Kingsley Station

Original Poetry | 11/25/2003 | January24th

[January24th]

This is a thread for readers and writers of poetry. You are welcome to join in this quiet room, but please respect a few rules that will assure that this thread is easy to read, loads quickly, and maintains the confidence of the poets and readers.

1. Only original poetry, please. All poems are the property of the posting poet. Please do not copy or reproduce in another area.

2. Shhhh! Please keep chat or comments to a minimum.

3. No huge graphics, blinking smiley faces, etc. Just words, please. Let your words paint the image! (Plus, it's easier for dial-up friends to browse.)

That's it. Now, get busy and write!

[Soaring Feather]

I don't rules
no regs
I free verse
and what's worse
my communication
may not always
ring clear
but I am
sincere

[Kay Syrah]

sponge worthy
perogatives

Bwahahaha

applications
always accepted
and regarded according
to the whims of timing,
regulations require
receipt by the deadline
and decisions rendered
by air time.

[Kay Syrah]

Pipers,
yes I do like kilts
and nice manly legs
beneath the sporran
and the plaid,
is there anything
else to be said
about the beach?

[Soaring Feather]

The beach usually
sandy warm green
waters and breezes
lifting skirts and
billowing shirts
long necked birds
heads submerged
in water skinny dipping
for a meal

Kilts would not
be seem it seems
as craggy shores
and crashing waves
mountain paths
carrying coal
or running with
Brave Heart
and loving
the lavender
on the hills
and loving by
the bonnie brook

[Kay Syrah]

the sign said
private beach
access is
everything.

LOL

[Soaring Feather]

Nice Finish!! LOL

Excess ain't bad either.:-)

[Kay Syrah]

Now there's a rule to live by. good night and sweet dreams. Excessive, I hope. LOL

[Kay Syrah]

A story

Bill, was from the South
somewhere, copper skinned
and an american blend,
white and black and cherokee.
He was a groom and a n'er do well,
and we fought cause I didn't
like anyone telling me what to do.
At night the shadows in the house
that smelled of gin and loose restraint,
told me to fade, out the window,
and down the tree and take myself
to the stable, where I'd sit and
sleep and wait,
for dawn and business as usual.
So he found me there and asked
"whatcha doin' here sugar?" and
then grunted his own reply and said
if he ever found my ass there
it had better be working,
and he gave me a key.
He was given to drinking
and loving the wrong women
and I recall the musky smell
of cigarettes and brilliantine,
and my first taste of tobacco
and alcohol, were an object lesson
but I never told,
and my gagging made
him laugh, but I was safe with him
in the way I needed to be.

And I didn't know the fine points
of a proper role model.
So all who were such
fine examples of the true faith
as I was told so many times
by those who ought to know,
have gone to heaven cause they
didn't get to be as bad as they
wanted to be. And Bill, he's
gone too, and no one remembers
'cause I never told.

[Soaring Feather]

This really a fine piece of writing.

[Radix]

The Boy

 

The newspapers come late, again

My son waits, through the storm

 

So many count on him

The readers, his customers can't see

The driver is oblivious

Drop the News off at the right place this time

Ignorance, and stupidity,prevails

Meanwhile, the boy waits in the the ice

No BS

 

 

Why is he challenged so

Bring the effing papers

The neighbors do not see

His power, and strength

A hero yet to be

 

High School

Drama, and Volleyball

I see it all

 

Military training

Fitness, and order

 

If you only could  know this young man

My hero

 

Yours too

One day

The books will be opened

Then you will see

My little paper route boy

And the Army Infantry

 

Heros abound

In your neighborhood

 

Radix watches

And sees, more than mostI

It seems so.

 

[Soaring Feather]

I once knew a man that once was a paper boy
he retired as a Captain in the Marines
he served his nation in Da Nang.

He lost his soul
in that hell hole.

I once knew a broken man
that was once a paper boy.

[January24th]

December has
never been so cold
as the brief
days and
sparkling darkness
unite against
my sun-filled heart
darkening my mood
and demanding
too much of my soul

I wish I had lingered
longer
with Autumn

[January24th]

old habits return
looking smug
satisfied
knowing they were
missed, even if they
were wrong

i welcome back
the lack of love
the drought of dreams
remembering my place
in the scheme of life
and old habits
die hard, if ever

dreamless days return
with quiet promises
of safety and sanity
i sigh and think that
resignation is a good thing
it lets you sleep at night

[Soaring Feather]

Oh you Autumn lass
how the lovely white
of fresh falling snow
can brighten a dreary
December day.

The cold crisp of
winters wind clears
the head for a moment
then memory goes retro
on me and I remember
the happy days of a new love

my love was my breath
and my food for the day
I danced on star spattered
patios alone with the
sweetness of him
left lingering in
my nostrils memory
a sort of homey armoma
clung to your clothes
with a hint of your soap
on your face

Those were the happy days
and now you are thousands
of miles from me and
your memory fades fast
on long dark nights in December.

[Kay Syrah]

We split a clementine
first cut was yours,
the second mine,
and passed to you
and back to me again,
we slowly stripped
its easy skin,
and laid upon the table
the rust of orange coat
so lightly flayed,
and succulent fruit
we bared upon
the hope of shared
delight, a section
for you and one
for me, chins dripping
in sweet delight.
And orderly sections
fell to what we both
desired, and after
all, the zest remained
sweet acrid coat of
what we demanded
of a simple fruit.

[Soaring Feather]

Lovely.

[Soaring Feather]

Sad Gymnast of Inertia

you are transfixed by
Invisible strings
Puppet like humanoid
Caught suspended
in a hard place

Struggle to move
Mountains, collect
the beaches sand,
Grain by grain,
....All in vain.

Sad Gymnast of inertia
Heavy burden
as hard water
Rust in the veins
Flat liner....

Sad Gymnast of Inertia
Lock jaw mime
Devil may care
Rhyme
in time warped
Occupancy of
Astro space

Oligarchical
Ruler in a land
of jesters, comics
Half wits, fools.

Sad Gymnast of Inertia...

bentfeather
a/k/a MLH
Copyright © 2002
All Rights Reserved

[Kay Syrah]

Yes you do poetry.

Inertia II.

Forward, back
the pendulum
swings, and
the puppet gymnast
on the rings
respects the physics
of mass
at the edges
of maximum velocity
where the rosined
fingers defy
the laws of falling
as philosophy
And there
the will finds
the moment that turns
the movement back
when muscles pull
with the turn
of the weighty
into the weightless
giving the aching
fist relief
all arcs have respites
no matter how brief,
and puppet gymnasts must
hold their own strings.

[January24th]

The North Star
is not for us
it is too precise
for imperfect desire
and intriguing interludes
it watches us
unmoved
and bids us find our way

The Moon
is not for us
she is too constant
in her appointments
and reliably
beautiful or invisible
she draws close to us
and we feel her
grave influence
she bids us love
her cold light
but she is not for us

Hurtling comets,
once-in-a-lifetime
star crossers
are the signet
of our sighs
they arrive
like harbingers
of delight or doom
passing into
out of
our lives
and all you can do
is watch the sky...

[Camachee]

play poker
when prose
is not
an option
and art
has shut down
for the night