| Come to me here
Posted: 6/6/2007 4:25:31 PM | Come to me here or come to me there.
Sing to me of sweet summer air
or of the springtime of the soul.
Take my parts and make them whole.
Come to me in the winter of despair.
Take my hand and lead me where
I have so long longed to be.
Open my eyes that I may see
That which is forever fair.
Come to me here or come to me there.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Jerry Newman © June 6, 2007 | |
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| If we stumble
Posted: 6/8/2007 7:32:14 AM | If we stumble
and (sure as God
made young Republicans)
we will stumble
let us be facing one another
so that we break each other’s fall.
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| If we stumble
Posted: 6/8/2007 12:34:32 PM | Darling I thought you liked me Zaftig
Zaftig, pudgy, pleasingly plump,
Rubenesque or Man, what a rump!
The playoffs are over but I’m still reaching for the cup
or to hear you say Saddle up!
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| The peddler comes to the door
Posted: 6/11/2007 8:24:26 AM | The peddler comes to the door
but you are busy updating your financial file.
The peddler comes to the door again
but you are writing a letter to a potential lover.
The peddler comes to the door once again
but your lunch is almost ready.
You wait by the door
but the peddler will not come anymore.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jerry Newman © June 11, 2007 | |
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| I wonder
Posted: 6/15/2007 12:41:19 PM | I wonder who’s having
the other half
of this conversation I’m engaged in.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jerry Newman © June 15, 2007
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 232 | |
| Come to me here
Posted: 6/15/2007 1:44:23 PM | Hi Jer. Passin' through.
Love "Come to me here"!
A typically tacky, but special haiku for my beloved Teach:
woman mind of man
bathing child of summer night
verses immortal | |
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| Grief Is the Homage We Pay
Posted: 6/19/2007 5:44:02 AM | Pensky:
Thanku
for the haiku...
There is No Dark So Deep
There is no dark so deep as that within
a heart that grieves,
that feels as if
the lining had been ripped
right out of it
and there is nothing left
but an aching, bloody shell.
But grief is the homage we pay
to loving, to having loved...
And knowing that, we still resolve
to love, one day, again.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . J. Newman © 2006 | |
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| I miss you in your summer dress
Posted: 7/2/2007 5:39:52 AM | I miss you in your summer dress
that used to rest so lightly
on your summer skin.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jerry Newman © July 2, 2007
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| I miss you in your summer dress
Posted: 7/6/2007 8:54:40 AM | Speaking of Rubenesque figures, may I impose?
(and without waiting for an answer, she does)
FULL FRONTAL
Rubens would have loved me
I tell my children.
My mirror contains its laughter -
nearly contains my reflection.
Gravity has made me hilarious
a series of well filled shopping bags
hanging on a hallstand.
I try to hate the image -
to superimpose the modern ideal
of anorexic super-models but
the face below my face
smiles across its bikini bulge
and my right nipple
winks.
Thanks in anticipation, Helen | |
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| I miss you in your summer dress
Posted: 7/6/2007 4:32:49 PM |
I miss you in your summer dress
that used to rest so lightly
on your summer skin.
poignant.
my summer skin shows
a discrete tan line, and glows
looking good, strike pose | |
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| I miss you in your summer dress
Posted: 7/6/2007 8:16:46 PM | Unlike the months of winter
I rarely dress in the summer
prefering the pareo
or Egyptian cotton sheets
wrapped in Toga style | |
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| I miss your gentle kiss......on my neck
Posted: 7/7/2007 7:53:14 PM | Life does take it's toll on us
Home from work....
mind a mess!
Missing your sweet gentle kiss...........
upon my neck
just like you missed it
Something I have dreamt about
that gentle kiss........
no other has met
The feeling ........like my sweet release
of love.....that holds my skin
so deep! | |
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| I miss your gentle kiss......on my neck
Posted: 10/29/2007 5:47:00 PM | I am posting this Jer, because I know how much you do not like my rhyming poetry, and I do so like you. Welcome home.
Love isn’t logical
It makes no sense
It lives in the moment
No place for past tense
Love isn’t practical
Nor always on time
Love finds it’s own way
And by me that’s fine. | |
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| Love will be a little late today
Posted: 1/31/2008 5:12:29 AM | Love will be a little late today.
There was a three-car pile-up on the highway.
In car number one, the driver’s eyes
were fixed on his rear-view mirror
suspecting it was his wife’s lover
in the car just behind him.
It was not, but in the car behind that
his wife was racing to catch up with him
frantic that he had left that morning
without so much as a kiss good-bye.
Love will be a little late today,
but love is often
hurrying to catch up. | |
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| One wants to be a poet
Posted: 2/4/2008 6:38:19 AM | One wants to be a poet
but ends up a pimp.
One wants to be a pimp
but ends up selling stock
on Wall Street.
One wants to be President
and spends twenty-three and a half hours
every day in conferences,
on the phone with other
heads of state and important
legislators, with memos and faxes,
email and position papers
and anxious dreams, and
the other half-hour
wondering if anyone will call tomorrow. | |
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| One wants to be a poet
Posted: 2/4/2008 10:29:46 AM | One wants to be a pilot
but ends up a laborer
Plugging away each day
While searching the sky for his dream
One wants to be actor
and ends up in theatrical pursuits
in the classroom while he
molds young minds
One aspired to help others
and found her way in the service of others
and today wonders why
no one assists in her time of need
One now, just wishes to be left alone.
V
oncelucid
4 February 2008 | |
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| One wants to be a poet
Posted: 2/5/2008 4:38:20 AM |
Hey Ms V.! I do NOT like the way this ends!
Sorry, but sometimes the ending to anything isn't savory. It's just an ending. I had nothing further to add at that point. I can't produce fluff and stuff that isn't felt!
I could say:
She wanted to be a fairy princess
Who met her prince
And now she's off to fairy land
To live her fairy tale life.
How's that for an ending???? | |
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| One wants to be a poet
Posted: 2/5/2008 7:21:04 AM |
Hey Ms V.! I do NOT like the way this ends!
Sorry, but sometimes the ending to anything isn't savory. It's just an ending. I had nothing further to add at that point. I can't produce fluff and stuff that isn't felt!
I could say:
She wanted to be a fairy princess
Who met her prince
And now she's off to fairy land
To live her fairy tale life.
How's that for an ending????
The pits! | |
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| One wants to be a poet
Posted: 2/6/2008 4:08:22 AM | The worst disappointment one can suffer, is the disappointment one sees in the eyes of those one loves.
V | |
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| One wants to be a poet
Posted: 2/6/2008 5:06:20 AM | | Oh, V., my dear friend! But I know of one friend of yours in whose eyes you will look in vain for disappointment! | |
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| Dawn
Posted: 2/11/2008 7:26:36 AM | It’s a masterpiece
Heightened awareness comes in with the dawn
Painted across the morning sky
Clouds sculpt colours iridescent
In living fantasy
A palette to paint by numbers
This gift of a new day. | |
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