Topic: Poetry, anyone?

[big red]

Still kinda green here, I don't know if you guys have a poetry thread here somewhere or not.  Anybody else write any?

I call this one "Lookout."

A place never seen,
Still I remember the scent.
A book never read,
But my mind is burned with its print.

A man I've never met,
A warm, calloused hand not shook,
A secret just out of reach
In a place I'll never look.

A taste recalled with yearning,
Tongue seeking to latch,
Reached through a fire burning,
No smoke, no flame, no match.

I know every word to the song,
Thought its not yet been written.
The antidote is wrong,
Its the spider I have bitten.

A suitcase full and yet unpacked,
A trip too far to go.
The way there, ripping and lacked,
A memory I won't ever know.

A child loved and never born,
A labor pained, not fulfilled.
Bloody, bloody from me torn
Sweaty, hot, frozen, chilled.

An idea come, but not to will,
A seed planted, not sprouted,
An unswallowed, rancid pill,
Soft, wet lips almost pouted.

The most clever wit ever untold,
A parched drink left to thirst.
Fingers, fingers, never to hold,
Racing last to ever be first.

Its a swallowed back sob, an unshed tear,
An umbrella never wet with rain,
A heart sourly burst that's shown a dark mirror,
Disallowed to see the pain.

A brand new, old favorite refrain
That just won't ever be played.
My familiar, crusty heart of disdain
Without logic, unwilling to trade.

A thought that is want to be shared,
A secret that's not to be told,
Knowing we'll never get there,
At once, never held and on hold.

A dancer right now en pointe,
A part many times rehearsed,
A map without its compass,
Directions all reversed.

Its earned money, never spent,
A tear sogged letter never mailed,
Waiting, waiting, poised at the dock,
A ship that will never be sailed.

A glue that just won't hold,
A wound that just won't heal,
A wanting never told,
Never leaping into real.

A smile but to the lips a twitch,
As a leaf waits for the breeze,
A giddy tickle for the itch,
A heart primed for the tease.

Dark night sigh felt deep
From lust to ever longing,
Hope's mind's knife is cutting to keep
Each soul with its belonging.

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[Bo D]

 

That isn't "green."

I loved it! Great Stuff!!!!!!!

Please post some more!




Note to forum administrators. Give Big Red a Poetry section!



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[big red]

It is a bit green, cause I'm still writing the d*mn thing!  LOL

Reread it if you want, I added a verse.

And thanks for the encouragement!   

Linkback: http://4seasonschat.com/index.php/topic,13479.msg149829.html#msg149829

[libby]

Big red, I agree with Bo D. You are good!
And yes, we should have a poetry section.

libby


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[~*A*W*~]

 

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[wvchat]

   Yes,  that's really good.   

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[big red]

"An Undertaking"



Hope is a teasing b*tch,
She lays her hand on a tender cheek,
And pretends she’ll ease an itch,
Makes like she’ll give a little peek.

But she’s coaxing and coy and playing with you,
She’s never any plans now to come,
She’s a faraway call, a shout lost in the wind,
A message from lips sealed dumb.

Hope’s waiting is a pestering noise,
Played over and again the same way,
‘Til it maddens and frenzies, gross opposite of poise,
Lost holds, keeping nothing at bay.

The only way through this falling gloaming,
Only one choice to some rest,
Kill that b*tch who stands now free warring,
On my soul, her feet on my chest.

My heart can’t be released,
Her owning is ever and tight,
Aching, pleading just for some peace,
For just one dark, darkest night.

A jet, cloaked, coal dusted night
Without her blinding me awake,
I don’t care which cause now is right,
There’s only one way now to take.

It’s to kill the b*tch and watch her bleed,
Hope’s death is my only way
Out of this sickening, half awake need
Into a warm, clear day.

So I’ll make my plan and I’ll chart my course,
Don’t care now whether I’m caught,
I’ll find her and throb her and flighty with force
I’ll bleed her, sucking lift ‘til there’s naught.

And for a brief, guilty, sticky moment or two,
I’ll be glad I’ve done the thing.
I’ll be thinking, I know, in what’s left of my head
That finally the bird’s free to sing.


But I know then the cloud will blow back,
And the  smallest part of close or light
Will only live then in the blaring smack
And smeared, scarred reflection of delight.

That b*tch Hope is a mirage of glitter,
Standing, calling from the far side of a pit,
Her sugary kiss lifts away then bitter,
Never telling what intensity lies in it

But the soft shadow, little hint, quick whisper,
Of the passion she knows you’ll never see,
Is all it takes to torment and blind
This heart to all that won’t be.



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[Duke Jupiter]

I like the way you talk.
Best regards,
Duke (poetic justice) Jupiter

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