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 catch my love
in morning dew
and kiss his
fragile wings
in flight
on star filled
cold lonely nights
I catch a glimpse
of him falling
through tree tops
covered in
silvery dew

Velvet black trimmed and
wrapped in gold
holds his treasure
or so I'm told
Be with me I beg
of him
he returns a hollow grin

[January24th]

That was most lovely, Kay. Truly well done!

[January24th]

Philosophy

i defy the gravity
of interest
self-or-otherwise
i exist without
agenda or agent
pride or portfolio

i was born to a purpose
of passion and probability
with a faulty fatalism
that dares dream
I laugh and love again
and find myself
within another's
interested sighs
content to be

to love is all
the rest is survival
to rule or defend
'gainst death's sure arrival
but to love and be loved
is a much better end.

[Kay Syrah]

i was born to a purpose
of passion and probability
with a faulty fatalism
that dares dream
I laugh and love again
and find myself
within another's
interested sighs
content to be

Death has regarded
my self interest
and decided to remove
those men held dear to me
father, brother, friend and lover
each in the space of a few short months.

yet I try the metaphor to remember
them in words that fail.
Loss is the inevitibility
and survival is the same
I wish in what I write to
leave not my own, but their name.

Perhaps if I had known the game
I could memorialise them better
but they are in every word I write
and my sorrow is only that
they were not loved by a better poet.

[Camachee]

i left maryland
on a friday
hay day
pay day
celebrating
a harvest
in which
i invested
only sweat
and regret
for a bitter crop
hoping for better

[Camachee]

sigh for this moment
imperial dragons frown
at flames left unlit

[Camachee]

i'm dragged
into
the intoxication
of ballads
somber
in minor sevenths
back filled
by mournful
moaning guitars
plaintive
but persuasive

[Kay Syrah]

Seeing you in half
failed slatted
window light, muted
and reflected, beneath
your cloudy veils
in which you covered
yourself and then tore
wanting to be seen less
but wanting to be seen more.

[Kay Syrah]

Sylvia, Sylvia
your green globe eyes
grape or olive
I cannot decide,
and when you depose
my confusion to dispose
"water yer want?"
is not so much a question
as a testimony to the number
of your pressing.

[Camachee]

what bet
would leverage
the pain
of queens full
and jacks
left wanting

[Camachee]

constrained
by custom
i left
my mark

a black cat
circling
a curious
rose

dew bound
and restrained
in the silence
of sunrise

[Kay Syrah]

Cat territorial
imperitives remark
full voice
dark calling
answers not required
dawn's musty
remembrance
dew leaves lightly
in the sun called
heat of the day
a cat passed
this way.

[Kay Syrah]

Ghost ships
passing with sails
furled by skeleton crews
something is missing
more than flesh on bone
canvas on mast,
peace isn't a concept
for the keel hauled
and the persitance
of sailing without
direction becomes
the reason for fear.

[Soaring Feather]

In the shaded pines
with moonlight flowing down
on the cobblestones
I the dancer once in mourning
loved you with soft eyes
and found a horizon in pictures
of olive groves.
The nightmares ended.

bentfeather
01/15/04

[Kay Syrah]

Every half light
calls a memory
to the shade
of trees swaying
in the winded
movement of here
and then there,
Night pushes
the dark impulse
of breathless desire
in the fake softness
of moonlight
crystal shattered
in the leaf breaks.

[January24th]

loved you with soft eyes,
and found a horizon in pictures
of olive groves.

Very lovely, bf!

[January24th]

Trash Talk

the cruel
un-requite
of being
sadly expendable
disposable
hammers my heart
into lifeless
submission

i left all
to follow you
to nowhere
and i don't
know where
i just keep
hoping not to care
too much

the anesthetic,
repeated blows
of reason
and reasons
is having the
desired effect
of numbing my soul

i am
disposable
and you're not
through with me yet
all i can do is
wait for
the inevitable
toss

[Camachee]

i'd like
to order
a perfect
pizza
but pepperoni
is so
out of style

[Camachee]

irving wallace
meant
no malice

[Soaring Feather]

You've honoured our day in my heart
Let love treasure those moments for
to be away makes
life's hidden pleasure open
to new dreamings
and desiring you a new end...

bentfeather ©
01/18/04