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"weatherbeaten" poems
looking for forgiveness in the eyes of strangers in every train station on the hudson line breathing the beauty of the rush and hustle of every train in the pouring rain scribbling heartfelt worthy lines in a dogeared notebook with her name etched with loving care into the weatherbeaten cover while standing at the top of the stairs the faces shuffle past offering absolution to the pawns offering escapism to the bishops of twisted truths gaze down the halls of forgiveness looking for a familiar face to unleash your hearts burdens to unwrap the tear stained words for hoping like hell its somebody who could tell her that you weren't so bad after all if she only see her way to giving you that holy grail of the heart known as a second chance but in the end you catch a glimpse of your reflection in some woman's poem makes you look and see the state your in see how far you have fallen how far you've run from the light of day carrying the weighty truths close to the heart but never looking them in the eye live again my friend forgive yourself and live once again
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Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
your hearts burdens
It is numbing to stare at the ground, seeing nothing but my own weatherbeaten ankles each footprint evidence of steps half-taken in between neckbreaking pausing to squint at starless skies. But where there is water, there is life and maybe, just maybe, maps are of no use here.
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Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 10:03 AM UTC
where
1. I like the color of your sweater and the stripes on your sleeves and I especially like how the ends fray and the gray looks more like milk than it does a rainy day sky or a weatherbeaten road. 2. The reason I stepped back was not because you smelled funny, or that I was shocked to find you there, but because the air condition was hitting me right on the shoulders and I left my red sweater at home. 3. Okay, so maybe I was a bit shocked at finding you there; it’s just that you’re the first one who’s ever bothered lingering at the poetry section besides me, and I’m not good with surprises; in fact, I hate surprises. 4. But you’re a good kind of surprise. 5. I like your glasses. I used to have a pair just like them before someone removed them and told me that I should learn to see differently. Things have been kind of unclear since then, but I’m learning how to hold onto the side rails. 6. I hope you’ll let me remove yours, too. 7. Your hair looks like a bird’s nest. I wonder if you’re hiding life or pieces of green bottle in there. That’s a lovely shade of brown, by the way. I’ve never seen chocolate curls before. 8. Do you think that if a pine wants to, it will grow until its branches poke holes in the sky for stars and pinecones to fall out so we can catch them in our palms and compare who got the most scratches and who caught the most stardust? 9. The book you picked up happens to be my favorite. If you turn to page 118 you’ll find a poem about churning seas, angry thunderclouds, and a drifting boat that lost its sail. 10. I think I finally found my sail.
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Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 5:25 AM UTC
10 Things I Should've Said to the Boy at the Bookstore
1. I like the color of your sweater and the stripes on your sleeves and I especially like how the ends fray and the gray looks more like milk than it does a rainy day sky or a weatherbeaten road. 2. The reason I stepped back was not because you smelled funny, or that I was shocked to find you there, but because the air condition was hitting me right on the shoulders and I left my red sweater at home. 3. Okay, so maybe I was a bit shocked at finding you there; it’s just that you’re the first one who’s ever bothered lingering at the poetry section besides me, and I’m not good with surprises; in fact, I hate surprises. 4. But you’re a good kind of surprise. 5. I like your glasses. I used to have a pair just like them before someone removed them and told me that I should learn to see differently. Things have been kind of unclear since then, but I’m learning how to hold onto the side rails. 6. I hope you’ll let me remove yours, too. 7. Your hair looks like a bird’s nest. I wonder if you’re hiding life or pieces of green bottle in there. That’s a lovely shade of brown, by the way. I’ve never seen chocolate curls before. 8. Do you think that if a pine wants to, it will grow until its branches poke holes in the sky for stars and pinecones to fall out so we can catch them in our palms and compare who got the most scratches and who caught the most stardust? 9. The book you picked up happens to be my favorite. If you turn to page 118 you’ll find a poem about churning seas, angry thunderclouds, and a drifting boat that lost its sail. 10. I think I finally found my sail.
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10
Daves trowel has a hickory handle, With a blade thats broader than most, It could cover the **** of a Tipperary mare Going down to the Steeplechase post. I spin it around in my palm, the trowel . . . not the horse, Its old, from a bygone age, When skill was the poor brother of force. Now its weatherbeaten and corroded, Every cut and nick still lingers, Daves trowel shines as bright as day, Im talking about my fingers.
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
Daves trowel
I'd like to think otherwise but this ship is aimlessly afloat, maybe her sails do whip higher and her anchor does cast deeper but when being stretched both ways where does that leave her? Port and starboard have never looked more the same but this ship is still starbound, still hopes to anchor herself to the moon, still keeps her crow's nest a little weatherbeaten, but with better navigation more aimless than she'd like, but still afloat not sure where she's going, but still she runs never seen it before, but she knows it's North oh, she knows. now she knows.
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Dec 30, 2019
Dec 30, 2019 at 10:17 PM UTC
A Ship Story
just the outline remains like a silhouette of happiness faded like a footprint of a past joy in the dusk cannot perceive where it has gone only mark its point of passage in the soft cold sand where the brittle rough edge of concrete juts out from the tangled undergrowth now just a rain soaked ruin now just discarded shell someone called home the rotted planks and shattered glass litter the ground a maze of pieces like some lunatics puzzle box spread for contemplation's amusement there amongst the jewels of rot a single small face etched in the grey weatherbeaten stone the detailed portraiture done with adorations care a young woman with long hair flowing a young woman with captivating smile now fading slowly in tropical sun etched on the worlds edge here amongst the spoiled walls and broken windows moonlight now casts its otherworldly light down through the torn roof like it is fishing here for mens dreams which it hungers for to speed it on its journey i cast it the morsels of my once loved i cast it a trail of hearts crumbs which the moonlight follows on down the silent street like a small boy returning home late in the day with a pocket full of strange treasures i lay here fitfully dreaming as mornings heat intensifies to full blown day jaundiced by the seabreeze i crawl forth and sit once again to stare at the etching of the girl as it is slowly eaten by sea and sand time may not heal all wounds but it will consume all the wounded as it consumed her
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Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
sea and sand
As the dust settles in On the coffee table, I smile. The rising sun Elusive and innocent Illuminates their faces as they sleep: My brother- All stubborn scowls And groans. My father- Weatherbeaten and wizened. My mother- Pining and tired. Youthful shadows creep into our home On tiptoe, Grinning impishly. Barefoot, I greet them.
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 3:05 AM UTC
Untitled
Your door was always open - this time, I entered from the weatherbeaten steppes of my non-being never to leave again.
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Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
Conversion:
Oftentimes, sometimes, many times I search through all the words I know And there are many a few. I rift, I raft I sift, and cart I search, and submerge   Pondering over each one’s  usability and suitability. Trying to find one, the right one, the tight one, the oh so alight one. Terse, specific, concise and precise,   perfect, quintessential, robust, mellow, complete, that cuts through the ice.   Not squandered or meandered, Jaywalking through, lost or philandered. That’s so true a vision, captures my emotion, Visions an  illumination Offers description Catalyses reflection Provides  perspective, Inspires action, Or are just so perfect in their conception. Then some are there, a little broken, sound woebegone and weatherbeaten Through a life well lived, they are rooted if slightly moth eaten. They wear history and tell many a tale, Just their espousal sets you to sail. My favourite ones are a  beacon of hope, encouragement, love and touch you to the core, A ****** of laughter, a pirouette of flirtation, a wordful gaze, touching the heart, stimulating the mind, soul searching, words words words, those ones I love so. Then some scare me to fumble, tumble and kazoomble freakishly so, My pupils dilated, my breathing short, dark, dismal and morbid, less of them is more. Some are just there, need to be, alone they are nothing, combined they provide the  key, They coexist happy in their role in the larger plan. Is it you, or is it me, Ah those words... but sometimes, just sometimes Words just are not enough, They are just not enough to get anything said, Then all  I can say is Nothing!
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 1:14 AM UTC
**Words**
Oftentimes, sometimes, many times I search through all the words I know And there are many a few. I rift, I raft I sift, and cart I search, and submerge   Pondering over each one’s  usability and suitability. Trying to find one, the right one, the tight one, the oh so alight one. Terse, specific, concise and precise,   perfect, quintessential, robust, mellow, complete, that cuts through the ice.   Not squandered or meandered, Jaywalking through, lost or philandered. That’s so true a vision, captures my emotion, Visions an  illumination Offers description Catalyses reflection Provides  perspective, Inspires action, Or are just so perfect in their conception. Then some are there, a little broken, sound woebegone and weatherbeaten Through a life well lived, they are rooted if slightly moth eaten. They wear history and tell many a tale, Just their espousal sets you to sail. My favourite ones are a  beacon of hope, encouragement, love and touch you to the core, A ****** of laughter, a pirouette of flirtation, a wordful gaze, touching the heart, stimulating the mind, soul searching, words words words, those ones I love so. Then some scare me to fumble, tumble and kazoomble freakishly so, My pupils dilated, my breathing short, dark, dismal and morbid, less of them is more. Some are just there, need to be, alone they are nothing, combined they provide the  key, They coexist happy in their role in the larger plan. Is it you, or is it me, Ah those words... but sometimes, just sometimes Words just are not enough, They are just not enough to get anything said, Then all  I can say is Nothing!
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44
Oysters they're out there - somewhere, Everywhere, as the oyster men slowly drift through the inlet. Heaved by sail and oar; sinews of sheets and sails stretched. Driven by hope and anticipation the patina of time etched in weatherbeaten faces; Like a lure for life the longline stretches and dredges, expectant evermore. Drifting from catch to catch where the ardent prosper; Achieve and believe the addiction and alchemy of the aspirant, "Dream big" of the world the unenviable oyster of youth, Dictums of the desirous drifting from goal to goal, and chore to chore. Mantras of men mourning forgone missives of the masculine. The dredges of disconnected men's minds to sea. Destined for despair.
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Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 12:43 PM UTC
The Aspirant's Mantra
(an All Poetry feat to walk in the poetic feet of Robert Frost) Bucolic New England, circa Early twentieth century New England awash with dynamic harmonic leisureliness, when much of North America favored rustic visual whirled wide webbed watercolor waiting afield at dusk, the thrum of nature all abuzz didst feed thine dizzily green jovial mien unlike mean Gary Lewis veritable innocence and naiveté rollicked with mine lanky frame relishing ambling into my own quietude an infinite breadth, length and scope of infrequently trammeled near ****** woodland paths grown over with brambles nonetheless a faintly trussed harbinger marked by weatherbeaten for sale signposts with here and there an abandoned plow long since given over to rust when the pasture seasons elapsed since farmer(s) left unharvested fecund fields absent the cloven hoof, and deprived enrichment manure, sans ungulates ceased sufficing healthy free ranging bovines, where etudes punctuated the terribly gross fresh air, now no longer audibly quickening, snapchatting, nor twittering with the last word of a bluebird deathly silence now 'cept the wind in the willows whispering woebegone laments tree tops pining to cradle idle youthful dreamers boughs devoid of psalm quivering romantic songstress clattering debris merely delivering echoed whooshing refrains continually disintegrating among in a disused graveyard prescient ken aches with nostalgia hallucinogenic nightmare slams irrevocably shut the door in the dark closed for good upon the onset, wrought genocide against the vanishing Red man, a ghostly scarification meaningless ritual wrested, removed, and highjacked from indigenous peoples without rhyme, nor reason as fraternities no longer pledge allegiance.
0
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
My Jouncing Gait During Boyhood
(an All Poetry feat to walk in the poetic feet of Robert Frost) Bucolic New England, circa Early twentieth century New England awash with dynamic harmonic leisureliness, when much of North America favored rustic visual whirled wide webbed watercolor waiting afield at dusk, the thrum of nature all abuzz didst feed thine dizzily green jovial mien unlike mean Gary Lewis veritable innocence and naiveté rollicked with mine lanky frame relishing ambling into my own quietude an infinite breadth, length and scope of infrequently trammeled near ****** woodland paths grown over with brambles nonetheless a faintly trussed harbinger marked by weatherbeaten for sale signposts with here and there an abandoned plow long since given over to rust when the pasture seasons elapsed since farmer(s) left unharvested fecund fields absent the cloven hoof, and deprived enrichment manure, sans ungulates ceased sufficing healthy free ranging bovines, where etudes punctuated the terribly gross fresh air, now no longer audibly quickening, snapchatting, nor twittering with the last word of a bluebird deathly silence now 'cept the wind in the willows whispering woebegone laments tree tops pining to cradle idle youthful dreamers boughs devoid of psalm quivering romantic songstress clattering debris merely delivering echoed whooshing refrains continually disintegrating among in a disused graveyard prescient ken aches with nostalgia hallucinogenic nightmare slams irrevocably shut the door in the dark closed for good upon the onset, wrought genocide against the vanishing Red man, a ghostly scarification meaningless ritual wrested, removed, and highjacked from indigenous peoples without rhyme, nor reason as fraternities no longer pledge allegiance.
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