Tag: post
group name: tsopr
|
March 26, 2008 12:03 PM EDT --
Once upon a story,
Told not long ago,
He sang a song of forever,
and then he let her go.
Ice fell from her eyes,
and became a river of snow,
and then into the ocean,
her frozen dreams . . .
more
|
|
April 05, 2008 06:53 PM EDT --
okay, the way this works is I'll write a line or two to begin a poem. then someone comments with the next line. the person after that will create the next line by building off of the one thaat . . .
more
|
|
May 03, 2008 10:25 AM EDT --
it has no melody yet... but here are the lyrics.
that smile on your face,
it looks so fake,
so out of place,
like a porcelin sheild it hides your shame.
is that a crack i see?
it's . . .
more
|
|
November 23, 2008 12:11 AM EST --
Everything returns
"Returns are welcome"
is written over the sealed envelope
of his life. His first pet,
which came from near-death
and with his help,
became . . .
more
|
|
January 05, 2009 09:55 PM EST --
The rabbit's grave
Remember the tree, belonged to you,
grown with fussy care and given a name?
look, the wintry cage of its branches
is seeking the answer why you have left! . . .
more
|
|
May 17, 2009 10:12 PM EDT --
poet II
( To John F W )
True picture whispers,
A maestro's pen scurries on,
Drops of ink on sand.
*
A telephone rings,
Instrument rings like a . . .
more
|
|
January 31, 2009 11:45 PM EST --
February expressions
Nothing exists before this, only void;
a genesis, a self born fetus floats
amid blank darkness… this is how he feels
when her lips connive to create new world. . . .
more
|
|
November 20, 2008 08:54 AM EST --
Telescope
Blue is blending into blue, indigo,
heliotrope; ancient stars are melting
together into the ultimate formless.
A night through this telescope rekindles . . .
more
|
|
November 21, 2008 09:11 AM EST --
Rainbow competetion writing
Gray particles move
The dusts of thought settle on top
of the bleak table strewed with scraps.
Look at the window, the gray sky
can be seen like an old . . .
more
|
|
November 24, 2008 06:30 AM EST --
Answer of the heart
Still you would have said you don't care.
The suitcase has been fed with his signs of life.
A crow at the window sill
is warning you of a loss. Agony.
Moments are . . .
more
|
|
January 07, 2009 09:29 PM EST --
Behind the door
The unanswered questions behind the closed doors
make sound at night.
The sounds of pathos and pain long restrained
unchain themselves
and crush against . . .
more
|
|
May 25, 2009 06:01 AM EDT --
Kitchen and sundial
( To Alison and the surreal circus-IV )
Reeling in, rolling in the scene, words, smells, senses
she looks at, what seems like misguided tour of ruins; . . .
more
|
|
June 02, 2009 06:38 AM EDT --
Calendar
A few more steps towards back
where he came from
where still a delicate hand is
waiting untouched
because he had not been wise in the past.
He smiled at the calendar. . . .
more
|
|
August 07, 2008 09:42 AM EDT --
A ctress
==
The clotheshorse, old and scruffy holds
the array of her dresses. She needs them.
She needs them even more than foods
to satisfy her half . . .
more
|
|
December 05, 2008 10:01 PM EST --
Prism
He stoops and picks up his diamond.
A piece of broken prism, some may say.
It has been on the dirt.
He looks up
albeit there is no chandelier to be seen.
The place . . .
more
|
|
December 15, 2008 10:03 PM EST --
Waiting for an appointment
A surprise pond at the backyard
of the building. Nobody can
think there is a green blue flow of
breath, cool.
I place my palms on the glass panes. . . .
more
|
|
January 14, 2009 09:38 PM EST --
wintry house
Wednesday writing essential
The long tortuous road with wintry wind
playing with fistful of dirt thrown at us.
With a cloud over our heads we
used . . .
more
|
|
January 15, 2009 09:34 PM EST --
Wood Ants See
(Thursday writing essential)
A stream of wood ants is climbing
and vanishing into the cracks
on the peeling barks of the tree.
The horde of wet clouds . . .
more
|
|
April 23, 2009 08:14 AM EDT --
Pardon Hans Andersen
I derive out of the sea, weeds clinging to my feet,
salt dripping from wet hair; like sailors’ myths, fictions.
I look at the wet, forlorn fishing . . .
more
|
|
May 28, 2009 06:57 AM EDT --
Tasmanian Devil, d ying
The smell of food is changing course with wind,
the weathercock seems to chase its own tail;
I can smell you too, watching for a devil.
What bullet . . .
more
|
|
|
|
