Rocks - poetry
Take some time to stop and look at nature. Pick up a rock or two and think about where it might have on track out and what it might have gone by means of to end up where you found it.
The smoothest rock is the one
Copyright Fran Watson February 2005
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an antediluvian civilization the cultivation of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the discussion drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your classic minstrels have i not heard of your undulation hips! i have heard an adequate amount of and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sickly tongues the different tongues of your good menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the nurse earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the antiquated dynasty the antique family of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop.
Sleep, Dreams, and a Poem
The Incubus' Flash-lightHe looked classified my head And found a dreamHe didn't like-;As I looked back at him, I found an incubus Shinning a light(and stole this poem from him-last night).Thoughts: Dreams and Poetry: in dreams we let go of our inhibitions; in poetry we write them back out.
Expressing an Emotion - The Art of Copy Poetry
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, discovery denotation in few words. A piece of music of passion flowing out onto the pages, words that flow into each other and yet convey the inner most judgment and feelings of those who read the words.
Poems have altered cores, or so I believe, and can only be structured well for a selection of metaphoric language-heart beats; like all counselors are not made for all clients, so all poems are not made for the same person, or purpose; when we read we all have our likes and dislikes; I do not automatically know what poetry is per se, but I do know what the eminence of poetry has, and great poetry is close to an illusion?it carries an echo I do believe-figurative yes, at best, and questionable yes, by far. Here are five poems I've freshly wrote, all with a atypical core, focus and style.
Little Girl from Huancayo [a poem/in English and Spanish]
Little girl from HuancayoDo you really, especially know? Just how fast those feet will grow,On the streets of Huancayo.Little girl with jumping jacksOn the street, looking back; Back to see whose inspection her,A hardly boy with a bird.
Since Youve Been Gone...
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to at all times bein a state of disarray..
Way of Life: Rhymes of the Inca [four poems: see in Spanish and English NOW!]
Way of Life: Rhymes of the IncaPizarro (Spanish conquistador ((1525))The blind abide by the blind The dumb abide by the fool But the cleaver, like 'Pizarro,' (who could not read or write) Followed human-nature? And ruled the Inca world!Thus, Atahualpa was Beheaded out of pride and Indolence-: one might say, And ignorance ruled? .Note: don Francisco Pizarro #689 5/27/05Cepeda the Sly [Lima, Perú-l546 AD]Cepeda the Sly-, judge With two sides; one false, One pride-both mixed with lies.
Opposites Do Be a focus for Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.
I Shall Wait...
I Shall Wait..
JOINEDHeart beat of man pounding - yet unheard joined becomes the beat of a nation.Words of man written - yet unread joined becomes a proclamation.
Listen as I Share: WE
You speak simple, completley understandable justifications I abide by them, abide by you, honor what you tell me and even despite the fact that I know where you're advent from, I just required to share with you, let you hear: my heart..
The Power of Drinking Disorders
I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what you might see.
Life is a Fantasy
LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms full with frightA child of six with much to knowHer father's basest feelings showShe knows of LOVE, only all the way through himHe satisfies his every whimHe leaves, she wipes himfrom her chin!Her nurse NEEDS to see the bestHe answered her God requestTo have a roof to comfort bringA yard where all the birdies singTell me how she could especially knowWhat cause for education could she go?Her protect evenly beaten if not worseThe cycle of violence - a woman's curseConflicting visions, dependenciesOne can continue many idiosyncrasiesShe could not make him defendant beDenial, avoidance? she disbelievesThe rabbit hides beneath tall trees.At thirteen a step-grandfatha'Finds a well-trained girl that oughta'Do what athletic men requestNever deliberate what is bestAnd run away she does at lastFreedom can be such a 'blast'A rabbit's foot upon a chainThe FANTASY her 'safe' domainHow long in life must it remain?To defend her from these menWho continually for her lips, do 'yen'A state trooper in Tennessee Like every other man does see Her lips so full and succulent red Through the bars, not in a bed.
Top 20 Poetry Quotations
Explore the gist of poetry and the motivation of poets with this exceptional assortment of suggestive quotations..
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein'sThe dawn mist, insists there is a God. The earth cadaver faithful to its orbit.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a grate afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
Because of You
You are to me my lifeline my security. That scares me.
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a gray alien craft, And at the same time as he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an immediate one off fine At a cash distributor of his choice And they are read-through all the time On his irises face and voice.And of choice they find that he is not, They detect he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and basically cannot be, He is not programmed and he is not ranked He is absolutely not like you and me.
Ocean Heal Me
Ocean Heal MeOcean heal my wounds Let your waves curl and foam on my body Wash away blood, heal scarsOcean renew me with your power As interminably you roll Giving asset that's been drainedOcean keep me warm Wrap me in your brine Caress me with your tidesOcean diffuse my tears As they flow in you I rinse my soulOcean let me grow in your depths Color me bright blue, coral, green Clear = revitalizedOcean your spray anoints me Cool and refreshed My spiritual renewalOcean be my friend Hold me flowing in your currents Ever moving, ever changingOcean, heal me.© 1983 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is a researcher, cause and teacher.
House of the Gnome [Part Two of Three/with notes]
House of the Goblin [Part Two of Three]Here is where, where the air is stillAnd the mountains darkness disappear! Here is where, unmarked spirits dwellWhere harp and recall expire?Where the rainbow-leaps, from itsStoreroom-keep, and cries; And the sands along the heap coastEcho then die?as in sleep?;And where delight turns into ghouls!..
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