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Inspirations, Poetry, Quotes, Thoughts, Etc A place for you to express yourself. Share inspirations, poetry, quotes, writings etc. here. |
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04-25-2014, 06:33 AM | #1 |
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loud paper tablecloth
the spoon fed morning
headline nuggets spill black and white suggestions read like tea leaves over a floppy robe while poppy seed muffins, green with envy opt out a "hello" below page after page layered in clover-lined edges covered by coffee stained rings which chain link into an op-ed drawing of a trumpet blown checkboard floor just this side of quiet oatmeal. |
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05-01-2014, 06:12 AM | #2 |
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Above a courtyard view, the sky unveiled a cusped collage,
Amplifying an applique foreshadowed light so sighted few. Slightly across a candle flicker amid clouded cumulus corsage, Met meted means penumbra deemed, pellucid midnight blue. One veered temporarily, and opened a window-heeded glance, The second look, tendered nostalgic, a woven scope, Twisted until time bid space, an acceeded circumstance, Harmoniously thereof, as an adage, aeolian rendered rope. Accelerated, the pace sublime, along the breezes sent An inadvertent kinder find, insomuch how lingering solitude, Cogitated these things, that feazed strings, blowing blind bent Whimsically, this whispered, "wow", a non-poetic latitude. For even as many directions in bloc were turned by my glass counterpane, More morphed an air of pensil quintessence, which fast cannot be named. |
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05-02-2014, 07:00 AM | #3 |
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sonnet two
Upon an unopposed path, no balance clearly alludes
A past-worded cast that hath painted scorn; Way of once, twice beleaguered math dearly secludes Ledger's frayed pages, sold futures remained torn. Additionally tepid, it sums a legacy corrupt In historical accounting near spirituous reproach, While youth's gilded charm, subtracts fiercely abrupt For a waned stead unforgiving debt laden broach. Though known collateral, monotony bemoans Two decades too-deafened chide, both nascent yet evasive, By a one-sided coin, a faded fervor balloons; Employed with pictures compounding interest abrasive. Wherein resides rhyme's read refuse, reads another one's black praise, Alongside fifth of 100K, with which to wash whiter the days. |
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05-02-2014, 07:21 AM | #4 |
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three
Sonnet No. 3 March 28, 2005
Oft reflection is not kind in the midst of melancholy bound, For soft moments for the nonce, wrist the eye's inherent door. Still, a treaded travel binds missed memory that complexion found A doleful, cleft spell, spent deserted, only tense led told past can store. Moor'd tandem in a sense, and more parenthetical anent, since drought ceded lore The downcast gaze wrought-up divalent days, which halved in creases worn Like leaves left covering, hitherto hovering, wake above a sidewalk floor, Whereupon fallin deaf, poured well a gloss, sought to salve lamentation borne. Cloudless skies tone carpeted dyes, while April bathes the thrush that flies Through threshold's curved colorless scene, shade brown blue, severed chaff. Locks, the guise of pluvial ties, never hushes curbed those cloistered cries From films, before tear's air blush reappear, reel pled sigh's pixelated draft. And so low solo, hearts rescind, sent both tier passed more out than in, Whence dust cleared blurs now more, than then. --kd These three sonnets were written during the two years prior to getting sober. They don't inspire me, but seem to remind me of how dark the days actually were. |
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05-09-2014, 06:30 AM | #5 |
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4
Chilled spite quills only trebled haste to ascertain
Forth this dither shied serf, tour to force bard equity. While unwilled, dwarfed phantoms nil felly obtain Turf barely writ lest its freeze wards barred vanity. Hordes which primly hoard a path to proses's unread peruse, Charitably deduce perpetual parlance paid per view, And slush lexicon funds of waxen Webster abuse Whereupon violins are dead, serenades inviolate are due. How else would one rate words of another self-deprived Whose idled wick acquired, awards a smothered deprived desire? In the end, when sent to mend all drivel other shelves derived Will's mustered age turned a page dialectally set afire. Whether indexed, windfall vended widowed sprite empire, Or content, broke in urn before an alley cat Cheshire. |
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05-15-2014, 05:58 AM | #6 |
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yesterday's soup
A carrot suspends a hare desire;
Ice cream seems, an ear muffed mire. Yet mettle brims a grim decipher; Bet kettle ends St. Elmo's fire. Oh how hyperbole accolades steam fresh, a fashion window play that score a side board cide sashay pride bided in hang wring charade many a chore, cavalcade blog, rides Aboard 24 slash 7 cliches hid amid aplenty house glass at bay. Easy come, easy go; a come what may confides. But in that frozen 'bout face boast vichyssoise, sorbet, then roast, A plastic cup fit for the toast points. |
06-03-2014, 06:29 AM | #7 |
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strangers
We are mere strangers
I don't know you from Adam nor from Eve And if an abyss persists in whatever exists along a dormant, distant dimension Its presence resides within the confides of a secreted, private pretension. No gregariously guarded plausible pauses, no previous, prepared predilection Just a listlessly nimble nonchalance caught casually in quite suspension. |
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06-03-2014, 10:34 PM | #8 |
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In AA, there is a saying that says, "I have yet to meet a stranger."
My sponsor use to tell me, "You are only half a handshake." I offer it, and it is up to the other person as to whether they accept it. When I meet new people, I ask them, "Do you do hugs?" It doesn't matter what their motive is, it is mine that has to be examined. Thanks for sharing your posts.
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Love always, Jo I share because I care. |
07-23-2014, 06:23 AM | #9 |
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cardio boxes
Cynosure, in colour do hither horizons,
Cascading clouds of cardio boxes; Exposing red oxen, imposing blue foxes, Cloistered by the bison. Extolled in ha-ha humility, Gound laconically aslope in allure, It yields, yearns, and earns an undefiled feat So dogmatically pure. Neutral, non-variable, Yet consistently constant, Love is conception of styles; Without contempt, per the pre contentious, It blinds the dark face of the wiles. In light which conqueres not eruption of power, But mines the gems of candor and valor; For lust may be a volcanic arrival, Only love will render a survival. Conditionally, it revolves a carousel convection. Unconditionally, it crosses Simplicity in a centrifugal cast of conviction. No, not quilted in clandestine condescension; More wrapped with wreaths and blankets of faith. A face to face ascension. It can break the heart with Wonderful words, and brisk Predestined passion, then Knead and mend the breaks And bends on the heals Of common compassion. Where lashes veil, blink, soft lips move mute, Noses near touches, tears becomes suit. Where its liked to be loved, and loved to be liked; Fate twisted so similarly Acute. |
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08-30-2014, 08:58 AM | #10 |
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Portrait Of A Lady
Now see hath a dune rippled just shy of dusk,
collects rue flying from favonian missed; when fostered in crevices that were amounting akin, like accrued dew of a fosse stalking silken corn in husk. Eminent, in forenoon once, in hill and dale stood, an en passe yon yield of yearning stern wood; an end loom caught, a wonton nonpariel, as the pale grain embarked on good grants fulfilled. So shivered was the enigma, culled in a chasm o' moated mystique, shored blueish green oceans landlocked in critique; quelled beneath foggy longing, logged gesso oblique, awaiting a primula posed in medieval arcana. Set, oh caped, a port of war primed a palindrome, as 'twas purloined candid by carousel's chromosome; in sorts of pored rapidly replaced visions, timed congruent, as the mistress paralleled, chronologically in monochrome. Yore, had the heiress a mere palette of Burgundy, glazed en royal grape vines colored with layers of oil; yet a votary motif effaced en vogue, with such subtle uncertainty, had more prone apotheosis of toil. Specious? Perhaps, by twists turned in cataclysm, moving moments magnified most magnetic, or maybe a gainsay of mordant macrocosms, in search of esoteric ascetics, especially having been entwined with a monolithic, meadow crescendo played by a violin in a mourned lore of lacking kinesics. Nonabsorbent, was the paneled, Marie, a debonair diva non-gellen'; instead of a whisper, why don't you try yellin'. Flee from your impugned laconic hundred days. Diffidently define your dosing chary of ways. Enticed we are, nebulous puddled complexes. Chasing a charm chosen denouement perplexes us; like laden girdles coyly kilted in kitsch, diagonally diaphanous, withdrawing never nexus. Placid, tacit, the gothic lady doth tarry. Countervailed in a habit, undulated she varies; woven opaque by a wimple weeping willow. Back and forth--black and yellow. |
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10-07-2014, 06:51 PM | #11 |
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Whistle Stop
'longside train towns bold
a next circled text chorus rides; checks abode songs a lode body lull sings soprano, of course: farthings. lone ballad dust must abhor the chore salad days baby boys lust, so rages coy may pigeonhole sage; fore, bereft turns the page. nothing stops. it just began, high atop, some boot- less sight suspends. Foot! more men fighting. more men to defend woe, women, children. |
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11-20-2014, 07:09 PM | #12 |
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The Night That Dixie Died
Long beyond what's better since; between a dream and what's real.
Before what was saved was what was spent, and guilt came prior to appeal. Before she drank and swam with rum and coke engulfed in the sea, Her bayous blew through drapes a ballad emerald tapestry; As her history forlorn indeed did carry charmed hospitality. From the stage her past often read aghast, incites ubiquitous domain Slain austere with a dash of pent-up rage, and document retort. From ferried tasks pray tell to ask missed by her delta plane, To a Cornwallis chase to King's Mountain face, to assault on Sumter Fort; Through Vicksburg, Bull Run, Shiloh too, to Brown versus Board on the court. By far and wide with uncertain pride, 'twixt dirt and rain 'twas trudge Still a scarred outside cleft a healed inside, left true regret a wall. Perhaps the sterile dust impedes the dearth from blood where all are judged Lest fertile earth whose seeds once sewn white knots which clothed us all. Who'd ever dream the gracious lady's reaper night would call? The lady in red is dead, I said. The lady in red is dead. So when a cherub along tobacco road offered me a smoke, And a band donned stars and stripes conceived in tattered denim spoke; A rebel cried for help, a union soldier died and sang. And above Lee's divided path, the phantoms at Antietam rang. |
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