My words fall silent,
hell bent on keeping my tongue.
Yet I belong to the world
of words and temperament,
never meant to be a face in the crowd.
I was meant to rhyme out loud,
proud of the fact that I can
extract emotion like a love potion.
Dripping with sincerity; with clarity
and vision - a mission of my own making.
And taking the time to read what others
ponder in the great rhymed yonder;
to lavish praise and honor to those
more deserving than I. At least I'll try.
Never perfected, a rhyme resurrected,
Lazarus walks amongst the living,
giving from his heart that which belongs
to his heart. It's a start.
(C) JPW - 2013
Written with apologies to all poets of all sites I had frequented. I will make a more concerted effort to visit as many of your sites as time allows. I know we all have our time constraints, hardships and misfortunes. I'm learning to reel in emotion and find balance.
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
27 December 2013
14 October 2013
I Know It Was You, Fredo!
You broke my heart, as brothers sometimes do,
and look at you, you're pathetic. A simpering,
whimpering Don Juan-a-be. Bimbos and markers,
donkey shows and Johnny Ola have taken their toll.
I had control of the five families and there
our similarities took a decided turn. If you'd only learn,
"Never take sides with anyone against the family again!"
You're nothing to me now. You're not a brother, not a friend.
If anything in this life is certain, if history has taught us anything,
it is that you can kill anyone. Pray for the fishes,
you'll be sleeping with them now!
© JPW - 2013
dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics Italian-Style
Poets United - Poetry Pantry #171
and look at you, you're pathetic. A simpering,
whimpering Don Juan-a-be. Bimbos and markers,
donkey shows and Johnny Ola have taken their toll.
I had control of the five families and there
our similarities took a decided turn. If you'd only learn,
"Never take sides with anyone against the family again!"
You're nothing to me now. You're not a brother, not a friend.
If anything in this life is certain, if history has taught us anything,
it is that you can kill anyone. Pray for the fishes,
you'll be sleeping with them now!
© JPW - 2013
dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics Italian-Style
Poets United - Poetry Pantry #171
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| www.digplanet.com |
10 October 2013
Picture Albom
So, I love his sentimentality,
it's a reality with which I deal daily.
Many losses and defections,
derelictions and deflections
bring some regrets. But you can bet
the pitch that Mitch proffers,
offers some food for hungry thought.
I ought to grip bootstraps and pull,
but you'll never see me flee what to me
are precious memories; sentimentalities.
Who would be my Morrie?
Which five people would fill my afterlife dance card?
What would one day more portend?
How can I pretend to have a little faith
when people never stick around long enough
to show the possibilities; memories, sentimentalities?
I can envision my life through these tender vignettes,
it gets me misty to look through this picture book,
this photo Albom of my arrival. In all,
it aids in my survival, these sentimentalities.
These are memories of my realities.
© JPW - 2013
POETS UNITED - Verse First: Writers Are Lovers
it's a reality with which I deal daily.
Many losses and defections,
derelictions and deflections
bring some regrets. But you can bet
the pitch that Mitch proffers,
offers some food for hungry thought.
I ought to grip bootstraps and pull,
but you'll never see me flee what to me
are precious memories; sentimentalities.
Who would be my Morrie?
Which five people would fill my afterlife dance card?
What would one day more portend?
How can I pretend to have a little faith
when people never stick around long enough
to show the possibilities; memories, sentimentalities?
I can envision my life through these tender vignettes,
it gets me misty to look through this picture book,
this photo Albom of my arrival. In all,
it aids in my survival, these sentimentalities.
These are memories of my realities.
© JPW - 2013
POETS UNITED - Verse First: Writers Are Lovers
09 October 2013
Having Direction
The walk of life.
A rocky road full
of potholes and pitfalls
causing stumbles and pratfalls.
Your destination is clear.
You can't see it from here,
but at the end of that road
lies the end of the road.
Did you love?
Fully; unconditionally?
There is no price on love,
but its value is infinite.
Yet, we give love away.
That is to say the more we dispatch,
the more we receive, and do not believe
the blessings you bestow on others
do not flow back to you.
It is true. Love is the compass
of all journeys. If you foster love
and give love, you're well on your way.
Love gives you direction.
Follow it!
© JPW - 2013
POETRY JAM - Steps
dVerse - Poets Pub : Meeting the Bar: The Beat Poets and their Poetry
A rocky road full
of potholes and pitfalls
causing stumbles and pratfalls.
Your destination is clear.
You can't see it from here,
but at the end of that road
lies the end of the road.
Did you love?
Fully; unconditionally?
There is no price on love,
but its value is infinite.
Yet, we give love away.
That is to say the more we dispatch,
the more we receive, and do not believe
the blessings you bestow on others
do not flow back to you.
It is true. Love is the compass
of all journeys. If you foster love
and give love, you're well on your way.
Love gives you direction.
Follow it!
© JPW - 2013
POETRY JAM - Steps
dVerse - Poets Pub : Meeting the Bar: The Beat Poets and their Poetry
03 October 2013
There's Always an Ass on the Road
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| (Photo courtesy of Wikicommons) |
It never fails.
You’re riding on
rails
sailing down the road
in a trail of dust
that you must be
breaking the sound
barrier -
a miles harrier. Then
you see it.
Could it be what you’re
thinking?
Your eyes start
blinking and it sinks in.
There’s an ass on the
road. There’s ALWAYS
an ass on the road.
Idiots come up quickly behind you
to sickly remind you
that you’re in the way.
But an ass on the
road makes you frown,
they’re only there to
slow you down.
It never fails. It’ll
haw and bray and hold you up
all day. There’s
always an ass on the road.
© JPW – 2013
01 October 2013
Misted Mindset
it was a quiet hillside; he considered it
a place of worship where ghosts gathered
to swarm the edges of the bog like a hasty fog
the exact consistency of a pea green slurry.
patches of clarity would spill unbidden
into sharp and defined visions. he saw what
he wanted to see. nothing more
© JPW – 2013
The SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #128
a place of worship where ghosts gathered
to swarm the edges of the bog like a hasty fog
the exact consistency of a pea green slurry.
patches of clarity would spill unbidden
into sharp and defined visions. he saw what
he wanted to see. nothing more
© JPW – 2013
The SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #128
Smells Like Teen Flannel
Soft.
Caressing.
Messing with my grunge.
Hard edged music has no place
surfaced in flannel.
But I love
the warmth;
the comfort, but something’s not
right!
I stay up half the night
writing songs. Is it wrong to
fill
“Love songs” with bitter angst,
while
plaid and staid flannel is
against my skin?
How can I win? Find nirvana?
Do I wanna? Can Cobain be
channeled
sans the flannel? I can’t tell
but it sure smells like it!
© JPW – 2013
Margo Roby: Wordgathering - Poem Tryouts: Flannel Me This
26 September 2013
Wonderful
You want to pull up stakes and make
a beeline out of dodge, but the old codger
has a score to settle; he tests your resolve
as your spirits wander. Under watchful eyes
your wish for non-existence is granted
and every man, woman and Zuzu is lesser
for it. Your brother dies, as do the guys
on his ship. You weren't there to save them.
Your mother sees another boarder,
not a son at all. You fall from her grace; losing face.
A bad Martini drives you to drink and in the Nick of time,
a strange angel gets his wings on your dime!
You think you've wasted your life with so much to give.
This is the place to be, and the people you need to touch.
Is that asking too much of life?
© JPW - 2013
Poets United - Verse First: We Are Interconnected
a beeline out of dodge, but the old codger
has a score to settle; he tests your resolve
as your spirits wander. Under watchful eyes
your wish for non-existence is granted
and every man, woman and Zuzu is lesser
for it. Your brother dies, as do the guys
on his ship. You weren't there to save them.
Your mother sees another boarder,
not a son at all. You fall from her grace; losing face.
A bad Martini drives you to drink and in the Nick of time,
a strange angel gets his wings on your dime!
You think you've wasted your life with so much to give.
This is the place to be, and the people you need to touch.
Is that asking too much of life?
© JPW - 2013
Poets United - Verse First: We Are Interconnected
20 September 2013
Summer Set For Slumber
The days are getting shorter still,
the summer fades away,
we say goodbye from on the hill
on this late summer's day.
I hold you near and we can hear
autumn waiting in the wings,
the colors warm will soon appear,
with all that autumn brings.
The moments of loves long embrace
sustain me through the night,
and glowing starlight on your face
makes everything so right.
Prepare to dream of Summer sun,
a restful sleep ensues,
with memories of Summer fun;
the ones we'll never lose.
The kiss we shared upon the shore,
the picnic in the park,
the treasures of this life and more
will greet us after dark.
And there my dear, I'll hold you,
and whisper love's entreaty,
as summer sets when day is through
to rest in autumnal beauty.
Go to sleep and have your rest,
I'll wake you in the Spring,
just lay your head upon my chest
to see what this night brings.
© JPW - 2013
dVerse - Poets Pub - Form For All - Ballad
the summer fades away,
we say goodbye from on the hill
on this late summer's day.
I hold you near and we can hear
autumn waiting in the wings,
the colors warm will soon appear,
with all that autumn brings.
The moments of loves long embrace
sustain me through the night,
and glowing starlight on your face
makes everything so right.
Prepare to dream of Summer sun,
a restful sleep ensues,
with memories of Summer fun;
the ones we'll never lose.
The kiss we shared upon the shore,
the picnic in the park,
the treasures of this life and more
will greet us after dark.
And there my dear, I'll hold you,
and whisper love's entreaty,
as summer sets when day is through
to rest in autumnal beauty.
Go to sleep and have your rest,
I'll wake you in the Spring,
just lay your head upon my chest
to see what this night brings.
© JPW - 2013
dVerse - Poets Pub - Form For All - Ballad
Mirage
and your heart believes that you
are seeing what it wants you to!
in misty faded wisps. You envision
beauty with beholding eyes, indecision
and your can swear her faces is
hidden in remarkable places.
you blame your meal, the light
and try as hard as you might,
You cannot replace her
and God forbid you deface her
her perfume, the smell of her hair
a gentle hand gracing your shoulder to repair
and you thought you could deal
with it, but you continue to feel
She is right here,
and you’re not clear
you, the task of waiting till mourning is daunting.
You reach to touch what is not there, leaving you wanting.
© JPW - 2013
19 September 2013
Outta Whack
“He’s not quite right”
she said,
never knowing if her
suspicions
were correct, but
what did she
expect from a guy who gave her
the evil eye. Oh
sure, he called it flirting
but he was skirting
the issue.
And she wasn’t really
sure what to make
of his attitude,
since her gratitude
was out of character
for
a character such as
she.
She took what she
wanted
and never took any
crap.
So this sorry sap had
her pegged.
He said, “She’s not
quite right”.
A match made in heaven,
the future was bright
for Mr. and Mrs. Not
Quite Right!
© JPW – 2013
Poets United - Verse First ~ Just Past Center
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