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Lawrence Hall Sep 2017
Old and Unselected Poems

Pale, penciled scribblings, old bits, old notes
Forgotten drafts in old books shelved away
And lines painfully worked out during lectures
About Napoleon’s painful hemorrhoids

And the declensions of those Latin nouns
Which with their verbs Omnis Gallia divisit
Or something like that, forgotten long ago -
But not
              her hair
                             her voice
                                              her smile
                                                           ­    her eyes

Others cannot write to her happy theme -
She writes herself as iambs in a dream
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2014
these two hands, small, stubby,
nonetheless,
invite you to come aboard,
all, the unselected
all, the unprotected

the pretenders, outsiders,
hallway cool, self-collected,
girls who wear dresses,
boys who write in diaries,
Camus, Sartre hangers-on,
never-removed sunglasses wearers,
24/7

trip time,
comb your eyes,
system cleansing,
you, self-affected,
you, self-selected
you,
step away from the gallows,
get down from the scaffold

come to, for you, to get collected,
the unaffected,
the undirected,
road trip to the unexpected,
place where the disconnection is
disconnected,
where the unexpected, that's you,
expected

I know you well
I know you all

you are my desirables,
my touched untouchables,
wilderness voices,
no longer crying,
bound for greatness

from hands to pockets,
my chosen ones,
now my protected

No more unhappy birthday parties
that no one comes too
no need to pretend, sell love,
to the takers of advantage,

now on you breathe in an atmosphere
I've collected,
100% exhaled relief breaths,
purelled oxygen, fresh start air

no more disaffected,
now fuel injected,
now that you are
in and among the
touched, carried,
the affected,
the every poem read...
Lawrence Hall Jun 19
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  Old and Unselected Poems

Why do publishers entitle volumes of verse
                                   New and Selected Poems?
Is it the editors’ lack of imagination?
Or is it some sort of secular rubric
An inky “We’ve always done it that way?”

When you finish writing a poem it is new
It didn’t exist before you, and now it does
And someone who reads your poem has selected it
It wasn’t selected until someone picked it up

Every poem is forever new and selected
And to the joy of your friends, so are you
The cliche' of "New and Selected Poems"
Nat Lipstadt Aug 28
the waters of the Sound, churning,
make my hands a five-in-hand knotted,
full of writhing wriggling writing poem
lines with an go<hesitant~go  slow, knowing that,inspiration is daring me, just as the  whitecaps are, troubled trolling so nearby,
gone can hear them mocking me with their
17knot  ‘breeze,’ your lyrics are but
blowing in the wind, soon enough will
shift to someone else, leavening your
deflation with a non~riser sour-dough mix
of unfinished sadness

in advance, knowings that every poem
more like a Monarch butterfly, here but
for a momentary traversal travesty,
gone faster than the eye blink, and this
infilling fleeing fleet urgency more
likely to die on the pyre of unfinished
rejected draftees, unselected for service

nonetheless ~ “follow” lyrics refuse me
to let~leave a poor tribute to vine~die, the
fingers speak in unison, urging me on,
not wanting to escape from this fantasizing
moment, urging me to tap tap tap
evermore!

“ Come taste and smell the waters of our time,”
Richie invites us all to find our own water,
let it work its magic upon our
nerve endings, but,
mine full of sendings, how?

can one sit seated in the Poet’s Nook,
same vista, no visa required ~
just to see it each time
differently, only the truly creative can love it
so much, that they tip into unexplored unexploited
veins of fresh blood and words
and eyes that discern and earn the ability
to write of the old with new inside insights

those! they are the ones you need to follow!
creators! with a small C, see them feel, see them divine with rod, their original water,
from which they emerged, and drink once more, for the water follows them like nutrients, raw materials that nourishes
and they in turn, return to their watery
birth site, their emotional placentae,
drawing from, returning to it new creations

for all of us to follow, fire our senses,
make us!
make art in all our hearts,
and don’t mind me, just

”close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
‘cos


We
ain’t nothing but a dream,
our disguised muses visiting,
pleading to be
usefully used…
A recurring line from “Follow” lyrics by Richard Merrick, sung most famously by Richie Havens, who made it his marquee signature song, and a standard, immediately ’ recognizable by anyone who listened to music in the Sixities (20th century)

<>
Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you're able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can't hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain't what they seem.
And don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.
The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won't stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I'll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream
The rising smell of fresh-cut grass
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don't miss you
If all the things you taste ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
The sun and moon both arise
And we'll see them soon through days and nights
But now silver leaves are mirrors, bring delights.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow...
Source: Musixmatch
-2-
Am light headed while unwedded unselected is directed too affected by rejected then came one,
Heavenly sprung son has come to do what couldn’t be done before the opposite age of sixty-one, now he has won, valuing he, relating to each other that the time is where we see, can it be, that the time is here, while we are separated my dear, picture isn’t clear while our relation is near to a merely abstain if were physically together I couldn’t restrain to obtain all that we again could gain.

Enumerating agitating pass the waiting over rating, but he, is more I could see, after we became, we made a pact to not restrain, from all we could obtain and do, executing false truths of me and of you, became tipsy when had met, everyday I reflect, and then that day we kept directly set, oh how could we ever forget, is why we don’t we only float upon a picture perfect hope to devote him I quote, without a boast I love him most.

Summing up to submitting our relationship is never quitting only winning early on, where is it that the days have gone, echelon has dawned this is where we belong, underage deprave derange of blessings he gave without demising ever, couldn’t turn out better when we are together, no shame for he has perfect aim what it has brought have never fought, only re caught each other’s
sight I delight in him each night as we reunite our right to, would like to, we fight to, bring light to, might do.
This is the easiest topic,
Now a year long relation with my distanced love.^^
Joseph Burley Sep 2012
he had eyes to tell
stories with no words
broken windows
into a chaotic soul

only when light of laughter
shot through his face
would the shutters flutter open

and there in that eclipse
between darkness and light
you could see the space
full of pain
all the memories
unselected and pure

in those moments
when my eyes were told quick stories
I saw my reflection
and it knew nothing
Life came without a choice,
Life came to a land of hope desolate
bound to a people unselected fighters of war.
Buried in wearied mind heart broken.
Daring the pen of sacred ink.
The thoughts of hearts darker in solemn note.
Should I write, should I read this solemn poem.
From dark hands gone beyond?
Having fled their own soul and spirit did flee.
Leaving the wonders of life to them that love it.

I envy them of their bravery.
I linger longer than them all in such thoughts .
It melts within me heart for the people am given to love, I should have written that note and let them read over my careless soul when the spirit in its freedom spreads wings.
When the lying body makes no move,
When its sense flee no longer of this world.
This note before me should I read and stay or should I print and let them read when over me the cloudy eyes Laden with tears let pour rain of tears.
Brianna Heins Jun 2012
Dear God,

I wish you had heard me when my wispy young whimpering wove through your whimsical cloud bed.

My daddy always said that you kissed us through that window pane rainbow
But when I looked, a dog was howling at its reflection

The body always told me I grew in your hand.
I knew that was wrong when I learned the word Photosynthesis

How else have you hurt O forgiving, merciful, powerful God?

I watch time and health pass and spent my hours
writing of the taste of my tears as the deceased form lists
on my google documents page,
and the boy who died on my lips compels me to realign the words in my thoughts

Do you remember the times I went to church and they sang:

You're the God of this city
You're the King of these people
You're the Lord of this nation
You Are

You're the light in this darkness
You're the hope to the hopeless
You're the peace to the restless
You are


I'm pretty sure Ive been darkness, hopeless, restless
Daddy's money river running dry
your supposed to grip the closest door frame in an earthquake
but they aren’t so stable, they open for intruders
not just the burglars looking for my great Granny's charm bracelet
the unselected few who stroll in ready to steal the charm of the place you grew up
because that green river needs reviving

And so Mama’s Messiah

your demeanour was once eclipsed by the beauty of my wide-eyed virginity
Every day I thirst for the splish splash way I prayed at three

Dear Jesus, please forgive me and come live in my heart

Well dear Jesus, please open the eyes of my grandmother
the weak blue-gray circles look down at me while looking up at me

because I threw my halo
in coffee and swear words and tights with freshly ripped crotches

I was raised with you as my ultimate father
and though my real father and mother never left me alone
You, my ultimate unwelcoming father

Are nothing to me.
Gr8Ryzyngz May 2020
In black and white
I leave the best and
Worst parts of me
Pieces that hide
In plain sight of
My oxymoronic peace
Raw emotional dis eases
Buried amongst illuminations
Of light's invisibilities
While somewhere along the way
The best and worsts of me
Is being left in black and white
For chosen and unchosen
Selected and unselected to critic...

— The End —