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| Forums > Poetry > A couple of my poems |
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aybxcw
at 19:00, 25 Dec 2006
Posts: 8
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A couple of my poems-- I add a new one at the end
First, let me say how much I loved the movie "YES". It moves me to tears at many points. It's one of about five movies I've purchased. I've watched it eight or ten times and will many more.
Mike M
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The End
Nothing is right,
Everything wrong.
Nothing is left,
Everything gone.
Everything built
By our Romans and Greeks
Falling to ruin
On thoroughfare streets.
All we erected
With our hands and hearts
Now but abandoned,
Vandalized shards—
The things we made
With sure agreement,
And locked in a private
Place with semen
Rot and bake
In a noonday Sparta
Soon to be
Forgotten strata. . .
. . . Built a palace on a hill,
And built the hill,
Ruled with abandon,
Shouted and drank
Wine of grapes
By our own feet stomped. . .
Through a kingdom we romped;
You on my pedestal,
I on the marble floor.
And I was a slave,
And I was an emperor,
And you, a queen
With everything
And somehow you were
Impaled on your own
Indulgence and excess—
Only to die
Before me and cry
The name of another
Nothing before me,
End of all time,
And nothing before we
Started to shine.
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The Flowers Will Die
The flowers will die, they were meant to
As will you and I, seeming sent to
Each other to fill out some plan
Neither one of us fathoms or can.
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Birds of a Tongue
Birds of a tongue together sung
Grapes of a grab together hung
Men of a need recite their creed
Women each moon, defeated, bleed
Bricks of a shape and color find
Place in a wall and with mortar bind
Together to form one thing.
Is this of what the birds sing?
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Each of Us
Each of us a foundling
Stumbling luckily on,
Have had the fight before us put—
Wins and losses tallied,
Parades and riots rallied,
And come from each with mere need
Of another meal and a shower perhaps,
And sleep is goodly had.
What we have are found things,
Shiny or shabby, kept close,
Borrowed only from the world—
Pieces of it, held.
What we think and feel
Only, is truly ours.
And what we do is what we are,
Until we can do no more.
Each will age with equal cruelty
Each will begin to smell of death
From an age called middle until an end.
Your worst and mine,
Your best and mine,
Equivalent on comparison.
Time, tyrannical to us, passes—
Yours and mine, the manacles of the masses...
And when you’re in your deepest trench
And the enemy draws your bead,
You’ll find a gone moment that you’ll recall
Which may have been mundane at its time,
But you will rise and shine,
From it, in it, climb,
And ascend to who knows where—
The dream that we all share.
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magnardo
at 15:13, 7 Jan 2007
Posts: 17
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carots
i understand.
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aybxcw
at 18:00, 7 Jan 2007
Posts: 8
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To Magnardo
Carots?
I don't understand.
Mike
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magnardo
at 18:23, 7 Jan 2007
Posts: 17
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Strange noise
Nevermind the carots.I understand what u were saying.
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aybxcw
at 19:27, 7 Jan 2007
Posts: 8
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Got it
That, I understand. I'm glad. Thanks.
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sally potter
at 09:23, 8 Jan 2007
Posts: 193
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AWARD
This last exchange definitely wins the award for most cryptic exchange on the message board.
Thank you for the poems.
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aybxcw
at 09:52, 8 Jan 2007
Posts: 8
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Aye,
I second the nomination and accept the award.
Mike
.......
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magnardo
at 14:32, 13 Jan 2007
Posts: 17
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a crook's thoughts
Sally Potter! I'm in love with u.I've always loved beautiful women.Too bad u love all of us in the same way.I feel I cannot make a difference.Anyways,..Poetry is a conversation between souls and i understand and respect all of us.Please don't give up and write only when it matters.Let's hope that the colective gods will have mercy on us.
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