Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Poem: Sonar

Sonar
© 2011

Transition to the clause
Titled, "Life is on Pause,"
Article 8, part II
Seems to put facts into view,
Turning sound into sight,
Changing dark into light,
When the day becomes night,
Choosing fight over flight,
Forming wrongs from a right,
Bringing loosened ends tight,
Separating from fright
Heated horrors of height,
While the stars, very bright,
Gives us sources to cite.
This has come from the clause
Titled, "Life is on Pause,"
Article 8, part II,
Bringing facts into view.

Poem: Clouds

Clouds
© 2011

Clouds
Drifting
Through the sky
Fall to the ground
And create a fog.
As a matter of fact,
this fog is suffocating,
Killing life through dense and dark death.
Should the clouds give up all that they have?
Could they rise back into the sky again?
Take its water and kill it through thirst.
When dry, put it back in the sky.
If it falls, the pray to God
To give this cloud the strength
To rise once again
And fill the sky
So that we
Might then
Sleep.

Several Short Poems, Part III

Success Through Failure
© 2011

"Fiction causes friction,"
Heard the walking Contradiction,
Paying close attention to the fairly biased diction.
Taking this all to heart,
The Contradiction founded art,
Trying desperately to see what's been tearing him apart.
"You see," he said, "I'm fine
When you're not swallowing my wine,
Or crossing the line dividing yours from mine."
But alas, there is no greater success than receiving the product of failure.


Imaginary Confinement
© 2011

Have you ever tried to imagine yourself
Eternally locked behind a windowless door?
No one to speak to, just those to speak of;
No one to hear you, just silence to listen for;
No one to play with, just parts to act out;
No one to sleep with, just a sheet on the floor;
No one to hold you, just padded walls to cuddle;
No one to place blame upon, just yourself to deform;
No one to comfort you, just yourself to calm down;
And no one to tell you the time;
Just your shadows to explore.


The Monster in the Wall
© 2011

He could see clearly now:
The monster was in the wall,
Its rancid breath seeping through the wall outlets.
He could hear distinctly now:
An ominous foreboding, and continuous thump,
Though he couldn't quite decipher if it was just his heart
Or the monster in the wall.
It became so obvious now:
The wily monster living in the wall
Was plotting an ambush to devour the soul of the little boy.
It was set in stone now:
The promise of doom came nigh with each thump,
Growing louder, reinforcing the covenant
Made by the monster in the wall.


The Beautiful Fish of the Ocean
© 2011

Dry fish,
Dead fish,
Die fish, die!
Shy fish,
Shred fish,
Sigh fish, sigh!
Bleed it first the gut it clean!
Eat its gills! Much more obscene!
Dead fish,
dry fish,
Die fish, die!

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Poem: Your Westward Sun

Your Westward Sun
© 2010
I'm getting on the coal train,
Heading west towards the sun.
Rolling through the Rockies,
I'll be taking my time...
All to see Your westward sun.
I'm getting in the old car,
Heading west towards the coast.
Driving through the desert,
I'll be taking my time...
All to see Your westward sun.
I'm getting on my feet
And walking west until I'm there.
Hiking under Your stars,
I'll be taking my time...
All to see Your westward sun.
I'm burning all my money,
And I'm leaving all my things.
Setting off on my own,
I'll be taking my time...
All to see Your westward sun.
I'm not looking for anything
But some peace of mind.
You see, I wish my life was
Not a waste of my time.
Now that's why I'm going to see
Your westward sun.


Poem: Reflections of a Man Alone

Reflections of a Man Alone
© 2010
I look in the mirror,
As I stand proud and tall.
"Am I there?" I ask.
I notice that I'm trembling,
Hiding in a corner. God,
I am so weak. Stand up straight!
So I do, but with a lack of dignity.
It seems to me, looking at
Myself, that I am drowning
In a pool of selfish tears.
"Come on, now," I tell myself,
"Stop crying and be a man!"
I look up at myself, while
I look down at myself.
Strange, how two reflections
Make up one body. But
Which reflection is really me?
I am both. Yet I am
One. As I flood myself,
I look at my pride.
"Why? How? How can I be
So proud? I have nothing!"
I look down
At myself and say, "Well,
Why am I such
A crybaby? What do I
Not have that I do?"
"I have pride," I say,
"But I, however, do not."
And so I leave my reflections:
The reflections of pride;
The reflections of a man alone.


Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Poem: Progressive Seasons in the Change of Thought

Progressive Seasons in the Change of Thought
© 2010
Once upon a Season,
On an Autumn's dusty day,
I sat upon a question
Of my disarray:
If the question of a "why"
Is answered with a "who,"
Then what on this Earth
Am I expected to do?
I sat upon this fact,
With both arms crossed,
And contemplated my acts,
And what they might cost.

Once upon a Season,
On a Winter's cloudy day,
I laid upon a question
Of what others might say:
If the question of a "why"
Is answered with a "well,"
Then where might they take me?
Would they take me to Hell?
I laid upon this outcome,
With both legs crossed,
And bitterly counted the sum,
Finally paying the cost.

Once upon a Season,
On a Springtime's sunny day,
I stood upon a question
Of how the events should play:
If the question of a "why"
Takes place at a "where,"
Then who would act next,
And how would the two compare?
I stood upon this decision,
With both hands solemnly crossed,
And proceeded with great precision,
Having paid the expensive cost.

Once upon a Season,
On a Summer's sweaty day,
I ran upon a question
Of how I must disobey:
If the question of a "why"
Is aimed at a "how,"
Then what should I tell them,
"That was then, this is now"?
I ran upon this idea so strange,
With both fingers crossed,
And decided I am in need of a change,
No matter what it might cost.


Poem: Little Raindrop

Little Raindrop
© 2010
Bon Voyage,
My fresh little raindrop;
You held your composure so very well.
Good-bye,
My tiny little raindrop;
Do not forget how stylized the others fell.
So long,
My pure little raindrop;
I hope you find peace upon the Earth.
Adieu,
My swift little raindrop;
You have been blessed ever since your birth.
One last thing,
My sweet little raindrop,
It is only your first early morning.
In time you will be neglected,
My poor little raindrop;
At some point every drop is wasted.
But do not worry,
My precious little raindrop.
You will meet fulfillment once you have been tasted.
And so now farewell,
My rare little raindrop;
Do not forget to write.
I love you,
My favorite little raindrop;
Now run along and begin your very first flight.