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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 1 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/13/2007 7:34:11 AM | Hi. You poets out there are my kind of people!!
I don't write much, but when I do, it gives me a ton of relief.
Hope to get some feedback from you.
This is another poem about my wretched state of mind over the breakup of my boyfriend.
There's a lot more I plan to add to it. It kinda started coming to me last night as I went to sleep:
When she thought her waiting was done
She found herself waiting again
So she gave in to her set pace
going for the distance, second wind.
The ghost in bridal shroud rose
from her body in repose to keep vigil
till time for her to rise to wait again.
She awakens as her needy chill
blows her mind beyond her frozen
present death to ponder her own condition.
Her only hope, her only skill
her mauled and bleeding intuition.
Faint visions of children and animals
beckon her to recall intuition.
Love, once a journey, remained a dsignation.
Trust in his truth staid her in stagnation.
Would she again today, refuse a revelation? | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 2 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/13/2007 5:19:06 PM | Hey. Ok. I've revised that that I had written and added just a little more:
When she thought her waiting was done
She found herself waiting again
So she gave in to her set pace
going for the distance, second wind.
Time her life had nothing to do
but feel where he had been
Thought or fun or rest eschew
sleep only as demanded. Even then
a ghost in bridal shroud rose
from her body in repose to keep vigil
till time for her to rise to wait again.
One day, she awakens with a needy chill
that forces her mind beyond her frozen
present death to ponder her own condition.
Her only hope, her only skill
her mauled and bleeding intuition.
Faint visions of children and animals
beckon her to recall intuition.
Love, once a journey, hangs on as designation.
Trust in his truth has staid her in stagnation.
Would she again today, retain her resignation?
In the absence of her living love
she wrestles once more with all she knows
of words, and chance and giving up
and sensing the truth of what he chose.
Never running the risk of being a slave to sanity
she tended to indulge her last vestige of will;
but perhaps in this case her last itch of humanity
would literally rest on her willingness to kill
her love for him. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 4 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/13/2007 11:24:02 PM | | Thanks poetfriend. I'm glad you understand. As it happens in my particular life, things rarely change and people very rarely leave. It is a wound my body isn't adapted for. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 5 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/15/2007 4:09:38 PM | The universe has curved to mirror my past
Time and space attuned to my chaos at last.
Flash before my eyes is so confusing
the story unfolds as not amusing.
It happened that today due to Bud and nicotine.
Ended up, the thing with my arm was a heart thing
Lay down for a nap, heart shaking in my chest--
Way too fast, but with no pain, I find rest.
Wake up, I guess, and that's when I notice
The first thought of this universe redress.
At first it seemed a little funny
The ex-husband had dreamed I had asked him for money
When I went out to my dog's house, I knocked on the door
Strange, I would have never done that before
The dog proceeded to give me a piece of his mind
If he hadn't made sense, I'd have thought it unkind.
Slinking back to my own house tail in my legs
I saw cardinal love birds contemplating eggs
in January. Opened my door, there my cat
sat holding the dogs leash, imagine that
I took the cat for a walk, let him pee on my tire.
Then led him back gently, not meaning to ire.
Next my gay boyfriend called, declared himself straight
the cat coming meanwhile carrying the dog's plate.
The phone again, this time it was my mother dear
Usually quite the weather man, but this time something weird.
She said, "Hey my little baby, take a walk on the wild side."
And I said do duh do duh do duh do duh do doo...
What?
I would have called ghost busters, but you know they aren't real.
So I faced the potenial truth that this is the way death feels.
The dog and I got in my car, death would have to catch me.
The neighbor's dogs tried to block our path, Of course THEY were running FREE.
The cat grabbed hold of radio antenna, willing to give all for me.
Now I just want things to go back to the way they're supposed to be.
Where my dog attacks my cat and my cat attacks me.
As it happens, I'm still here, safe and thankful for my musings
My cat is relieved he didn't have to sprout wings.
Where I sit I enjoy my keyboard and window sounds of rain and train.
My heart flutter didn't kill me, ex-husband didn't pay me, gay boyfriend didn't lay me, mother didn't play games. Things appear to be the same
...or are they? | |
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TiMwM
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Joined: 10/3/2006
Msg: 6 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/15/2007 5:22:35 PM | That wasn't at all what I expected but was the funniest poem i've ever read....It was suposed to be funny right? Hehehe. I loved it. I'll have to read it again because I was laughing so hard I couldn't take it all in. Great job and thanks. I needed that.
Tim | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 7 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/16/2007 10:27:15 AM | There was a thread in broken hearts for people to tell what song best described them to the person who had broken their hearts. . . and I'm thinking about my ex bf today so, I'm gonna write him a little song, because I don't think there's one I know that quite fits:
I'm learning the meaning of silence
the things I said, the things I didn't believe
I couldn't help it I couldn't believe.
I'm learning the meaning of silence
the things you said, the things I didn't believe
I couldn't help it I couldn't believe.
I'm learning the meaning of silence
a man a few feet away in another world
while I sleep.
I'm learning the meaning of silence
practicing patience as his virtue
while I weep.
I'm learning the meaning of silence
of two bodies, occupying the
same sphere.
Oblivious to each other
even as each one feels the
other's fear.
I'm learning the
meaning of silence
from you.
You were true to words.
In the absence of words,
I'm learning
the meaning
of you.
You
don't
exist. | |
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| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/16/2007 12:41:29 PM | Hiya penpalgirl.Thanks for visiting my lil poetry corner earlier today.I noticed you have started your own thread,and wanted to drop by for a visit:)I really enjoy your unique and colourful writing style.I look forward to dropping by again and seeing whats new.Write on! Kat | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 9 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/16/2007 2:46:15 PM | Thank you, Kat. I'm touched and honored. It took me a minute to realize who you were. I really look forward to reading your stuff. I think it's going to be the kind that I can read no matter what mood I'm in. "Unique" eh? and "colorful". I like that. 
I sincerely appreciate the enouragement. Write on. | |
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Om
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Joined: 12/15/2006
Msg: 10 | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 11 | |
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| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 3:34:57 AM | - AMUSED MUSINGS -
All of your works are so nicely written
Delightful in chaos that third one once bitten
Who knows what the dust clouds might say
To a tire-peeing cat and a girl's guy who's gay?
Perhaps in it's fervor the aliens agree
Dogs will be dogs right? Hey just ask the flea
He'll tell you that Dr.Suess smoked lots of weed
While Clinton went whoring from lust and from need
In China the Yin and the Yangs and the Chins
Outnumber America's Jones and Johnsons
While fishing for vowels in my "Alphabets" bowl
I noticed my marshmellows out of control
Bugs bunny was kool back when I was a kid
Then I grew to like girls and my morals they slid
Why do Brits sound American just when they sing?
And what of the suicide of the Lemmings?
So many great musings I'm sure you'll agree
So too do the Star Wars fans as you'll soon see
Down under the toilets flow from right to left
Opposing our hemisphere, dont feel bereft
With all of these thoughts I am sure you'll agree
It's easy to get engrossed in poetry
So dance like an elephant facing a mouse
Excitement at you new thread in this great house!
- Erik -
Nice works penpal! Looking forward to more. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 13 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 8:45:46 AM | 
skj left a poem for me!!! With mention of so many of my favorite meaniderings, like lemmings and alphabit's marshmallos. My eye's are barely open. I don't know what to say. Meanwhile the sun is dancing through my window like an elephant...so maybe, just maybe I'll rise to the occasion--no promises. But millions of thanks for the smiles. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 14 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 1:52:38 PM | Songs, poems, all works of art are things that capture us long enough to save our souls from isolation from humanity, then set us free, newly inspired to reach out to other souls. Following is the lyrics to the song, "More Than Words" as performed by Extreme. I wanted to include them on my thread for my own reference. Maybe someone passing through will be touched by them as well:
Saying I love you
Is not the words I want to hear from you
Its not that I want you
Not to say, but if you only knew
How easy it would be to show me how you feel
More than words is all you have to do to make it real
Then you wouldnt have to say that you love me
Cos Id already know
What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldnt make things new
Just by saying I love you
More than words
Now Ive tried to talk to you and make you understand
All you have to do is close your eyes
And just reach out your hands and touch me
Hold me close dont ever let me go
More than words is all I ever needed you to show
Then you wouldnt have to say that you love me
Cos Id already know
What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldnt make things new
Just by saying I love you
More than words | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 15 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 3:42:14 PM | I'd like to do a picture
of you to have
to remind me
of moments still real.
It would reveal
We stood when
you were beside me.
needn't delineate
place, or face,
I'd discern the meaning concealed.
Wouldn't require skill,
just knowing what I feel.
But my pen is empty
While my heart is thirsty
Parched by this desert
known as time to heal. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 16 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 6:39:29 PM | To a son of mine:
seems fitting that I've been thinking of you all day
didn't worry or wonder or anything--just happened that way.
something reminding of you, my son, whom I know
better than I know anyone.
a place is closing down, a place kinda special to your ma
the place I wander in for coffee when too lazy to even put on a bra--
(more infor than you needed, but this is a poem, so I tried to rhyme)
yet as you know that's pretty often, and you also know the place I speak of
--made me think of you and the time I first discovered
how sentimental you are.
We were living in a tiny place; you were one and two and three.
We had a humongous reclining chair that cozily accomodated your brother and you and me.
and I put it to the curb one day, because it was ugly and in the way.
and you my prodigy, sensitve boy had your first nervous breakdown that day.
You were angry and articulate and would have sold your soul to be bigger than me.
But I knew, we were growing: the chair was getting cramped and our little family
needed a change.
You and I have seen so many changes since then
and we both know that many were not meant to be.
Places we love, places of business where we played
growing up in companion land, you and me. T
o list them is sappy, sentimental indulgence
but as you will agree, they deserve it. There's Sun Buffet,
where I loved the real kimchi and you, the stir fri chef and his knives,
where the waitor taught you to use chop sticks and fried
bananas were soft like you expect.
There's the pawn shop,
where the owner let you trade Sega CDs for free.
And Ma and Pa video, with their easy to buy guarantee
(when we turned things in late).
You barely remember the Kid's Party Place,
but I've often wished it was still there to see.
Well, my son you've grown away from me now,
but every time something for me goes away, how
I think of you and your devotion to moments of bliss.(My
breakfast buffet has also recently fallen by the way.) Anyway,
your mom's point is this: I'm impressed
with how driven you are to express
and defend what you think is best.
I guess this isn't a poem yet. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 17 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 6:55:44 PM | I saw an earnest, headstrong boy
proclaim his love for me.
I saw him die.
I saw a wide-eyed virgin man
proclaim his love for me.
I saw him cry.
I saw a scarred, hardened young man
deny his love for me.
I saw him writhe.
I saw a fertile farm boy
share his love for me.
I saw him grow.
I held a man with eyes
that gleamed from God.
I saw him grow old.
I saw you
standing by my side...you cried?
I blinked my eyes.
I never saw you go.
Sure as I have
cycled with moon,
with men in ebb and flow,
there'll never be another
to rock my world
like the one I didn't see go.
The above was about the guys of my life I've been commited to. The following is a poem I wrote for the wonderful "door" thread, very significant for me, because I've been thinking a lot about the purpose of words lately.
I wish I could open the door to things unsaid
Or maybe I don't. If words are the doors I seek,
I should accept the store of meanings I've read
Not vie for power over silent beings to speak.
If words are doors, whether ephemeral, hollow, iron or lead.
I don't have to wish further for what was unsaid.
but look through what they invite me to see
to the person in there, who is peeking at me.
And...this is a haiku I wrote for TiMwM's structured poetry thread. Again, just another very personal thing:
fragile girl longing
holds onto singing spirits
lost bird in the wind.
Maybe it should read:
lost bird in the wind
holds onto singing spirits
fragile girl longing.
hmm. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 18 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 7:40:30 PM | and at the risk of having my own multiple posts deleted in my own thread, I want to include the following I wrote for a thread the other day. The first letter of each line spells out
"Hours on End" so I suppose that's the title:
Hours on End
...........How will we know when it's over***
............Our almost-holy time together....
..............Under star and moon and sun...
...............Reaching out to one another-
...............Searching what we long to find
................Only to miss our heart's desire
................Nearly, even as we know we are
...............Engulfed in romance--mystic ocean
................Novices, forever stunned by the shore
..................Dipped noses, driven to the ocean floor | |
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| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 7:50:00 PM | I would like to say that your poem is a little dark. I feel that your dreams of marriage were tarnished because of your break up, or other circumstances. I sense a hint of lost hope and self pity on your part. Don't give up on your dreams . I willing to bet that if your poems painted a brighter picture it will start to filter to your heart. You use creative words to display your meanings. Touche. (Correct me if I am wrong.) | |
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| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 7:50:35 PM | | I would like to say that your poem is a little dark. I feel that your dreams of marriage were tarnished because of your break up, or other circumstances. I sense a hint of lost hope and self pity on your part. Don't give up on your dreams . I willing to bet that if your poems painted a brighter picture it will start to filter to your heart. You use creative words to display your meanings. Touche. (Correct me if I am wrong.) | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 21 | |
| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 8:08:08 PM | Hi Can love: I appreciate your comments. I appreciate your encouragement, too. I know they are dark and I guess filled with self-pity. Poetry exposes what's inside a person, eh.
But it also helps a person get such things out of themselves so they can move on. This is helping me a lot. Thanks again, for taking time to comment. | |
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| My poetry. One I'm working on and whatever else.
Posted: 1/17/2007 9:21:03 PM | - TO A SUN OF MINE -
Seems fitting that you have lit up the day
Not worrying or wondering just drifting your own way
Light reminding me of you my Sun
Who the plants know better than anyone
On a planet moving around, special to this guy
Feeling so awake as you move across our sky
Twenty four hours often you light and warm the place
On this lowly rock as it drifts round in space
- Erik - ( I was inspired, hence the filking of your poem. Hope ya don't mind! It was TOO good to pass up. Hehehehe )  | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 23 | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 24 | |
| A couple of poems I didn't write
Posted: 1/18/2007 12:50:30 PM | James Tate
FLIGHT
For K.
Like a glum cricket
the refrigerator is singing
and just as I am convinced
that it is the only noise
in the building, a pot falls
in 2 B. The neighbors on
both sides of me suddenly
realize that they have not
made love to their wives
since 1947. The racket
multiplies. The man downhall
is teaching his dog to fly.
The fish are disgusted
and beat their heads blue
against a cold aquarium. I too
lose control and consider
the dust huddled in the corner
a threat to my endurance.
Were you here, we would not
tolerate mongrels in the air,
nor the conspiracies of dust.
We would drive all night,
your head tilted on my shoulder.
At dawn, I would nudge you
with my anxious fingers and say,
Already we are in Idaho.
Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)
Morning Song
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its
own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons. | |
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pensky
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Joined: 12/19/2006
Msg: 25 | |
| One I wrote for an Alyosha thread
Posted: 1/18/2007 2:14:30 PM | a poem is...
Posted: 1/17/2007 10 23 PM
to de-evolve
coil up in yourself
find your center,
taste your air
feel the vibrations
of your
state of existence,
then stealthily slither
back to humanity
with a souvenir. | |
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