|
Post by rogesgallery on Oct 29, 2011 18:42:14 GMT -5
Im bet you say tha to all the wannabe Poets ![;)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/wink.png)
|
|
|
Post by Nomad-wino on Nov 1, 2011 20:03:11 GMT -5
Never Learn
Strangers abide by different rules Sing different songs Tell different tales They're not like us it's easy to tell When we're amongst them We have a different smell
The Sun darkens and bleaches It stunts and grows It takes away from some And gives to a few The Sun shines in the darkness If only we knew
Some say peace is a process Spelled out by an unknown mankind Rules of a stranger Waiting for nothing to rise and fall One step at a time We've learned nothing at all
Mike
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Nov 2, 2011 21:15:54 GMT -5
Ohhhh, dark and enlightening at the same time.
Plus an interesting meter and rhyming structure
It's a Home Run, Mike!
Love,
BB
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Nov 2, 2011 21:16:59 GMT -5
Im bet you say tha to all the wannabe Poets ![;)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/wink.png) Nope. [thumbs up emoticon plus ![:)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/smiley.png) ]
|
|
|
Post by Nomad-wino on Nov 12, 2011 6:23:26 GMT -5
Well, well, well
My friend had brain cancer I told him write a poem He said he was Korean I told him write a poem His parents were from Phillie Cheese steak sandwich And all that I told him write a poem He died right after that
What happens when we care What happens when they die Why do we ignore poetry In Philadelphia some folk cry
He was an engineer A graduate of MIT His parents mapped his destiny Picked his bride Bought his ride Paid for everything This is the dream of all Koreans Work hard and die Happiness is an occupational lie
What happens when we care What happens when they die Why do we ignore poetry In Philadelphia some folk cry
I'm left with a vision My friend's smile on his face Black hair, black rimmed glasses A genius with a face He never wrote a poem To hard he told me But just before he died He wrote a note of things he spoke Fuck me was all he said
Mike
|
|
|
Post by doctork on Nov 12, 2011 10:21:13 GMT -5
Mike, thank you for your wonder (as always) poems.
I am stirred to emulate you and Emi, as Howard and I are going for a weekend jaunt to the Grand Canyon, staying On The Rim. I will try to take some pictures, but I think I am probably not up to writing a poem.
We'll see.
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Nov 12, 2011 13:43:52 GMT -5
Thank you, Mike. ![:-*](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/kiss.png)
|
|
|
Post by Nomad-wino on Nov 17, 2011 0:11:31 GMT -5
The weather outside
Winter encroaches very slowly for some They wear their t-shirts and walk in the Sun Perhaps a light sweater if wind blows from up North Or a dab of moisturizer due to low humidity They certainly have it different then the Twin Cities
For others winter trespasses with frosty fury Deluging their towns in a snowy wet slurry Forcing them to abandon the Joys of autumn As trees shudder under the weight of snow Sometimes Mother Nature puts on a bad show
Geographically speaking we all make our choice Some make mistakes while others rejoice Picking our wardrobe to match our surroundings We march outside in the morning greeting the day Some in shorts and a t-shirt some needing a sleigh
Have a nice day!
Mike
|
|
|
Post by joew on Nov 17, 2011 7:53:18 GMT -5
How true that is!
And still I stay here, unwilling to walk away from what I have in order to enjoy warmer weather.
|
|
|
Post by Jane on Nov 17, 2011 10:35:59 GMT -5
A bit of snow here. I like seasons, yes, I do. Yes, I do! Really, I do. (AKA: whistling in the dark.)
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Nov 17, 2011 21:54:37 GMT -5
Hehehe!
And will I give up Duck Walking the frozen dock in search of warmer climes?
Stay Tuned.
!
Great poem, Mike. Thank you!
See how intimate we all feel after your poem? Good one, again.
|
|
|
Post by Nomad-wino on Nov 22, 2011 20:23:02 GMT -5
The sound of light
Were you standing alone When the stars shone brightest When the band played on Did you have your back to the wall When the dance was a waltz The couples moved to the music A sip of whisky was neat When living was a treat Were you standing alone
When the river was rising And the boats shoved off Were you thinking of leaving Did you have your pants rolled up When the steam boat paddled north Slapping water at 5 knots The piano player keeping the beat And nobody will ever sleep When you’re standing alone
Was there something particular In the way you regarded life When the rain drops disappeared When the flooding left its mark Footprints to cook in the mud Pages unturned stuck together People listening to the sound of light No one remembering wrong from right That's when it's clear, No one stands alone
Mike
|
|
|
Post by joew on Nov 22, 2011 23:32:08 GMT -5
That's evocative, Mike. It bears reading several times.
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Nov 23, 2011 0:56:53 GMT -5
I'm still reading it again, Mike.
Great images!!
|
|
|
Post by Nomad-wino on Dec 7, 2011 17:49:40 GMT -5
Christmas Rhymes with Fun
What does Christmas mean to you Are you a Christian in the Red, White & Blue Democrat and Republican too Tell me what does Christmas mean to you
Let's debate the meaning of the Christmas tree Decorations, tinsel, and color lights to see The cat climbs up and the dog goes pee Presents beneath arranged by size from A to Z
Christmas morning is such a train wreck The TSA dressed like Santa does a security check Presents are marked when a terrorist is a suspect Christmas and security can be hard to connect
Should the one percent get Christmas at all Living the life in a glass ball of snow fall Occupy Christmas looks for a manger with a stall To take away Christmas from the big by the small
What does Christmas mean to everyone Try watching a child catch snowflakes on their tongue Try putting your heart into carols when they're sung And remember: It’s all about love, peace and fun!
The End
Just having fun ;D Mike
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Dec 7, 2011 20:58:59 GMT -5
Killer, Mike!
[Thumbs up!]
|
|
|
Post by joew on Dec 7, 2011 21:00:35 GMT -5
Make that two thumbs up.
|
|
|
Post by Jane on Dec 9, 2011 12:48:08 GMT -5
|
|
|
Post by joew on Dec 9, 2011 22:09:36 GMT -5
That's fascinating and beautiful: impressive cinematography.
|
|
|
Post by rogesgallery on Dec 16, 2011 20:26:11 GMT -5
Hmm Your poetry has moved up another notch in sophistication Mike. I like it. Can't say that I miss the old drunken depression verse.
Like joe said "Sound of Light" calls for a re read — the object is a bit elusive
"Christmas Rhymes with Fun" is very sensory oriented, though i wonder how timeless the TSA and Occupy references will be. Ah well just for fun eh? And fun it is!
|
|
|
Post by Nomad-wino on Dec 20, 2011 20:11:17 GMT -5
Thanks, roges, your comments mean a lot to me. Really.
Mike
|
|
|
Post by doctork on Feb 14, 2012 8:58:49 GMT -5
Happy Valentine's Day to all! I am no poet myself, but will take the opportunity to forward a lovely poem by someone else. I had some Valentine dreams, then I awoke to find this in my inbox, an email from a friend:
Sonnet 29 "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes"
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least: Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee,--and then my state (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings'. William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)
This is a very rich sonnet; I wonder the meaning of sending it to me.
And Mike, I re-read your Christmas poem and it is definitely even better with age. Thanks.
|
|
|
Post by joew on Feb 14, 2012 10:51:46 GMT -5
The author of that sonnet was a fine poet indeed!
|
|
|
Post by gailkate on Feb 14, 2012 10:54:21 GMT -5
Nobody can write a sonnet like Will. ![;)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/wink.png)
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Feb 15, 2012 9:53:07 GMT -5
That is striking.
Yes, what is the meaning of sending it to you, doc?
Or, maybe the meaning was in the receiving?
|
|
|
Post by doctork on Feb 16, 2012 6:11:58 GMT -5
I do not know the meaning of sending/receiving the sonnet.
It's from someone I went to high school with, didn't know so well back then. But you know, we are all (mostly) better friends now than back then.
|
|
|
Post by rogesgallery on Feb 20, 2012 21:55:29 GMT -5
Mikey, can you hear me? Can you feel me near you? Mikey, can you see me? Can I help to cheer you? Ooh, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey
Mikey, can you hear me? Can you feel me near you?
Mikey, can you see me? Can I help to cheer you? Ooh, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey
Mikey, can you hear me? Can you feel me near you? Mikey, can you see me? Can I help to cheer you? Ooh, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey
[ From:http://www.elyrics.net/read/w/who-lyrics/tommy-can-you-hear-me-lyrics.html
|
|
|
Post by rogesgallery on Feb 20, 2012 22:43:19 GMT -5
The Journey
The scars which once I wore with pride Those rich, red, welted patches of experience not yet understood— Vibrant around the edges Painful yet exhilarating Brash and Beautiful Tough and athletic Talented and fun Silent and strong Ghost resistant Demon free—desperate Test my sense of responsibility Scrappy aren't we in our youthful years in our mistaken youth in our frantic bid to shed The chains of domination Perceived in anxious authority Consecrated in hard experience And surrendered in understanding
Rogesgallery 2012
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Feb 22, 2012 9:08:19 GMT -5
I like it, Roges! Provoking . . .
|
|
|
Post by BoatBabe on Feb 22, 2012 9:09:10 GMT -5
~Stevie's Little Headstone~
It's Hallow's Eve, it is so dark Without a twinkle or a spark Unless you "Press Here," on a lark, On Stevie's Little Headstone.
Stevie lives next-boat to me She's cute as cute as cute can be She hangs bats on the bow to see If folks will try her Headstone.
Her Headstone sits on her dock box It's black and silent, 'til someone walks Past in the dark and wants to knock On Stevie's Little Headstone.
And when they do, they get a fright! Flashing red/white blinding light! And thunder roils in pure delight From Stevie's Little Headstone.
Then evil, cackling laughs begin Begging you to come within Promising more than pure black sin In Stevie's Little Headstone.
The skull of one has waited there In blackness, darkness, sure as air, To burst forth from its little lair, In Stevie's Little Headstone.
And then the skull, it fades away The lightning, thunder is at bay And we dock folks, we've back away From Stevie's Little Headstone.
And on the morrow we confess Dang! And we were sure impressed! We eye this little sweet princess And know she's growing up soon.
|
|