, but then it became kinda natural and sorta...well, sorta nice... | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 7/31/2005 6:40:20 PM | She's here....almost...
This is, like, so kewl...
Er...I mean I am suitably elated on this sweltering Sunday.
See you guys tomorrow, eh? | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 7/31/2005 10:12:34 PM | Untitled
He was once a lonely man,
Each day he prayed for the Lord to grant him a companion,
He promised he would love her, and treat her well,
Each time love came within his grasp,
He was never able to hold it,
Was this his curse? He does not know.
His prayers were answered,
He is in love and she loves him,
This is all that matters now,
The world could offer him all the riches,
And he would refuse it all,
His love towards his companion is what matters most,
He loves her dearly,
To ends of the universe he will to utter his love for her,
He treats her majestically, She does not know why,
But she loves him because his heart is genuine,
She is in love with him.
It is until one day,
She must tell him good bye,
She tells him good bye and he does not know why.
He questions himself,
He wonders if there was a day he did not love her,
He wonders if there was a day he did not hug her,
He wonders if there was a day if he was not true to her.
In all his questions he can not find the answers.
Time has gone on,
She has married another,
He is still alone,
From time to time he thinks of her,
He wonders of her.
But he realizes now that it was not meant to be,
But he also realizes that he blessed during that time.
For he was blessed so,
Now he can proudly say he knows what love is,
To experience love, to share love, to be committed to one another,
He reminices the good times with her,
All he can do is smile,
Truly, The Lord blessed him,
In his memory, He remembers the love,
And only love. . . . | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 8/1/2005 6:40:49 PM | Hello all. For obvious reasons, this will be a post and run. Breathing is here and has been here for about 24 hours and we've only slept for 40 minutes....
Did I tell you she is amazing?
Okay, a poem:
================
Naked Coffee
There’s something about the efforts of a poor Columbian boy
Tainted by the stark nudity of the common coffee-sipper
A bodum was the witness, it’s French press remained silent
As it witnessed two new lovers
Tired and bleary, searching for a Great Wakering
On a soon-to-be-hot holiday Monday
Her elegant, bronzed hands work expertly
Taking one scoop, then two of that rich, dark coffee
Butt-bare to the world
Hair still wild from the early morning
A gentle corona about her head
Eyes half open
A smile that never stops
As the French press slides down
And the coffee is ready
========================
Okay..now we're geting some sleep. G'night you crazy kids and I'll be here tomorrow. | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 8/1/2005 7:36:28 PM | Bless breathing and Goat. I'm so happy for the both of you.
==========================================
GEORGIA LOUNGE
This very night, yes, long and sinuous,
insinuates itself with a thousand downtown sounds.
Cars, through that window, drape the painted lines
like metallic sausage. Our waitress, proficient or not,
smiles, whatever her mood. The television screen
screams silently above the hundredfold empty liquor bottles,
practising a moral, perhaps an absolution, though
there's a break for a commercial. The carpet,
a neglected blue, follows under the patrons,
florid or gloomy. Glasses clink, laughs are stifled,
and a vanned horse awaits a red light
at the metronome intersection. Crowds, pairs,
and loners hold their drinks like abstracted parents
to their infants. The bartop glistens like headlights in mud.
Paintings, in this muted light, redraw themselves.
A saxophone needles its discontent from table to table.
A boy, outside, looks in, pressed hands on glass,
and reads his own poem, reworking it endlessly. | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 8/1/2005 8:02:54 PM | Hey Goat and breathing-congrats on love found!
Hi rory-thanks for the support man.
Gift Or Curse
Raw, wrought emotion,
Power in written word,
Ideals and dreams the notion,
Our thoughts to be assured.
Mightier than the sword,
Is the pen they say,
Things not to be ignored,
Opinions they may sway.
A gift or curse,
Neither matters to me,
My ideas I disperse,
Because I am free.
My canvas is my paper, you see,
I paint it with my pen,
And no matter what you may say of me,
I’ll write over and over again.
~Kobold~ | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 8/2/2005 2:59:48 PM | Greetings from Saskabush - Toontown is now home....Wow, I have arrived !!
Thanks to Rory and Kobold for your well wishes. The goat is amazing!!
I have not made time to give everyone a "proper" read, kinda busy doing other things.
- If ya know what I mean-
... "Naked Coffee"... Goat, you are stunning, in every respect. It is good to be home, with you.
~~
His voice holds
The sweetness of a prairie wind
His love dances
In time
With the clouds
With open arms
He welcomes breathing
With a glance
One silent tear falls
I feel the truth in his eyes
His scent
Fills my soul with life
His touch
Reflects the warmth of a prairie sunset
A silhouette of gentle love
In silence
We sit tasting the rain
Watching
The sound of thunder
Celebrating our life together
~~ | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 8/2/2005 5:08:38 PM | For you
It’s an amazing thing, when two become one,
Something beautiful, that should never be undone.
To find that special love, that special care,
Is indeed a blessing, and very rare.
It’s a freedom you find, from loneliness you’re freed,
Together forever, your love nurture and feed.
My hope for you, Breathing and Goat,
A life of happiness, that to each other you’ll devote.
Together many years from now, when from this world you must depart,
You will have the satisfaction that comes, when two souls each share their heart.
~Kobold~ | |
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| Sunday! Sunday!! SUNDAY!!!
Posted: 8/2/2005 6:58:18 PM | Hi to the honeymooners, haha.... Geeze, getting misty-eyed here, Kobold, very nice.
Knocked this one off today after a three hour walk and three hours laying on the beach:
====================================================================
JOB LIFERS
It's seven a.m. and the sun's slanting rays
sweep across the blistering zinc furnace--
yellow undulations over silver sea.
Our five-man crew one long hour from shift's end,
shuffles along the kettle's edge, sweat pouring
through grime-and-salt caked faces, faces
bitten and stained by acid and zinc burns,
the oldtimers' faces grey and corrugated,
eyes under goggles bleary and resigned.
I'm fifteen-years-old, ecstatic about scoring
again with Jeanette after a two-hour nap.
They're fifty-five, sixty, with booze and bored wives.
Job lifers, I've learned, in every field,
on the road, in steel mills, office, penthouse
conference room or dug-out construction site,
are the same. At twenty, it's a joking complaint;
at thirty, the crossroads: tough, crucial decisions;
at forty, some life left, but the harness heavy;
at fifty, it's game over, and all that remains
for view are escaping sighs and perilous
observations, like long-past car wrecks silent
and shattered, the occasional plume of smoke
shooting vertically forming a demented halo,
oxygen once ingested like a wild lover
now grasped at as a desperate memory,
its force sweeping over them indiscriminately
like pulsing suns over frozen zinc blocks. | |
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Teaps
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Joined: 6/27/2005
Msg: 2049 | |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 8/2/2005 7:04:12 PM | Play the Game
By Jared Comeau
Sometimes we wonder
If life just a blunder?
but deep down inside
It's just a Deep Tide.
We always will wonder
what it's all about
why we are here
and what we're to do
The emotions we feel
are they really real?
Or is all that we feel
not the real deal.
So all i can do
is be real and subsist
and the hand I am dealt
is the hand I lay down | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 8/2/2005 7:55:04 PM | Hello all....busy little old day here in Toon Town. Hey, Kobold...thank you for that poem...y'ar a good mate. Breathing appreciates it as well.
Hello to Rory...thank you for your well-wishes. Your poem was excellent as always too...always continue to outdo yourself, the beneifits are a joy to read.
Hello to Teaps. Welcome to the barn, pardner. Like the rythm in your work..good beat, good words.
As for me, I neither have Breathing's talent, nor Teaps' rythm. Just a haiku of sorts:
===================
Thunder coming soon
Wind blows down the summer heat
We sit on the deck
=====================
There...that's about all I have in my head right now. I'm -er- going to turn in early...you guys take care. We shall return more rested tomorrow. | |
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