That's beautiful Sharon, and it's all so true.

Thank you Aurélia and Kim

Thats lovely Sharon

It's rubbish, Sharon.



Nah, I love it really. Honest poems are the way forward.

No, thank YOU for posting it... found it vey powerful and I love the paralelism/oppostion style in the content you provided...

PUZZLES TO WORK OUT

I join the freckles on your back
with kisses, listening to the small sounds
that escape from your lungs,
and hums
along to the sound of the bed creaks.
I make crosswords of your skin, adding
letters and solving clues
with bites and scratches up and down,
headline news
across the round fold of your belly.

With only candlelight to lead the way, and a rosary
of unanswered prayers dangling round your neck,
I smile down at you
with your green eyes closed like pearl shells,
and rock back and forth in night's revolving shadows.
Time is lost.
Time is lost.
Time is...

Your beautiful face stares back on the pillow before me.
Solved, and content. Answered.

Affair.

Yesterday's heaven will be tomorrow's hell,
A heartbeat broken, as teardrops fell upon her cheek.
The bitterest pill was swallowed, and taken
With a pinch of salt to rub into the wounds he'd left.

Current affairs lit up like a cigarrette,
A smokescreen romance uncovered by accident,
A ten-year marriage ripped apart in minutes.
Time stops when there's nothing to second-guess.

A white wedding dress, a glass of promises
That have finally been emptied.

moments of beauty
(5-11-04)


Within a moment of beauty is a voice heard exalting;
framed in orchestrations of springtime elegance.

(He sings for her heart.)

And in a moment is anticipation of warm massaging;
felt by inner marrows in cleansing resonance.

(She yearns for the part.)

In a moment beyond darks of any doubtful imagining;
lost are the insecurities of all superficial essence.

(They find each other.)

A moment where seedlings sprout in newness of living,
and birds pair with flights in freedom's transcendence.

(They bind together.)

Moment by moment in play with cycles of balancing;
dancing in contrasts with wholeness of acceptance.

(They're doing it.)

A moment in tribute of such miracles in existing,
building upon the artistries of universal nurturance.

(A climax of sorts.)

In a moment beyond pause are lovers endearing;
safe in their fusions upon levels of benevolence.

(They're stunned.)

And in a moment grows faith beyond understanding;
by detachment with trust in harmonies of assurance.

(Sigh, a goodbye.)

Within a moment of gratitude is a voice heard exalting;
enlivened with accompaniments of love's deliverance.

One In A Thousand

Turning round on a bed of roses, she has petals
and candlelight protecting her modesty.
In the haunting moon's shadows where the nightfall settles,
she is a vision in white like an apparition of honesty,
and the world which has captured me inside it's lion's den
breaks into a thousand pieces, waking me in her eyes, and then

stars trickle down from above like wishes being granted,
falling on the heads of the hopeful and quixotic types.
The gentlest kiss any woman has ever planted
blooms in the centre of a flowerbed, fresh and ripe
for picking, and placed in a bouquet that speaks a thousand words
that can only be understood in the songs of birds.

Lovely work everyone. Really beautiful, it's like paintings made with words or something. (lol, that probably doesnt make sense. )



So, so understand what you're saying here. How very true. Really impacting.

Sea Tales

A westward wind howls horribly tonight.
Our ship has sunk, we scarcely can survive.
Our lifeboat is inadequate,
Our radios have all been cut;
On providence, I think, we must rely.

The water wraps itself around your leg;
Like rays of light upon the razor's edge.
The shampoo, sponge and bubble bath
Are no match for a make-shift raft.
I guess I wont be coming home to bed.

The Devil swims across the surface now,
The waves have all but nearly knocked me out.
The captain on the upperdeck
Lept before the water swept
His lifeless body to the sea to drown.

The wrinkles fade upon your fingertips,
It's been an hour since we lost our ship.
I pray to I do not know who,
Just to help me see this through.
I barely have the strength to even quit.

But I don't need a superman,
A sailor, or a seagull
I know the seas like the back of my hand;
To deliver us from evil.

And whether through a telecope,
Or the eye of a needle;
I don't need religion or horoscopes
To deliver us from evil.

Weed


Twisting a cigarette
between your fingers, making rings
with your smoke
where gold should decorate, the filthy
ash sticking in the air
like grey insects crawling in your hair,
and the postponed, guilty feelings of hate
floating on your stomach bread.

Night's sluggish creatures
rampage on your weary face, ravishing
the dirt inside the wrinkles
and the spunk stains on your cheek.
You'll make her *beep* bleed
when she comes laughing through that door
to a house with no light-bulbs, and a lover
whose skull will bulge beneath the
weight of a thunderous, metallic crowbar.

So good, so far.

Man there's some good sh*t in here. Been too long since I read this thread.

Great work guys (and gals).

From a lady in her late 80's, who in earlier years was a keen poet. (She recited this from memory for me today -it isnt written down) so I wrote it down cos I think it's pretty awesome!

Johnny the Greek

Born in the islands, set in blue sea,
That glistened like jewels, he was born to be free.
To put out to sea, in ships that were tall
Where the seas 'round the Horn, made a mountainous wall.
And made men...out of boys,
Who sailed with the wind,
Which screeched like the furys-
Whose noise never dimmed.
Hands that were hardened by holding on ropes,
By carving on wood
With love, and with hope.
Eyes that grow bright, at memories past,
Of the girls of Marseille, and the spells that they cast.
Hands that were gnarled, but did elequent speak,
The hands of my friend,
Who was Johnny The Greek.

It was written about her friend, Johnny the Greek. I thought it was a stunning tribute to a friend, to write such a poem.

Ahhhh I LOVE that Debz!!

The line referring to the "girls of Marseille, and the spells that they cast" was inspiring, and the sentiment behind such a loveable rogue as her friend 'Johnny' is beautifully written. Thank you for sharing!!