| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 5/13/2007 8:58:31 PM | My look on life....
Category: Writing and Poetry
Life is like a hallway,
is some thing I say.
There are many door's to open.
Inside are the things you have chosen.
Things that made an impact on you,
and the things you yern to do.
The door's behind you are your memories.
The ones in front of you, you cant see.
Inside are things and people you havent meet.
Door by door we all move on.
Untill we get to that last one.
Will fear strike you as you go to open it?
In front of it how long will you sit?
Will you charish the things you did?
Or wonder if you really lived??
By: Robert A. Hawk | |
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| Outside my Front Room
Posted: 5/13/2007 9:53:30 PM | Thorn
Where do you find the time to write so much good poetry? Saw a poem on another thread last week that blew me away...you're everywhere!
Really liked this one - Outside my Front Room - what I took away from it is that sometimes we assume that all the good things and happiness is "outside" and some of it filters in but there is also sorrow and suffering outside. And the need comes to insulate ourselves.
REM,
Hey thanks for the kind words, that meant alot. Believe it not most of what I write comes to me in like 10-15 mins most of the time, and more often than not someone else is responsible for putting the idea in my head. The people in the "last lines" threads have been fantastic to me in that regard. I also love playing with the way words sound in my head and the meanings that occur are often random but still cool.
It so happens this particular peice "Outside My Front Room" was inspired by what is going on literally outside my house I live in a cottage in a busy beach town and I have a covered front porch (attached although not a part of the house proper) I refer to as my front room. When the weather is warm enough I spend all my free time out there, and I cited in that peice several examples of the things that go on outside that front room.
But yes the joy of my front room is in fact the ability to allow me to be part of the world going on around me and yet be sheltered and safe from it at the same time. Should it get to be too much you can simply elect to go back inside. Sometimes simple sights, smells, or sounds are all we need to be content, or in some cases become uncontent. People watching by onesself is a great way to find inspiration. Again thanks ever so much for your kind words. I will post more as I can.
Have fun ;)! | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 5/15/2007 8:14:46 AM | My,but the children have been busy while Mother was away! 
Welcome C.Zen, loved the line
We’ll fear the next slow song cause
We lack the legs to dance with. I like your style, drop by anytime!
Master IrishEagle, you DO have a lovely flow
I hear you glide over the forest Floor of leaves
Like the Silence of a Feather, good imagery.You too, stop by anytime!
And, of course,the magnificent Sweetroxrocker
Meet him down by the sea
Where loneliness and arguements
Are the impossible things
Always welcome
Belated kudos toBrawnyDog
she's scared
I should have realized
I was only paying attention to her words
not their meaning think this may be my favorite BrawnyDog poem
Thron- my dream is to live near water - ahhhh- lucky duck! | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 5/15/2007 5:25:27 PM | To the Diver from the Beloved
Come to me now,
Because I know you are weary of the surface
Worlds of men-at-war and iron-clad vessels.
Secure your latches and prepare for the submergence
Into a gentle force beyond your control.
When you have gorged yourself
With enough oxygen to sustain you,
Let your heaviness fall upon me and I will yield.
Far removed is the solid land
Where the earth can be held securely underfoot.
You have even left the surface waters
Where ships bearing women’s names are driven
By foul-mouthed men to reach the land again.
I know what you have risked to come here -
To the woman Sea and the goddess Moon.
Yet, you are still a child of man,
Afraid to approach me without steel and rubber
And signal devices to warn you
That you are in danger of losing consciousness
In my depths.
Far removed is your fire-god Sun.
His furious glare has never impressed the Moon;
Notice how she always holds him half a world away.
Earth-men who have known her have called her barren.
But after they have stomped upon her skin in their sterile boots
Is it any wonder that she appeared to them pale and cold?
Fall into the world of women’s time,
Dictated by Luna, where life is counted
By currents of touch in the dimness.
By the force of gentleness
The thrust of Poisinden’s trident is slowed.
Come deeper, you can take the dive.
Though you fear my silence and darkness,
I will not be grim or distant with you.
However you turn, I fill the gap between us.
I enclose you in my slow tranquility and move you
By the waves that break and those that roll quietly past.
I invite you to come deeper
Than you have ever dared to venture before.
Your breath is labored and your head grows dizzy.
There is no shame in being too weak
For my full embrace. Pull away,
Lest I smother you in our closeness.
Go back now and I will wait
For I know you will soon again grow weary
Of the surface, of men-at-war and iron-clad vessels.
Later, in port, some proud captain will relate
How fiercely he fought to protect his lady, his ship
From the ravishing fury of Neptune.
Some fisherman, every muscle on fire
Will opine that the ocean is no place for a woman.
They love the sea like many a man loves a woman -
Riding the surface the of her skin
They think they have seen her moods, tasted a bit of her wetness
Felt her motion and known her completely.
They think all divers are mad, you know.
Smile your sympathy but hold your peace.
Save your stories for the children
Set them to dreaming of chariots drawn by sea-horses.
Sing them the lyrics of the whale’s song.
And tell them you have seen mermaids in these waters.
So that one day they will come to me too.
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 5/15/2007 6:05:44 PM | Crawling feebly, head hung low, wasting away, away from the edge of the Abyss
Having seen what lies within, eyes now scarred made forlorn and not want to see
Madness found in most virulent of retrospective nightmares yet still left undreamt
Rendered fingers claw vainly at sundered scorched earth once place of fertile mind
Flailing wildly are arms want to hold close some semblance of more precious notions
Yet restrained by a pain, torn muscles won't allow more than to move slowly forward alone
Crippled by scars want to ooze the puss of past indiscretions denying the salve of hope
Bandaged with only the sheerest of memory want to heal what life has yet to spill out
What was but a paper cut of the soul now beside the Abyss allowed to fester and grow
Like wild beast want to surrender it's own paw so as to escape the steel teeth of it's trap
So with menial mental scalpel raised so to cut away the malignancy of such madness
One hopes that in cauterizing the wound some semblance of the memory remains
A memory less mournful, left unburied, unforgotten and allowed to heal and scar over | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 5/17/2007 10:27:30 AM | we’re stuck in a freezer
on
the edge of a swampland.
it’s 34 degrees.
Luna’s arms are made of jelly
and some expired yogurt drips from his gestures.
Luna’s a gay man
his eyes twirl with a manic-retro violet-twitch.
he has a suboceanic fury wheeling flowers,
darting close to walls
and inflicting some cosmic crown when he smiles dirty.
Luna's eyes are waxy tiny streams of crazy,
decaying teeth and luggage underneath the frames of his windows.
I imagine his jacket is autographed
but
the names smeared weird.
Luna’s filling the dairy
he’s speaking in musical code.
it’s 34 degrees.
I’m cold. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 5/17/2007 5:37:00 PM | thank you red earth mother.
Most of mine were inspired by a
once in a lifetime love lost in the sea
of Life.
i noticed a lot of great writers here,
so i'll most assuredly be back for
opinoins.
Hope all have a great weekend ahead.
 | |
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| Back to Ruthton
Posted: 5/20/2007 5:53:10 AM | Back to Ruthton
Callous borne of shoe leather worn
From beating path to lover's door
She sits inside astride a hope
Though not wont to see nor lover be
Selectively deaf to my ring and ringings
Seemingly singing to knocks knocked
But so surreptitiously unheard
Absurd so fraught with wanton melody
Time chimes and passes sequestered
Lingering longer well past worn out welcomes
Night falls bound to sinking suspicions
Aroused by insanely insidious intent
Summarily cast aside as simple protestations
Of some hurried harrowed harbinger
Begging for loose change for potent potables
News used to fill nothing but the holes
Of leather soles beaten still to lover's door
No more patience for more hear or how
Time to take an old path to a new path
On a road less traveled by those well traveled
Back to Ruthton
And Ruthton's simple ways
Numbers numbered last Two Eight Four
Soon one more or perhaps more than one | |
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| dance alone
Posted: 5/20/2007 7:08:00 AM | Wow, that is an absolutely beautiful poem. I can close my eyes and see the person leaping and dancing there on that quiet country road.
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| bringing them home from first line last line
Posted: 5/22/2007 4:00:08 PM | The teeth of the unseen carnivore
Make feasts of us all
But know that the flesh, though broken,
Is as holy as any communion wafer
Held high and blessed
And broken and shared
To nourish a community.
Know that as we change form,
Though torn, devoured and rendered to pulp
We do not disappear
But simply become
Something more divine.
&
I am channeling my love
to where it needs to go
Because I am parched and thirsty
From wandering so long
In these wastelands of sex on demand
These deserts of disconnected desire.
A lover with honorable intentions
Is sweet as good drinking water.
As hard to find as an oasis
Lush, delightful as perfect fruit
As precious and sacred as blood.
&
little white sprouts
letting in the inviting humidity
and grounding themselves in moist earthy organic warmth
know a feeling of safety neath the sheltering soil
push into the open above ground world
shy as Irish convent school girls
bound tight but aching to grow tall
and blossom into things of indescribable beauty | |
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| New Poetry
Posted: 5/23/2007 8:50:53 PM | Homely Women Make Good Spies
Homely women make good spies.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
A subtle craft requires an inconspicuous presence.
Starlets are a distraction, can hold the eye of a president,
But could never go through his file cabinet unnoticed.
Wallflowers fade into the wallpaper and hear everything.
The eye is drawn to beauty, remembers it with envy or lust
So it is best to be a plain woman
When slipping in and out of palace doors,
Treading the halls of power in sensible shoes.
The eye is drawn to sparkly things, to hard angles
So it is best to be soft around the edges
Wear a simple dress
And make your getaway in a tan sedan
Leaving only a gentle blur in the memory.
So, if waiters frequently ignore you and people break line
In front of you with no apparent malicious intent As though
You were only a soft column supporting the building,
Cry no longer, there is a place for you
Where being forgettable is an asset.
The point of being a woman of mystery is to remain a mystery;
To walk on padded cat’s feet in the dark night,
To pass through a room without turning a head,
To live without making a stir
To be a pebble that disappears into the water
Without leaving so much as a ripple. | |
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| New Poetry
Posted: 5/24/2007 11:49:01 AM | It will be.
A unification of soul
A happening of rhythm
A sit and talk by the firelight
And sip on stars.
Tents and cookouts and outhouse doors
And poetry everywhere
The spirit moves
Factor in the THIRD weekend in August.
Think near Peterborough, Ontario, Canada.
Think poetry
And drums
And flutes
And guitars
And voices
And banners
And billowing sails
Ist annual poetic drum and flute fest and gathering of very cool people who pontificate in poetry, at Deva Gardens. | |
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| New Poetry
Posted: 5/24/2007 2:51:34 PM | | That was beautiful REM more please? | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/24/2007 8:24:15 PM | Greetings Autumn,Ravin, Thorn, Cardboard Zen!
Welcome Sunshine!
May35, Friday I go in the hospital for weightloss surgery. Hopefully in a few months time, people will see "less" of me!It was a hard decision to make and the surgery is a tool, not a fix. Insurance will not pay for this although they pay for the medications for my diabetes,heart condition, high blood pressure,arthiritis and other conditions related to the obesity.
Keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I hate having surgery on a Friday--- if anything goes wrong, all the Dr.'s are out of town.
Clear liquid diet today and for the next week. I am sooo tired of Jello
already.
Bring mother bouquets of poetry! | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/24/2007 8:49:47 PM | | I hear your call and I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers tomorrow. Sometimes we have to make hard choices. If you want to come to Canada for a visit we will welcome you with open arms. Hugs | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/24/2007 9:19:17 PM | | I know a couple of people who had surgery. They've lost at least half of themselves, and kept it off. With both though, there were some post operative problems, so be careful. Good luck! You'll have to fight the guys off, you're already beautiful, you know........ | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/25/2007 10:16:38 AM | Mother Courage
Looking within
stepping out
into the dark
Candle of hope
Promise of change
Doing whatever is needed.
There is despair at
every winter's onset
And hope with every spring.
Leave the winter
rejoice with spring --
A posy of love, and light.
 | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/25/2007 6:44:06 PM | Red Mother Earth your beauty shines through
The dark clouds of sleep
You dream of cool rivers
Washing your pain away
You see a light at the end of a long tunnel
It’s called hope
Hope for the future
Hope for a better life
For good health
I wish I could promise
That you will find peace
And that your country drops arms
And fuels all of its energy
Into the salvation of life
And not its destruction
Each of us tries
In our own way
To paint rainbows
And hope. | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/25/2007 7:35:34 PM | Red Earth Mother
may you heal while you sleep
and dream of things to come
increased strength and agility
athletic ability
gentlemen callers
Alabama princes
one with the match
to your glass slipper
and a kiss to wake you
from the slumber
of ennui | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/25/2007 11:20:54 PM | good luck there , rem. (just a nod from the other gender, we're with ya, too)
 | |
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| a call from Mother
Posted: 5/25/2007 11:33:43 PM | Just One
When young I felt I was the shiney pearl,
The seas were my lasting home...
I kept all my truth in a lttle box,
I knew certain I wasn't alone...
I stood tall and strong in the winds of despair,
Never shirking what I was to do..
Now to find that as I used my mind,
Lifes meanings were often misconstrued...
If my being were constant and certain,
and life weren't a gambling bet...
As change occurred and I listened to words,
Never utter I've thought of it, then slept..
Life is often a gamble of wits,
No rules, many slogans to write..
Thinking tommorrow I will If I feel to the task,
Now I'm thinking give me one more night..
Somehow I have lost my connection I think,
No longer to be certain I am..
At times I dwell on the living hell,
And wonder loudly if life is a scam...
Many put off today for tomorrow,
With youth thinking not often a lot..
In the sea of Earthly faces just one,
Just one fills an empty slot..
Like spokes in the wheel of endless time,
Great mountains can dwindle to dust..
Never knowing who stood with still shadows,
Like the baker discards his burnt crust..
I am alive and hope it means something,
My mark is a little one indeed..
In wonder I ask the small question,
Do we ever get what we need?
~Slim~ | |
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| Waxing Quixotic
Posted: 5/26/2007 10:38:21 AM | Waxing Quixotic
Forever be he the brave conquistador, waxing ever so quixotic
Not but a resplendent guardian, hoisted to parry destiny’s spear
Like blood from a stone pulled, hope now sheathed at his side
Pellucid cloak shrouded in wonder hidden betwixt its swirling folds
An elusive prey, padding beneath moon’s light on swiftly padded paw
Breath fogging with chilled intent the polish of carapaces refracted glory
Eyes dark and sinister of purpose, tinted with not but the amber glow of hate
Tilt skyward in hopes of salvations solace finding not but empty prayer
To a pool of festering promise made once found, and just as quickly forsaken
He stops to cool his burning brow, perchance to drink and fill the nothingness
But no amount of libation can ever slake the thirst of his lonely despair
Over sweet fruits sampled ,and once tasted, turned to ash in his wanton mouth
A gift given and left unreturned, as such lost to him forever more, and now again
PS: Good Luck R.E.M. will be thinking of you this weekend | |
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| moving on
Posted: 5/26/2007 2:19:37 PM | I see
eyes wait
I look
eyes scan
I focus
eyes dilate
quick scan for options
breathe
remember to breathe
first impressions
file
scan
recognize the spaces
recognize the rhythm
ready
go
throw that stone
watch the ripples
three skips
nice trip
oh no
trip stumble
confusion Illusion
movin on
never to see agian | |
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| moving on
Posted: 5/27/2007 5:20:40 PM | Never say never and never say die
And BE willing to try.
Ride it right into the lost sunset
And always pay your bet.
Life never harms you
If you take on what charms you
Believe in the best
Don’t be afraid to test
Your dreams
Especially when it seems
It’s over and over again.
Why...
Do we continue to believe
In Expectations
Like Christmas
In July.
I know that sigh, that first shadow of doubt
As one by one
The secrets come out.
I do not judge initial intention
And I know that some pretension
May interfere with what’s projected
Fears rejected
Are received.
And believed.
Interest runs out of steam
And another dream
Is traded for the safety of solitude
With a short interlude
Of Expectations,
Like Christmas
In July.
To be true,
No follow through
Is most often the way
And phoenix does not stay
Alive long enough
To endure the faith it takes
To rectify the mistakes
Of the past
And outlast
Unmet needs
And the doubt seeds
Sure do seem to flourish
In places where dreams are encouraged
To fly
Our Expectations
Like Christmas
In July.
Ah fair game, I did not name
My truth as clear as I
As dear as I
Should have done I suppose
That’s the way it goes.
Start up and start over
Still looking for that perfect lover.
Is there a true romantic soul
Who know that roses glow
When moonflowers scent the night
And Lunar light
Creates pathways
That lead to eternity?
Who is not willing to settle for mediocrity,
And lives in the balance of wonderment
And contented dreams
Where possibilities are as endless as it really seems,
Understanding that there’s passion to play,
And every day
Is an adventure,
Like Expectations
Of Christmas
In July. | |
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| Mother earth
Posted: 5/27/2007 6:28:57 PM | You've felt you're demise and it sings true
but the wind won't help you any more
The ground has become empty and the skies are pale
there is loathing money to sell another piece of it
another day another future sold
You children may not become
when he powers that greeds control.
it's all just.........
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=7866929448192753501&...=
Loose change !!!!!!!!!!!!! the world is dying but it's greed that is killing it !
George W Bush has maliciously killed more people in his term that any president in history.He has the blood of ten thousand+ people on his hands for the price of greed and the majority of them are americans.
Please watch the movie. | |
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