Silly Old Bear

Posted in misterbooks, Poetry with tags , , , , on March 20, 2009 by Wulfgar

How did I get this lost
loss
on my own,
at this age?

Silly old bear
  Thump
   Thump
    Thump

or is it,
think, think, think?

It could not of,
can not,
Be my own doing
entirely.

Where is the Hand of God?

and
Where is the remote?

The Sleeping sun

Posted in Authors, Poetry with tags , , on September 8, 2008 by Dream Peddler

 

 

Into the sleeping sun,

Of a parabolic freedom,

I want to escape.

to the woods.

to the silence,

where words kill.

Into the melancholic evening,

of an enthralling beauty,

I want to break free.

from the boundations.

from the death and hush,

where you can’t say what you want.

Into the utopia of my dreams,

Of an euthnasic way to awakening,

I want to lie forever.

in the laps of the angel.

in the greens of my past,

where deceptions stop.

Into the night stretched to eternity,

Of an enchanted star studed sky,

I want to steal the world.

to keep them to myself.

to let them live with me,

where separation never comes.

trouble

Posted in angst, Authors, etta11, prose poetry with tags , , on August 26, 2008 by etta11

I’m in trouble.

I’m tired.
I’m lethargic.
I could care less
about running
or goals.
I couldn’t go yesterday.
Today doesn’t seem different.
And I don’t care…that’s the trouble.

I don’t care.
Not a good place for me to be.
Trouble.
I don’t care is unsafe.
I don’t care is frustrating…no it’s not.
Frustration would require caring,
and I don’t care.
Trouble.

I don’t care is unsafe.
I don’t care is heavy and stuck.
I don’t care is sleep and sleep some more.
I don’t care is restricting.
leaden
shackles
binding
my
feet
I can’t move…that’s the trouble.

I can’t move is trouble.
I can’t move is sickening
fattening
frustrating.
I can’t move is frustrating.
Frustration is trouble.

I’m in trouble.
Trouble is trouble.

Trouble drinks.
Trouble cuts.
Trouble thinks.
Trouble hurts.
Trouble sinks.

Trouble
s
i
n
k
s
.
.
.

Doors

Posted in angst, Authors, beartwinsmom with tags , , on July 28, 2008 by beartwinsmom
Which one would you choose?

Which one would you choose?

What waits beyond

The light through the cracks?

Memories of past hurts

And previous loves?

Surrounded by the doors,

I need to choose:

Which one to open?

Which one to lose?

Savouring the sanguine memories of love on my tongue;

Suffering the bitter sting of failure in my heart;

Perceiving the faint echoes of melodious promises in my head;

Envisioning my life like a slideshow in my brain

Sensing that the choice is upon me again.

Should some doors stay closed?

Photo courtesy of ohad*, by a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved.

My Quandary

Posted in greybeard on July 12, 2008 by Greybeard

I need my privacy
I can’t afford it you see
Either monetarily or
In what it does to me

And Along came my Dreams

Posted in Authors, Poetry with tags , , on July 6, 2008 by Dream Peddler

I

When the pain subsides,

I close my eyes, to get back my past

Hallowed memories burn and blur!

Life has not been

The dream I saw!

I turn every page, to see it bleed,

I turn every corner, to wish you were there

The sun is so silent, the moon burning!

The night gave the pains

And along came dreams!

II

I so wish you would come,

Hold my hand, take my breath,

Into the cages of love!

I wish I could have held your hands till eternity,

Bring you flowers, and write you poetries,

I showed you my dreams,

But,

You gave me fresh blood!

And along came my dreams

Comfort

Posted in Authors, beartwinsmom with tags , , on June 27, 2008 by beartwinsmom

Wrap me up in comfort that I yearn to feel
Remove me from cold, uncaring steel
That ensconces me like a cage.
Let me savor the senses of love and compassion
Drown me in warmth, fire of passion
One is that legend of the ages.

Photo courtesy of confusedvision, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved.