Life is a fantasy - poetry
LIFE IS A FANTASY!
A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy white
Hops in bedrooms full with fright
A child of six with much to know
Her father's basest feelings show
She knows of LOVE, only all through him
He satisfies his every whim
He leaves, she wipes him
from her chin!
Her protect NEEDS to see the best
He answered her God request
To have a roof to comfort bring
A yard where all the birdies sing
Tell me how she could exceedingly know
What font for culture could she go?
Her care for frequently beaten if not worse
The cycle of violence - a woman's curse
Conflicting visions, dependencies
One can bear many idiosyncrasies
She could not make him defendant be
Denial, avoidance? she disbelieves
The rabbit hides beneath tall trees.
At thirteen a step-grandfatha'
Finds a well-trained girl that oughta'
Do what authoritative men request
Never conscious what is best
And run away she does at last
Freedom can be such a 'blast'
A rabbit's foot upon a chain
The FANTASY her 'safe' domain
How long in life must it remain?
To defend her from these men
Who continually for her lips, do 'yen'
A state trooper in Tennessee Like every other man does see Her lips so full and delicious red Through the bars, not in a bed. This life men bring to a small amount girls Even when their hair yet curls
The visions in her soul I saw
Ripped my soul - made it raw
I can absorb the rage and WILL To take a life and even KILL
Just forgive and let it go The therapists say, what do THEY Know?
Einstein says "Where the world ceases to be the scene of our individual hopes and wishes, where we face it as free beings admiring, asking, and observing, there we enter the realm of Art and Science. "
Author of Diverse Druids
Columnist for The ES Press Magazine
Guest 'expert' at World-Mysteries. com
Review Of Stephen B. Wileys First Book Of Poetry: HERO ISLAND
Poet Stephen B. Wiley's first book of poetry, Hero Island, reflects tender snapshots and reminiscent overviews of a choice of stages of his life as a child operational on a farm in New Jersey, summer vacations spent with his breed in Northern Vermont, and his activist stance on life.
Chan Chan and The Gorriones (Two Poems in English and Spanish)
The next two poems, one in English, the other in English and Spanish were done for the duration of this ongoing trip in Peru, while in Lima, even though the poem concerning: Chan Chan was oriinally happening last year,while at the antediluvian site in Northern Peru, it was just complete recently.The Gorriones of LimaIt is fall all about me-The Gorriones are swimming in the air Underneath the Lima skyAs if-, if fish could fly?Summer has gone its wayIt is fall again I say! The birds-, they just walk on byLooking, as if, if on parade-AndThe world keeps spinning;They just do not see it Until the hour comes?When the sun goes down!?When,Things get a a small amount dim;Yet the Gorriones keep on swimming Gracefully, swimming, in the wind-Under the Lima sky? .
now is not the time to open open that great door again not the time to be more tolerant not the time to play to winnow is not the time for justice evolution mercy choices not the time to pet the puppies yipping with pathetic voicesnow is not the time for kindness not the time for compromise not the time for loving blindness not the time to close my eyesnow for one too many people not that i have gained no good heart has sown but flesh is reaping tears to mind and done in bloodnow my inner wolf seeks equals only those whose chords can howl deadly whether lone or social defending young or on the prowltell me not that you would die upon the spines of my displeasure live for me and for you will i cherish each cell as if a treasureput me not confidential a cage but roam with me because of snow and sun be by my side or breathe my dust for i shall bleed again for noneNiki Lasher Artist, Writer, and Webmatron http://www.kthulah.
Because of You
You are to me my lifeline my security. That scares me.
Write Your Way to Fame
Have you ever accepted wisdom about how nice it would be to see your poem discussed in the New York Times? Think you have what it takes to develop into a illustrious poet? Well the disastrous truth is that no one has what it takes to be a famed poet. Here's a hardly exercise: Name the most celebrated contemporary poet you can think of.
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silver alien craft, And even as he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instantaneous one off fine At a cash slot machine of his choice And they are examination all the time On his irises face and voice.And of classes 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 cleanly cannot be, He is not planned and he is not ranked He is clearly not like you and me.
Publishing Your Poetry
If you are critical about as your work available by highly regarded publishers, there are a few points you be supposed to consider. Initially and most obviously, you need to ascertain if you have poetry worth publishing.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcˇatlQuetzalcˇatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcˇatl-feather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, descriptions of a prince, a lord: King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals; White as day, with a long beard, black hair. Some say red: some don't say? But they called him priest, Lord, king Amongst many things: god!.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior Rising out of the woods like: A swamp mist I'm ahead of you for breakfast(at the B&B) I pace the grounds The scent of green shrubbery: Trees, flora, flowers-rain Intoxicates me- Branches like big brown arms Descend? The embankment, to the right Blue eyed, like mine-reflect From the creek beneath me (my wife says 'be careful' she went to get the camera) The greens and blues touch My face and blue jeans- Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony (I'll see them later in pictures) For now, it's daybreak In Minnesota.#813 8/26/2005Note: the author, Dennis Siluk, took his wife Rosa [me: on my birthday] to Lake Superior, this summer, and I recognized the leading lake in the world.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by conception poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for antique texts clandestine in caves.
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 adhere to the blind The dumb be a consequence 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, Per˙-l546 AD]Cepeda the Sly-, judge With two sides; one false, One pride-both mixed with lies.
Three Sweet Poems, and Two Not So Sweet [now in: SPANISH and English]
1) End PoemWherever you are today- Is where you were meant to be; It's where God, dotted the 'i' and the 't'?!2) God's AngelsGod asked his angels: "Why do you look so sad?" Responded one angel: "Sir, we can't find the shade."3) An Empty SpaceOut of wisdom one will wait, travel far for love; the thirst will not kill them.
Walt Whitman, Romance With a Stranger
The belief of brief encounters, even romantic encounters, with a stranger recurs often in the verses of Walt Whitman.Take, for example, these lines from one of the inscriptions that Whitman wrote to his 1860 magazine of Foliage of Grass.
You Lost Your Last Back and Me
I will never think twice nor will I roll the dice When it comes to my life I will take my Grannio's adviceYou 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 first deck - But fairly a worthless Joker-So Wild and Mad..
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein'sThe crack of dawn mist, insists there is a God. The earth cadaver faithful to its orbit.
Become A Poet In Ten Minutes
Have you ever sat there staring at the paper, ready to write, but unsure where to begin? Want a answer that will overcome even the worst writer's block? Everybody can start characters poetry today using a few austere techniques.One, two, .
Poetry "Reborn" Emerges In Crime story Mystery Novel
Since Mohamed Ali-then Cassius Clay-announced that he had in print "The world's direct poem," I have known that I would be a poet. "ME? WHEE!" His celebratory decree evoking shivers surrounded by my awkward teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.
Four Poems: Grendels Nature...the Racetrack...Counting days...[Now in English and Spanish]
English Version1) Grendel's DivorceYou must know that I do not hateAnd that I hate you, Because all dead has twoSides; A sound is one arm of the quiet, Ice has its warm half.I hate you in order to start hating you To begin life again And never to stop hating you: That is why I do not hate you yet.
Asha of Darfur [A poem with a commentary by the author]
Asha of DarfurCry, cry-oh barely Darfur woman For your sister Janjaweed- [in Sudan's cruel region-who was raped to death); Where rape and death run ramped;And Asha prays the Arabs don't' hear Here bawling a small amount black tears? ?in fear she will be chained to a bedIn Darfur, by the insidious justice Of the Arabs, who run ramped?Ah, yes! In Darfur you've guessed, It is not a crime to raped and arrested; By the very one who raped, and terrorizedYou; it is the conquest?Satan's ribs!..
I AM SO Appreciative for simpler times. Stores were blocked on Sundays, TV shows seemed to make more sense, Family members spent ample time with each other, And associates were valued more than things.
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