"joing" poems
I come from haunts of coot and hern;
I make a sudden sally;
I sparkle out among the fern
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
At last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I chatter over stony ways
In sharps and trebles;
I bubble into eddying bay;
I babble on the pebbles.
I chatter, chatter as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a ***** trout,
And here and there a grayling.
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To joing the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots;
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeams dance
Against my sandy shallows.
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river;
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
~Alfred Tennyson 1809-1892~
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 9:24 AM UTC
He has coffee in his blood,
He dances with brown camels.
White wide paths of knives
Are curved deep among the mountain passes
Of ribs wrapped in soft desert of skin.
A tongue athlet and a sound alchemist,
A reluctant nomad with wheat hair,
Who's driven by his crazy-grooving heart
So rarely though so far.
Sometimes a train, sometimes a net,
Sometimes a piece of paper
Will take him.
But most often he is joining with genies
In their bottles. And spirits take him
To the caves, the deep blood-vessels.
He's silent mostly and his back is bent
Though he is tall.
He walks all cloaked in weary clothes
And idle anger both.
As it dictates him his prideful eagle's nose.
He bears also marks of roots,
Of runes, of flame, of anchors,
Dancers.
His bones look at you in their clutches
From beneath the skin
Of his thin fingers.
He builds the towers shaky,
Weak. And so, they're almost living,
Breathing.
He've found a cat in a banana
And lets it live inside his elbow.
The grey in northern sky is his.
He reached his fine hands
And left it there. He touched the sun
And then again. He put it in his lighter
With his fingertips.
So he occasionally has a light from the sun.
He prays to metal and walks two roads at once.
He tolls the tree from which he hails.
He hangs from a branch.
Or does he just stand
Downwords and his back is lying on
The branch on which he stands?
He buried his gold and digs it out only
For fire and jokes, for bitter and smoke.
A cow of three eyes and a bee on his blazen
Are joing in drawing.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:59 AM UTC
A poem (nm)
Saw a cougar in downtown area
she was hot like coffee spilt in my lap.
****** had to buy new pants.
Took a close look at cougar's throat
swore I saw five o'clock shadow and adam's apple.
Holy **** that was a man and I need a shower
not a cold one
was hot but got turned off real ****** fast.
One thing I do know is I **** at writing poems.
Joing you TRAVERSE CITY, MICHIGAN
Going to the site and read some good ones.
Was there and learned a new word interactionism.
what the hell is that?
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
Lets live it live she says!
to live live....
let live and let live
lies of lives that surround us how do what we know we are alive?
I live for me
live for life, for love for little moments!
I live to live it live.
Live the concerts that bring us joing
Live like the angry moments on wrestling shows.
Live for the love that we feel holding the one we want to live with.
Live is to Live
and to live live is to feel it all
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 10:22 AM UTC
Today I feel like writing,
No pen, no quill, no ink.
Today I will write with color,
I will need a palate.
Let's use some bright blue,
Let the sky fill our sould.
Umber, no, use light brown
Make it smell of fresh earth.
Will need some pink for the
Ballerinas dancing in my mind.
And don't forget the yellow,
Daffodils make me happy.
In the sky a spot of orange
A balloon floating to heaven.
A rich, rich green to
Make you smell the trees.
Put your fingers in the paint,
Joing the fun, spread it around.
What color are you today?
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
I sat on the ledge and listened
As the waves crashed together
Joing the cacophony of sounds in my mind.
You held my hands and told me once
That we could change the world
And there was nothing but truth in your eyes.
Our future is still uncertain
But the more I think about it
I know that we will meet each crashing wave as they come,
And we will rise.
-bpmg
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC