Tag: poem
group name: tsopr
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June 17, 2008 08:12 PM EDT --
My dad was a farmer, as were his dad and grandpa before him. My mom's dad and grandpa were farmers too. This is from my memories of all of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ . . .
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June 09, 2008 09:55 AM EDT --
Ah, A Mental Block
Ah, a mental block-
a temporary thing, like
a folded napkin!
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June 13, 2008 12:08 AM EDT --
There is a weeping willow tree
outside my bedroom window.
I look at it in the early morning ---
there are dew drops dangling from its graceful tendrils.
They dazzle in the new day's light . . .
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June 18, 2008 05:14 PM EDT --
I couldn't sleep last night so I let my mind wonder. When I finally harnessed my thoughts, this is what I had come up with. I'm not sure where the idea came from, but while I . . .
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July 16, 2008 01:21 PM EDT --
I lift my face to the moon
and throw a kiss to the stars.
I feel the night's breeze through my hair.
I take a deep breath.
I shut my eyes
and utter words to my Lord above.
My soul is . . .
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December 09, 2008 01:11 PM EST --
It was at night long ago
one Star bright cast its glow
to guide three Wisemen far below.
The Angels' Choir joined to sing
while Shepherds fell upon their knees.
A Baby's cry pierced the sky, . . .
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June 13, 2008 03:49 PM EDT --
My head slightly bent over a table of happiness.
My feet, sod with white lilacs, dance merrily
to a moon stroke music of twilight night.
My finger-tips childishly . . .
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June 29, 2008 05:43 AM EDT --
I tilled my thoughts--
near a sparkly stream, where
a rainbow bridge linking the past,
the present, and the future
of an exquisite aroma
of my morn sighs, 'til it dawned upon a pink butterfly, . . .
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March 21, 2008 07:12 AM EDT --
I did NOT write this poem. It was written by neal shusterman, however I love the way it flows, and it can really make you think. It's the kind of poem that's not gory or bloody, but can absolutely . . .
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March 21, 2009 05:14 PM EDT --
For David Lipshultz (1970-2004)
If I could wash my face in this basin
while I wept at your grave in Phoenix
dude I swear . . .
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November 25, 2009 01:44 PM EST --
1.
Rain water on steel collects a vacant playground an endless grey sky.
2.
Contortions of pine the bare, high-branched cottonwood has a better view.
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July 20, 2008 11:41 PM EDT --
There´s no wife tonight: no other half of the tale.
No questions or desires blurted down the hallway.
No delivery of daily vignettes across the sofa´s pillows.
No flurry . . .
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June 12, 2008 11:55 PM EDT --
Floating on air
Nothing under my feet
Suspended 'tween high and low
Hanging.
No ground on which to stand
No walls on which to lean
The air has lost all warmth
Its chill wraps me
Cold. . . .
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December 11, 2009 05:16 PM EST --
I. Commute
Crumbled red leaves car edging past the sign eager to be gone.
Someday I will have an office with a window.
II. Cubicle
My little walls a speckled grey nothing like the crow's egg; . . .
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December 07, 2009 05:20 PM EST --
Tan renga, written in collaboration with Corinna Parr. Contributions are noted.
Brief lives under the sun flies in a late autumn thaw . . .
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June 29, 2008 08:09 PM EDT --
I was thinking of an old Red Skelton routine--the one of an old man at a parade caught up in emotion when the American Flad was carried by--and came up with this. So, with Independence Day coming . . .
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December 22, 2009 01:11 PM EST --
Snow has me thinking
about the tight white mantle
keeping summer warm.
Absent sound, without flurry,
I dream of . . .
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May 19, 2009 06:59 AM EDT --
Today, I traded in my shorts for blue jeans,
my sleeveless blouse for a sweatshirt.
The windows are shut,
the rain pounding against them...
driven by a cold wind
that blew in on a . . .
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November 29, 2009 01:27 PM EST --
The following is an example of shisan renga -- a twelve-verse sequence-- composed over a period of several days in collaboration with Corinna Parr. Contributions are noted.
Darkling . . .
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December 24, 2009 07:50 PM EST --
Greetings wayward
The templates grow a wing; travels light
with one or two lines. Catchy phrases.
I fumble on a wrong phrase. Is it
meant for me? Uncertainty descends.
. . .
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