"carole" poems
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
*that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows the when and why of differing
cuddling styles...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows when to leave a man alone
alone in his man-mourning time,
distance needed,
letting his ex-rage dissipate or
watching his red and blue football
redefine ignominy...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift,
she heartily agrees and is
reciprocity rewarded regularly
with hunk alerts of
"hey-check-him-out!"
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
a tigress in the bedroom
she asking, try this, I'll love it,
served with a desert demo of awkward afterward,
his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who doesn't abhor partner silences,
comforting they are, in their own ways,
lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and
sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who lets the man roar, top of voice,
when imprisoned in car,
his voice, un enfant terrible,
performs with Creedence Clearwater
a sing-a-long in traffic, asking
"Have you ever seen the rain"
while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt
Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E.
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
when it's pheromones alternative mode day,
he celebrates Carole King day,
she demonstrates her cuddling abilities,
par excellence, with kisses and tissues
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, plain confident in her abilities
no matter the situational status,
when confronted by
less-than-crazy-impetuous,
she smiling says "why not,"
when he proposes,
a movie and dinner in a fav haunt?
"plenty excellent enough" her answer,
spoke in a rising voice
full of unfeigned delight
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
accepting the unexpected airport embrace
on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays
with the aplomb of a well lived life's
long term sustainability perspective
when he kisses her hand for no reason,
while driving 75 miles per hour,
she only winces internally,
the other hand vise-grasping
the other door's handle,
who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie,
celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's
duality of strength and tenderness
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when on second date he proposes
a non-exclusive relationship,
confident enough to high-five respond,
and laugh about it,
seven years on
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when she reads it,
analyzing the oeuvre as
"too **** personal and
as usual
too **** long"*
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her
cuddling abilities
in everything...
even a little occasional criticism
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
THE BEAUTIFUL FACE
MATLOOB BOKHARI
I saw a moving full moon over the sea
Then I saw the face of a maiden
I stopped and said, “Moon is fair
But the sweet magic of her face is
Fairer far, which attracted my eyes
Captured my heart and won my soul.
Moon tries to imitate hr face and
Rose tries to copy her lips in vain!
She is beautiful,she is most beautiful!"
Niamh Dada Land Lovely friend. Many Blessings
Michele Vizzotti-White I totally like the first one, it was vivid and I saw how the rose must have felt, they r both awesome and fanciful, a maiden more fair than the moon wow that is a powerful statement, the 1st one reminds me of a painting the second one a song of love, both lovely though
Demelia Denton Lovely written words Matloob Bokhari
Barbara Shoetaker And is this fair woman still the one who stole you heart?
Semeniuk Carole you know how much I love your poetry . your stories .. the way in which only you can tell it ~~ thank you my long time friend, Matloob Bokhari .. wishing you well .. alwayS !
ina Farnworth What a beautiful verse Matloob, thank you so much for
Connie Hofacker Hemmerich Senter Thank you, for sharing this lovely poem, Matloob.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
Its times like this
when its quiet and still
that I realize just how much I miss you
Oh My Daughter
I miss you so much
It kills me inside
the pain I feel
It hits me like a tidal wave
and tears stream down my face
I just want to scream to the sky
"BRING HER BACK TO ME"
My chest tightens
and my body starts to shake
I cant catch my breath
and the depression sinks in
I just want to crawl into a hole
and cry until my heart gives in
I just want to go back in time
And save you from this fate.
You were my strength
what kept me going day to day
With out you here I feel so lost
I feel like just giving up.
Baby girl I need you here
I need you back in my life
This isn't fair to me or you
You never got a chance
I wont ever hear you say Mommy
Or hear you say I love you
I will never feel a hug from you
or a kiss on my cheek.
There isn't a second that goes by
That I don't think of you.
You are forever in my heart
and forever a part of my soul.
Stay safe up there Carole
Watch over daddy and I
I'll see you again someday baby girl
I love you.
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
~
October 2023
HP Poet: Maddy
Age: 65
Country: USA
Question 1: We welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Maddy. Please tell us about your background?
Maddy: "Retired Teacher now Media and Digital Literacy Educational Consultant and writer."
Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?
Maddy: "Been writing since I was eight. Three years now as an HP member."
Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).
Maddy: "Poetry wakes me in the middle of the night on airplanes and when I walk. It is still one of my best friends other than my husband, sister, and Best BFF Irene."
Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?
Maddy: "It is my friend and companion and is a precious asset. Without it my life would be empty."
Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?
Maddy: "Thoreau, EE Cummings, Sappho, MAYA Angelou, Carole King, Emily Torres, Mary Oliver, Millay, and many here on HEPO."
Question 6: What other interests do you have?
Maddy: "I love Travel, Photographer, Nature, Cooking, Theatre, Concerts, and Reading."
Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for giving us an opportunity to get to know you, dear Maddy! You are a wonderful addition to the series!”
Maddy: "Thanks and looking forward to it and your review of my book on Amazon."
Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Maddy a little bit better. I indeed did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)
We will post Spotlight #9 in November!
~
Oct 1, 2023
Oct 1, 2023 at 3:33 PM UTC
by David Patrick Mowers
Been together a long, long time,
your heart and hand held close to mine,
but after fourteen years,
and you know some thousand tears...
I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.
Had some problems in our life...
times I weren't your Man, times you weren't my Wife,
..but after Fourteen Years,
and you know some thousand tears..
I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.
Oh no more..
No, no, no-o....no more-or
Still have to think about,
all the things we couldn't talk out....
..but I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore...
Oh I know I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.
Now the end is finally come,
new things have now begun,
funny, I still think of you,
...and all the things that we've been through,
But I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.
No, no I don't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore.
I can't wear my heart on my sleeve anymore,
no more...
...I don't wear it no more,
I don't wear it!
I don't wear it no more....
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 12:39 AM UTC
Little Carole Jean
You were born to early
Only 20 weeks and 4 days into my pregnancy
Born without a heartbeat
I held you in my arms
So tiny so fragile
8.6oz and only 21 inches long
But so beautiful and pure
You had your daddy's long legs
And my annoying chin
Nine Perfect Baby fingers
And Your tiny feet so cute
I'm so sorry babygirl
That mommy couldn't protect you
I failed you little one
Please can you forgive me.
I see how Daddy cries for you
His eyes show how much he misses you
You were his world, his little princess
I miss you so much
I miss you growing inside me
Watching your daddy wrap his arms around my tummy
And say he is on protection duty
I wish I could have watched you grow up
I can picture you in my mind
Dark unruly red hair
And bright blue eyes like daddy
Your dad would have had to chase all the boys away
I wish I could wake up from this nightmare
And erase this whole last week
Look down and see my bellies small bump
Can I go back to when things were good?
Rest Easy Carole Jean
Be safe up there ok?
You have a whole lot of people to meet you there
And a whole lot of people still yet to come
I will see you again one day
Until then please be good.
I cant wait to hold you again
And I know Daddy can't either.
We will be a family again one day
Until then you are always in my heart.
I will NEVER forget you
I dont think I ever could
I love you daughter
And forever always will
You are with me for eternity
My little baby Carole Jean
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 12:23 PM UTC
I didn't write this work, it was written by my dear friend Carole Hurley who has been having a problem posting
I sit on the top deck of a red London bus and view the world passing by, so much more interesting than a drive in a car.
Where are they all coming from, the people I see? Where are they going to, what do they do with their lives? These people I view.
That little old couple, side by side holding hands. They look so content as they walk down the Strand.
The young men and women hurrying by, perhaps going to work, maybe going to buy a sandwich to eat in the park.
Tourists in their thousands viewing our London sites. I wonder where do they all go to at night.
I gaze eagerly down as we pass famous stores, their names proudly emblazoned over the doors.
I love the hustle and bustle of our London town, a wonderful mix of the old and the new, I try to absorb all the breathtaking views.
Theres Tower Bridge in her livery of gold and of blue, her ramps held aloft as a ship passes through.
Whitehall where the soldier high on his horse so proud and so still, while tourists take photographs later to view.
Big Ben chimes as the Houses of Parliament we pass. Westminster Abbey so stately and tall, for hundreds of years overlooking it all, the laughter the sadness, the tears and the fears.
I look at new buildings all made out of glass. I look at it free courtesy of my free bus pass.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:59 AM UTC
I singe with a hertly lud whan ycham herty,
And I arme whan singinge is ne ynewe.
Carole whan my corage blissieth,
And I shal deye whan his blase deyeth.
Druerie shal be his a-brune billets.
A stable blase that shal sustene my spyrakles.
A schrewe destroyere that kesseth so dimliche.
A þeauful kempe with an as-spire swerde.
Gostes of i-þank als ouer my vingeres.
Al-only dulce conceiptes fletene in my gostes.
Sumdel real cannot be als amaddinge.
Sumdel real cannot be te-tealte!
Is the mannish þonc als mase and puissant
Sweuenen of suic a selkout conand?
Dest Moder Folde cune of hire child?
Hire misty doter who berne and bilde?
The hoom is not where the herte is.
The herte is the hoom bote motif
The herte, the hoom, the ende, and the sepulture.
A luft who is the mest derure in the Folde.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
"Janice, I sat next to you in Latin.
We were sophomores.
You were a cheerleader
but smart too.
The excitement was unbearable
(Cicero; the shape of your sweater . . . ).
I asked you to play tennis."
"You did never."
"Yes, I did."
"I suppose I didn't want to get sweaty."
"So then you would have gone with me to a movie?"
"No, I doubt it. . . . I was a brat."
"You were divine.
I wrote a poem for you in Latin."
"Lynda, we met at The Three Penny Opera.
You were an usher.
I was a college student; you were in high school."
"Yes, a 'townie'."
"I put my arm around you.
I stroked your hair.
When I tried to kiss you on the forehead our noses collided."
"I was expecting a lip kiss."
"It was a powerful attraction,
but it wouldn't have worked."
"No, we could have made great love,
but it wouldn't have lasted."
"Gina, you lived on that 'hippie farm'
at the edge of town.
I was the 'knowing elder',
the one who'd worked on a real farm.
You were so high-energy, so alluring.
Guys flocked to you:
William and Michael; Davy, back home;
sexually involved with all of them."
"Not Michael really."
"You seduced me--
I think you wanted to make William jealous--
not that I was unwilling. . . .
I was, however, impotent."
"I wanted adventure and, yes, I suppose I did want to make
William jealous."
"Our intimacy awakened me.
I realized what I'd been missing.
Your rejection was devastating."
"I didn't mean to hurt you.
I didn't know you were so fragile."
"Carla, I loved you in your apartment.
It was all softness and warmth;
**** carpet, soft bed,
Carole King on the stereo. . . .
We slept together, showered together."
"I really listened to Carole King?"
"Your parents were divorcing.
You didn't have time for a relationship."
"I don't think I was ready."
"Just as I was overcoming my impotency. . . ."
"Sarah, I loved you on a camping trip.
We kissed at dusk in the Great Smoky Mountains."
"I remember."
"I felt so connected--
physically, intellectually, emotionally.
You smiled with your whole face, with your whole being.
I wanted to be with you steadily.
You said it wouldn't work.
I guess you were right:
I couldn't love someone who couldn't love me completely.
When we parted,
I cried uncontrollably."
"Yes,
I remember."
Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 11:00 PM UTC
Carole was one
of the shortest girls
in class;
she had blonde
short cropped hair
and sat next to Miss Pretty,
and was always yakking,
always giving her opinion
on something or other,
her voice was high
( as if someone had
grabbed her ****
Reynard said),
her eyes blue,
her compact body
(seen from behind)
was clothed in the cardigan
and skirt and blouse
of the uniform of the school.
You watched her
as she put a hand
to the side of her mouth
and whispered to Miss Pretty.
Her thin small hand
hid her mouth;
just the whispering sound
hung on the air.
Can you be quiet, Carole,
Miss Graham, the teacher said.
Reynard whispered,
fancy being married to her;
she'd wear your ears away,
with her non-stop tongue.
And looked at her backside,
imagine that lying next
to you in bed each morning,
he added.
You tried not to,
imagine that is,
not that at least,
Miss Pretty maybe,
you thought,
taking in her thin frame
beside short ass Carole
sitting next to her.
Miss Graham put on
the Mozart LP
on the record player
and the class sat
bemused or bored,
except Miss Pretty
whose head nodded slowly,
whose foot tapped
a silent beat
and shorty Carole
whose mouth was sealed,
arms crossed,
elbows on the desk,
sat with eyes fixed
on the record player.
While Reynard muttered comments
about both the girls,
debating in whispered voice,
who had the biggest backside,
or smallest *******
who he would least like
to kiss, while you,
wondering how long
it took for the Mozart guy
to compose the stuff,
noticing Miss Pretty's
pointing finger
conducting,
some imagined orchestra,
her long wrist moving
like a moving swan,
her head to one side,
stirring momentarily,
an odd feeling within you,
which you had to hide.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 3:44 AM UTC
Me and Carole, Carole and me
Do I love her? Yes
Does she love me ? Yes
Can we be together one day?
I remember our holiday in Malta
She looked so radiant
But oh how ill, cancer
A woman who had dealt with cancer patients all her life
She is a Catholic and so I took her to a special church on Gozo
The church of miracles
She had a special blessing there
And I think for her that was the highlight of the holiday
And then into hospital
Both ******* removed and a bit more
The times she tried to give up, she just wanted to die
I gave her abuse no normal human would have ever accepted
But deep down I like to think I kept her alive
One major problem, she has a partner, I have a wife
But I love Carole
I will let you my peers judge me
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
THE BEAUTIFUL FACE
MATLOOB BOKHARI
I saw a moving full moon over the sea
Then I saw the face of a maiden
I stopped and said, “Moon is fair
But the sweet magic of her face is
Fairer far, which attracted my eyes
Captured my heart and won my soul.
Moon tries to imitate hr face and
Rose tries to copy her lips in vain!
She is beautiful,she is most beautiful!"
Niamh Dada Land Lovely friend. Many Blessings
Michele Vizzotti-White I totally like the first one, it was vivid and I saw how the rose must have felt, they r both awesome and fanciful, a maiden more fair than the moon wow that is a powerful statement, the 1st one reminds me of a painting the second one a song of love, both lovely though
Demelia Denton Lovely written words Matloob Bokhari
Barbara Shoetaker And is this fair woman still the one who stole you heart?
Semeniuk Carole you know how much I love your poetry . your stories .. the way in which only you can tell it ~~ thank you my long time friend, Matloob Bokhari .. wishing you well .. alwayS !
ina Farnworth What a beautiful verse Matloob, thank you so much for
Connie Hofacker Hemmerich Senter Thank you, for sharing this lovely poem, Matloob.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
AN ODE TO A BABY
MATLOOB BOKHARI
I saw a baby in a valley wet with dews
Standing in the wholesome herbs
And flowers of fresh hues
Plain air was ruffling her hair
She was honey sweet and a pure chaste lily
No bee has ****** her; no wasp has stung her
The valley was alive with the music of stream
With flowers so various, so beautiful, so new,
So stunning sunlit blue sky, so sweet cool breeze
In the valley , the baby was the most delightful flower
I praised her with all my heart and with all my mind
O sweet heaven, lucky will be the one
Who will pass his life with you!
Few moments in the valley have made a forever memory
Still smell perfume of her beauty when lay awake at night
The baby even to date brightens up my soul with her smiles
Semeniuk Carole Matloob Bokhari . that is a huge compliment coming from such a worldly writer as you my friend .. .. thank you . You've such a gift ; you are talented; and we are blessed to have the privilege of hearing your stories; experiences; dreams; thoughts ~~ indeed we are .. .. happy weekend my friend PEACE
Demelia Denton My goodness Matloob ... so many expressive words you write ... A great mind for words ... very nice
Sandra Delussu something worth to keep in your eyes. thanks Matloob
Rebecca Longan I love this my friend Matloob Bokhari
Christy Noel Feddersen My Grandma Feddersen (God rest her soul) used to call me "Flower". She said I was the first little flower of the Lord. She was wise and filled with Spirit, and taught me many things. I have been thinking a lot about her lately, and this reminded me that she is always with me. Thank you.
Debbie Tripp · Friends with Christy Noel Feddersen
She is always with you Sunshine \
Sand Tucker Lovely write. It carried me back to when my children were actually children. A sweet journey. Thank you.
Karyn Walker I tried to send you what I saw, in your manuscript, dear brother Matloob. From my heart to yours.
Stunning lines.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
The last time I saw you,
Hope shown from your eyes,
A smile lit your face and you were ready.
The last words I heard from your mouth were
“I love you”.
I said them back as the elevator doors were closing.
We smiled at each other and waved goodbye.
When I heard you were gone the next morning
My world stopped for a moment.
There would be no hope for you now.
But also no more pain.
No more suffering.
God had taken you home.
I still miss you so much.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:40 AM UTC
It’s sad
how the people
you were once
so close with
can become
just another
stranger
you don’t know
Inspired song
1) You’ve got a friend by Carole King
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 1:45 AM UTC
again, and weaving.
we listen to the coventry carole,
the little tiny child, fingers tapping
in time, the medieval, the membrance
of cathedral . walking up hill chanting.
repeatedly. they moved the stairs.
we hold the cotton, the wool
for comfort.
sbm.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
We all have our taste.
We all are judgments.
And in music there's no different.
Except, people personal opinions.
Benny Goodman.
Duke Ellington.
Glenn Miller.
Doing their time, they were the music of soul to many.
When people probably dance a little different.
Frank Sinatra.
Vic Damone.
Nat King Cole.
Doing their era music had changed.
More was borrowed from the previous decade.
Elvis.
Little Richard.
Buddy Holly.
Fats Domino.
Gene Vincent.
Jackie Wilson and Sam Cooke.
And yes, Pat Boone too.
The music of the soul were beaingt to a different tone.
Then came the sixties.
And a various style came before us.
The Rascals.
The Beatles.
Donovan.
The Beach Boys.
The Temptations and the Supremes and the Miracles.
Was totally changed from Neal Sedaka early days.
James Taylor, Carole King, Elton John and the Eagles.
Marvin Gaye, Teddy Pendegrass and the O'jays.
Was the masters of the seventies decades
The the eighties came.
And again the music changed.
Rick James, Prince and Madonna too.
Don't we see all the above artists in the music of today.
Especially, in rap.
Where they take an old song and tries to create a new tune.
And questions, why they getting sued?
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
Why am I still doing this?
The road no longer offers
What I had hoped it would offer.
I ran out of my money weeks ago,
And the only money these gigs offer
Are just enough to get me
To my next gig.
Every morning I wake up inside my car,
Frost on my windshield and hair,
Not sure where I'm going next,
But not ready to go home.
I smoke some stranger's
Thrown away half cigarette for breakfast ,
And put all of my trust
In Paul Simon and Adam Duritz
To get me to my next stop alive.
I haven't written a new song in months,
And all the ones I keep playing
Have grown old and stale--
Maria being the only song I can still sing
With passion.
Yet I keep doing it,
My todays following my yesterdays,
Each day a shadow of the last.
I found an old Carole King CD
Underneath my passengers seat,
And I let it remind me that someone
Is still riding next to me.
Reno sounds nice.
I might go there next.
I pop in the CD,
Hoping to find some comfort,
But all I hear is Carole's voice
Reminding me of everyone
Who is still so far away.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
winter bare her soul.
medieval trees reach up
for solstice and better days.
sing in silence and simplicity.
sing for those in remembrance .
dark winter bares the soul, those
that believe. sing in silence.
one voice breaks.
dark winter.
sbm
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
Our train comes to a standstill
looking down on a bluebell graveyard
where lines of tall green headstones stand
shoulder to shoulder, arms length apart.
The ones near the wall lean
on each other, like friends,
as in life. Carole says each one of those
upright stones is a person, standing,
looking right back at us asking what do we do
now? I ponder that thought.
Carole wants Coldplay’s, Why Worry going
in and Eminem’s, Lose Yourself as people are leaving.
She holds me responsible.
She doesn't want flowers, they always make her sneeze.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
Don’t just rely on the clay, perse.
Live life
From the spirit,
Listen- to it.
There is no death
Only life
Or the lack thereof
Or there is only light or dark.
No time
but only space.
Everyone who was anyone is still,
Will always be with us.
Carole King is a part of me.
All of the remakes of King Kong are also me.
I am also The Women. A Star Is Born.
Hello Dolly.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC
By: Reuben Paredes
Oh, Christmas I’ve seen you in my past,
Were my childhood, innocent is instill,
Like a child waiting for the present,
Until, I unwrapped my gift and felt content,
As I smiled and keep enjoy at will,
In hoping that each memory may lasts,
How is different the feeling to be a child?
With the cold wind, blown in wild,
And imagine, the tidings in tenderness mild,
Would it be the same today?
Of the glimpse of my youth is gone,
In zenith of Yule, may I salvage of my heyday,
Will my shout of hurrah! Is enough and done,
Whatever will be the tomorrow brings,
May the Old Christmas Carole will be hear and sing,
Like a wind chimes that sounds serene,
Be the light in my eyes to be seen,
Let, your bright star, be shine above,
And be the lambent light, glows in our beloved.
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC
Carole King and crickets
tonight i'm scrubbing the day's labor and auras of others from my feet
and breaking my heart all over again reading love poetry
and Grandma's Keats she will have me read at her funeral
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 6:53 AM UTC
Recently I've been reading a book about American Bandstand from Philadelphia 1957-1963
and it's given me what I call the Bandstand Blues
where I recall a bygone era
when things were much simpler
and wish I was coping now
like I did back then
rather than being swarmed under by the undercurrent of
the jet age and the age of the computer,
where I had teen crushes
on the like of Arlene Sullivan, Carole Sealdeferri, and Trini Giordano
such that I daydreamed about being famous like they were someday
and going off and meeting them and dancing with them
Unfortunately that dream never
came true
Being a loner back then, I was envious
of the teen parties all the regulars had that I read about in the teen magazines
I would have like a
social life like that
wanting to go with what were considered the truly neat girls in school,
and vicariously imagining
myself up there as one of the
regulars in what seemed like
their bump and grind dances
and discovering my puberty that way
rather than through several girlfriends I had in school
a little bit
admiring the nice story of
**** Clark and wanting to
emulate him someday
which I fell far short of
as I grew old
although like I say, I managed to acquire some
wealth later on in life
Wanting to have trendy clothes
and trendy hairstyles
like the boys did
rather than being
rather dowdy in my opinion then,
and imagining what it would be like
growing up in probably what was a little more
sophisticated atmosphere back east
as I could tell from family vacations there
But I do cherish the fascination
The good side of bandstand in the book
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 11:52 AM UTC
Feeling the day as it passes
to memory from the now
Finds my wonder of life's spaces
sweeping the sweat from my brow
So as the day now spins along
reckless and out of control
No hand upon the tiller's wheel
with no aim in life or goal
Cast to a life of drudgery
full to the rim with despair
Life seems too close to misery
lost souls live everywhere
The roadside vendors give respite
to the holes in their worn shoes
As all go running on and on
playing life unto the blues
The sound from the touting vendors
carole "Save your soul" and more
Learn to tolerate the preaching
take your soup as if a chore
Not surprised to hear their answer
when they're asked which they prefer
Would you rather have all wisdom
or be an entrepreneur
Knowledge is said the enemy
of the working common man
Slave, toil and suffer to the sound
of a life without a plan
Now walk the streets of the lonely
with no bed to lay your brow
Push along the cart you call home
of the fate you disavow
For that is all that's left of you
to hang your dignity on
You've lost the hopes of any dreams
your family is all gone
Pride now carried upon the wind
everything has a price and fee
Won't someone smile, hold out a hand
to share salvation with me
Tate
© 2014 Tate Morgan
Written
February 15, 2014
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC