You lost your last back and me - poetry
I will never think twice nor will I roll the dice When it comes to my life I will take my Grannio's advice
You play the hand you're dealt when it comes to who will be your Dad - But if you bluff about a card's face value for too many years you fail to remember you had - No Aces or King of Hearts in your creative deck - But instead a worthless Joker-So Wild and Mad. . .
You can ask manually why for an added 20 years but you'll never appreciate how a Joker has no fears. . .
Not about bringing up the rear his kids, his abandon nor his wife- Why ought to he care or aid them No be important how many times they saved his life?
When you're a wild card like him you at all times put manually first above your breed and contacts They're not crucial of course. . . Apart from when you NEED THEM - Then they're not such a curse. . .
They owe you something you ask even if they have to empty their purse. . . To save The Joker from his most recent tricks - No Be of importance How Many Times His Wild Ways Lead to DUI, Jail, Fines Or Fault To Be a Father. . .
They Must Acknowledge Certainty Where A Child Pays. . . The Perpetual Price - For The At hand Their Parents Gave Them - A Gift From God Not Man - It's Called The Right To Life. . .
I didn't ask to be born - nor to have you for My Dad But I'll Be Damned If I Didn't Run To Your Rescue No Be important WHEN, WHERE, OR HOW BAD - Your Predicaments Again and again Proved To Be. . .
I'd Hide My Tears And Swallow My Fears But I NEVER WALKED AWAY OR LEFT YOU Killing NOT ONCE IN MORE THAN 20 YEARS. . .
You'd Fill My Mind With Reasons Why. . . You Got Arrested or Didn't Come See Me There Was Continually A New Lie - To Make Me Have faith in It Wouldn't Come about Again
Your Promises Lasted For A Week or A Month. . . But They Were Conked out So Many Times - That I Closed Listening or Believing - You And Your Endless List of Lines. . .
I Loved You As You Were My Dad THE ONLY Priest I'D EVER HAVE I Sought after To Stop Hurting So Bad And I Put My Faith In You. . .
Foolishly Believing That You'd Find A Way To Show Me The Same Unqualified Love and Aid Somehow. . . Some Way. . . Some Day. . .
Resource Box - © Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - love, friendship, children, inspiration, success, wisdom, family, life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www. bellaonline. com/articles/art8364. asp
Since Youve Been Gone...
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to constantly bein a state of disarray..
An Old Wood Pile [a poem with notes]
Old skin, once held tight Against her skeleton- Rose no more, just draped Loosely over unpadded flesh; Un-tightened muscles, and tissue, Lost its courage, no-fortitude-, Gone are the days and years That stood aligned with the Indomitable elements; The skeleton, now a landmark Hidden under flesh and blood Guts and moral fiber, backbone? Collapsed from drudgery Time, time: cascading inside-. Bones now goodbye impressions Accepting fate Like imperfect silver!.
Im Sorry Mom! A Mothers Day Poem
Mother's Day Poetry,I'm Sorry Mom!I'm sorry for the troubles And the doubts I brought you. I'm sorry for my mistakes, I didn't mean to make you blue.
Why I enjoy Writing?
During interviews and broad conversations with the public,one of the most challenging questions for me to answer(timely and thoroughly) is,"Why do you enjoy writing"?So due to the challenge manifested in such a question,I pondered on creating an answer. Many reasons came to mind,but after digesting much"time for thought",I managed to condense my reaction to three items.
Exalted Poetry; Two poem [and commentary]
Bells for Belphegor!..
Three Poems and Paradise Lost [One for Hell, One for Heaven one for an Inca King]
The Fast-moving water of HellHell's furnace- Likened to a chimney Vomits her torrents Of flames- Into the air Through earths crust And the earth's trembles-!Agitated, she projects A thick curtain of smoke To heat the feet of those Who provoke her every wish. Like molten iron She waits for the soul(the moment) Then molds, into her enclosure Human serpents? Out of savage flesh!No storm, no struggle No eruption, no typhoon, Just a terrible phenomenon, Hell is able of producing; And upon death, Back into the Abyss They melt!.
The Dead God of Copan (in English and Spanish)
English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to its glory in the Rio Valley-for a season; then let it be gone, we shall call it Copan?"Prologue: Empires come and go, liken to cosmic events, or the storms about the world: Atlantis, Mu, Greece, Persia, Rome, the Inca Nation, and even the great Maya heroic times of Copan, in Essential America. All came and all left, one way or another; now just dust and artifacts in the spiral of time.
The Art of Being paid Poetic Critique
You can show your poem to your mom, your spouse, your co-workers, or your friends, but you might not get the responses that you can suck up into your hardly journalism fingers to use in an energy to refine your craft. What does it especially mean when a big shot who cares about you, but not for poetry says, "Wow, this is great.
Two Poems on the Traditions of Peru [in English and Spanish]
Atahualpa's Game [Peruvian]Sometimes, it's not wise To share your wisdom ---as did, Atahualpa (The Inca King) in the Game of chess; thereafter, He was condemned to death.6/6/05 #713Note: Atahualpa, was the most celebrated of the Inca Kings, in the 16th century of Peru, I do relieve, and was held for money by the Spaniards.
How wonderfully sweet to be a dweller dwelling on the road of goodbye. Bittersweet tears fall as I think of all the chairs I'll never see, all the faces I'll never know, all the joys I'll never share, as I head for the unknown.
Because of You
You are to me my lifeline my security. That scares me.
Grandpas House & From Iraq with Love [Two Poems]
Grandpa's House [The ole Real House]The house desirable painting Sun-blistered and flaking Grandpa on track to have us Boys-Mike and I- start Doing some scraping-While he, pealed off the ole Paint, and ongoing painting?Just a humble made of wood house With more than a few rooms, but Strong an adequate amount to keep the Winds and chill snows out, How he loved that ole house!..
Its What She Didnt Say
When I hear your voice classified my head it makes me think of you every free day as I fight back tears of desolation and awe if you're okayMy life is empty devoid of you I wish time would take away the pain but the ache in my heart persists and my down-to-earth hopes seem in vainI appreciate how much I hurt you and now I know it's too late to tell you how sorry I am and be expecting you not to hateI don't deserve a be with ability to show you how much I care when you desired me the most I know I futile to be thereNow your trust in me is gone evermore and I will never have the ability to say I especially hope your dreams come true and happiness finds you every dayI would give more or less everything in life if I could go back to that day and erase the whole lot I said and did to make your despair go awayWhat hurts the most is this is what you didn't say and the lack of these words haunt me each and every day..
The Mercantile of Copan [In English and Spanish]
English VersionThe Commercial of Copan [480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras court in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the come to grief of the city is now the new ruler. Mat Head, was a female, the husband of Quetzal Macaw, and here is where the story begins.
Contract of Death [Now: in SPANISH and English]
Contract of DeathI heard today, the cleric say: "Daniel has warned us long ago, Of the trials and problems we Are now facing, with our foes?"He says the 'Antichrist' was now In Europe crying: 'peace,' and the 'Axis of Evil,' had before now placed Hidden Atomic Russian weaponsUnder our feet, here in the good Ole heart of the United States; 'Palestine's cry for peace,' he adds, Is a affluent Gun for Revelation 3:10;America. A 'Contract for Death,' Is what he called it.
I Shall Wait...
I Shall Wait..
Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's RimIt still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim- Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a stiff frame Adjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lamps Hanging from old beams and shade?the impassive frame Her traction fixed the beams, as she had fallen onto it Alone, she watched the forenoon, climbing about her A tramp woman, conspicuous by life, and diagonal dreams With advent of hurt and molded muscle on her face Her assume engraved anti the inexpressive frame, She tried to jump, and lost her balance, execution like a bird Now sipping the gloom in the ledge and devastated hopes She yielded ahead of the slothful early payment of sunset Blood dripped, with her dying darkness And a cherry moon hurled a flame across The dim clouds, burning all the way through the sky The beset sky above her?Crossing the valley's floor her eye enthralled it Rocky images, main points Thrusting herself up confidently from to the ledge The painted break of day blushed over the rim Her brows and nose, face anti the stone stone Massive injuries was charming form, Her figure hovering so languorously crossways the sun It was too great a task-to die alone?she wished now She had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go. Too much for any woman in a lost world Out of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alas Mute and protesting alongside life's uselessness A narrow path lay below her meager body Between death and attainment, a careless foot The rocks beneath her weakening, she plunged Plunged to her death, in the monument hands of the valley Thinking of it, as she fell, belief with a smiled, Saying, looking up-dead beforehand her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!' When they found her, her face was courageous of falling.
Lord Byrons She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron's break ode to "She Walks In Beauty" is among the most memorable and most quoted lines in romantic poetry. The break lines are effortless, graceful, and beautiful, a correct match for his poem about a woman who possesses graceful grace and beauty.
It Was Not Me
It was not me as I am now. It was not me as I was then.
Passion and Poetry, and Life
Ironically, the passion that can deactivate the loathing for difficulties depends on the crack to overcome these difficulties. The irony resides in the circularity of this attitude - which applies to all areas of activity, together with poetry: One must make the energy to overcome difficulties to do sensation and feel capable, and one needs this achievement and atmosphere to have a passion for building this effort.
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