Fixed in the arms of ed - poetry
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONG
I THINK YOU GOT IT WRONG
I LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAY
HOPING IT WILL GO MY WAY
I HAVE MY Acquaintances AND MY FOOD PLAN
MY Psychoanalyst AND MY THOUGHTS
MY Bring to bear AND MY EXCITEMENT
THEN A touch HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHT
CAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF ED
TURNING MY EYES AWAY
FROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHT
THAT I Attention WAS GOING TO STAY.
HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISH
THAT I Ought to DOUBT MY EVERY MOVE
ONE Diminutive I AM HAPPY
DO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?
DOUBTING MY Concentration AND CONFIDENCE
AS ED All the time KNEW I WOULD
I AM Bringing up the rear INCHES About MY WAIST
AND MY PANTS ARE Declining OFF
I SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEAD
AS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFF
YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONG
YOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEAT
LET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MORE
YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
THE Diminutive VOICE IS Constantly THERE
CAN'T I SEND HIM TO DETENTION
OR KILL HIM FOR GOOD TODAY?
EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE I GET Fixed UP IN MY LIFE
AND Accomplish THAT I AM HAPPY AND STRONG
AND Fail to remember TO FOCUS ON THE FIGHT
PLEASE TELL ME THAT YOU CARE
DON'T LET ED BE RIGHT.
Mary Pat shares her words so that others may find theirs. http://www. reflectingrace. com
A Case of The Fears
Chicken Soup is good for a coldSleep is good for the FluWhen I get a case of the FearsWhat is a character to do?It is not bacteriaAlthough it can eat away my soulIt is not a virusYet, it can keep me from atmosphere wholeI know what will do the trick,What will put me back on top,A great big bowl of Ice CreamWill exceedingly hit the spotThat was great and now I am doneOne bowl just won't doIf one is good, then more is greatAnd now I have eaten two.Bowls three, four, five and sixCame and then they wentI think my case of the fears are fixedLook at how my time was spentI am in receipt of sleepyIt is time to go to bedMy fears are no longer in my stomachNow they are in my headI close my eyes and I can be alive with Fears I want to killI will do, doesn't matter what it takesTo keep the monsters still.
Ode, to the Mighty Midget Omac [In English and Spanish]
Part One Midget HistoryI am thirty-six inches tall, that is all-Honest to god I am My hair is green, my eyes red, and IHave a very thick neckMy eyebrows are thin, and my beardHas three hairs? And I bore abuse, when I was youngYes! It happened to be; day by day??folks laugh at me, my appearanceYou see?I make them appalled. .
Poems have altered cores, or so I believe, and can only be structured well for a number of allegorical 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 in recent times wrote, all with a assorted core, focus and style.
How I astonishment what he's doing as I sit alone at night. How I admiration who he's seeing How I astonishment if I'm right.
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.
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an antiquated cultivation the cultivation of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the chatting 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 eternal 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 diverse tongues of your honest menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the care for earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the antiquated dynasty the antediluvian empire 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.
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 barely journalism fingers to use in an energy to refine your craft. What does it exceedingly mean when a big shot who cares about you, but not for poetry says, "Wow, this is great.
Shaking out the Rugs [Following the Poet]
Let's abide by the poet to his Hell and heaven! Count his Ghosts and dilemma's?Reach out to touch his Stretched-out skies; let's follow The poet to see where he lays.Let's adhere to the poet to his end; To see if he can?whatever He wants to do, do over again?.
I Hate The Wait (Weight)
I get up in the morningAnd want to stay in bedOh, so nice and warmLike fresh from the oven bread.My day is oh so busyI wish that I could stayIn the quiet of my houseIf only I could play.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by analysis poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for antediluvian texts clandestine in caves.
A Hundred and Fifty Dead [Korean War--l952]
There I sat, ninety-five extent weatherOutside; the bookstore café, was cool.An Old Timer stood by me, explaining:"There were two-hundred of us on the Island,Near North Korea, back in '52-We guarded 16,000-prisners?"All of a sudden, all hell broke looseThree-hundred North Koreans cameOver the bob-wired fence, in pursuit"It all happened in a affair of secondsThe machineguns killed 150-of themThat's all I saw in the war of '52.
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no clarity that mayanswer that question..
Elizabeth Barrett Browning: A Chat of How Do I Love Thee?
"How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was in black and white in 1845 while she was being courted by the English poet, Robert Browning. The poem is also patrician Couplet XLIII from Sonnets From the Portuguese.
Wars, Air of Ambiguity [for: Lt. Laura Walker] in SPANISH and English
Wars, air of AmbiguityDedicated to 1st. Lt.
The Plane from Iquitos [1959-Part One]
Iquitos & the Amazon Part OneIt was December 2, l959, I was meeting on a small prop-plane exit Iquitos, Peru for a trip down the Amazon about the opening, the mouth of the mighty Amazon,--to Manaus. As we flew low one could see the waters of the Amazon, the city continually impressed me, but more from this birds-eye view, you could see the mighty river in its squid like form, with all it tentacles [contributories: waters concerning to the river].
I Saw the Universe
I can see the indigo blue of the skiesOr the azure of the nightI can see the stars wink, the grin of the moonDuring the changes of it's monthly face**I am in awe**I see the sun on it's once a year trekAlternately arousing the life in the earthAnd then desertion away to allow it to sleepUntil the next spring**I am told the Universe is "out there"Beyond those stars, moon and sun,Yet the power of what I can seeIs a fathoming clear of my comprehension**I am in awe**"Out there" no time, no seasons passNo sense of age, hatred or loss existOnly the infinity0f the Universe**What IS "out there"?What IS the Universe that has no end?What IS the power that creates all this?I want to see it too**And then I remember..
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 running on a farm in New Jersey, summer vacations spent with his breed in Northern Vermont, and his affirmative stance on life.
Top 20 Poetry Quotations
Explore the gist of poetry and the motivation of poets with this exceptional album of redolent quotations..
Uamaks Sea [suspense: now in Spanish and English]
Delicately, my mind was selecting a muted tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding me?I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a atmosphere call it, or second-sight; I've heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of confidence into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and deadness was there. I didn't' sense any hazard in the moment, in the moonlit figure, session on the rocks, lurking, looking out into the deep.
How to Write Bad Poetry
"All bad poetry springs from frank feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry for a glut of reasons, but this critique has a sharpened arrowhead aimed candidly at the fingertips of amateur poets who wish to be in print yet garbage to learn the attributes of a well-crafted poem.
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