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Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 126
kills word Page 6 of 11    (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11)

I stare down wondering what's in between
My feet, as they flop and swing against
The pavement: white and black scuffed
saddle shoes drop so carelessly from
my hip's sharp jutting bones that encase
those round smooth ball joints, rotating like
Slippery blood soaked stealies we roll across
Dirt into the thumb dipped pocket

On the play ground. Arms swing from
Monkey bars as I dangle then
Lift my whole body: every bit of my
energy pulls a full knee circle round
the bar; my skin burns: calluses form:
I smell the sweat mixed with iron on
my cold clammy hands.
I lick my palms to soothe the ache;

Copper pennies and spring rain linger
on my tongue...
Thoughts of a double dip
spumoni green and black cherry ice
cream cone at the local parlor cross
my mind, as I wipe the spit
on my dark green pinafore.
I remember when between my feet

Only grass sprouting from dirt
and cracks
that would break Mama's Back:
I miss them and step on them at will
For love anger and a thrill.
Not knowing that the crack
would bring a Momma's back to me,
which breaks and aches to remember~

The pleasure once found between my feet,
gazing down at the ground
to see ants scuttling with large bread crumbs
between blades of grass so tall, I could hide
whole days in them...
Or staring up at the clouds to see the shapes
of ladies sitting on thrones, who cast stones
That left ripples in the very sea,
wanting them to be me
and wasting hours and days, I
imagined the way my life would
be in eons past:

And when my golden years of life played out
who it would be and how it would be~
A grand piano: a concerto...
You and your tuxedo,
under my hand.
As I sway to the beat
champagne effervesce on my tongue,
and words flow in harmony

Never was it the blue skies,
and the warm fields of anybody's eyes...
Yet my own looking back
at me: now from a tired mirror
knowing that these
stiff vertebrate always carried
one: mine
as precious as it ever was...
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 127
Posted: 4/30/2011 7:32:36 PM
Happy Late Birthday Rosie ....If you Stop By.... Your Room and your poetry warms my heart...
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 128
Posted: 4/30/2011 7:44:15 PM

mold Us
and shape Us
I buy into It
You tell it~
then sell it
like yesterday never was
I paint it up
pretty ~so
I can swallow It
whole, and feed It
to my offspring
wrap any left-overs
in cellophane
forget the pain
plastic wrap
for all my crap
take the blind's cane
give it to the beggar,
who shakes a cup
Wall Street pours
Crude for them to sup
political phones ring
campaign funds are low
candidates poke sores
have a keggar(sp)
and keep on dancing cause
another day in our free market
Joined: 3/15/2011
Msg: 129
Posted: 4/30/2011 9:06:37 PM
this entire page is exceptionally beautiful
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 130
Posted: 5/1/2011 10:30:26 PM
thanks... when I read your works in your rooms and on the boards I often feel like I have been hit where I live.. thanks for reading... and sharing...
 dimestore minstrel
Joined: 9/29/2009
Msg: 131
mm hmm
Posted: 5/21/2011 1:11:36 AM
***absolutely, long a favorite author of mine here.
how about something light from another site?***

switching seats

a subway ride
works just as well
without need of
some arcane spell
no eye of this
or twig of that
just a pass and
a box for my cat
we'll meet the same
as those before
the transport's changed
and nothing more
we still dance
beneath the moon
we just don't go
by way of broom
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 132
mm hmm
Posted: 5/22/2011 2:08:38 PM
It is so nice to see you Dimestore, it has been so long...thanks for the switch of always love your additions....
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 133
mm hmm
Posted: 5/22/2011 6:04:29 PM
Free write

Crickets rain what is falling from my window; pain is the day or the night that calls softly to my eyes resting on the pillow of your chest. Do you hear me beg you for your embrace in this oily star spattered night. The beauty of the chirping doesn’t last forever it only comes sometimes when it wants. For I only hear it happen when I relax. Sometimes there is no chirping and the birds they don’t sing and we don’t ever come together as one people and beings under the sun as the inky, satiny sky of darkness covers us.

I don’t know what theology brings us together or what separates us; I know only that I can’t seem to find a way to make this work for me.. to write the most apropos words that flow together for sense of any thing even- nothing worthy: from the tips of my lashes that close over yesterday’s troubles and water splashes down onto today’s sunshine. And if you think you can bring a mimosa smile than for God’s sake do it… and be quick with it for I can’t bear another down turned corner of a bed miss-made for sleep, in darkened rooms, with no moonlight shining against flesh that is warm and flushed from lovemaking. Bare your dimples onto my eyes and let me see the teeth borne in greeting. Do not hold high gazes that should fall onto feet walking paths left from eons of trails made in rough roads of culture. Turn past my strewn hair and ignore the tangle of knots in my nape: do not caress even a slight curve or roundness in my cheek, but leave quickly and look not back upon the disarray we have shared. Together pulling the sheets from where once made they will be tucked carefully into the corner forgotten again until another moment in darkness, we come again…
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 134
mm hmm
Posted: 6/11/2011 1:04:06 AM
I remember when I was a child
Sometimes I still go there too...
That place in my dreams where life
Tastes like black licorice and
My tongue sticks to the roof
Of my mouth when I talk
To someone I like....
I fly high over lush, green fields and
cities lit like diamonds on a beauty queen's tiara:
I breathe under water and swim like a sturgeon:
I talk to animals and they answer me intelligibly:
I fight warriors with broken water glasses and win...
Someone else writes the script and
The movie plays in my head, but I
Change it up just for one ever dies--
except for me, and I always find a light
To walk me through and words to guide me
When I wake...
Just like every time I might have died,
but didn't as a child--When I came
to lose the light, I stopped holding
onto today and begin looking to tomorrow..
Now I die a little each day...
For I turned my Guardian Angel,
Who stroked my fevered brow, away.
She did brush my grieving bones, wetting
me with kind, merciful, kisses
free of foresight--Yet Today
I ignore the metallic scent of the present
feel the acidic burn of freedom,
releasing the past in rivulets of oppressive sweat,
and I race to the future.
A dead autumn, leaf, straying to a snow bank was the bygone
caress with which angel's wings blessed me
There is no present in Eternity...
Only foresight, foreshadowing and foreboding...
What shall tomorrow bring???
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 135
mm hmm
Posted: 6/12/2011 9:47:43 PM
The passage twisted
In translation,
Ending in two paths~

Don't choose!
Over Live prey
An Eagle hunts...

In its Death,

Thunderbird completes
A healing
of the Body....

Feathers fall--
Even as we wait--
Each barb remembers
Life resisted..
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 136
mm hmm
Posted: 6/14/2011 8:00:29 PM
The Assumptions
I quickly made

embarrassing at least
at best intentions released

I am thankful for the clarity
Your kindness and charity
Your poetry is enjoyable
Sorry I misread the label
Thick headed sometimes
I miss the gist in rhymes

I find inspiration from your work
Also....your response to my concern
was welcoming and witty, I discern
with a smile that I was being a dork...
 dimestore minstrel
Joined: 9/29/2009
Msg: 137
mm hmm
Posted: 6/18/2011 9:50:25 AM
***my previous message a bit's your poetry inicia i admire...i especially liked "truth is a streetlight"...something i wrote about a year ago on pof's sister site***

Scenes From France 1944

After The Rain

a girl
just sat upon
a wall shivering shell
shocked and locked in a landscape damned
to hell

Laying On The Battlefield

the un
expected sky
on the ground it seemed in
finite what could be won with one
more breath

L'Eglise - Field Hospital

a steeple bleed
the dreams of the dying
men whose nightmares stain the snow fresh

Refugees From A Burning Village

now they
walk in hope of
a day more than ashes
she worries that when it dawns she'll
be lost
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 138
mm hmm
Posted: 6/19/2011 5:25:39 AM
thought you were appreciating the poetry written in here .

wasn't aware of POF's sister site.. maybe i am already visiting there and just oblivious to its affiliation with POF. Fabulous additions(these are particularly vivid and powerful) as I have come to expect. thank you....
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 139
mm hmm
Posted: 6/30/2011 1:33:28 AM
I love a date
Stuffed with
an Almond...
Such a
Decadent Treat;
Coated tender
Amber Sweetness
Surround a
Crunchy Salty
Smoky Nut.
The sugary flesh
crushes and melts
Betwixt your teeth,
Pushed round with
your tongue as
Dentin meets the hard
Resistance of the
Roasted brine soaked
drupe, I prepared them
Myself: each toasty almond
Inserted with a slender index
finger into the soft hollow
pitted date, to swell and stretch
them into a ripe fullness.
It is date night; shave my legs
don my silk:
enjoy my succulent treat...
Presentation is everything...
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 140
mm hmm
Posted: 6/30/2011 9:08:00 PM
die trying
everything we knew
falls apart in hands
tying knots meant to
Lock up only that which
Yearns to be free in us
Fear falls crippled, reeling
Reckless and hapless
Entities reach for such power
Exclusively in the absence of power
Dance those red shoes loose and strapped
On the sacred ground of such impotency
Meet the maker, before crossing the whore....
Signal for air, pierce masks held over souls
Inhale the scent she left on your pillow case
Never bought, she always escapes her place
God damned her to dance in red heeled soles
Simple humans could not waste her evermore.....
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 141
mm hmm
Posted: 7/2/2011 10:12:51 PM
Love: the wood grain
floor polished with
lemon oil, in the hours
after the stars glow brightest
before dawn's grey veil
casts them into tomorrow's night;
that the children slide across
and, from which, the dog slips onto
the kitchen linoleum.
It doesn't happen in daylight,
but the buffing and burnishing
on aching knees pressed into
A rolled towel, takes place
after all eyes have shut and the
house is quiet. The ceiling fan
rhythmically spins, as her eyes
ever vigilant
rest on the dry wood, absorbing
the sweet pungent elixir.
And She sits in the torn bicentennial
Rocker from her Grandfather, sipping
bitter, black, coffee, recollecting
her tired days back and forth with
the babies, who sometimes slept, sometimes babbled,
and sometimes
As the floor dries to shine in the morning sunlight....
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 142
mm hmm
Posted: 7/7/2011 10:07:30 PM
If tomorrow brought
all the gifts sought
would today be empty
and the day after tomorrow
how would that be?
where are gifts
are they not in what is here
and not what is sought
It is to be as it is or as it
might be...
damn these gifts I give..
to only find that tomorrow
today wasn't enough...
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 143
mm hmm
Posted: 7/12/2011 7:41:21 PM
I was talking
to you, and
I found me,
soaring from beneath
All my covers,
While enjoying
every ounce
that poured from
Revelations hidden
in words you tried to
disguise with a bravado that
expressed you...
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 144
mm hmm
Posted: 7/13/2011 9:17:40 AM
Willendorf in the palm of your hand
swollen, burgeoning carved solid sand
smooth crown plaited in rows of seven
hair hangs down her back; scent of heaven.

both palm and she supine, chin at rest under
your gaze, fingers trace the place of thunder
footless to stand free between two gently cupped
hands caressing the round Venus who supped
 dimestore minstrel
Joined: 9/29/2009
Msg: 145
mm hmm
Posted: 7/18/2011 12:42:05 AM
***enjoying your writes, like always, uh huh***

***been kinda busy, kinda bored,
sorta mute and rather scarce
so here's some canned (re)hash from the cupboard
tastes better than a boot, but not as good as pears***

(listening to)
veronica in a beret over coffee

whens daynight
it was tropic it was fry

like rings me up real
hip and hi

she say

hey v
come spa with us
the scenic is spice
the sky is on ice
jake's got the jac on cool
and izzie's set the uzzi to woosey

likes things to be real
sip and sigh

i say

k cee
that would be 'licious
i mean it you're price
all sugar and vice
jacks and jays by the pool
this suzi's gonna be busy getting dizzy

like swings it way

real flip and fly
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 146
mm hmm
Posted: 7/19/2011 1:42:47 PM
I prefer protein to fruit any way,
and for fruit I would rather
citrus or figs and dates than pears
so It was great hash... even if it was repeat
I never read it before so it was fresh to me....
Joined: 6/13/2011
Msg: 147
view profile
mm hmm
Posted: 7/19/2011 8:02:08 PM
"The pleasure once found between my feet,
gazing down at the ground
to see ants scuttling with large bread crumbs
between blades of grass so tall, I could hide
whole days in them..."


the whole of it but that part in particular ... yes please
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 148
mm hmm
Posted: 7/20/2011 10:04:27 PM
a fan blowing,
spits shy warm air.
stars glowing,
like a firefly swarm flare,
leaving welts
striped across me
to hear you sing.
And ice melts
in the coffee,
leaving a ring
of damp condensation,
a lack of conversation
plagues sweating skin,
Night calls out again...
I sit cider, mulling
Self deceit so true:
Music rolls through
the rooms, lulling
any decision to react.
It reminds me of my pact,
to reach for something more:
forever I am becoming... as I am...
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 149
mm hmm
Posted: 7/26/2011 2:53:49 PM
Disclaimer....(no offense)

tell me
all about them
I am everyone
they have ever been
I am every one they will ever be
I am them and then some
I look out and I want more and more
My greed
always unstoppable
never enough
I want
all the time
that you share
I will be every dirty wh*re
that ever evened the score
but don't you dare
try to put it off
like you have
never been
Joined: 12/21/2007
Msg: 150
mm hmm
Posted: 7/27/2011 10:00:55 PM
Roll thunder over
I don't hear what you said
Deep in the soul of bone
I feel how it is time for a storm~
rain comes down~ ask
and don't look back
your hat fell off the rack,
Rolling for thoughts that bask
In the saliva that does form
in words you try and hone;
the dogs beg with dangling red
Tongues~ that dance in clover....
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