"febuary" poems
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
And Bingo was his name-o!
Ah!
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole
Eek gad!
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
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12345678
12345
12345678
12344
12344556
12344
12344556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
Together we fall!
United I stand.
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
True or False?
Hide and Seek
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
We have created a figmentative reality,
where words are symbols of relation
that you and I falsify
And Bingo was his name-o!
Ah!
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
What do you mean?
and how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole
Eek gad!
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August 28th
Sept Oct Nov Dec
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
12344
12344556
12344
12344556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
Together we fall!
United I stand.
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
Repetition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
True or False?
Hide and Seek
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
Asterisk*
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
The death of the Newfoundland Regiment
They attacked after the Hawthorne mine was blown
But it never saved them
Newfoundland boys then crossed the line
And death was there to claim them
Most never made it to the starting trench
Now choked with dead and dying
For just four hundred yards away
German machine guns were barking
There is a place called Dead Tree
Where we were not to tread
For it now marks the place
Of so many Newfoundland dead
Beaumont Hamel now the resting place
Of boys so far from home
Beaumont Hamel now the place
Where heroic Newfoundland ghosts
Will ever roam
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
her endless summer dream
gathers dust on its sand encrusted photo of
beach blanket love affairs
jet planes departing for distant lands
she had her five and dime sunglasses
and a transistor radio
tuned to the cheerful forever summer song
still has that picture of her in the fall of 66
hamming it up for the camera with her Stanley
he passed a while back
now she shuffles up along the seawall
with her big hat and her bags
candy for little ones
a kiss on the cheek for the nice
young man who brings the paper
its miami in febuary
its endless summer
its brighton beach's southside
and i know ill have to stay
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
EMOTIONS OF A BURDENED WOMAN
Ayad Gharbawi
Febuary 16, 2010
If I feel
My tears
Rupturing
And if I feel
My fractured language
To be worthless
I am
Seeming to be seen
By you
But in reality
I know
That I am really
Nowhere
I am
An
Inert being
That has no gravity
You did punish me
Your people
Did beat me
Enough
Don’t you think
I have had enough
Or should I have more
Of your stinging rage
Against me
But you never understand
Or understood
That I did nothing
And that I am innocent
These are my words
Written for my babies
And to you
Anyone out
There
Who may read my
Words
These words
Express feelings
And feelings
Express **** severe pain
That really burns.
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 7:59 AM UTC
Dearest Molly left me Sunday
she'd been with me for so long
paid just twenty bucks to finally
walk her home so young and strong
always barked as I was leaving
broken lighter, stolen shoe
but she'd come each time I call her
Dearest Molly I miss you
~~~~~~~~~~~
1997 to febuary 24th, 2013
©2013 Lyn
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
I never know when its going to happen-
waking up in the middle of the night and not seeing you,
or feeling you..... next to me .......
"She fell asleep again on the sofa", I say to myself-
Quietly, I get up, walk toward the living room-
it is then I realize, again, that you had left this mortal earth-
Nine years ago.
Love never dies, does it?
copyright: richard riddle Febuary 06, 2015
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 11:57 AM UTC
he was a tin man
ever shy in the shadow of snow
and the asphalt encrusted with salt.
i am a deaf mute in its cold sunshine thru the bare trees
i am the writers reader caught up in the manyfold words
bright and crisp on my stuttering tongue
caught up in the beauty of the phrase
wishing only for its tender workings on my pale lips
caught in the web of light falling thru the bare trees
by the christmas tree so forlorn in febuary wind...
he was a soft spoken tin man
ever shy in the shadow of snow
and the asphalt encrusted with salt
the turbulent sea of my dreams
lashes line and sail with its icebound hand
as i stray between the vision you wept in ink on page
and the words you spoke
soft as a kittens fur
into my sleeping ear
a spun tale
thrashing against me
i am shy with my eyes flirting with yours
look away and recapture your gaze
the asphalt at my feet stained with winters salt
i leave my footprint behind
and wander away into the field of rye
swaying under a cold sun
never to hear the tin man sing again
after he was caught by the catcher in the rye
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 8:25 PM UTC
twelve days in july
and i carry tokens of each of them
in the pocket of my filthy jeans
each has a face
each has a story and its own trail
of rages or tears
she danced alone in the room
of the redhouse bodega
a spanish tune twisting slowly from the player
its sound thin but the song robust
spinning spinning round and round
she was shadow and light
flashes of rich color
in her best dress and boots of leather
hear them still hitting the hardpack floor
like thunder
she was a goddess that night
she was the worlds that night
let her stay there forever in the limelight
happy in the moment
he waited dressed in his finest clothes
pressed and neat from head to toe
with a single rose
in the moonlight a mile down from the redhouse
in his heart he sings that song to her
in his heart he holds her in his arms
theres nothing that will stop us he says
theres nothing that will ever stand in our way
and his heart dances thru all the days with her
that he will love her
that they will share
there in the moonlight a mile down from the redhouse
singing a song in his heart for her
let him abide there forever
happy in the moment
i see dawn sneaking in the window
pull the blanket from my shoulder
shake off the chill
cough the sickhouse regret and
feel my lungs fill with slow death
twelve days in july
but i keep dreamin of one night in febuary
a shopping cart and smiles
hope
i could use some
all the places i could have ended
did not see this one
alone in an empty broken room
an empty broken man
dont leave me here alone
in this moment
she lay in the grass
public park just before dawn
looking up at the stars fade
holding a small budda
rubbing the belly
smile on her face
but thoughts run deep and swift
with one finger she traces the edges of clouds
in her heart she paints masterpieces
she illustrates the world with a carefree hand
and is loved by all who behold
in her heart
the last sliver of moonlight is hers alone
on the road from the redhouse
an ambulance ride to saving
a quick journey to hope
on the road from the redhouse
she just wants to stay here where its safe
where nothing dangerous can get at her
in this moment of moonlight
happiness
twelve days in july
seem like years to me
where am i bound
will i make it
i just want that night
shopping carts and smiles
hope
just a glimmer of hope
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
Dark haird goddess,
wolf hunt siren smile,
blue blue blue,
eyes,
it's snowing,
in my plastic room,
dead world war 2 grandfather,
in my blue rocking chair,
she is leaving on a plane,
feabuary 6th,
i think i'll take the tamed highway,
a gold place,
silver pawn shop,
back to Texas,
in that green motel,
i'll look for that,
pawned birth stone bracelet.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
It doesn't matter does it
No matter how hard you try the rain will still seep into your shoes
on the cold Febuary mornings that are too short and so long
No one cares the time it took to learn the tricks
and how you sat there, staring at the wall and the back of a red head
until your feet were numb and your eyes began to doubt
If i had a child I would tell them to never go down the path I wanted
It is too bumpy and full of old trees like the path that beauty looked down before choosing to ride.
I would ask them to keep dreams small and feelings smaller
and fill their big eyes with present not hope.
But I would have lied, and in lying only woken to want to dream again
I want so much.
And it feels too big for one body to take the knocks that rein down.
and its only the second one.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
A man has his wife,
And a queen has her king,
But when it comes to me; Strife…
No such thing, not even a fling.
Not one person is willingly mine,
Mine so sweet as to not be my valentine.
If I am to spend a life alone,
How long should I wait?
For my heart to turn to stone.
A lover has his companion,
And a girlfriend has her boyfriend,
But I have no net to land in.
And no one to hold me until the end.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 5:17 PM UTC
You ate my heart when I was young and now I’m stuck in neutral
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
Haiku:
#9
Crowning the moon in rainbows,
The clouds
#10
Warm Febuary
Finally Rain
Sidewalk Salamanders
#11
Rainwater
Gathering
Underground
#12
A lonely wind
is keeping the door open
#13
soft
the morning light
birdsong
#14
new moon pinetrees
waiting for the
wind
#15
Last night's fire
Dying
Under the sun
Senryū:
#11
Watching the rain
Waiting for a poem
#12
Reading to stay awake
Falling asleep
with the light on
#13
Rooster at dawn
Rising
to **** him
#14
outside
the city sounds
inside listening
#15
Breath
Following Breath
Following
#16
a quiet drum
the children sleeping
#17
step after step
we will rest
but not yet
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
I've dreaded that day for quite some time
The flowers aren't mine, they're hers
The smiles aren't mine, they're hers
The love isn't yours it's hers
and not only hers
but mine
Love,
Love that is real makes you forget
makes you depend
makes you forget
all of the lovers that have gone
makes you depend
when your heart beats louder than you hear
and when kisses are an escape
or a taste of chaos in your brain
love is the simple act
a simple act of feeling
feeling you
feeling through you
love is not the red red roses
but the long night talks to a silent television screen
love is the simple closeness and intimacy
a word you know nothing about
a word you judge you know
but intimacy is not only physical
but the way that I knew what you were going to say before you would
and catching the lie beforw it came out
and understanding your eyes don't lie
I hope you fall in love as many times as you please
but for what it's worth I'll never fall for anyone else
not for you
but for the thought of you and what it gives me
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC
A queen has her man beside her,
Sitting upon the throne.
But I am destined, for sure,
To spend my eternity alone.
Not a single living soul,
Is willingly mine,
All the hearts that I stole,
Mine so sweet, as to not be my valentine.
If I am to spend my life alone,
How long should I wait?
For my heart to turn to stone,
Or for my desires to satiate.
A Woman has her husband,
But what does that leave me?
Unfortunately, time has run out of sand,
An empty life, for me, as far as my eyes can see.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 5:17 PM UTC
I always talked about writing a book and getting out there but now I'm really beginning to use my brain and I think that writing A single book would be the stupidest thing I could ever do. It's because stories and poetry and language, **** life itself doesn't end after a certain number or pages. You don't ever stop failing or creating, you're constantly revolving and revolving, we're constantly gaining a want for more, giving us this thirst for a sequel. And to write two or three books would be just as dumb because some things just don't make sense when they're split up. Take us humans for example; We are born into this life with the mission to find the arms belonging to another that we will call home to at the end of each day. We set out and we fail a million times over again but then we succeed. We search and search until we are found by finding. We have two hands, two eyes, two legs and we double that each time we reach out or hands to hold or to be held, each time we look into the eyes of another only to see a reflection of ourselves that's not yet been warped, each time we put one foot in front of the other in complete darkness to show that we'd fall to our death if it meant them making it out into the light. Our head, heart and hopes long to be on the same wavelength as another. Which is why books cannot be written with the intent of having an ending or a sequel. We are matches to those who carry candles and while we burn out, we are lit again, we constantly begin again and again; We do not just end, we are dropped, we drop and we pick up, we get picked back up again.
S. Mia Febuary 15 2015
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
I could ruin her life.
I won't.
I could though.
When I was explaining how she knew I cut, I could have slipped a
•Omitted due to some promise I made•
or a
"Oh, and she has scars all over her body."
But I didn't.
I'll let her learn alone, the punishment for forcing me into health.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
the white language of snowfall lay
perfectly still where sunshine once warmed
a shaft of light pierces the evening tide of falling snowflakes
a point of reference for the weary footfall of
the man heading home
warm sweet home
his steps retraced leave one with
the enduring feeling that this vast sea of snow
covering the ground in gentle undulation
is but a foretaste of days of cold febuary to come
the winds tugs at his hood
and cling to his heart
in this the depths of winter
as he plunders his next
footstep from the cold crisp snow
it stirs thoughts of desolation
but he can see clearly sings of life
the tracks of a small creature as
it too reached for it home and warmth
in some nest or burrow
he feels the turning tides of this nights snow
he understands the meaning of these changes
to where summer sun once stretched the days into
long comforting green beauty of vibrant life
where spring will come
to melt away the white carpet which
he lays his mind on this night
where he will dream once more of
the beautiful summer sun will grow upon him
like the embrace of a lover
like the truth of passing seasons
write their own passionate tales
with the wind and skies
with the beauty of dark and light mixed
in the heart of our dreams
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
I never know when its going to happen-
waking up in the middle of the night and not seeing you,
or feeling you, next to me
"She fell asleep again on the sofa", I say to myself-
Quietly, I get up, walk toward the living room-
it is then I realize, again, that you had left this mortal earth-
Eight years ago.
Love never dies, does it?
copyright: richard riddle Febuary 06, 2015
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
febuary 11, 2014
sometimes I find myself
talking to the wall;
but if someone were to catch me,
I'd say I was talking to your ghost.
Though your presence seems dead,
you are still alive to me.
I've kissed you,
and held your hand,
and comforted you,
only to realize,
you're nothing but a blank white wall.
(NJ2014) all rights reserved.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
Looking back and remembering , even thought nothing was true , the person I dedicated my heart to , would turn around without a clue
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
What a beautiful day
The sun is shining
The birds are chirping
The surface of this beautiful earth is glowing
Radiating with beautiful life
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
This time of year is yours.
I can't help but to think of you,
with a full heart and wet eyes.
I miss you more than you could know.
I wonder if you know,
That you are my every thought,
And every pain i feel is through missing you.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
As I sit here I see you
My baby girl
As the days go bye I wonder
Wonder what you’re doing?
Do I ever cross your mind?
Daddy had to leave
My heart still bleeds
Baby girl I’m lost
Everywhere I look I see your smile
Little baby girl please know
Daddy had to go.
That day in Febuary I lost a piece of me
My youngest child my precious baby. that beautiful smile, you’re brown hair
With your pretty little eyes
On that awful day daddy died
You’ll never know me I missed your first steps.
Watching you grow up is something I’ll never know.
Just know my sweet baby my precious Rylee jo
Daddy loves you baby I just wanted you to know..
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC