Posts filed under ‘poem’
POEMS AND FLEETING THOUGHTS: OLD BOOKS
My old books,
Some two hundred years
Have little value
Except to me,
I wonder at their owners,
Readers long gone.
Gazing into a future
Unknown,
With my words
Hundreds of years gone
Cause the same ponder
Of a lover of books.
POEMS AND FLEETING THOUGHTS: THE COMING STORM
As I look out the window, the darkened sky predicts the approaching storm. The remnants of the last weather event are nearly gone, but no one is sure of the power of this one. Here are my thoughts while I await.
A pregnant sky looms,
Soon the landscape
Will change.
Altered by nature’s course,
Solitude created.
POEMS AND FLEETING THOUGHTS: THE SERENE
I envy serene church goers
Never doubting, never questioning
What they’re told
Oblivious of the deeper truth
They fit into the mold.
POEMS AND FLEETING THOUGHTS: PAST GLORY
As I age
Past small accomplishments
Thought meaningless
Take on new life.
POEMS AND FLEETING THOUGHTS: AMMUNITION
They buy a mass the deadly rounds
And no one seems to notice
The anger deep within their eyes
Mass death is in their purpose.
POEMS AND RANDOM THOUGHTS: SNOW
I wrote this poem some years ago. I drag it out every winter at the appropriate time. for those of us on the East Coast, this is the right time.
This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, The Bells.
THE SNOW
See the delicate snowflakes fall,
Falling, falling, falling.
Whitening the earth, awaiting below,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the mounds of glittering white,
Building, building, building.
As they hide the ground from sight,
Building, building, building.
See the ceaseless falling snow,
Falling, falling, falling.
Will it stop, no one quite knows,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the drifts accumulate,
Building, building, building.
My longing for spring will no longer wait,
Building, building, building.
SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL,
GROWING, GROWING, GROWING,
CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL,
SMILING, SMILING, SMILING.
POEMS AND RANDOM THOUGTS: SNOWI wrote this poem some years ago. Every winter since, I drag it out of the right time. For those of us on the East Coast, now is the right time. This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, The Bells. THE SNOW See the delicate snowflakes fall, Falling, falling, falling. Whitening the earth, awaiting below, Falling, falling, falling. See the mounds of glittering white, Building, building, building. As they hide the ground from sight, Building, building, building. See the ceaseless falling snow, Falling, falling, falling. Will it stop, no one quite knows, Falling, falling, falling. See the drifts accumulate, Building, building, building. My longing for spring will no longer wait, Building, building, building. SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW, HIDING, HIDING, HIDING. MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW, HIDING, HIDING, HIDING. SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL, GROWING, GROWING, GROWING, CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL, SMILING, SMILING, SMILING. I wrote this poem some years ago. Every winter since, I drag it out of the right time. For those of us on the East Coast, now is the right time. This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, The Bells. THE SNOW See the delicate snowflakes fall, Falling, falling, falling. Whitening the earth, awaiting below, Falling, falling, falling. See the mounds of glittering white, Building, building, building. As they hide the ground from sight, Building, building, building. See the ceaseless falling snow, Falling, falling, falling. Will it stop, no one quite knows, Falling, falling, falling. See the drifts accumulate, Building, building, building. My longing for spring will no longer wait, Building, building, building. SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW, HIDING, HIDING, HIDING. MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW, HIDING, HIDING, HIDING. SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL, GROWING, GROWING, GROWING, CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL, SMILING, SMILING, SMILING.
I wrote this poem some years ago.
Every winter since, I drag it out of the right time.
For those of us on the East Coast, now is the right time.
This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, The Bells.
THE SNOW
See the delicate snowflakes fall,
Falling, falling, falling.
Whitening the earth, awaiting below,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the mounds of glittering white,
Building, building, building.
As they hide the ground from sight,
Building, building, building.
See the ceaseless falling snow,
Falling, falling, falling.
Will it stop, no one quite knows,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the drifts accumulate,
Building, building, building.
My longing for spring will no longer wait,
Building, building, building.
SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL,
GROWING, GROWING, GROWING,
CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL,
SMILING, SMILING, SMILING.
POEMS AND FLEETING THOUGHTS
I’m beginning yet another category, the title above.
My life is changing, and feelings run through my brain. Sometimes slight, observations of the world around and at times personal. For better or for worse, I want to reveal my soul.
CHANGING LIFE
You grew remote
Slowly, never noticed
In thirty years.
I, less than perfect
Took the route of drink and acceptance
As the separation increased.
Separate lives
Lived together for a time.
Finally we separate
With little change.
Yet life goes on,
Remembering better days,
Remembering unequal love.
WE REMEMBER
It is estimated that between 50 and 200 people jumped from the World Trade Center towers on 9/11. Marked forever in our memory will be the vision of them falling. Who can put themselves in the thought process that went into that decision and the conditions under which it was made? They did not chose death. They were murdered.
This poem is dedicated to those poor souls and all lives claimed that fateful day.
JUMPERS
They were like birds flying,
Leaping from flaming windows,
No wings to purchase air,
No hope of flying home.
They were like birds flying,
Tumbling in twos, alone,
Flashing by in a smoke-filled sky
While crowds watched in horror.
They were like birds flying
Flights, imprinting the nation’s memory.
They were like omens flying,
Carrying us into a world of fear.
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