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Sometimes a poem is not what it seems

Unkempt words that dance and sing

To bring out emotions, feelings and dreams

To write prose such as this is a dubious thing



The reader will read what the author has wrote

It isn’t for either to decide right or wrong

To shadow the words with meanings and dote

Or consider the message within them too long



Sometimes a word is a word is a word is word

Letters combine to express such a thought

And not until the thoughts can be heard

Can the reader or author find what is sought

COMMENTS

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Joli
03:27 Nov 22 2010

I'm screensaving the title. If I ever have a tape recorder when Stabb says "you're right," my collection will be complete.

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Blackstaff
03:51 Nov 22 2010

~nods~

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captainglobehead
13:33 Nov 22 2010

Excellent.

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birra
16:44 Nov 22 2010

The same way I mark on my calendar any time a woman says "you're right" to me?

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...1/4 amaretto, 1/2 vernors, 1/4 rum... give it a try.



Wooooo... it's hitting me and I'm not even through the first one.



Perhaps I should have dnner...

There is a pull I can’t define

Something much more human

Than divine

A conflict

A test

A struggle

With which I wrest

What seems to be

May not

A lesson learned

Not soon forgot

A circle

I round

Gravitational ellipse

With no core to be found

Random acceleration

Familiar paths and grounds

No wind, no brakes

Missing all the surrounds

Pulling faster to surrender

Control of heart and soul

Leaving nothing left to render

Either that ever will be whole

But still I wonder

Think and ponder

Considering

While I wander

Of what is what and where

The sacrifices once are made

Might further more than fair

Lights and signs

Ropes and vines

Too much bending

Knees and spines

Ponder these until I’m wary

This plighted guest, ever tarry

To heart and soul

And mind used whole

Deprived of sleep

Left in a heap

Of flesh and bone

This will not reap

Hypocrisy in time

And actions less than kind

With words that hurt

Only said

After the heart and soul

Are long since dead

And taken to a resting place

Left nothing more than a trace

Of what wasn’t

On the table

The same old story

Love’s hidden fable

Live just one day in these shoes

You might start to believe the evening news

The bad, the ugly and never the good

People that just won’t behave as they should

The bad take every advantage they can

Quite seemingly out to get their fellow man

Cutting the pie in slices that favor

Not caring if they become the human enslaver

Use and abuse of every man, woman and child

Leaving the Earth scorched and defiled

Money and greed and power corrupt

They don’t let the common interrupt

Their lives to be envied; they live them in splendor

The quest for more power they never surrender

Their names and their faces you’ll always remember

When you go vote the first Tuesday of November



The ugly are different, no power to wield

They use shadows and people as their life saving shield

Money their quest; the poorest they ransom

With drugs and guns, their lives must seem so hansome

To the youths in desperate need for a path

To help them escape the street’s deadly wrath

Or maybe the ugly come in forms much more sheik

The hungry, the greedy that prey on the weak

Filling the world with cold corporate waste

Never leaving their palace to have such a taste

Lying and denying, they’ll do what it takes

To get the people to pay for all their mistakes

Or maybe the ugly are those that do fail

To live up to the facts their lives do entail

A child, a mother, a debt gone unpaid

A squandered chance to do what they said

Abusive and lacking of all moral thought

They leave in their wake too many distraught

Children to learn how to also abuse

Too horrible a fate for any to choose

Not knowing love or a tender embrace

Just leading a life destined to waste



But then there are those who are rarely news worthy

Those that care for the hungry and thirsty

Good hearted people doing their part

To give every one day a bright, happy start

For those that have found their life’s been derailed

By situations caused by others who failed

Good hearted people, like stars in the night

That care for everyone, because they know that it’s right

No, too infrequently these stories are told

Except for a later page or just a note in a fold

A sound bite, an aside, not more than a line

Not nearly interesting enough for prime time



So if it is excitement you seek, walk in these shoes

And look no further than the evening news

For the bad and the ugly and their stories of hating

And never the good – they’re not good for the ratings

Clear and crisp, these winter skies

When autumn binds the summer’s ties

To frosty morning grounds

And silence that surrounds

Hearing nothing but a heart that pounds

And I sigh



I think, and I sigh



For here upon the midnight nigh

The harvest moon with arms stretched high

Looks down upon the hills and trees

Leafless skeletons, forgive the breeze

Neither with an ask nor please

And I sigh



I ponder this, and I sigh



Taking back the sun and sky

Against the winters might, I try

But coldly under this smiling moon

I sit alone in an empty room

I sit in a house of empty rooms

And I sigh



I sit, and I sigh



Beneath Cassiopeia seated in the sky

Trying to catch the hunter’s eye

To gain his heart, to gain his mind

To gain a love so hard to find

To have their lives so intertwined

And I sigh



I think, and I sigh



Staring above to the winter sky

On frozen grounds where love can die

Taking from me flesh and bone

Life only borrowed, not to own

Belonging always to our home

And I sigh



I exhale one last sigh

COMMENTS

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Morrigon
03:55 Nov 08 2010

Beautiful

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everstarven
04:26 Nov 08 2010

I read this and I sighed...*sighs*

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PhoenicianDream
02:21 Nov 09 2010

Wow. Love it! Well written =)

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