Poems wanted!!!

[pam]

 

[pam]

Ode to a Splittin Maul.....

Goodbye ol friend.....you look so sad just layin there......
your head twisted sideways.....your neck splintered.....
I did not know that log was so hard...
or that you were so tired.......
I heard the crack...felt you give..........and stood there in shock.......shed a tear 
but never fear.....you will live again....many more rick of wood we will conquer......
just as soon as I get to town and get you a new handle!

[Clubine Ranch]

I AM THE GENTLE AUTUMN'S RAIN

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on the snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft starlight at night

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there-I do not sleep.

anonymous

In memory of James

[Catwoman]

What a wonderful tribute...it reminds of that song, "I'm Already There".  I know that you will miss your brother.  My thoughts are with you.

[dnalexander]

A Fire's Warmth

God's cold steel strikes a  hard flint.
An ember burns, orange glow hint.
Fire starter's patience builds a fire.
Warmth builds fast flames go higher.
Cold wind blows, extinguishes flame.
Why oh God, starter does exclaim.
Sparks explode up towards the sky.
Mortal fire starter just cries why?
Unknown purpose, to understand.
Only revealed. God, spark in hand.

David Alexander
© 2009

[Diane Amberg]

Deep, my friend, very deep. Good one....as usual.

[dnalexander]

Thank you Diane. I always hope that people enjoy my poems and find their own meaning. For me they give me the chance to explore and deal with the everyday happenings that I can't get a handle on.

David

[indygal]

I tend not to share much of my poetry in public because the response is usually "Wow...is that about YOU?" meaning many people think that poems that touch on delicate subject matter must be autobiographical. I enjoy writing from "another's" perspective, but rarely share the finished work because I don't want to give anyone the impression I actually experienced or agreed with the subject matter. Having said that....

this one happens to be autobiographical.

Mosaic

She's broken the teacups,
The bowls and the plates,
She's shattered tureens,
The saucers, a vase.
The pieces are sorted
By color and shape.
She now stands before them
To try and create
Something new with her life
With china and clay.

There are browns and creams
Of the warm, happy days,
Greens for the summers
When love was ablaze,
Black shards of anger, fear and pain,
And grays for sorrow, heartache and rain.

The decades of  living
Of growing and giving
Of loving and dreaming
Of trusting and grieving...
Her plans for the future,
Her ideas of the past,
Now lie in piles
Of broken glass.

She looks at the browns,
The greens and the grays,
The ivory and tan ...
Then turns her gaze
To the yellows and pinks,
Purples and blues
The beckoning hues
Of what she feels and thinks,
And she wonders if these pieces,
The new and the old, can mesh,
Can be married and whole.

The edges are jagged
Where they used to be smooth.
Fractured dish patterns
Of what seemed to be truth.
She's afraid there's no glue
That can bind all this glass
Into something that reconciles
Her future and past.

She chooses a pot
Of sturdy red clay,
A place to plant flowers
For a new summer day.
She takes a deep breath,
The glue now in place,
She picks up a shard
And begins to create.



Lynne Thompson
1999

[dnalexander]

Lynne, thanks for sharing, that is a great poem. I have seen your website of your art and that poem really tells me what your inspiration is for doing it. Brilliant poem. For those of you that want the graphical image check out" You should share more often.

http://www.indy-art.net/indyart5_001.htm

David

[Diane Amberg]

Indy, I'm speechless...That's wonderful!