You told me somewhere yesterday and somewhere else the day before that what we're really waiting for
is an omen from some shaman who lives in Battersea or was it Tooting, but I'm counting on the abacus
there's three beads for the two of us and one bead for the shaman if he's a man at all,
there is word out on the corner stone, a marker, come home alkadry or don't dry out just stay out where the termites hone their skills on autocue pro forma wills and will you dine with god tonight or will it be the devils light you see?
The omen comes and with a codicil, old ladies, laughing gums upon the white washed window sill, I still admire the old girls with desire, with that tiny bit of fire that won't let go,
I know I do go on a bit and most of what I write is gold haha, (**** would've rhymed there, why didn't I think of it)
I'm too old to give a monkeys ***,
gold or **** is just the same to me
each one has its poetry,
the shaman doesn't see it
I'm not surprised
Searching amongst a trifling heap!
Bear your watch ~
And gear your gaze,
Realize this dangerous maze.
Through the brush,
Along the hills,
Stands a little shack..
An outcast with a knack~
No one could understand this very odd man.
Yet even to reach him on foot or on yak
It would mean you must
Lead away and carve your very own tracks.
Where to go, following the road no one goes?
What to see or to learn, exploring what no one knows?
Speak! unique star of the universe,
Tell your stories of the beautiful adventure,
That only you chose..
You could dance or stand still,
Sit on solid ground or climb a sand hill!
Talk in verse
Or reverse your curse and present your prose
Into a rhythm only you really knowss
Look, let me stop..
I admit, I'm just an ordinary man.
~Thanks for everyone's kind comments~
I CHALLENGE ALL OF HELLO POETRY!
Choose a song, you can choose it randomly or it can be your favorite song, or just a song that you like. Write a poem while listening to that song. You don't have to write about the song but just write what comes to mind while you listen to it. I do this all the time and its amazing how it changes my mood and my writing. Title the poem the name of the song and use the hashtag #CourtsMusicChallenge and I will take the time to read all of them and repost them and leave some love in a comment.
Do the challenge then repost this so I know you did it.:)
Oh, how you ***** me!
How you betrayed me!
You took away our romance!
At every turn of the dance!
Now, when you lied,
How I did cry.
How your mis-deeds turned me out.
I tried to forgive,
Tried to forget.
I tried to figure all this out.
Time and again
You hurt me so.
Everytime you strike with a low blow.
Shame comes to me
I try my best to let you go.
You live to lie.
I wonder why
There is no truth inside your heart.
You went right through me like a dart.
Where were you
When I needed someone?
You wrecked the soul of who I used to be.
You rocked the loom.
And weaved love's tomb.
You have been the death of me.
This is the time.
I know I'll find
The strength I need to tell you so.
By this night's end,
I know I've got to let you go.
I have been playing with this one for about eight years. I was tweaking the last stanza of this poem that was meant to be a song just now. I wrote it from the perspective of a best friend who was going through a break up. What I love about creating poetry is that it can be always changing. I am sure over the years this one will continue to evolve.
The negative will always turn,
to burn the burn out of the
burned in germ
and the positive which gives a ride
to the mental attitude on which I glide
returns to me.
It alternates, this state of mind
it changes things in which I find the
energy which then combines with something,
I don't know the name,
but it makes things better all the same.
No pills involved
I have revolved to spin again and
turn to burn out all the pain, in doing so,
I'll either grow
or I'll die.
There was a young man from Nantucket who put his head in a bucket
when I said why, he started to cry and said to me well **** it
By my mother, age 57.
There is a form or presence,
unerring and undoubted.
Spoken through the silence,
it was from this, you were born.
To tread any further with words
would be to disturb the peace.
Unspoken and eternal,
it is the golden key.
Sometimes I try to talk about it..