| A Rambling Poet...
Posted: 11/2/2009 11:49:13 PM | a fragmented memory......
We walked along in silence
Cars passed on the street
It had started to rain
That fit my mood
I did not look at him
Why are you upset(said he)
I am not upset
My voice controlled
He did not answer me
I suppose he is angry(now)
Or had I hurt him
As I wanted to
Without understanding why
I withdrew into myself(violently)
We walked along in silence
Without speaking
A word
At the corner
We waited for the light
To change
He turned to me
Into my eyes he gazed
He touched my cheek
He brushed the tears away
the
room
was dark
i
drew
a handful
of
his
dark hair
it
was
indescribably soft | |
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| A Rambling Poet...
Posted: 11/3/2009 10:24:21 AM | | Constance, I like it just the way it is. More evocative this way. (No offense, Sophia.) | |
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| A Rambling Poet...
Posted: 11/3/2009 2:02:25 PM | I'm just a rambler and not a poet
just how hard on that dark hair were you pullin?
I call the mane reins when referring to a woman
voyeur mostly nowdays now that I think about it
yeah, I don't even use spellcheck
I'm a hick
and keep your women away from guitar players and drummers
those guys are constantly receiving hummers
she'll even run her fingers through his hair if he's a singer
women toss 'em their underwear!
where was I goin' with this again?
oh yeah..
I hear ya..
"the pleasure was worth all the pain"
(sorry, another buffett quote.. it's the scorpio moon cycle) | |
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| A Rambling Poet...
Posted: 11/3/2009 3:09:38 PM | messy
mottled
moody
midnight
mournful
merlot
musing
madness
and
melancholy
marching
me down
an aisle
of regret
I’m really sorry. Your poem is wonderful as is.
 | |
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| A Rambling Poet...He Brushed the Tears Away
Posted: 11/3/2009 6:28:31 PM | Thank you so much, I love my poem just the way it is also. It is written from deep in my heart and hopefully speaks of how much I loved this man and he me. There is one last line, I did not add that goes at the end but I will write it now..
....and now I find him, only through the cemetery gates
I hope and dream one day to find another who I can love as much. I am ready to move on... the poetry writing is my passion,it is like breathing for me, it comes to me in fragments... and I must write it ... thats just the kind of poet I am... a rambling poet | |
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| A Rambling Poet...
Posted: 11/3/2009 6:31:36 PM | I pulled ever so gently on that hair......
and to me the best poetry rambles and flows, like rippling stream, going on and on | |
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