DAN'S POETRY CORNER III


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Profile Daniel Michel
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Message 1351209 - Posted: 27 Mar 2013, 17:38:06 UTC
Last modified: 27 Mar 2013, 17:40:22 UTC

Post poems, song lyrics and rhymes...Either your own originals or those that you admire that were written by others.

(Since 2005!)
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Profile Daniel Michel
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Message 1351211 - Posted: 27 Mar 2013, 17:41:25 UTC

"Away Away"

the storm is coming
away, away
the mountains warn us
away, away
the time is over
away, away
it's time for running
away, away

the stars are falling
away, away
no surrender
away, away
the oceans boiling
away, away
it's time to remember
away, away

(2005 db michel)
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Profile Chris SProject donor
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Message 1351222 - Posted: 27 Mar 2013, 18:10:44 UTC

Hey, we iz reincarnated ...:-)

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Message 1351228 - Posted: 27 Mar 2013, 18:34:12 UTC

Good to see you back here, Dan :)
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Message 1351252 - Posted: 27 Mar 2013, 19:18:23 UTC

Threads


New threads, for old.
New yarns, to spin,
New poems, born --
All woven in.

No themes are new --
laments, and praise.
A tapestry
on wall, to raise.

Perhaps, when under
scrutiny --
its poesies
mere strands of dye --

A distant view
will please, the eye.

* * *

j. r. martin


ps, Welcome back, Dan.

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Message 1351696 - Posted: 29 Mar 2013, 4:46:30 UTC

I have committed poesy
I've even had one published
In a booklet from an 8th-grade class
Long toss'd into the rubbish

I have been known to post in rhyme
On Poet's Day, with Ang and John
But we've not done that for some time
And it seems my Muse has flown

She visits me from time to time
But never stays for long
She tickles me behind the ear
Then giggles, and is gone

And so I struggle to compose
My words in such a way
That they may being some pleasure to
Those with whom I share my day.
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Donald
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Message 1352022 - Posted: 30 Mar 2013, 2:49:16 UTC

A little Americana, for everyone --

"Wisconsin river drivers at the turn of the twentieth century sang:"

*

Stirling's Hotel

(author unk.)


There's old Molly Hogan who cooks from a book,
She's the chief chambermaid and the past-e-ry cook,
The pies that she bakes us, good God, how they smell!
A dog wouldn't eat them at Stirling's Hotel.

There's old Jack McKissick who cuts wood for his board:
But fishes instead, wouldn't work if he could.
The fish that he catches, good God, how they smell!
A dog wouldn't eat them at Stirling's Hotel.

And old Ed Starkes who works in the saloon,
The drinks that he gives, you could hold in a spoon.
For these little drinks he charges like hell,
And he gets all the money 'round Stirling's Hotel.

All our beds they are crummy with bugs and with lice,
And holes in the walls seem to vomit the mice;
And the breeze from the pantry has an old rotten smell,
It revives all the boarders at Stirling's Hotel.

*

from "The Discovery of Poetry",
by Frances Mayes

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Message 1353972 - Posted: 6 Apr 2013, 3:25:16 UTC
Last modified: 6 Apr 2013, 3:27:08 UTC

Looking ahead, after Stirling's Hotel . . .


Changes

Spies, that buzz around my head,
Ants, that watch me head for bed,
Birds, that sing in diverse mode,
Lightning-bugs, that flash, in code.

Programmed cars, that drive themselves,
Food, that's grown in warehouse shelves,
No more stores, of any kind,
People order all, on-line.

*

Reroduction, by decree --
done, in labs, with chemistry.
Evolution is transformed:
Adaptation; species, born.

*

Just in time, to cope with change,
Global warming's hightened range.
People thrive on weeds and brine,
Look, to heaven, for a sign.

None, they see, to their dismay --
everyone to God, does pray.
All they hear, for a reply;
Thunder from a pitch-black sky.

* * *

j. r. martin
1 April 2013
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Message 1355530 - Posted: 11 Apr 2013, 2:57:35 UTC

Yet, Another Automobile Ride


A quiet night, of splattering rain --
a surrealistic scene, rhythmically returned to reality.
Drops, merging into puddles on the dirt road --
which would be filled, in few weeks,
with peeping sounds, announcing Spring.

Too early in the evening for owl hootings,
should they be in the neighborhood;
not late enough, for the resident coyotes,
to voice their affirmation of the new season.
Just, a quiet night, of splattering rain.

Tentative, green shoots of grass
at edges of headlights' glow --
to surely grow eight feet, before yellow with seed;
absorbing, effortlessly,
the gift, the moisture-laden clouds bring.

Bluets and yellow daffodiles,
in the front drive-about,
are the final welcome --
and, quietly luxuriate in
a quiet night, of splattering rain.

* * *

j. r. martin
10 April 2013

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Message 1357360 - Posted: 15 Apr 2013, 22:58:24 UTC

Firstly, if this poem, an immediate reaction to the bombings at the
Boston Marathon, and, unsubstantiated as to the perpetrators, is too
political, kindly move it to the "Politics" thread.


Barbarians,
Inside the Gates


And, now, they're here --
with outrageous demands,
to kill those different,
from other lands --

To dismantle society,
technology --
and return to simple life,
of obedient poverty.

* * *

j. r. martin
15 April 2013

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Message 1357436 - Posted: 16 Apr 2013, 5:48:14 UTC

Guardian Angel


On a bench in a park sat a silhouette,
lit by a lantern.
Shadows of trees and the silhouette
were making art on the lawn.

The wind blew
like it only does on those typical evenings.

A can crossed the street,
making funny noises,
whilst the rain poured down
like it only does on those nights like this.

I looked at the silhouette again
and saw a wing at either side,
just for a tiny moment.

I blinked
and they were gone.

I blinked again
and the silhouette was gone too.


Julie Detavernier (2013)


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Message 1357614 - Posted: 16 Apr 2013, 21:23:50 UTC

Hopefully, this response won't be necssary; certainly, to a nuclear degree.


Little Gods


Every generation
yields its Little Gods --
who strive to force their will
on those, of moderation.

Psychopathic angst
wrenches normal lives --
and forces moderation
to choose extreme response.

Existential certitudes
don't give answers, clear --
and, sacrifice from normal lives,
a favored attitude.

The task, ahead -- to not appease:
To put Little Gods, on shorter leash.

* * *

j. r. martin
16 April 2013


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Message 1358200 - Posted: 18 Apr 2013, 18:38:17 UTC

life's battle

If you think you're beaten, you will be.
if you think you dare not, you won't.
If you'd like to win, but you think you can't,
it's almost a fact you won't.
If you think you'll lose, you will be lost,
for out there in the world we find
success begins with one's will

it's all a state of mind.

If you think you're outclassed, you will be
you've got to think high to rise
you've got to be sure of yourself before
you can ever win your peace of mind.

Life's victories don't always go
to the strongest or the fastest,
and in the end the ones who survive,
are the ones who think they can.

JD(2013)
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Message 1358539 - Posted: 19 Apr 2013, 12:49:44 UTC

Fireflies


One, winks out;
one, winks on --

Fireflies,
on summer lawn.

* * *

j. r. martin
19 April 2013

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Message 1359053 - Posted: 20 Apr 2013, 19:04:32 UTC

Time, for reorientation. . .



A Flower


I cannot adequately describe

a flower --

not, by scientific analysis,
not, by photography,
not, by painting,
not, by prose,
not, by poem.

It shall remain
a delghtful inigma,
for as long as its season--

adequately known, only
to the bees,
which instinctively
avail themselves

of its treasure.

* * *

j. r. martin
20 April 2013

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Message 1359055 - Posted: 20 Apr 2013, 19:08:39 UTC

Time, for reorientation. . .

A Flower

Er, shades of Henry Gibson?

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Message 1359056 - Posted: 20 Apr 2013, 19:11:42 UTC - in response to Message 1359055.
Last modified: 20 Apr 2013, 19:12:37 UTC

Time, for reorientation. . .

A Flower

Er, shades of Henry Gibson?


Yeah......THAT Henry Gibson.
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I have met a few friends in my life.
Most were cats.

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Message 1359097 - Posted: 20 Apr 2013, 22:13:49 UTC

Nobody need join the Marines, the Army will do. :oD

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Message 1359128 - Posted: 21 Apr 2013, 0:31:52 UTC - in response to Message 1359097.

Kindly visualize "inigma", as "enigma". A friend of mine, at Peet's Coffee House, caught the spelling error. :o(
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Message 1359157 - Posted: 21 Apr 2013, 2:51:23 UTC - in response to Message 1359128.

Kindly visualize "inigma", as "enigma". A friend of mine, at Peet's Coffee House, caught the spelling error. :o(

My friend Clint caught a few spelling errors too.

Now THAT is a car

Notice the fine thunk when the doors slam?

I am in love.

Meow.

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Embrace your inner kitty...ya know ya wanna!

I have met a few friends in my life.
Most were cats.

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