| | Polly Pisces Poetic PerspectivePage 2 of 16 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16) | Times Intoxicated
I heard time laugh
It was so wasted
Drunk off this fools
Bitter tears tasted
Moments were stolen
Sorrow's a thief
I can't reclaim
Time lost in grief
I can laugh too
I then realize
So I get up
And dry my eyes
I've told grief "So long"
For now I see
That tears are for fools
And laughter's for me | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/8/2007 3:16:43 AM | You have silenced her voice
Restricted her freedom
She was born for dreamers
Not for scrutiny
Woe! Unto you Pharisees
Woe! Unto you Sadducees
You teach of her
You criticize her
But understand her?
Never!
You Sanhedrin Society of Cynics
You know the price of everything
And the value of nothing
Look! A child points to the moon
All you can see is her finger
Is the finger the moon?
The finger is merely an assistant
Although restricted by the hand
It's able to point out the moon
The finger is not the moon
Stay in your box
Do not think beyond
Lest you be crushed
For mediocre minds
Are weak and small
Opposing great spirits
You're inferior to all
You think with your critical words
That you can explain her
Wrap your head around her
You smug intellectual fools!
She is beyond all words
Away with all thinking
Stop explaining...
She is mysterious silent understanding
And no more.... | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/8/2007 3:17:46 AM | Ostentacious
Opinions must clash
For freedom to ring
For dictatorship
Is a terrible thing
Perfect your technique
So no one will know
The degree on your wall
Is merely for show
From books you have learned
Words to sound smart
But wisdom's a sign
Of a true poet's heart
What you call art
Most call absurd
For everyone knows
You can't polish a turd | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/8/2007 3:19:06 AM | Flip Flop-Bipolar
Some day's I'm as right as rain
Day's like these they say I'm sane
I can talk, laugh and smile
I'll even go the extra mile
Then my head becomes a trip
It does some kind of mental flip
My self esteem completely drops
Then my life abruptly stops
I am sad so go away
Just cheer up is what you say
Luckily you are my friend
For I am off my meds again
Flip flop mood swap has occurred
So do not say another word
Just go away until I'm well
Or I will make your life a living hell | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/8/2007 3:19:50 AM | Wandering Wish...
Star light
Star bright
First star I see tonight
Wish I may
Wish I might
Find the wish
That has lost sight...
Some wishes I have made
Most as a child
Are seeking the universe
For an affirmation of faith
Validation from my childlike heart
Which has grown
And no longer believes
They seek the me
Who used to be
They go from star to star
Galaxy to galaxy
And each empty of me
Unable to discern
My heartfelt requests
From my thoughtless desires
For my past echoes
Of many selfish moments
And countless altruistic hopes and dreams
The latter reflecting true optimism
A child's heart
Now these wishes
Have made a wish
To find the dream
Which gave them flight
Desperate for direction
From innocence
These tenacious martyrs
Will never stop searching
In hopes that some day
I'll find in me
A heart that believes
The heart of a child
And with a sad sense of rejection
They long to hear me say
"Come back to me"
"And wander no more"... | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/8/2007 9:06:10 AM | Some excellent writes in here Polly, many thoughts I can relate to and your poetry is real which is of great appeal to my mind and heart.
Thought I would add, hope you don't mind........
A Soul Revived
Many years
found my soul locked away
held by constraint
not allowed to sway
yearning
for release
it fought to survive
not knowing
all that time
if it would stay alive
each year
it seemed to dwindle
a faint light
prayed it would rekindle
to a place
where it would thrive and grow
again this world
my soul should know
a battle
a fight to bring it back again
this old soul
was revived
through a trusted friend
it shines now
in freedom, such glory
my soul now
shall
tell a wonderous story
Wicked~ | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/8/2007 10:17:14 AM | To ask-your such a doll
And I don't mind at all
I'm glad you have time
To join my threaded rhyme
Free verse is welcome to
Or even something new
They only rule so far
Is just be who you are
Unless you just plain rude
And give me attitude
Then you'll have to see
The ugly side of me
That part I merely joked
And poetically I've choked
I have to stop this verse
Too late I've made it worse
Dammit
hehe..Welcome | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 12:05:43 AM | The "Magic" Word
Sorry don't fix it
It's not a "magic" word
It's over-used over-rated
And definitely over-heard
So you say and do mean things
You know will make me sad
Then you say the "magic" word
And expect me to be glad
The duct tape of our relationship
Sorry has become
Presto! Change-O! Alakazam!
You must think I'm dumb
Sorry is a stupid word
I hope I've made that clear
Now shut your f*cking sorry mouth
Or you are out of here
Oh by the way...Sorry!
Now cheer up
A$$hole | |
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| sorry
Posted: 3/10/2007 3:56:45 AM | succulent sweet sorrow
stupid some say
so serrendipitous
sinking
smelly superstitious
salad this sucks | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 9:58:51 AM | Never ignore your senses!
Images of God
Float through his mind
Questions of doubt
Become the manifest glory
But what of these images of God
What of those whispers
Why do they haunt him/
Only when he’s sober?
Now he decides to journey
Over yon Mt. Sinai
He meets a thaumaturgist
This aged old worker of miracles
He begins to utter his plight
But the shaman already knows
So the explanation was trite
Yet the man must speak
In order to be understood
For unspoken understanding
Is excruciatingly disconcerting
He must be understood
The thaumaturgist urges him
Into the silent world
Teaching him how to hear the stillness
The whispers became loud
And very distinctly clear
He awakens, the shaman is gone
But is the young-man aware?
Is the young man free? | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 10:19:45 AM | An unreality!
To his family
The pariah he is
Distorted by false visions
He proclaims prophet
Forever babbling in riddles
He now sits in the insane asylum
Completely naked
In a padded room | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 1:53:04 PM | | That is awesome apriorimonads...I like Distorted by false visions..that's a cool way to view insanity..well done | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 2:48:04 PM | Rusted Trust
Your heart is corroded and eaten with rust
And your caustic lies have dissolved all my trust
Are you even aware that our love's oxidized?
And can your toxicity be neutralized?
I'm doubtful it can, so I must now find
A place I'll be safe from your acidulous mind | |
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pensky
| | Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 39 | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 5:55:50 PM | | it is an unwise fish that swims against the current or it takes a lot of gumption toswim backward upstream | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 6:20:32 PM | Damn girl, you sure are a prolific rhymer. I love poetry. I haven't written sheet in such a long time.
I'll give you an old one.
When you breathe fresh empty spaces
And our familiar disentwines
In the handfuls of your traces
I'll hold no claim to what you find.
In humility and reverence
Does love compose its elegies,
Warm rekindlings of remembrance
In the ghost of affinities.
I visit death upon your lips,
Resist a thousand alibis
Swarming the trails through lover's scripts,
Brimming the sorrow in your eyes
With crystal tears...sensuous grace...
The sweetness in your aftertaste. | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 7:42:39 PM | My soul is free to run with my mined
Let them fly in peace far in to the night
For there is light beyond those grey clouds
It might take some time to figure it all out
I will stay com and wait here for there return
For I can go on much longer
I need to feel the love that I have
That way I will not feel so empty inside
I can share with you all I have so much
Just keep in mined that my love you must return
For when the time comes they will use my heart
To keep some one alive
©Lostsoul4u2find | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 11:23:57 PM | In humility and reverence
Does love compose its elegies,
Warm rekindlings of remembrance
In the ghost of affinities.--That is simply gorgeous..wow..nicely done | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 11:26:09 PM | Shark Bait
I find the ones who seem to bite
This is why my head's not right
Bitten once and has made me shy
And more than twice I've told this guy
But he will not respect my wish
When I say I'm not his fish
Restraining orders just don't work
They're just another circle jerk
I want a life without this man
Which means I need a better plan | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 11:30:25 PM | No Goodbyes
Lack of compunction
In his soul
A loaded gun
And a malevolent goal
Mother and child
Lying in bed
Five into her
Then one to his head
The child's innermost calm
Was profoundly shaken
When he opened his eyes
And reality sank in
The child became a man
When his mother said
Her last words to him
"Brad, I'm dead"
By Polly_Pisces
Author's notes on :
No Goodbyes
This is Brad's account of the morning his mother
was the victim of a murder/suicide,
this is exactly what happened.
I have not changed any of the events.
This is my second poem I ever wrote.
Author View
Notes Jennifer moved in with her father who lived three houses down from me after her own mother was a victim of a murder/suicide when we were both eight years old.
We were inseperable and still are.
If you or anyone you know is in an abusive.relationship,
please don't wait to call:1-800-799-SAFE
October is domestic violence awareness month.
Jennifer was murdered Oct. 30th.
She was shot four times in the back, and when she turned over he shot her once in the chest.
I still cannot believe he didn't hit Brad.
Their one year old was also asleep in his crib next to her bed but slept through the shooting. Thank God.
Brad told me that Jen was choking on her own blood .
Thats when she looked at him and said "Brad, I'm dead."
I am glad that he was the last person she saw before she died, and not her boyfriend's hateful face.
I love and miss her everyday, and her death still does not seem real to me.
And I don't think I ever want it to.
Help stop domestic violence. | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 11:39:48 PM | I wish you could see the poor kid that inspired this write--parents stop cutting your childrens hair. Please...
Owned
Today was not my lucky day
All because Mom had to say
I need some money for the lad
To my penny pinching dad
"Non-sense" came as his reply
Then out the door he went to buy
A set of clippers - yes; on sale
The sight of which my face grew pale
Bless her heart, my mom did try
To stop this man, who did deny
To give her money for a trim
But still just "non-sense" came from him
He told me that I must sit still
And this I did; right up until
I heard my dad say "sorry son"
So now I'm telling everyone
That Dad's the reason for my shame
But guess who Dad says is to blame? | |
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| Polly Pisces Poetic Perspective
Posted: 3/10/2007 11:45:17 PM | Sad Sara
Sara was a little girl who was very sad
In this world she had one friend, but not a mom or dad.
She lived at St. Bartholomew’s, an orphanage and school.
And hated father McCabe because he was so cruel.
Often times he’d beat us kids but wouldn’t tell us why.
He didn’t care how much we’d beg, or how much we’d cry
Then one day he said to her, “Sara come with me”
She got up and followed him into the rectory.
He said to her, “Little girl, I heard that you’ve been bad.”
Sara said that she’d been good, but this just made him mad.
Everybody heard her screams, but no one said a word.
They went about their business as if nothing had occurred.
I lay down with my hands covering up my ears,
And thought of her, a face so sad, and her many tears.
Silence came, I can’t describe how terrible the sound.
For I knew that Death was here, and Sara’s who he’d found
At dinner time no one asked when Sara didn’t show,
I couldn’t eat, just sat in wait, until they let us go.
That night I fell into a sleep, haunted by her screams,
Then awoke to Sara’s voice no longer in my dreams.
Her finger pressed, to her lips, signaling to be quiet.
She said we had to sneak outside, but must be very silent.
Through the hall and down the steps we didn’t make a sound.
I was scared that we’d get beat, but no one came around.
I followed her behind the church and through the old graveyard.
All the questions in my mind made being quiet hard.
I felt so elated that Sad Sara wasn’t dead,
But what I saw, turned my joy quickly into dread
Covered up with some leaves - the body of my friend.
Such a sad, little girl deserved a better end.
“I’m so cold” she then shrieked, with an eerie scream.
Countless times I’ve had this sound wake me from this dream.
“Please go to father McCabe and tell him that I lied.”
Saying this, she took my hand and led me back inside.
“He had asked if I forgave him right before Death came”
“I said yes, but must confess, I no longer feel the same.”
“I’ll stay here until this man’s been punished for his crime,”
“And also say, that I can wait, for all I have is time.”
In my mind I was screaming; “There’s no freaking way.”
But then considered Sara, and eventually said “Okay”
At his door I may have knocked, but still don’t think I did.
But right before he answered it, Sara went and hid
His face was red and flustered and he grabbed me by my wrist
And violently he pulled me in, and then I screamed out this:
“Sara said she lied to you!” His face turned almost gray.
He slapped me hard before he asked, “What did you just say?”
Sara floated like a ghost before she entered me,
The awful scream that came from me was Sara’s rage now free
He was flung against the wall, thrown by her unseen force.
Nothing could have stopped her rage; it had to run its course.
The next thing I remember, is waking up in my own bed,
That’s when I heard somebody scream, “Oh my God, he’s dead!”
The last time I saw Sara was the day I got a home,
I believe that she’s moved on; her spirit’s free to roam.
So this is my account of Sad Sara and her friend,
A girl so sad, who I believe, deserved a better end. | |
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