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| Target Practice
Posted: 3/9/2006 2:54:54 AM | Cold steel and tree parts, brass and powder pressed
distance lost to consciousness in trigger slightly stressed
one piece fits the other in dances of their own
underneath the bullseye that down the range is shown
glint of sunshine reflects on the top of steady steel
compress the lung to zero, you know the way it feels
cheek to cheek with walnut, hands grasp their desire
steady is the issue when its time to fire
mindless in compression, a shock when it arrives
knowing nothing but direction, downrange nothing survives.
Thread the needle Robin Hood; split the arrow true
shoot three shots or more again, find only one when through.
I'd love to pierce a quarter, at a thousand yards or more
just to say I did it, I'd endure the chore.
There's nothing like a day shooting at the range...simple goals, obvious failure or success, no mistake in recounting acheivments, no debate. The essence of simplicity. Aim, fire.
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| Breaking my normal pace
Posted: 3/9/2006 9:18:34 AM | yes....
at my fingertips....
oh...
but they are not real.
ya...
what is real ?
a quick release
heartache
a long slow mind
minipulation without
release ouside of
fantasy
so elusive at times
even when you're attached
huh.?
slow walking horse
creats a rhythm
tat a tap
reminds us to move
not seeing nothing but self
lost in lights
sounds of the crowd
heartbeat would make
a better rhythm
for today's pace
what were the words
when are they spoken
a feeling of absurd
a good luck token
I do find poetry
a good way
to play with
yourself | |
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| Breaking my normal pace
Posted: 3/10/2006 9:12:16 AM | I dreamt of summer again last night
of holding an angel in my delight
aint gonna happen, its springtime just now
someday maybe later it'll happen somehow
I just cant wait till the summer is here
so while its still chilly I got me some beer
stupid in effort I did what I did
all is exposed and nothing is hid
tasteless and tactless I played in a dream
you'd think that my conscience would start to scream
maybe thats what I got the beer for
to silence its cries as I battered the door
I never laid claim to be one of the wise
a fool in the rain in my very eyes
still dreaming of summer, a fool I can be
if ever in vision she captures me.
If it dont happen Im sure I'll be fine
I rule the time in this life of mine
I make my decisions to stand or to crawl
to me its the same it dont matter at all
love is worth more than a new pair of jeans
holes in the knees or ripped at the seams.
It aint even love, its just a dream
but thats how love starts, at least it would seem.
Sorry for the racket, and all of the noise
I guess after all boys will be boys. | |
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| Fragile Revelation June 12/94
Posted: 3/12/2006 5:58:47 PM | Adrift upon the wind of doubt,
floating,
in and out of dreams,
remembering only now,
those nothings,
forgetting to desire, [not]
a shot of Demerol and all’s well again.
Spaces in the void of stress,
analogies,
confession to God,
modest though it may be,
shamed with reality,
tears rise up to greet the pain.
Why?,
the only sigh,
when my my,
I try to focus.
Spinning wheels and hospital meals,
a lot of time to reflect,
without much consciousness,
drifting,
in and out,
shouts of,
Out! Out damn spots! Out!
Coloured shadows inside frustration,
running/sleeping/talking,
rain again, then fog with sleet,
clouded vision,
new tread gripping wet streets,
measured in gallons/minute on the highway,
mixed openly with,
For Adults Only!
patience,
ah, (a deep breath) sigh,
I guess,
[shallow breath] sigh,
the soul,
fears only;
lack of time,
stubborn pride,
taken for a ride,
left with fate in the middle of nowhere's ville.
Patience and humour are prerequisites.
A calm brain will reign once again.
I shall survive the pain.
Chaos only exists inside of doubt
there is no doubt about passing a stone.
You feel alone
until a government sponsored angel repeats the dose.
Now I can sleep,
its ok,
go home. | |
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| So ya wanna be a poet?
Posted: 3/12/2006 8:38:31 PM | That Which Resides
Locked deep within lies the only truth.
A mere shadow on the facade of my existence.
It whisks across for a fleeting moment that few see.
Honesty and respect to all but me.
Along comes one that peers inside for a moment
and asks 'are you alright?'
Of course I am, the patent reply,
I survive.
Reflections circle and constrict,
shedding no light.
Only questions result from introspection.
Angst.
Anger.
Fight.
Or flight?
Yet, freedom demands respect.
To be unbound.
To find that within.
Uncovering the truth.
Release and witness the only needs of a soul.
Basking in the luminance of kindred eyes,
feeding upon quiet understanding,
emerges the freedom to fly. | |
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| So ya wanna be a poet?
Posted: 3/12/2006 8:40:33 PM | Mt. Nemo
Desire burns
But does not consume
It smoulders
Embers glowing white
Pushing away the shadows cast upon my heart
Hardening the resolve to take this moment to the edge of discovery
Hoping the heart can make the leap of it’s own accord
To soar skywards, riding on waves of you. | |
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| So ya wanna be a poet?
Posted: 3/13/2006 5:28:12 PM | No touch caressed
no kisses blessed
no arms held
no scent smelled
no heart lost
no real cost
no love tossed
no memory made
no blanket in shade
no music shared
but yes, we cared.
no time of joy
no girl for boy
no woman for man
no evening plan
no easy smile
no stay a while
no stereo
no please dont go
no entwinded heart
but yes, its a start.
no time of day
no words to say
no path to find
no union of mind
no alibi
no sweet reply
no finding out
no victory shout
no tear of pain
no sweet refrain
no way to know
and yes, I can let go.
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| So ya wanna be a poet?
Posted: 3/13/2006 8:50:01 PM | The pager cried like a starving child.
She kept right on grinding in time.
If only this pulsation throughout my loins could last forever.
The power of hard swimming tides of hot night love.
Too often end with a strange passion deflating thought
"nothing new" gives lust the slip.
So you reach for the pager, answering the call,
stall with a kiss
depart for that scene within normal
moments of broken concentration.
Hardons come and go,
this phone call may never occur again. | |
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| So ya wanna be a poet?
Posted: 3/14/2006 3:03:17 AM | Its not in the skin, or the liquid within
its not in the heat of the flesh
its not in the taste of the lipstick on face
its not in the lace or the mesh
perfumes in bedrooms, instructions from Bangladesh,
mechanicly sane its all the just the same
no difference but for the moves
the difference is found when love comes around
and in the dance of two hearts it grooves
sewing them there invisible in air, you feel united indeed
like that guy in ghost when he loved her the most
and hovered in light close to her
its not in the physical that special thing
that makes it all something brand new
its not mechanical, and hardly animal
the touch that's beckoning you.
Without having love its pointless to me
to try and make love you see
mechanical is as mechanical does,
and mechanical found alone is empty. | |
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| So ya wanna be a poet?
Posted: 3/14/2006 3:03:45 AM | As I meandered Spring's green meadow
shadowed by towering hard granite
covered in snow--
I paused by a stream with waters cold
rushing over brightly colored gems
that turned to rocks as I reached within.
The cold breeze swept over the grasses;
tiny alpine flowers shivered,
yet I knew that love would come again | |
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| Target Practice
Posted: 3/15/2006 6:30:29 AM | What eyes behold through tears of old;
wonders that never cease.
What pain we gain in longings we hold
and never knowing release.
What joy is found, not tossed around
when letting go the chord
that ties us to our delayed hope
as if with just one word.
Which one to choose so we dont loose
the fire of this life?
Tommorrow, Maybe, No, Someday,
they all end up in strife.
What agony of those not free
contained yet in the page.
Some hate, some doubt, and some just play
as if its all a stage.
The simple word that rules the peace
is so hard to find.
Once it's found and to it bound
my tension then unwinds.
Faith the word that stills my life
in the midst of a hurricane.
It keeps me humble, keeps me strong
when I would go insane.
Faith the truth of things unseen,
the Hand that rules my day
acceptance of the things unbeen
I'll let it have its way.
Simple to the laughing mind
yet difficult to be
Contained in every single rhyme
that comes out of me.
No easy wish or heartfelt prayer
can this faith impart
no preacher I, a friend in need
bearing all my heart.
In ups and downs spun all around
each day is its own start.
Faith in Who I know controls it all
comforts not just in part.
What I've been told about this faith
it works in love you see
Love the treasure I posess
without love I cant be free.
Not the love for womans flesh
or the need to be a part,
it is the Love that rules it all
this love must have my heart.
Wings upon the skyline
are mine to ride on then
the day that I surrender all
and love begins again.
No greater love has any man than this, that a man lays down his life for his friend. | |
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| Target Practice
Posted: 3/15/2006 12:05:18 PM | pretending the spot is something else
remember to squeeze not pull yourself
taking a breath to be let slow
you cross the path you know
feeling the thrust and power
breaching the distant tower
you have no reason to cower anymore
you can see that its felled on the shore
now send off your trusty spaniel
to bring back the prized sandle
you set up so off in the distance
to satisfy your buddy's insistance
your aim was true and on the mark
you know you now can take the heart
you're oh so ready now to take a wirl
an blast sh!t outta that little red squirrel | |
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| Spent Ammunition
Posted: 3/18/2006 5:07:17 AM | I saw it through the powdered scope
crosshairs lined up with my hope
the target took my breath away
steady hands, do not sway
trembling I refused to shoot
barrel silent, I thought it mute
relaxing there I fired a shot
and missed the target, thats one blot
again I turned to stand in line
the time of firing not then mine
contemplate what I did wrong
and try again as time went on
composed I stood on firing lane
reloaded rifle, checked for rain
all clear on the firing line
and I stood there and took my time
wipe the sweat from off my brow
stilled my chest and thought, not now.
The sun was glaring in my face
and I could not the outline trace
it was my turn to shoot again
steady hands once met their end
I resigned that I would do
my very best "it's up to you"
as I pulled the hammer back
a foggy lens led its attack
the target blurred in front of me
my seeking eyes just could not see!
Aiming for its center mass
a shot rang out, and missed at last.
humbled that my gun was broke
I took it to the armory and spoke,
"What has happened to my aim
and why does this thing bring me pain?"
the gunsmith took my gun in hand
and said "you didnt understand,
when you go from cold to heat
you need to find a waiting seat,
the rifle needs its time you see
to adjust to what will be"
Ruined in my ameteur mind
I thought the competition mine
was wasted and my shots in vain
but once in line, I would remain.
While waiting in line rifle in hand
I came up with another plan.
I'll clean the thing and check the scope
then I wont look like such a dope
when its time to shoot again
I'll split the target's center then!
When at last I got to the line
the target I just could not find!
I looked around to find out why
and nothing found my seeking eye
no marshall there to run the show
no competitors I did know
no competition in the meet
and I knew I had won defeat.
Not satisfied that all was lost
I took aim and bullets tossed
I split the middle of the post
that held the target now a ghost.
"That just figures, yes indeed,
one true shot I didnt need."
The marshall then from hiding place
came and scolded my sad face.
Dont be shooting any more
the test is done, Im adding scores.
I didnt wait to see who won
I knew my time of shooting done.
Back to the truck and off to home
I took the backroads so I could roam
I put the rifle in the rack
and tried to forget of all my lack,
but haunting me across the room
the trophy case in all its gloom.
"One day my friend I'll fill your shell
but for now its just as well."
Hunting season almost done
I'll set my sights on fishing fun.
Maybe next year in shooting fine
I'll pass the test, and trophy find. | |
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| At Length
Posted: 3/19/2006 2:25:30 PM | Man Im writing long ones!
I just took a look around,
lucky I have a keyboard
as on these keys I pound
Im gonna have to switch a bit
type some shorter verse
maybe I just need to quit
or maybe just rehearse?
I cant bear to read them
these thinks upon the page,
I like all them shorties
to me they're all the rage.
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| Deja Vu Transformed
Posted: 3/19/2006 3:13:04 PM | I knew you before I met you
The first ecounter
My dreams.
You are the one I glimpsed
When seeing lovers share
Time swallowed in sweet
Sometimes bitter morsels.
Preoccupied with breathing
I soon forgot that I was.
Engrossed in reading
The white of every page
I missed your lyrical words
Yet to be laid bare
Until the cataracts
Ran down my unknown face
Releasing color.
I then said hello
And you were born. | |
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| At Length
Posted: 3/19/2006 3:13:58 PM | I knew you before I met you
The first encounter
My dreams.
You are the one I glimpsed
When seeing lovers share
Time swallowed in sweet
Sometimes bitter morsels.
Preoccupied with breathing
I soon forgot that I was.
Engrossed in reading
The white of every page
I missed your lyrical words
Yet to be laid bare
Until the cataracts
Ran down my unknown face
Releasing color.
I then said hello
And you were born. | |
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| I'm baaack....
Posted: 3/19/2006 7:05:18 PM | Well,I've just survived several weeks without a computer.The awesome writes on this thread and others here continue to amaze me.There are many gifted writers here....and a whole lot of fun. Here's one I wrote several years ago....I really think I need to rethink the title...I'm definitely open to suggestions.
My Warpony "Reason"
I captured my warpony
When I was young and free
Now we are inseparable
The Great Spirit let it be
We have faced many foes
We have frolicked in the sun
We have seen our peoples' woes
And from battle we won't run
He flexes rippling muscles
As he charges to the fray
These are not childish tussles
And they'll never go away
You can take us out of context
You can try and fence us in
You can try and break our spirit
It's a battle you can't win
With stealth and perserverence
With purpose and resolve
There is no source of discontent
That together we can't solve
My painted pony carries me
Across the broken lands
Past hatreds,bigotrys and worse
But we're in bigger hands
I do not wear a white hat
I wear no hat at all
I do not wish to stand apart
I wish only to stand tall
When battles 'gain are imminent
We paint ourselves for war
We will do it many times again
We've done it many times before
There are those who would disarm me
And take my warpony away
But we know what it is to be free
We'll survive to fight another day
Many moons have come and gone
Since he became my friend
Together we will travel on
Until the journeys' end
My warpony will never pull a plow
Even if he wanted to.......
I would not teach him how | |
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| I'm baaack....again
Posted: 3/19/2006 7:21:57 PM | While I'm waxing western.................
Get A Grip
Grab the bull by the horns
Or lead him by the nose
Hang tightly on to precious life
And direct which way he goes
Let it be known from the very start
That there will be no deals
And if you're brave you'll straddle him
And draw blood with your heels
With uncompromising certainty
You must bend him to your will
Ride him 'til you both grow old
Yet neither's had his fill
Rein him 'round bystanders
Don't trample them to dust
Pity the spectators
They won't ride...but you must
Hang tightly onto life's broad back
Through the many bucks and spins
And if at first you keep your seat
That's when the ride begins
Ride him to the places
You have never been before
Harness his great energy
Then spur him on for more
Respect his great tenacity
Then answer with your own
Appreciate his power
Be proud with him you've flown
You are not in an arena
No crowds will cheer for you
You are not at all contestants
And the ride is far from through
Yes you will suffer injuries
The worst may be your pride
But the painful lessons you will learn
Will intensify the ride
So tightly hang onto those horns
And take a lifelong trip
And if you should become unsure
Get another grip
.......I swear......the next ones will be SHORTER | |
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| shorter or longer ?
Posted: 3/20/2006 8:16:56 AM | does it really matter to most who read in here
the length of the write we see on the page?
Are we just feeling word rhythms so dear?
I'm hoping they speak to me at this stage.
So take your time and spred your thought
into seperate lines
feeling strong or weak at times
could be free form found or store bought
we like them all when the speak to us
about whatever you choose to trust
our imaginations and emotions
will play today in your word potions
whatever you say
hey
its a trip
take a sip
get a grip
let it rip | |
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| So ya wanna be a poet?
Posted: 3/25/2006 2:52:36 PM | | Hey Separated- I really liked the poem you wrote on March 13th... I can't read much of this stuff anymore because if I read anything that remotely relates to me, it kills me, but the structure of this one poem of yours caught my eye. I was almost forced to read it, lol. It was good... as I'm sure all your other poems are, as well as everyone elses' work :) | |
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| The Poet
Posted: 3/25/2006 6:30:38 PM | Only a poet knows
The true beauty of the rose
Or the sweetness of a kiss
Placed on a baby's nose
Only a poet knows
The sun as it warms your skin
The poet knows this well
And knows it deep within
Only a poet knows
The taste of the ocean's air
The Summer breeze that blows
On the skin of a lady fair
Only a poet knows
The love inside a heart
A love that grows 'ere stronger
And can't be torn apart
Only a poet knows the tears
That stain my cheek
How is it I know
I'm a poet....
It's my heart speak
Only a poet knows
The things inside of me
The things I need to say
The things to set me free
Only a poet knows
What lives inside my soul
What feeds my spirit
What makes me whole
Only a poet knows
The meaning of my words
The true sound of my voice
The one that isn't heard...
Echoez
2.19.03
Dedicated to my poetry pals at POF | |
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| The Poet
Posted: 3/25/2006 6:37:02 PM | Deep I drank the toast from you
Deep the words that do ring true
Deep the woods that we walk through
Deep the thoughts that show me you.
Of dedications, that one was truly an honor to taste of. From the least of poets, thank you. | |
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| The Poet
Posted: 3/25/2006 7:48:49 PM | To my pals, your words so sweet
Perhaps someday our paths may meet
The words and rhymes placed in part
As we celebrate our art
You are most welcome !!
(wink) Echoez | |
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| The Poet
Posted: 3/25/2006 8:41:57 PM | striking the pose
with pen in mouth
I think about going south
and without taking a second breath
think now about death
reach deep down
feeling for my soul
taking the grime and dust balls
placing them gently on a cracked platter
polishing them with diction
fiction and some dramatic idealism
the shallow philosophy
of dogmatic inuendos
metaphoricly bind in a cleché
poetic licence
lets me do anything
say it with gusto and pizzaz
or make my own wordjazz
id finds a way
to say ouch
get out spot
damned spot
if only they understood
I would have stood as a contender
ya could have been a contender
not just the sender
of lost dreams
broken schemes
silent screams on a dark stage
pent in rage that engages
on the page
like a sage from the court of the golden king
long forgotten as to what you should bring
if you should stand or kneel when you sing
though you do know not to answer the ring | |
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| The Poet
Posted: 3/25/2006 8:47:34 PM | Abstract takeback never miss a lick
when you write the writing
something seems to click
always something biting
never miss a trick
oh how so inviting
Thorb with writing stick | |
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