as i was looking through the previous laureates' topics, i got to reading some of their poetry in the archives..so much talent there is!..and then i had an idea for my first topic..of picking out some favorite poems from each of the preceding laureates poetry and posting it here for others to read and enjoy, kind of like what i do in my forums..so thats what im doing..i will post each laureate's name and then, under that, one of my favorite poems they have written..i will post new poems to the lists as the weeks go on..possibly until the middle of February or thereabouts, at which time i'll try to come up with a brand new topic..so, to begin..
the first poet laureate was heinzs, from April 05 to September 05..many of heinzs' pieces are favorites of mine but i think my all-time fave is this one.
Twenty five years ago
your brown eyes opened upon this world
and your arms reached towards mine
to clutch a piece of my heart
that I so gladly gave
for you to keep forever.
I know you still hold it
for I can feel its separate beat
next to those of your siblings
and your sweet mother...
pieces of my heart
beating together as one
sustaining my life.
I live through all of you...
I am nothing by myself
but a quivering empty shell
devoid of spirit.
An angel holds you in its arms
making sure I can feel
that piece of my heart
waiting for reunion
when I shall once again be whole
and our arms entwine.
I am adding three more of heinzs' poems..
Conversations with myself:
#2, the Diet
Dammit, I'm hungry!
(Of course you are -
you're on a "diet"... fool!)
Yeah, but they said I shouldn't
and I could "eat anything - in moderation".
(Hey - I've got some
"bottom land" in Florida...)
and you're pissing me off!
(Oh - now we're "talking back"
to the "inner voice", are we?
what'd you think when you
cut your daily caloric intake
by 75%? And the 8
glasses of water...
talk about "pissing"...)
sometimes I just wanna cry.
(Go ahead... I won't tell.)
what is the measure
of a man?
these are what make him
who he is.
time to stop looking
at the face
or stature -
can be judged.
in the end
the Final Arbiter
will make the decision -
salvation must be earned,
it cannot be bought.
Thoughts and feelings
Hopes and fears
Anguish and pain
All painted in words
With other hearts.
Love and madness
Sorrow and joy
Souls merge on the page
And for a brief moment
Become as one
Then go their separate ways.
the second laureate was thief of dreams, from October 05 to March 06..his talented poems are so captivating that it was hard to pick just one to post! this is one that i was especially drawn to..
2.thief of dreams
I see you in your pain
Pick a part patriot
Tattoos washing off in the rain
Along with the wrist cut
I see who you are
I am adding three more of Thiefs' poems..
With perfection she smiled
Held out her hand so lovingly
Her hair shimmering black
Eyes sending chills down my back
Through her voice she captured me
Common interests made common sense
And we danced around each other
Smiling like fools
I was hopeful to touch the beauty
That is her
But when I moved forward
The glass stopped me
An alarm went off
The security guard
Escorted me to the door
Telling me repeatedly
That art and beauty
Can never be handled
Except by experts
Wearing the proper attire
Pendulum of Prayer
Against metal railing
Through clenched teeth
Pent up breath
And future fortune
Fists in sheets
Tremble under skin
Set the stage
Let it burn
Breaks past the surface
Slung from a shaking head
Eyes search the night
For an angel taken
Entombed in emptiness
Sitting upon the edge
Of the bed
Drenched in sweat
And soon to be blood
No longer to God
But to his angel
“I’ll see you soon.”
Takes up the pistol
Wipes from it the dust
After years of shaking
His finger curls
Takes up the slack
A phone rings
He ignores it
Hears his voice
On the machine
Pauses to listen
Shaking with sobs
Speaks from a thousand miles away
“Daddy, are you ok?
I, I just wanted to say,
I love you Daddy.”
The gun falls to the sheets
Sinks into them
As he runs
Snatches the receiver
And cries into the phone
So many tears
For so many years
A few minutes later
As his daughter laughs
Into his ear
He looks past the ceiling
And thanks God
For being there
it feels like there is nothing
there for me any more,
no reason for me to return.
and so i will slowly fade,
a little less each day,
until all that is left
is a memory
waiting to be forgotten…
ninian was the next poet laureate to reign, from April 06 to September 06..her poetry is amazing!..i think this sweet one is one of her best!
She was a seeker
of meanings and connection.
Rich with words,
He was a traveller
on a solitary path.
Content with existing,
spanned the distance.
Created connections --
love, (in whispers).
Two became one,
dissolved in rhyme.
Her one true love.
His journey's end.
I am adding three more of Ninians' poems..
Your words, chosen precisely
to convey exactly what you mean,
In an effort to keep touching them,
for the silence hangs comfortably
Come to me in silence
with touches that reach
We have no need of words.
I bought strawberries at the grocery store.
They conjured up an image of you
from that summer long ago.
You fed me strawberries ripe
and warm from the sunshine.
You laughed as I polished my nails
a matching red.
Your eyes crinkled up into a smile
as you held each piece of fruit
just out of the reach of my lips.
Even now, the taste of strawberries
makes me smile.
the 4th poet laureate was our very talented jeannerene, whose reign was from October 06 to March 07..her poetry always moves me! ..this one really touched my heart..
Looking for Johnny
He left without a jacket
just a T-shirt
The winds of our nether time
are battling the landscape
And the unsympathic rain
hails the gusts in lusty competition
But neither tempest can veil
my discordant racing heart
or my Almighty prayer
My baby, My baby
A broken record utterance
Dear God, where is my baby?
I'm out'ta here.
Slamming the door
And the tempest of this nether age
still wrestling anguish of the heart
lashes and thrashes at it's enemies
imaginary and real.
And the balance weighs so
delicate upon the lips
of wisdoms love
and it's Almighty prayer.
Where is he in this devil's rain?
He scared me half to death.
My mother speaks with heaviness.
of the rain blades
And the tempest of this mother's love
I am adding three more of jeannerenes' poems
The Poet and the Poem
Her touch tapdances
over the keyboard,
and quitting apruptly,
interrogating the word,
He erases in a fury
of passion so sweet, Her quill
slides over the parchment.
With word following word
of Her love,
His madness, joy,
He pens intently, searching
the pulse of the city for inspiration
the silence of the sands
the scale of the mountain
the delirium of hell.
Seizing the multitude,
lilting each tongue,
traversing the times,
the poet born,
the poem given.
Let Me Know It's Only the Wind
etched they are
with a thousand fine lines.
Spotted and raised
with the red-blue rivers of her life.
move upward to sweetly caress
the boy's face.
And with love learned well
she stokes his rough cheek.
and kisses her brow.
"I love you, grandma."
And this his most earnest love,
love returned to love received,
unfeigned and unconditional.
I'm sad sick hurt Rock me.
On your lap Please.
You don't know what it is,
but you make it feel better.
I get scared, mama.
. . .It seemed you turned an endless summersault. I'd lay a hand upon my belly laughing.
With closed eyes I'd touch the love unexplainable.
Your apron is dirty.
Your clothes never match.
You sing off key.
But when there's something at the window
You let me know
it's just the wind.
You sit on my bed,
'till I fall asleep again.
. . .I buried my face in the feel and smell of baby silk hair.
. . .Fingers brushed your hair away and squared the baseball cap down and sent you back to the field.
A little dirt never hurt anyone.
I'm laying in bed sad sick hurt
and it's not about the wind.
. . .Reaching to place the loose strands of hair, you stop my hand.
There is always an inescapable longing
To be there . . . close to your breast.
Breathing . . .
with the rhythm of your breathing.
Rocking . . .
with the rhythm of your rocking.
On your lap . . . your lap . . . mama
Let me cry . . . me cry . . . mama
Let me love . . . me love . . . mama
"Love you, grandma."
He bounds out the door.
She walks to me
and with those well-lived hands
she holds my face
and kisses my brow.
He has a good home
and a good heart."
On your lap . . . your lap . . . Mama
~Red Ribboned Box~
It was time wrapped softly in a ribbboned box,
That I set on my special shelf . . .
with a glass kitten & baby rabbits &
a picture of daddy in blue-jeans.
Expectantly . . . years ago.
And they with time sat there daintily,
Telling me sweet stories.
And those times when I fell
They kindly decided to ignore,
Clustering in groups of cuteness,
Reassuring me - - Little girl, with a curl
In the middle of her forehead.
And I stood on tiptoes to reach my special shelf,
When I put time in the red ribboned box,
The paper flowers and a postcard from my best girlfriend.
And I sat there, expectantly
On the edge of my bed,
When my feet didn't touch
With the white ribbon keeping the curls from a round face.
Waiting to be all that time promised me.
our next poet laureate was our very own talented Spazway. She was laureate from April 07 to September 07..all of her works are truly a joy to read!..i love this one about friendship..
My Special Friend
You are the sunshine
that brightens my day.
You are the laughter
that fills my heart with endless joy.
The very sight of you makes me smile.
You lift me up
when I’m feeling down.
When I’m lost you take my hand
And show me the way.
When I feel like I no longer
have the ability to go on,
you give me the strength to persevere.
When I fall, you pick me up.
You stand behind me no matter what.
Without you, my life would be empty.
You are my hope, my inspiration,
my reason for living.
You are my special friend.
And I love you.
I am adding three more of Spazways' poems..
Somewhere there is an answer
To every question in the world.
Somewhere there is a mate
For every lonely person on the planet.
There is a cure for every disease,
A solution to every problem,
An end to every war,
Somewhere in this world.
Somewhere in this world
There is hope strong enough
For the depressed, abandoned
Somewhere in this world
There are people who care.
Somwhere there is love -
Something to believe in.
A Vision in the Night
The wind howls outside my window,
Fierce and unhappy,
Chilling me to the bone.
I curl up on my side
In this lonely bed of mine,
As I close my eyes and try to sleep,
An image of you forms in my mind.
I see your smile,
Which brightens my world.
I hear your rich laughter,
And my heart races.
I hear your deep voice,
Making my body tingle.
Your lips touch mine in a feathery kiss,
Taking my breath away.
As I fall into a peaceful slumber,
I can almost feel you beside me,
Memories of Peri
I sit here and stare out the window
Each rain drop on the pane mirrors the tears that fall.
These droplets that fall from the sky and my eyes
Are symbols of the pain I feel inside.
When I'm around others I appear happy, almost carefree
But I’m not. Inside I'm a mess. I'm falling apart.
You’ve been gone for some time now,
Yet it feels as though it were only yesterday.
I think of you at least twice a day.
I remember how it used to be:
You were always smiling and laughing.
Always singing off-key,
But you always put some of yourself into every song.
I remember your sympathetic ear and broad shoulder.
You always knew when to kick my butt in gear
And never took “I can’t” or “It’s hopeless” as an excuse
For any failure, whether your own or someone else’s.
You joie de vivre was contagious and so was your courage.
I wish I had some of that courage because I need it
To help me move on with my life.
Sometimes I wonder whether I will ever be able to
Live my life without you by my side.
I know in my mind that I will be able to do that
Yet my heart, well, that’s a different story.
I know the pain is going to ease a little more each day
But sometimes I wish it would go away completely.
I know it won’t go away completely until I join you
Because until you and I are reunited in “Paradise”
You will live here on earth through me
Because I will always carry our memories and moments in my heart.
Nekot was the 6th poet laureate, holding the honor from October 07 to March 08..she is such a talented, caring writer and reading her poetry is absolutely wonderful!..this one is one of my very favorites of hers..
I tremble, a leaf at autumn tide
before its final rustle on the tree.
What I have clung to for so long
is it possible I am wrong?
What can I trust?
Dare I ask, whom?
Soul, be still.
Quiet, calm the roar.
You have hearkened my cries before.
Amidst this tumult, what can I grasp?
transcendence in my soul
identity imprinted upon my every cell
Among the voices without
Among the voices within
I am adding three more of Nekots' poems
Falling through time
I tumble and float
With rhythm and rhyme
In a pink overcoat
The wind is a bluster
I drift through clouds
Of coconut custard
While thinking out loud
Alice met Hatter
After she fell
But what did it matter
By the end of the tale
What is the purpose
Of my little trip
No fuss, no muss
Light sail, loose grip
Ice crystals bright
Sparkle and glow
Creates a rainbow
Sliding down red
I slip into green
Making my bed
On rivers unseen
With lollipop dreams
And the moon on a stick
All this it seems
Is a fanciful trick
Now morning is met
I greet this fair day
And I shan't forget
I've heard the line ten thousand times
Of musts and shoulds and oughts
To give my all, one hundred percent
In noble pursuit of excellence
My personal best on Monday
May be quite different than Friday
I live my days with flaws and glories
Each brings unchartered journeys
The day that matters most
Is the one abiding with me
This moment of time is all I have
There are no guarantees
I do my best on this given day
Yet, it may not appear as so
Shoulds and oughts have their place
As long as my dreams can grow
I feel disconnected
from my heart.
It's not the first time
nor the last, I'm sure.
People appear so confident
while I tremble in my shoes
where no one can see my toes.
But I'll keep walking
with a steady pretense
so as not to trip and let them know.
our own Tom Watson was the poet laureate from April 08 to October 08..his talented poetry reflects his kind loving manner..all of us here have been touched by his works of art..picking one favorite was difficult, but i love this one very much..
We hear those whispers,
We who have lost,
Of the tears falling
To still trembling lips,
No longer kissed
By the softness
Of skin, but only
Its whisper of touch,
Silent and soft
The cold heart.
We hear those whispers,
We who hold
Memories it holds,
Fearing more losing
Of the footsteps
And other traps laying
In the whispering rustle
Of drapery folds,
Filling empty caverns
Of a broken heart.
Soon the echoes of whispers
Sound their silent alarms
Filling the void;
Into something that once
Was a full heart,
Now shell covered rooms,
Full of mourning
Whispers of loss
Floating on a salty sea
Of tears, emptying
With a whispered drip,
Onto an empty bed.
Soon, echoes of whispers
Fade, as time's shepherd
As flocks of sheep,
To move, with a
Whispering reluctant heart,
Through a door that
Mutes whispered tears,
Drying them to stains,
I am adding three more of Tom's poems
If you’re feeling very distraught or sad
Because suddenly you noticed you are not a young lad;
If you should happen to see that you’re agin’
And that you are no longer a young maiden,
Then take this to mind as the years pass along,
Old age is only a sign
That you didn’t die young.
What is that wetness
I see clouding the dark haze
Of your eye?
How slowly it comes;
As a drop of dew
Forming on some slender
Sliver of grass
Before the rising sun.
The cheek it touches
With its rosy flush of youth.
One little tear,
Yet how it moves the heart,
As the young flower
Is crushed by the clumsiness
Of growing youth.
And such a lonely trail
That remains with its passing;
Like a lonely life
Wandering, lost, on
The snowy plain,
Only to be lost further
By the passing
Winds of time.
I Thought of Her Today
I thought of her today
While looking out at the sunny sky,
In an unexpected way
While watching the fair goers stroll by.
She was sitting on a bench out in the sun
Holding our little Cocker so she wouldn’t run.
Enjoying the warmth, her type of fun,
While looking up at me, waving me to come.
I thought today of her bright smile
Her commanding presence, without any guile,
Her hard-edged and soft, caring style..
And she waved for me to come, and hold her a while.
The balcony was high, where I, with my tears, stood,
As the shade came to give her a concealing hood,
She rose, and with cocker in hand, waved,
And walked to where the light never moved.
and now we arrive at the presently co-reigning eighth poet laureates, Mr. Bags123, and myself, moonflower! bags and i humbly and happily thank everyone again who voted for us!..first, i am posting one of Bags' that i found in the archives..i was instantly captivated by it..i really love it!..
8.Bags123 and moonflower
Thoughts of Blue
Ashes filled with thoughts of blue
Disdain implodes the windowed hue
Venetian blinds obstruct my view
and shade my brain from thinking blue
Fire lights my furnaced heart
Crackling flames consume apart
The trust I had in you to start
now burned within my furnaced heart
Rain falls on my fallow fields
Drowning seeds of future yields
I live behind indentured sheilds
as rain falls on my fallow fields
Wind blows through a vacant hall
Empty,.... of what I recall
The leaves of Autumn softly fall
Then winter snows fill vacant halls
I am adding three more of Bags' poems..
Rivers of Silence
I'm reaching a point
in this long passion play,
where the purpose is fading,
just drifiting away.
It's a comfortable place,
where my ego is stilled,
and the rivers of silence
offer words to my quill
In "Solitudes Garden"
near "Detachment's Bay",
as the tides of indifferance
wash higher each day
telling lies to my wisdom,
that nothing is wrong
I'll pour one more whiskey,
to take off the chill,
as the rivers of silence
offer words to my quill.
It Ended on a Monday
It ended on a Monday
not sure of the month
or the season
All I remember was
the pervading fog
in my eyes
From the first moment
I knew that something
I followed my routines,
finding solace within
Everything seemed normal,
until I returned
Eventually, that evening,
as I pulled into
It finally occured
to me what
No little ones
on miniature legs
Expressing love unfeigned
Hugs and kisses
My children had grown,
and I had been to busy
Crackers and Dip
A worn out old poet
curls a cynical lip
He recalls when his verse
was not all the same schtick
Ensconced within silence
while the alcohol drips
Words refuse to march forward
from his minds empty crypt
Daydreaming at midnight
(a devout lunatic)
He spends time with his demons
to copy their quips
Lamp's dim luminations
light frustrations dark pit
His pen falls to the table
out of reach it has slipped
A dull drunken stupor
pulls him into its grip
As he ponders extinction
eating crackers and dip
from my works, here is a poem that i wrote many years ago that i think is my favorite..
The night softly speaks to me
with whispers and tender sighs.
It's darkness invites me to enter within,
so I nestle deep in it's magic disguise.
The dusky shadows surrounding me
implore me to come and dream,
so, with a blink, I am transported
to nightimes magical moviescreen.
On stage in the land of midnight illusions
I am free to wander at will.
I travel boldly through time and space
and I play all my parts with expert skill.
Deep within the shadows of this enchanted place,
my eyes are bedazzled while the magic unfolds.
I yeild to fantasies that my mind embraced,
some scary, some real, some best left untold.
I float through the night on pale gossamer wings,
waving and smiling to kings and moonbeams.
Unshackled, I travel to unchartered places,
soaring in and out of magical rainbow chases.
I yearn to linger forever here, but
the night, with it's magic, too soon disappears,
leaving me to ponder and to meditate,
reflecting on the magic, trying to translate.
As I struggle to stay in this land of pretend,
alas, daybreaking light and reality step in,
and as the velvety night slips softly away,
one last gentle whisper I hear it say...
"Don't be sad because the night
must end.. just know, that you and I
will meet again my friend"
I am adding three more of my poems..
The Final Gasp
Wounded,but still walking,
heart broken, bleeding,
but still beating.
Eyes dry on the outside,
on the inside, flooding,
but still seeing.
Soul dying..cold, numb,
but still breathing.
without you, dead,
but still feeling..
the greatest man
He makes coffee for her every morning,
He calls to say 'i love you' every day.
He cooks gourmet' breakfasts on the weekends,
He always finds the right words to say.
He brings her flowers just because,
He helps with the housework whenever he can.
He watches the kids so she can shop alone.
He even loves that her skin is pale, not tan.
He buys her little presents because he
just wants to.
He makes love to her body as if
he really worships her.
He remembers their anniversary every year,
He just smiles at her rage
when she loses her temper.
He taught her to cook and how to catch a fish,
He takes care of the cars,gardens and the yard.
He makes her laugh when she REALLY doesn't want to
He thinks she can do anything-even if its too hard
He is so much more than can ever be said
by the mere words of this simple poem.
He is truly the greatest man she has ever known.
Over the years shes been continually reborn.
Like a seedling flower, she has
thrived, blossomed, and grown.
this poem is dedicated to my husband..he is truly the greatest man i've ever known...
the night was humid, with sweltering heat
the air was heavy, stagnate
the very atmosphere felt charged..
as if it were waiting...expectant..
as storm clouds brew in the smouldering sky
a hushed, eerie stillness settles over the town..
it creates a mood;.. strange, surreal,
a night suspended...spellbound..
through the steamy haze a stranger walks
rugged, tall, strong..warily he watches
the churning sky..it reflects how he feels on this
stormy night...restless, tense...dissatisfed..
mopping sweat from his neck, once again he
pushes on..empty inside and alone, going
nowhere, but moving on...like the gathering
momentum of the distant storm..
she sits unseen beneath the trees
moody, sticky from the heat
she sighs, longing for a
whiff of air...a breeze..
feeling the tremors of the rumbling sky
she watches in awe as it transforms..
its turbulence is reflected in her eyes as
she watches and awaits the approaching storm..
on this sizzleing night they were both alone
two hungry souls with needy hearts
hearts alive, but beating in frozen
shells, hard ...like stone..
both caught in the aura of the pulsating
sky, thier souls connect as eyes meet eyes,
both pairs instantly attracted..
kindled by the heat of the evolving storm
two hearts are softened and a bond is
formed..the icy shells slowly melt..
the thaw silent, unseen...but felt..
underneath the ominous squall, he slowly
walks to where she stands, and as the rain
begins to fall he smiles at her..
then he holds out his hand..
as the storm explodes in the ignited sky, she
smiles back..hesitant, shy..but, she takes his
hand..tonight shes just a woman, hes just a man
she doesnt care if its wrong..tomorrow she'll care..
yes tomorrow...after the storm has gone...
well i hope everyone enjoys reading these ..i will be adding more of each laureates poetry to their names until about the middle of February..toodles for now!