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Because I'm a Poet - A Poetry Thread
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[quote:octobersolstice:MV8yMjMwOTIwXzM5NDQ0ODAwX0Q4QUQ2RUVD] in the wooden man's clearing i sit face to the east, face to the east the sun so bright through my eye lids rainbow orbs rest on my lashes taking their flights and flashes of real life fancy as i open mine eyes to see the light i'm supposed to do ? what with his wood give it away? burn it? stack it? build a house? turn it? jack it off and split it? spit on it? make coffins out of it? or maybe a fence? - sure line of defence unless the axes start swinging sooooo... i don't know what to do with his wood? should i leave it there to rot? carve initials in it? sand it down and plank it? stain it? let the rain and snow fall down on it? can i kick it? can i stick it...never mind... never mind...i shall simply do in kind i'll rhyme and let the wood pile do it's own thing there in the abandoned faerie ring where the magic once was held before our tree was finally felled. [/quote]
Original Message
I don't care if you think your poetry is good or bad - it doesn't matter. The act of sharing art, especially poetry, is awesome. :) The reason I like poetry in particular is because it's much like a painting - you get this one image of an entire scene and then get to plant yourself and your own "story" there. Somehow it takes you to a place in your mind that it's almost as if you're dreaming while you're awake. Movies & books just don't capture that like poetry does. Hope you all enjoy. First the poem I wrote for Mother's Day today. Then another I wrote today while just kinda pondering things...
There’s a certain complexity
To being a Mother,
A Matriarch.
You find yourself as an adult
Looking back over your lifetime wondering
If you've made your Mother proud.
If the way you treated that guy today at the store
Would have been approved.
From women we gather our greatest strengths –
Fathers give us discipline, respect, and will –
But Mothers teach us Love.
And Love is what will save us all.
-----------------
I wish people would admit to their sadness,
Letting it spill out from them like neon
And bathing themselves in the desperation of their spirit.
The World is too calculated. So unreal in its ego.
Mornings often find me laughing, singing -
Opining on the day and wishing there was more
Life in it. More willingness & passion from Earth's kids.
We live in this Titanic, sinking, living below the deck
Of our true lives
And wishing we had just stayed home.
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