Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Nov 2010 JT-TJ
Flower Scent
The Poet is the language,the mystery of Monalisa's smile,

the brush of Caravaggio and the finest painting of Vangogh.

The Poet is the sonnet of Mozart anf the symphony of Bach,

a tragedy of Shakespeare and the saddest verse of Pablo Neruda.

The Poet is the blue Danube in waltz and the Swan Lake in Ballet.

The Poet is the renaissance of passion and the remnant of life,

the dilemma of morality,the shadow of deed,and the ombra of sin.

The Poet is the fantasy of each Sunrise and the illusion of every Sunset,

the wave in tide of wishes,carried in a bottle to  dune drunk shore.

The Poet is the believer, dream lover in a hot passionate crazy affair,

the magician who creates fables and fairytales from a deadly reality.

The Poet is the worker who works and works to survive,to cope in this

demanding,sophisticated,stigmatic  concrete hypocratic world.

The Poet is the thief of time,with eyes flutterin on late nights,

Still loyal to the pen,His thoughts  in verse,bleedin fragranted words.

The Poet is an Omnipotent servant,with a will to ask and crave to learn.

A Philosopher,whose always an amateur in the pursuit of wisdom.

The Poet is an eternal slave of His Muse,the beverage of inspiration,

the spouse married to literature,adulterer of lyric,deceiver of prose.

He Knows no lapsus in all that is scandalous,royalty or sacred.

He is the artist, musician, actor,the clairvoyant  of destined paths.

He is the cheap clay's mold,carved in the sculpture of the next century.

The Poet is the unfinished book,the chapter in yesterday,

He is the Nobody of today and the bookmark  of tomorrow.


                      T  H  E        POET     IS       YOU    ! ! !
 Oct 2010 JT-TJ
John Stevens
I wandered in a vast desert
  of misinformation
Looking for answers
Looking for help
  To resolve my hurts,
                my addiction.

I looked to the tree
              but
There was no help for me.
I looked to the rocks
               but
It smelled like homeless socks

From the smartest man
     of all the world
     came no relief from the pain,
That permeated my inner most being
     all seemed Lost,
     there was no gain.

Nothing satisfied
      nothing filled the hole,
      in my soul.
There was always doubt
      always fear.
      What did the future hold?
There was nothing to hold dear.

The Higher Powers I found
Were causing me to drown.

When hope had faded
       All seemed jaded
To a point of deep despair
God, if you are there
   touch my despair.
    Make me aware.
--

I looked to the Cross
of long ago, still stands
high on the hill,
In the minds and hearts
of the people who do
His, not their own will.

I saw what my soul
      was yearning for
I saw Love freely given
      as never before,
In the drops of loss
      at the foot of the Cross.

There, the chains I had on
that dragged  me down,
fell off. The load was gone.
I was free to soar
in new found love
as never before.

Glorious freedom
      as never before.
In His Love
      I soar.
         Forevermore.
(c) 09-14-2010
John Stevens
 Oct 2010 JT-TJ
Larry B
Granny's Art
 Oct 2010 JT-TJ
Larry B
My granny was only twelve years old
When she got her first tattoo
She was kind of a rebellious child
Back in nineteen twenty-two

She hid that thing for a little while
'Til her daddy finally got wise
He took that girl to the woodshed
With ****** in both of his eyes

He asked that girl, "What did you do,
Don't you know that's gotta be a sin?"
"Now look what you've done to your body,
Has your mama seen your skin?"

Now my granny was a stubborn child
She didn't listen to a word he said
She didn't hide the one she had
But she got three more instead

Now as my granny got older, so did her skin
And her ink was droopy and sad
You'd think that woman would feel remorse
But I think she was almost glad

Now the art sunk down to her elbows
As it wobbled to and fro
The butterfly tats would take to flight
Everywhere Granny would go

Now another tat was a bloodshot eye
But now it was always winking
On the other arm was a battleship
But of course that thing was sinking

Well that's the story of my granny's art
She lived to be a hundred and two
The day she died it said "Rest in peace"
Not the gravestone, her last tattoo
 Oct 2010 JT-TJ
deanena tierney
If I remained right here with you,
I know I'd be okay.
But okay is not enough for me,
So I just cannot stay.
It's time for me to wander far,
Alone in search of more,
But with an understanding,
That I did not have before.

You showed me how to believe again,
In others and also in me.
Please don't cry for too long, dear,
We just weren't meant to be.
And if I stay here any longer,
You'll miss your true soulmate,
So I'll kiss you goodbye for both our sake,
Before it is too late.
Next page