poetry Feel free to post any poetry you like

Out In The Woods

Out in the woods
Mosquitoes by my ear high whine
Horseflies in my hair abuzz
They make
Walking more a chore
Than joy, but
I press on
Still aware
Of green leaves
Glistening from
Recent rain

As I go
Wildflowers appear
In openings
In meadows
Along the rails
Queen annes lace
Yarrow,
Purple loosestrife
Milkweed,
Early goldenrod
Cat tails
Wonderful bouquet

Into the reservoir
At trails end
Lose my clothes
A little skinny dip
Soaking up the feeling
Of wilderness
Of being alive

Then back to
Gathering flowers
Suddenly a sharp
Pain on my hand
I look
And see
A honey bee
Stuck in my skin
I shake it off
With a grin

Out in the woods
Like a boy, oh the joy!

The Dummy
by Michael Mack
In that forgotten part of town
Where wasted hopes and dreams abound,
A wrinkled man with life near end,
In hopes to have at least one friend,
Fashioned bits of wood and things
And made a dummy run by strings.

He sat alone for hours on end,
Conversing with his only friend
And found delight within the fact
That he controlled it's every act.
He told it how he never had
A chance, since all his luck was bad
Although he'd tried so to succeed -
The dummy nodded and agreed.

And how his journeys in romance
Had never given him a chance,
And wasn't it a crying shame
That he was always held to blame
When everyone knew, oh so well,
That life is but a living Hell,
Controlled by lust and power and greed?
The dummy nodded and agreed.

With patience that would rival saints,
That dummy sat through all complaints
And, with each little expert tug,
He'd droop his head or bow or shrug
And give some comfort to the man
Who held his lifelines in his hand
And helped to fill a lonely need
When he just nodded and agreed.

Senility increased with time
As did the old man's phantomime,
And feverish fingers pulled with glee
The dummy's dance of misery.
They never left each other's side
Until the day both stopped and died.
We found them lying, hand in hand,
The dummy - and his wooden friend.

Miracles
by Walt Whitman

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet
and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

Who wrote the first one...did you???

No it was on a free page no author

Background to this poem... We lost a brother-in-law some years ago. His wife had died suddenly; he was depressed and turned to drugs. We used to email every day and had some wonderful conversations but sadly, the addiction eventually claimed his life.

At one point, we decided to write a "shared poem." I would write one verse and he the next ...just as an experiment as we both loved to write...and just to see where it would go. I think the result is amazing! I cherish this poem.

(RED ALERT! RELIGIOUS/SPIRITUAL CONTENT!!)

NO RESURRECTION WITHOUT THE NAILS

All alone I'm making wishes
Upon a falling star,
Wonder if they'll ever reach,
It seems so very far .

"Is anyone still out there?
The star is growing dim.
With all the darkness in the world,
We need to trust in Him.

Does He care if we are hurting?
Does He share our grief and pain
Or do my words just go unheard,
A whispered plea in vain.

"My anxious eyes lift upward,
Search the canvas of the sky
For a sign of hope and promise
For a glimpse of the Divine.

Imagined trails of missiles
In my mind across that sky.
a question stirs within me,
Demanding to know..." Why?"
How can we hate our humankind,
Blood brothers in our skin?
Why can't we love our neighbours?
Why can't we all be kin?

I hear the bombs exploding;
I smell the hatred burn.
I hear the children crying.
Why can't we ever learn?


Does he care if we are hurting?
Does he share our grief and pain?
Or do my words just go unheard,
A whispered plea in vain?

Starlight softly fades away
As dawn steals away the night;
A single beam of morning sun
Turned darkness into light.

And as my eyes embraced
This transformation in the sky,
The silent voice that's deep within
Said: " Here's the reason why...

Despair brings hope; from sadness, joy;
From darkness, light; from death, new life.
And those who mourn, comfort within;
In weakness, strength; peace born from strife.

The light shows clearly forth in darkness;
Without antithesis, we fail
To grasp the depths of human strength.
No resurrection without the nails."

Thats a real story with feelings

A Sonnet of the Moon

LOOK how the pale queen of the silent night
Doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,
And he, as long as she is in his sight,
With her full tide is ready her to honor.
But when the silver waggon of the moon
Is mounted up so high he cannot follow,
The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan,
And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow.
So you that are the sovereign of my heart
Have all my joys attending on your will;
My joys low-ebbing when you do depart,
When you return their tide my heart doth fill.
So as you come and as you do depart,
Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.
Charles Best

The world is not a courtroom,
there is no judge, no jury, no plaintiff.

This is a caravan,
filled with eccentric beings
telling wondrous stories about God.

~ Saadi ~



http://www.panhala.net/Archive/The_World_Is_Not_A_Courtroom.html

My little boy with the softest touch,

I wish for you so very much,

I wish to see you skip and run,

I wish to see you enjoy the sun.

My little boy with the softest touch,

I wish for you so very much,

I wish to hear your voice out loud,

I wish for you to speak out proud.

My little boy with the softest touch,

I wish for you so very much,

I wish for you a world of wonder,

I wish for you to explore the yonder.

My little boy with the softest touch,

I wish for you so very much,

I wish for you no more pain,

I wish you wouldn't cry again.

My little boy with the softest touch,

I wish for you so very much,

I'm content to see you laugh and smile,

And to watch you play awhile.

My little boy with the softest touch,

I love you so very much.

"This is a caravan,
filled with eccentric beings".....
Jonas, sounds like this messageboard! (Hey! Your camel just spit at me!)

A Day

There are clouds on the horizon
Marching across the sky
Looking like castles in the air
Changing as you watch
Now a face then a bridge

Soon they are black with rain
Lighting and rumble
As the storm get near
A flash then a boom
Rain will come soon

Down it comes in a terrible hurry
With hailstones a cluster
Wind blowing a nor’easter
Water running down the street
washing over your feet

Soon the storm is done
The sun shines bright
The birds sing praise
Thru the haze
The day is over
Now its night

Leonard Wickens

Copyright ©2008 Leonard Wickens

I can relate to that Wickens! Good job!


MOMENTS
As days turn into weeks
And weeks to months
It’s merely
Moments
I recall....
As years turn into past
And present time.

Moments....
Burn brightly in my brain
As I struggle to retain
What’s lost....
And reach ahead to grasp
What’s yet to come.

I sometimes must regret
What’s past....
The world of childhood...
The magic
The mystery of days gone by
Freedom from care
And feelings shared
Favourite possessions
And places
And long ago faces
They beckon to me
Yet spur me on to be
What I am....
Responding openly
Hopefully
With tender-hearted
Honesty
Sincerity
Wondering
Wandering
Along the uneasy path
To infinity.


And even now
The path will take
A sudden upward
Downward
Turn
Yet there along the way
Dear friends
New friends
And old
Responding openly
With tender-hearted
Honesty
Sincerity
In dealing with
Reality

And even when
Days, months and years
Have passed
Since last we met
It is the moments
We have shared
That I recall
So special
So significant
Suspended in time.

On, no...
It’s not the years
Or months
Or weeks...
Or even days.....
But just the moments
I recall
Engrained
Engraved
Within the secret places
Of my heart....
Forever.

C. King

cking wrote:

I can relate to that Wickens! Good job!


MOMENTS
As days turn into weeks
And weeks to months
It’s merely
Moments
I recall....
As years turn into past
And present time.

Moments....
Burn brightly in my brain
As I struggle to retain
What’s lost....
And reach ahead to grasp
What’s yet to come.

I sometimes must regret
What’s past....
The world of childhood...
The magic
The mystery of days gone by
Freedom from care
And feelings shared
Favourite possessions
And places
And long ago faces
They beckon to me
Yet spur me on to be
What I am....
Responding openly
Hopefully
With tender-hearted
Honesty
Sincerity
Wondering
Wandering
Along the uneasy path
To infinity.


And even now
The path will take
A sudden upward
Downward
Turn
Yet there along the way
Dear friends
New friends
And old
Responding openly
With tender-hearted
Honesty
Sincerity
In dealing with
Reality

And even when
Days, months and years
Have passed
Since last we met
It is the moments
We have shared
That I recall
So special
So significant
Suspended in time.

On, no...
It’s not the years
Or months
Or weeks...
Or even days.....
But just the moments
I recall
Engrained
Engraved
Within the secret places
Of my heart....
Forever.

C. King

Thats good i love it

THE MODERATER
Now a crack then a word is it ok or bad
What to do think edit delete ignore
You do what you think is right
And hope it doesn’t come back to bite
This go’s on day after day
This job will never have pay

All you hope as time go’s
The forum will keep on
We have good people posting
This makes it easy hosting
Norfolk Talks is the name
Know far and wide with fame

Leonard Wickens

Copyright ©2008 Leonard Wickens

Way to go, wickens and cking....great poetry.

There once was a man from Nantuckit
- - - -

...ahh never mind

Umm....let me see...what rhymes with Nantucket??

Bucket! And tuck it! And stuck it.

"His bubble gum...under the table he stuck it."
"Up the hill he carried a bucket?"
"That big fat chicken he did pluck it!"
"That load of potatoes he did truck it."

That's a tough rhyme! Anyone else think of anything different than THE OBVIOUS??

CKING try this http://rhyme.poetry.com/

Wickens! That's cheating! Besides...I like mine better!

Here's from that website:
Words and phrases that rhyme with nantucket: (7 results)

2 syllables:
bucket, duckett, juckett, luckett, puckett, tuckett

3 syllables:
pawtucket ????

PUCKET...lets start over!

OK...just one more. I guess there aren't too many poets out there, wickens!

Kaleidoscope

The kaleidoscope of life...
People in constantly changing patterns
Sometimes bright and beautiful
Vivid images
Reflecting and interacting
One with the other...
A simple twist...
A change in focus...
The patterns are altered.
The perfection previously perceived
Cannot be retained.
Darker in hue now...
We search in vain
For that which was lost.
But looking up
Against the light of day
The dazzling colours
Renew themselves
Strong and clear.
The complex patterns
Growing once again
Connecting and dividing
Expanding in endless variations
Spreading and blossoming forth
Reflecting and interacting
One with the other.

C. King

(You know, I’ve always had this thing about kaleidoscopes...mesmerized by the limitless possibilities. Those tubes you twist with little bits of coloured beads inside and a mirror that makes a repeated reflection in the viewer.)

I planted my garden in the spring
The ground was moist and warm
As I dug and cultivated
Worms slivered up and about
The seeds where planted one by one
All in a row
With a wish that they would grow

As time went on I got some weeds
Pushing out a lot of seeds
I used my hoe to cut them down
The stubborn ones got a frown
Then I saw the sprouts coming up
Looking for the sun

Now its Fall time to harvest
The vegs are the best
There’s more than we can utilize
Carrots,beets,and corn all big size
Now we turn the ground over
Ready for next year in Dover

Seriously now...this one has always meant a lot to me.



Welcome to Holland
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this…




When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Michelangelo David, the gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.




After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."




"Holland?!" you say. "What do you mean, Holland?" I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy.




But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.




The important thing is that they haven't taken you to some horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.




So you must go out and buy a new guidebook. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.




It's just a different place. It's slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.




But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."




The pain of that will never, ever, go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.




But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

That is so good...and so right...(I've seen it before but it always breaks my
heart!) I am one of those who went to Holland instead of Italy.....