Content: poetry

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This is a bit of nostalgia about returning to my hometown in Massachuetts. It is the source of many of my stories and characters. I owe it a lot. This poem is something else that grew from there.

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She's been around for quite some time but I, in my plodding way, just found her. A true poet worthy of much finer tribute than this little verse.

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This arrived during a winter walk in the Brandywine Valley. Comments welcome.

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Hunting has long been a part of the American natural world. A whole lot of folks don't like it. I don't do it anymore. Comments welcome.

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This poem might be about a tree, but somehow I think not... Any comments are welcome. Thanks.

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This all transpired more than a year ago. This past fall I saw the same deer with a pure white patch of hide where her open wound had healed completely over. Comments welcome.

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A small tribute to TNBW. Comments welcome.

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This is a purging, a catharsis that I needed to do so that I can move on to other projects. Comments welcome but not necessary.

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A few warm days brought about these observations. Comments welcome.

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Some words written down is some sort of order. Comments welcome.

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Several recent posts on the site have dealt in a poetic way with the creative process. This is my minimalist take on the subject.

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Inspired by a comment on one of the site forums. Feedback welcome.

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A Haiku, or two, and something else entirely.

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Sometimes the forecast is wrong, but not this time. Two feet and rising here today. All comments welcome.

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Something of a sestet, sort of. On writing. Comments welcome.

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A January weather event inspired this one. Comments welcome.

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This is an old poem about a trip to a desert oasis where I sought to find something. I knew it was there, I just didn't know what it was. Any comments are welcome.

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Lot's of driving lately so it seemed like a good time for this. All comments welcome.

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An addition to the Nature Series inspired by a question from a gracious reviewer.

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A confessional novel. The characters tell a story to someone. That someone might be anyone at the beginning -- a therapist, lawyer, a novelist. This ambiguity is purposeful, but clarifies as the story progresses. They talk in 2010 about events in 1994. Louise travelled to the MiddleEast in 1994, having broken up with British-Indian, Nav. Due to youth and inexperience they couldn't take the pressures of their relationship. In Israel, Louise becomes involved with charismatic Zack. They decide to travel together across Jordan into Sinai -- and then to cairo where things go very wrong. Both Louise and Zack are heavily influenced by the power of story-telling. This story is autobio in the racial content and the journey --the rest is heavily fictionalised. The families have been fictionalised for obvious reasons, but the issues involved are real.

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I really hope this sucks LMAO LMAO

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The issues that a writer goes through when first sittingg down to write.

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I had been thinking about this place I found in one of my rambles through the woods and couldn't find a way to start the poem. Then Flo wrote a lovely Haiku which gave me the first line. Thank you Flo for allowing this piece to take shape and get free from my head.

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One for the herpetologist and one for the paleontologist

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My feeble effort - one for the calendar, one for the birds.

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Good fortune is a fragile thing. Comments welcome.

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Visiting the D.C. area this past weekend we witnessed this amazing natural display. Comments welcome.

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A trek to the store after a snowstorm. Comments appreciated.

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I was standing and looking at the way the grass bent under the weight of the snow, thinking about that, when I was interrupted. This poem appeared shortly after that. I don't know where it came from and should probably find out and send it back. Comments appreciated.

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Francis of Assisi, simple, complex, real.

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The problems with creation.

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A song still looking for the notes :)

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Poets and sex. A less than fruitful union.

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How some things get tossed away.

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A couple of deer, some moonlight. Things get written.

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A novel in three parts. An intense piece that runs the gammut of emotions. An odd mix of street and commercial fiction. A thriller yet a mystery and filled with poetry throughout the theme. A war of art. A cult.VEIL.Experiment.Justice. Mind Control. Conspiracy. Survival.

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Heard some beautiful a capella singing in the busy local mall tonight and listened for a little while. The Mennonite way of life, lived in the midst of a secular world, must be a challenge. Though not as immersed in their own culture as the Amish, they adhere to a pretty plain and humble path. Their singing perfectly exemplified their religious beliefs.

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I was cleaning out my notebooks from this past summer and came across two entries that propted this poem. Comments welcome.

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I wrote this a while back but was reminded of it with today's storm, so here you go. Comments welcome.

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On writing poetry. Comments welcome.

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A minimal poem for the season. No rhymes, very little sentimentality.

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Nearly finished with this series. This one is free verse minimal approach. Comments welcome.

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What an odd-grouping I make. Explains my craziness! I was greatly inspired by a poem on this site and I adapted it to my life. Thank you Alan! I hope you don't mind ;) (and I can see myself adding to this)

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Sometimes poetry, like music, doesn't need to have a meaning or tell a story. We're trying out sounds, images, structures, putting old words into new contexts and new words into old contexts. Just for the fun of it. And then perhaps, meaning, or better still, layers of meaning begin to emerge.

Think of the two different types of 'folk' as symbols, like A and B. Then try them in different contexts - science vs arts, modern vs old, certainty vs uncertainty. Where does it take you?

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Why do dreams have such power?

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A minimalist attempt.

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lullaby

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Some reasons to stop driving so much.

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Another in the Nature Series which will soon be complete.

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This happened this past summer and, according to experts, is a much more common occurrence than we would have thought.

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Sometimes something you wrote sticks with you...not because it was good, but because you felt it could've been better. The feedback helped, but I didn't truncate the poem as suggested, instead making edits to improve the imagery and make my point stronger. At least those were my objectives.

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Memories, really old ones.

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All feedback welcome. Just something that came to me during the frustration of the editing process of my novel. I've been reading suggestions, criticism, and writing deep into the night for several weeks and a well meaning, but not particularly supportive family member said I'd become obsessed with writing and I needed to keep "my hobby" in perspective.

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A little introspection. Written a while back reworked a little today.

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Lyon Mountain, Northeast Adirondacks, New York

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A little something for my dear wife.

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Free verse nature poem, outside my nature series. Trying to create a feeling of an experience with very few words.

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Just for fun.

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For all its wonders Modern Medicine still depends on caring people.

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Who would have believed that an almost one year old child would care about a surprise party? Mom and Grandma maybe.

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Inspired by an overheard conversation.

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Naruto is my favourite Manga (and Anime) I thought I'd post this in case anyone does read it. It's an amazing story. This particular poem is about the Demon Fox which was sealed into Naruto when he was a baby. In parts it's Naruto speaking to the Demon inside him - and about the isolation and rage that comes from the Demon. Most likely no one will understand this - ohwell! I enjoy writing fanfic poetry, so I was compelled to post. Ask anything if you like. :D

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For my favorite nature photographer.

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Observations on a sunset. Written after meeting with an academic friend who is a glib but not unkind critic.

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I have never really written any poetry before but this is something that came to me yesterday about an experience I had nearly a decade ago.

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Inspired by some friends in the music business who sometimes need a word of encouragement.

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An afternoon in the Barri Gotic, Barcelona

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A summer hike, a quick retreat.

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Inspired by a conversation I overheard at a grocery store. There was an old lady on her cell phone obviously giving comfort to someone upset. Her wisdom was not blunted by her simple, direct, colloquial use of language common among African-Americans in the Deep South where I'm from. It also reminded me of Langston Hughes' "Mother to Son" although I wouldn't dare compare anything I wrote to him!

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Something I thought was fun when watching an old episode of "Cops." Obviously the title is misleading and I would in no make light of domestic abuse. Enough with the disclaimers. It's just a silly poem.

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Finding Nature in all its rawness in unlikely places.

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In memory of R. V. a family man first.

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A Compulsion Obeyed.

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Inpiration came from a visit to an an abandoned open pit mine in the Adirondack Mountains.

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another entry in a series of Nature poems.

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part of a series of Nature poems

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My first serious attempt at poetry

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A question for the ages.

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thoughts about writing.

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Some of the usual things are really amazing.

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Taking a break from writing my novel, kinda down and out, needed something fun and breezy to write about. This is the result.

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In Memory ten years ago we said good-bye in a dim room you were near the end the Irish hospice nurse whispered in my ear she called a priest for last rites you could not tell us what you wanted I leaned over the bed to look into your eyes you were able to lift one finger to touch my cheek I am sure I saw you smile before your finger fell ten years ago today

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daily life can be a philosophical journey

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Been re-reading some of my favorites, inspiration struck.

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Don't know where this came from. It felt like I was writing it for someone else, hence the title.

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Inspired by my favorite type of music. Does the rhythm fit?

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This is a small take on my kids soccer life. Its not exactly like this but... any feedback would be appreciated and watch out for some saucy language.

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This is about my experiences as a landlord. Any feedback would be appreciated. Thanks

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Just what people think any feedback would be appreciated

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A little humorous poem from the chauvinist and conservative that I can sometimes be. Just in fun.

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An observation after a recent visit. Although I prefer pure adulation I am open to any and all feedback.

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No feedback neccessary, I just felt like writing this after recently losing our dear black Lab, Jet. I miss him.

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I've been working on this poem for a while now. I wrote it during a particularly difficult time in my life when I wasn't feeling God's presence in my life. I don't write a lot of poetry, so I'd like some feedback on this, particularly if there's anyplace you feel the poem stutters, or where a different word usage would be appropriate. Thanks!

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Hopefully humorous poem on aging.

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overcoming a block

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Two score and ten years ago I was reading the classics. Dickens, Hugo, Dumas, Chaucer and even the Bible were available in the fabulous format of the comic book and they were called (of course) Classic Comics. Fortunately my reading of the classics only started at that base point. But I remember those comics and have written a little poem to honor them.

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A conversation with some men from a logging crew in an Adirondack coffee shop last winter prompted this little ballad. There are always two (or more) sides to every issue, aren't there?

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Free verse impressions of a good day.

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An expression of the unknowns in life.

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life...

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Growing old sucks.

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Teaching in the rural south during a hurricane, back when I was a lot younger. An abbreviated memory.

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A tribute poem to a real poet.

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The cumulative thought from my mountain bedroom and from spending time camping out at our property on the Continental Divide.

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first kiss

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I wrote this for all of the "little birds" who are starting their writing career! It's not perfect, but the message is the most important thing! love you guys!

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A poem of forbidden love. Any feedback is appreciated.

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Staying overnight on grandpa's farm beside the Arkansas River and sleeping on the screened porch... Feedback? Just wanting you to enjoy it for the simple memory it is.

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I don't write poetry, but I feel The Next Big Writer is supposed to challenge me--raise the bar, make me try new things. I've stepped out of my comfort zone.

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It has to do with feelings and the pain they cause us. It's quite abstract, yet symbolic. I'm not sure what the title should be. You can suggest something if you feel you might have an idea. thanks for reading :D

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This a funny little poem about fast food.

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I wrote this on a rainy night thinking of him. Any feedback is appreciated. I am having trouble with formatting.

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I think this one is pretty self-explanatory.

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A wise man once said there is nothing to fear, but fear itself. This poem is for him.

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A poem of an absent father.

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Any and all feedback welcome!

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Any and all feedback welcome!

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This is a short and simple poem; any and all feedback welcome!

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Thanks for reading...

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Most counseling programs require that students undergo therapy so that they can acquire empathy for future clients. Students also have to take many of the psychological exams that exist. This poem is about that entire period of time.

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This is really a compilation of poetry that revolves around a few main "characters" - Unholy, Dream Spirits, Dream Child, and Angel. I have been writing this poetry series for many years now, and decided to put them all into one anthology by themselves.

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This was originally a lyric to a song I worte. I did a little cut and paste to make it look somewhat like a poem. As most of you know, I am a very poor poet. But sometimes the muse insists at the risk of her going on extended vaction if I do not comply. A little Psychology 101 mixed with a little humor. It's meant to be a little bit of fun. It suffers significantly from a technical POV. But my very best poetry is pretty bad. Hope you enjoy it.

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Ode To An Authineer reworked slightly and retitled to something a little more serious. This started out as a goof but apparently my first attempt at poetry wasn't the train wreck I thought it would be. I still don't know what I was thinking though. My humorous attempt at poetry seemingly backfired. Please don't tell my cigar club buddies.

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I needed a break from the serious stuff I've been working on and so I submit this. It's a riddle by the way. If you didn't guess it, then I'll tell you.

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Temptation and damnation....

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Truth and fear of today's world - a caution to parents!

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A poem about a housewife and her struggles with her husband...

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This rambling "epic" was written for the anticipated 50th year reunion of my high school class. As some can see, I freely borrow from WB Yeats to start my work, after that it is my own. I admit getting too crazy with tongue in cheek pessimism at the end. I'm not sure if they will have the reunion or if I will travel cross country to attend. Anyway, most old classmates probably wouldn't appreciate the poem since they are a conservative lot. Most live in a parallel universe to mine. There could be at least 129 versions of this summation of our common years on this earth.

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Words are good. Tell me them.

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My take on the current political/economic climate. I see rainclouds.

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Simply taking a look at silence.

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This is an expression of my mood on the eve of Obama's inauguration. It goes for much of the "American Body Public" too, I suspect. I started with the old phrase "Great White Hope" once used in boxing. Threw in a little riff on W.B. Yeats, too.

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From a verse history of the world

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I really do hate mornings. I thought I'd share that disdain with you. Any and all comments welcomed.

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Not a poet, but continue to try! :-))

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Not a poet by a longshot and wrote this very quickly.

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A snapshot about the tawdriness that sometimes happens at a public park

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My first cinquain using my favorite singer as the subject of course.

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This is some fun, hardcore erotica. If you're a freak like me, then you'll know where I'm coming from. Stop right here if you're looking for Shakespeare, Lord Byron, or Langston Hughes. The joy of writing for me comes from trying it all--from G to X. Just say what you think.

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Watch out for the Boogie Man !!

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I'm the manager of a book department and this happened yesterday at work. I hope to never forget this man, but just in case I wrote this.

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Another travelogue chaiku.

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As some of you know by now, my wife is extremely ill and will never get better. She has almost died three times in the past 15 months. Her entire family is in Bakersfield, California. She is here in St. Louis. She depends on me for just about everything. Sometimes it leaves me overwhelmed and I doubt my abilities to give all that she needs. I wrote this originally as a song last year and had it recorded this past August. It was a cathartic process for me. I have slightly modified it for this poetic version. As far as feedback, any comments you would care to make are welcomed. Thanks for reading.

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This is just a bunch of silly nonesense that I wrote a few years ago. As I have previously mentioned, there is nothing deep or thought-provoking about my poetry. It's all extemporaneous with little or no rewrite. Just let me know if you found it slightly amusing.

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A bit of Silliness

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I'm interested lately in doing strong brief pieces. Yet, does this stand on its own? Would you change anything? This is on the edge of erotic so I'm warning you now. It doesn't cross over but it is close.

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When I can't sleep and I'm going too fast, I need to slow down, rest but I can't, I just can't. Here is one of those nights.

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This poem is how we never feel like people really see us, both the good and bad.

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Stanza three--is the last line workable? Is it too much alliteration? This is a play on the idea of the Tinman.

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Words and intimacy...what a combination

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Something I read today impressed the hell out of me.

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The rules for composing chaiku are simple and straightforward: four syllables or four words – or both – per line. A chaiku may consist of one line or of four lines (a quatrain) or of several quatrains. Any style – lyricism, humor, nonsense, satire, etc. – is allowed. Rules for writing haiku are varied and complex. In addition to the three-line, five-seven-five syllable count, haiku by one definition requires reference to nature, preferably to a season, and is generally confined to the here and now. Other genres written in the haiku form are customarily designated by another name. Disregarding the requirement for specific genre and content in haiku, how do the two forms compare in their ability to express a concept concisely? The following pair of poems was written to explore this question. Reviews expressing a preference and giving reasons for preferring one form to another would be welcome.

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I love to push the boundaries of writing to its limits, and I think that is what I have done with the writing of my first Chaiku. I think I may have gotten a little KU KU this time and pushed myself to the very edge, but it was fun getting here. This is a four line poem with each line consisting of four syllables...it's just that the four syllables are contained in one word...that begins with the letter "I"...don't ask. I guess I could say this is my KU KU I KU CHAIKU!

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The dew referred to in the first stanza is Dixie Dew, which is a cocktail made with bourbon, white crème de menthe, and Cointreau.

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I hate editing. I thought that since I wrote a poetic Drabble about writing, it was only fitting that I write a poetic Droubble about my dislike for editing...

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just what every girl needs, a Jack in the box. Enter in Halloween poetry contest

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The Univ. of WI at Milwaukee has an open mike session every second Wednesday of the month which I attend on the odd occasion. There is an energy that permeates from each poet that can be electrifying at times. This is my attempt to capture some of that enthusiasm...tell me what you think.

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Inspired by comments from XUXIKI

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There's nothing quite like waking up on a Sunday morning with love by your side.

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I am not, by nature, a poet; still, I admire the work of verse artists, and I have my favorites. Anne Sexton and my mother looked alike, and I have always read both of their work, not knowing which is which. This is my homage to: a)both of them; b)neither of them; c)to myself. Today was a carved-up day.

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