Contributor Posts

I am such a coward,
Afraid to live,
or to die.
Brave, am I
With an audience,
Wandering through life,
Aimlessly.
Lacking direction,
My acting must be superb.

Ride the wind,
Hear the breeze,
Whistling
Through the trees.
Smell the air,
Sweet the scent,
Mixing with that
Of the sea's.
Let the sun rays,
Fall upon your back,
And warm you
All around,
While miles and miles
Slip on by, with
Very little sound.

Where did you go,
My elusive child?
Why did you run away?
Will I see you again
Or have I thrown it away?

If I say I love you,
Would you turn and
Run from me?

Love is a word of wonder,
At least it is to me.
It can be used by lovers,
Friends and family.

To me, it is a strength to say,
I'll love you forever,
Forever and a day
And pray that you will,
Never run away from me.

I know of many things,
In this great world of ours
And that is the magic of
A friendship,
That doesn't come in jars.

My mind is spinning,
As fast as it can be,
For if I don't get some sleep,
There may be no more of me.

Words, spill from my head
Spiraling down,
Some stick to paper,
Most just hit the ground,
A fluttering, floating motion,
With nary any sound.
Such is the plight of a poet,
Who tries so hard to rhyme,
Words into meaning and
Allows so little time,
In talking about a nickel
Or one thin, shiny dime.

You are so beautiful.
More beautiful, than one should be.
Your eyes are those of a woman.
Your smile is one that I know.
Your laugh is the sound of wind chimes,
Moving in a summer breeze.
Your hands are those of understanding.
Your lips are those of sweet desire.
Your words are of wit and wisdom,
Of which I will never tire.

I love you.
These words are said,
Every single day,
Some with meaning,
Most sincerely,
Others, just for play.

Sing a song about the clown,
Who never went to sea.
Take your time and it will rhyme,
As you now can see.
I laid a maid, in the shade
Of a giant old pine tree
And have the mark, from the bark
On my derriere.

Friends are people
Who understand you,
Without knowing why.

Wait until this night is over,
And morning brings it's fresh refrain,
Sprinkled softly with it's silence,
Wind swept and wet with rain.

Fog descends, covering us with
A white shroud, of softness.
Halos of light can be seen,
On the headlights of autos.
Eerie light rays, project downward
From the tall streetlight sentinels.
The softness mutes the noise of
Tires, humming on a distant freeway
And the noise of dogs, barking at
The early morning, paper boy,
Delivering the news.
Foggy mornings, mystify,
Capturing my thoughts,
Like light attracts moths.

A stranger lives within me,
I know him not.
If only I could be,
That which I ought
To be, according to another,
And no, that's not the case
For it was my Mother.