Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2017 K Mae
r
Leonard's choir
 Jan 2017 K Mae
r
She sang Hallelujah
I said Amen
sing it again
Sister
just like Leonard
in a voice
so light
and subtle
it could darken
dark eyes
and I will wear black
like a knight
who must compose
himself before day
breaks forever into
its weary fever.
 Jan 2017 K Mae
Joel M Frye
The source of words
is the very source
of human thought.

If we are to under-
stand one another,
we must find the source
of our words.

The sources of
our streams of consciousness
are as varied as nature;
from the highest pinnacles
to the bowels of the earth.
The nature of the sources
matters little.
The highest may be polluted;
the purest flow may come
from the deepest spring.

Recognizing our own source
is essential
when our streams merge.
Our thoughts commingle,
and still remain our own.
In the foaming tumble
over the boulders
of daily living,
it is well to remember
our innermost selves,
like the river,
need the aeration
of an outlet and a
                                few
                            ­           deep
                                                breaths.

On­ce we have come
to our under-
standing,
we need not remain
below those we now
stand under.

(the beauty of words
is the very beauty
of human thought)
 Jan 2017 K Mae
Joel M Frye
No poem
 Jan 2017 K Mae
Joel M Frye
if my words find no
melodious note
without accompaniment
then they are no poem

if they drop the chalice
meant to hold the last drop
of beautiful
then they are no poem

if they cannot feather in
the edges of madness
with strokes of reason
then they are no poem

if they gush unrestrained
and i cannot direct their flow
so they merely flood one's mind
then they are no poem

if they cannot pass
the judgement of their maker,
the Bosporus of his craft,
then they are no poem.
 Jan 2017 K Mae
spysgrandson
others in the ****** ascended
to their white, breathing heavens
one by one, as if saying goodbye,
to them, was a solitary act

leaving him alone,
on the high branch--he did not fall
when gusts shook the oak, though
during stillness, he dropped

to the next leafless limb,
there waiting for him patiently,
drenched in sunlight that made
the crow's coat glisten  

soon clouds blocked the sun,
downdrafts pounded the tree;
he did not fall, until
the skies cleared    

then, to the lowest limb
he descended, now but feet above
a blanket of leaves, soon
to be his bed

other creatures would come, communing
with him in their way: his flesh becoming
their flesh, a sacred chemistry for all life,
after its pitiless descent to death
The spider was watching Cathy finish her cake.

Thank God, it thought, she hasn't seen me
green me hiding in the green grass, it was grinning.

Why are you so scared of me, Cathy?
do I look ugly, mean, harmful?
once I saw me in a dewdrop
on a blade of grass
the reflection was quite majestic
my eyes were dark as the deep sea
held only peace and no malice.

You too are so cute Cathy
a butterfly in the meadow
on the sky a sparkling rainbow
and how I would have loved
spin my web right there
in the thicket of your hair.

Cathy was singing.

It needed her one glance
to see the spider dance.
Thought to begin the year with a children's poem :)
 Jan 2017 K Mae
Marian
May ravens sing to you
May they brighten Winter's dreary walks
As fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet
And the sky grows a melancholy gray
May cheerfulness run forth to greet you
With happy, outstretched arms
May no rain or darkness sadden your day
May only beauty, wishes, and dreams
Dance inside your head
Happy Birthday, Dad!

**~Marian~
Sorry for my long absence from HP!!
We (my parents and I) have had a LOT
Come up lately, so if I'm not always
On here reading and writing poetry, please understand!!
However today I knew I had to write something...
Today is my Dad, Timothy's birthday!!
Sorry if this doesn't sound like my usual style,
But it was quite randomly written!!!
Enjoy anyways!!!! :) <3
I watch as a ****** of crows fly over
Cawing loudly
Deafening in their wake
Landing upon a barren tree
Giving the illusion of life
I stare pointedly at this ******
Then, they quiet
A fog of silence
Loud and unrelenting
No cars to be heard
Insects hushed
The only sound is the beating of my heart
They move as one
Heads turning simultaneously
Eyes staring back
Only one opens its maw
A screech of terror comes out
They are warning me
Of what, I do not know
In the screech I do understand
A trial is set before me
One I must withstand
Next page