Because I'm a Poet - A Poetry Thread

Here is my poem.

They walked down the lane together.
The sky was covered in stars.
They reached the gate in silence.
He lifted up the bar.
She neither smiled nor thanked him,
Because she knew not how.
For he was just a farmer's boy and
She a Jersey cow.

good morning electric Koolaid.
feeling all of it - and we live - to be validated once again -
in these places where our hearts know what we have yet to remember - remember this - remember this - hold on to the poet's dreams - let go the anguished screams - and breathe.

Here is my poem.

They walked down the lane together.
The sky was covered in stars.
They reached the gate in silence.
He lifted up the bar.
She neither smiled nor thanked him,
Because she knew not how.
For he was just a farmer's boy and
She a Jersey cow.

"because i'm a poet"
you would think i would know it
already
the steady unending show
where Word is all we need know
like the bird
whose voice comes long
in the throat aching
to belong
yet each day anew
i must relearn it
the respect for silence
and the honor of the roar
i take my place
among the syllable and syllogy
and because poetry reflects me
i write myself a meaning
where Word tells me everything
i'm next meant to know.

Standing By !

Like the flower, with petals spread, for the butterfly, is plucked instead;
So 'oft we find, when we're alone, within us lives, a heart of stone.
That beats transfix, the endless day, vibrating love, it can't convey;
Yet would intone, till hills resound, "At last, at last; my loves been found."

Since Adam took the second bite, your NOT alone and in the night,
Remember He is standing by; AND, if needed, SO AM I !

Eagle

Regrets
Regrets are born of unwed dreams,
'Oft conceived in romantic schemes;
But those who sow not dreams in time,
Will find loves withered, on the vine !

Eagle

....poetry is a fraud
poetry is a dog
poetry is a pale shadow of a once luminous god
poets stink of mired dusty must
sham prestige acting the role of philosopher king
kiss the ring or begone , echoes the ostentatiosly perfumed throng
...poetry is an icon...that deserves its desecration and destruction.....so it may be born anew with a new intent and mysterious name......

..............

....poets remind me of mewling dribbling babes....eeking obscure tropes....dancing the rehearsed steps devoid of power...sipping a puree of egg white....

...allow me the yolk devoured raw...

....poetry is a fraud
poetry is a dog
poetry is a pale shadow of a once luminous god
poets stink of mired dusty must
sham prestige acting the role of philosopher king
kiss the ring or begone , echoes the ostentatiosly perfumed throng
...poetry is an icon...that deserves its desecration and destruction.....so it may be born anew with a new intent and mysterious name......

..............

mmmmmm yes. the authentic golden thickness sticking to my lips. wrapping around my senses until they dribble no more. then shall we dance my friend, a never ending poem.

Nice Thread

I wrote a poem more than two years ago. A firnd of mine recorded it as a song and it will be released as on a CD soon.

I wrote three more poems and was encouraged by a friend to send it to a record company. I did thinking that nothing will happen but now I have a contract to write for them and four of my poems will be released as songs this year with more to come.

This is one of them

The crossroad

In die donker van die nag in Getsemane alleen.
Drup die sweet van U voorkop bloed op die steen
Beangs vra U,”Vader... moet U die koste van my bloed verhaal”
“My geliefde Seun vir hulle sonde moet Jy betaal”

En U sê; “Vader net soos wat U dit bepaal”

Dertig stukke silwer was die prys vir U Heer.
Met soldaat en swaard kom hy om U te arresteer.
En met 'n soen om te verraai gee hy U weg.
Maar u weet Vader se wil gee hom die reg.

En U sê “neem my weg”

In oordeel staan u voor die priester van die Jood.
Een vir een vra hulle vir U dood.
Verdedig jouself is wat hulle sê waar?
Is Jy die seun van God? Praat man, hoekom staan jy net daar?

En U sê “Ek is”

Die haan se kraai seël U verraad.
Pilatus was sy hande en Barabbas word vrygelaat.
Dra die kroon seun van God.
Terwyl hulle slaan en spoeg en met U spot.

En U... sê niks?

Nege-en-dertig keer het die sweep geval.
Dit giet U bloed met elke knal.
Dra hierdie kruis, kom laat jy in die pad val.
Na Golgota om die prys te betaal.

En U bly net stil?

Met ergelose kap spyker hulle U vas aan die kruis.
Genadeloos word u omhoog gehys.
Hulle spot en vloek en wag vir u dood.
As jy die seun van God is bevry jouself koning van die Jood.

En U sê:” Vader vergewe hulle want hulle weet nie wat hulle doen”

En daar in pyn langs U aan die kruis.
Weet ek, ek verdien dat hulle my lewe eis.
Ek is 'n moordenaar en 'n sondaar en ek leef sonder eer.
Maar U, U is onskuldig Heer.

En U sê, vandag sal jy my in die Hemel vereer.

En in my donkerste uur toe die dood my kom kry.
Weet ek vir die eerste keer in my lewe, ek is vry.

En U sê

“In alle ewigheid sal jy by My bly”

Jesus, U bloed maak my vry.

that sounds like the way the clay people talk in the old Flash Gerdon shows from the thirties.

The recreation, recreation and true birth living thing. I lay truths and I sing along with something that inspires and coerces into a state of being. I sacrifice my own virtue for you to hold to this true and holy scripture, you pray for me, and I teach. I will wash your sins away.

I am laying claim to this eternal submission. Uttered hence, from this weakened state. I am holding on, without you. By my side. I want you to take the time to see that what I give you is truly given. Direct source true to life receiver.

Wow. That hit home for me. Thanks...

It is said that the heart speaks in rhyme
that we move out of time
with words of wonder do we fill
our being to a still
to hear our heart sing loud and clear
from one Poet to another here is a
my dear.