Gord
2025-04-28 10:46 pm
Fire, flames upon a hoop, I, am drawn. Eraser, Dissolve, dissolute. Child's play, inside a room, Drive talk, eyes and hearts, Upon her arm, should she draw? Never again can she feel loss, I, am drawn, she says, to darkness, Never again will she see stars, Never again will she be wrong, Never again can she feel love. Eraser, darker hues. Paper rips in two, Reddish shade of blue, Fire, flames upon a hoop.
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Gord
2025-02-04 06:35 am
Words of caution, Gourds in autumn, Fears be gone in her, A plate summed full. Squash in the soil, Seeds in the garden, Water on her arms, Written over blood. Gambling problem, Lust, as if scarlet, Just as I write it: Clubs, spades, diamonds. A heart divines it, A world divides it, Time becomes distance, A bicycle by the bridge.
Gord
2024-10-21 09:30 pm
Chestnut, voices, Gone are the old days, Better choices, Monochrome planes. Upon canvas the mind paints, Scarlet the shade, Far from water and rain. Gone are the old days, Fire took the farm. Childhood sweethearts, I could be wrong, But fire looks good, to us all, When it's on a smaller scale, But on canvas or stage, Fire, has no proper place. Soon you'll see, things gone away, I could be wrong, fire looks good, When upon a crown and on a face. Maybe one day you'll see these things, Not the sullen, lonely greys.
Gord
2022-06-16 03:37 pm
Calamity, their hearts dictate, Failures, insanity, Hecate. A spell long for them: Dreams, but at a gamblers pace, Meaning, but then actors change, TV panel games as passion fades, Children, teen, then move away. Tickets to the gamelan races, They own the stadium. What do they say, of man, Their fates? They rarely change. One could sew sequins into thy face, Meanwhile speak of other races, All they would see is a cage, Call their fathers, seethe in rage. Stallions of grazing, High yields, truncation, Stars in amazement, What feels like salvation? A path of slave labour, Tired people, consumption, That's how I feel. Everyone has their favorite battlefield, Next to their cross with their name. The spell longest for anyone, Man and his grave.
Gord
2021-07-23 02:10 am
Trees of lime, Dreams of life, Hearts pleading: Fields of rice, Ears of a beast, Bright green, to the eyes. What is fleeting? What is right? What the audience likes, What God would decide, Like what is meat, What is me, But I need to survive.
Wim Grundy
2021-03-10 08:35 pm
"Oh, weep for Vietnam! The sick dreams Of passion-winged Ministers of War Who sent boys in, who never living streams Nor ripe rice paddies crossed to get their star. Their Draft which made men fodder, blundered not— Wonder no more, tho' sixty thousand slain, But fly there, where they fell; and mourn their lot Round their cold hearts, where, after their sweet pain, They ne'er will gather strength, or find a home again.'' ~ After Shelley, ELEGY TO KEATS
Knoble Kaller
2021-02-05 02:06 am
Rise oh sun oh immortal flame to wake the soul to play again. To run and dance and jump for joy and warm the hearts of girl and boy. Beam down your rays of healing light confirming natures pure delight and bringing forth more glee than blight no winter yet in this souls sight. May brilliant joy and exaltation be your gift and coronation leading toward the beach of plenty makes one feel like being twenty. Wish upon dream upon starry starry night. Let your spirit take its flight to one you’ll hold extremely tight. Embrace your dream with passion free exposing all intentional glee for daylight breaks and dawn reveals lovers heart… eternally.
Gord
2020-10-20 04:08 pm
Is my life but a minor arc? Mirror dark, a nine of hearts, Why walk into the distant fog, Past miles of silver boxes, Simple props with silver foxes, Waiting for their turn to balk. I could write ironic of a pen who talks, Night-time bombings, a man who moved on, Wildlife watching. 'Will I be fed to dogs' The pen responds: 'Terrified by conflict you write a law, But will the dogs obey? I think not.'
Innasense
2020-10-05 08:49 pm
If all our troubles Could grow wings And flutter away How much lighter Our hearts would feel I’d go bird watching for OCD Or photograph Anxiety Capture Depression in my lens Wait quietly for Loneliness and then Watch them all take flight, bright wings While my unburdened heart doth sing
Gord
2019-02-06 06:07 pm
Could I just wish? To be, Mired forever in my thought, Cubs would fish it seems; Would one list, to be not? On the fixtures glass, Alike one's heart, an ass. Like a bandage wonderful, Placed over a chest, Healing hearts impass, Task feeling, impossibly vast. Please come back, Please come back. For all I want, Is what lover's lack. Could I just wish? I could, Fish of this river forever, Desiring one lost, to be not. Would she list her lover first? I would think so, deserved For I have been gone, A decade and more, lustrum.
Mary Steffen
2017-12-23 11:52 pm
Winter dreams Santa Claus Through the night Jumping joy Happy days Love in air Forever In our hearts Throughout life Never ends Love goes on
Gord
2017-10-19 08:56 am
Pond upon oceans, A death of water, Little men upon thrones, Their hearts of flower, My life but a tome, My life a tower; Stairs to climb, With life inactive; Above the clouds, Time spent sunburnt, Cowards; My designs immaculate, Eating flies as flax, Confusing images, In place of facts. Again the future lost, Pipes accost the ground, The ice storm comes; Some go into town, Some stay lost, Together same, Both die apart.
Gord
2017-04-27 12:00 am
Foreign art plastered, Partizan attitude mastered, World politics blunt, Our pastor burnt, Along with his frontage. Decorum not fantastic, Sheets plastic, drapes plastic. Their hearts taken, affront, Given pacemaker suns, Along with fromage, Some 21st century love.
The Sophist
2016-10-26 12:00 am
Waiting for a miracle to save us, And we have saviors, But they're controlled by secret agents, Waiting for a miracle to save them, And they have saviors, But they're controlled by secret agents. His father wrote his epitaph, I know. He captured the hearts of the young and the old. God given talent given highest awards. He was yesterday's child, So the day he got old... Like midnight's stars he disappeared. Fagments of influence rapidly spread, Directing the youth of the afteryears, But the man wasn't dead, I can prove it, 'cuz dead mean don't sweat.
Justan Mitchell
2016-05-05 12:00 am
Is There One? One shall arise from the midst of these, yes these, these little ones who have watched their parents hung, strung as ornaments on trees, yes these even, in 2016. Then their are those without future hopes due to broken homes, these that have been led my mainstreams, instead of being led to mend broken bones, these that say "keep you voice in tone". But I say fear no the word alone. For when through the spiritual you roam, the heart, mind, body and soul will fill gaping holes, allowing pens to flow freely into places that pencils can't go. But then there are these who pose, posing in a still stance engulfed with frowns of hatred because they just don't understand and so their actions scream, "HEAL THIS BROKEN LAND!!!" And this has become their native tongue, crying out for the guidance of the ONE! Please is there one? Look into the eyes of those that have died before the age of five, those that wear hearts of black and blue art, with mental repetitious records rapidly playing the age old song why,why,why? Why do we experience sacrifice before we experience life? Like Christ? Why such a cost for these before they learn t be at ease? Maybe, maybe the world is impregnated by crazy and is on the verge of raising yet another baby? Maybe, maybe the man in the mirror reflects hatred because he hates himself? Maybe, maybe he can't accept kindness because he's been denied the knowledge of his own true weath, the knowledge his own true self. And then there are these who are lost without cares dragging along the heaviest wear and tear, with the deadliest raging flare, but tarry not along the road of destruction, because destruction is in the eye of the beholder, but the beholder beholding many self inflicted wounds and self inflicted wounds can easily spell doom! And then there are these who are serving high stations that need fine replacements! These that have been exposed by their blood drenched tongue, that on self unknowingly and knowingly told. Yes we know these. But sometimes and even one times these can be we. And now I see many spirits lost in the overwhelming shadows of IT'S beaming light, spirits claiming underdeveloped knowing as the source of their plight, and so it hurts me to SEE, Yet even still one shall arise from the midst of these yes these, these little ones who have watched the parents hung strung as ornaments on trees, One such as me. Is there one? Dangerous Soul Life Justan "Potential" Mitchell
Novina Alfe
2016-02-16 12:00 am
Is it just enough to look at the roughness of your hands do you ponder over the texture complexion and remember how each scar got there do you take the time to examine who they loved and who they hate WHO tears they wiped away and on whose face I know you look at them often do you use them just to pray or used them to play with your prey amen do you use them to take pictures of the Sun when it rise do you use them to heal hearts or just leave marks on degraded body parts your hands your hands do you keep them clean have they shed innocent blood have they robbed the lowly one have they said hello thank you and please is the look of toughness just a disguise a way to fool people who sympathize with their eyes your hands your hands do you use them just to eat do they feed the needy do they try to make peace do you praise them for a job well done do you use them to raise a good son surely you let them rest after you just bust one and by bust I mean nutt and by nutt I mean there's nothing new under the Sun so how do you plead guilty or innocent Mr mirror man do you have killing or healing hands
The Sophist
2015-09-21 12:00 am
Three loveless dynasties divine. Providence in sheep inside. Bleeding, 'Treating to be blinded. The Feigning Suicidals. Three peasants covering their eyes, Not displaying thoughts inside. Blinded, 'Treating to be bleeding. A hopeless heart reciting. Bed made and three pillows aligned. Love lost 'tween a bout and twine. Meaning, Ends of never starting, Twelve sorrows between two hearts. Twelve hearts; Their grief imparting. Twelve stars align to follow charts. Cosmic games of skeet in the dark. Teeming, Conducted by the stars; An opera of three parts. The loveless damned to be confined, Only singing chorus lines. Finding love within their sources. Slamming on their desks with sore fists. Bed tossed and our feelings opined. Love found 'tween a tackle and twine. Value, Still, But still restarts, Twelve griefs of an ardent heart. Earnestly, Your soul departing.
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