Calling Card Thread (Poems by AWers)

[marnanel]

Sleep

They say my future follows on your past,
Commanded not to love you by the wise:
They say he never truly lives who lies
A captive still, and by your charms held fast:
Your warmth was torn by chilly morning air,
through daytime heat your image in my eye
would ever grow, would wane, would never die,
and with the night, you’d once again be there.
You took my life, and took away my breath;
You took my world, and left your words untrue.
No dreams are left I haven’t left with you,
And still you keep reminding me of death.
I’ve abdicated kingdoms for your sake:
And yet, and yet… I wish myself awake.

 

[bigb]

The rain was perfect

The metal roof created rhythm in the dark room

She undress with rain drop mirrored on her skin from the street light

They ran down her body, like a crude living portrait of another wasted night

Maybe I would please her this time, she was leaving anyway

They all did, she was only a week in the hole, get out while your ahead I always say

I failed

She stayed

We smoked the last cigarette and the scotch was low

I loved a woman who drank scotch, just a splash on the rocks

I loved a women who smoked, long cigarettes, always holding it in her fingers, never her mouth

I think I liked her

She was a bit older but striking in appearance and a wretched good time in bed

Maybe I will see her undress again, long legs on my shoulders

She went to pick up cigarettes and scotch

It’s been a week

They all leave

 

[Lavern08]

I Cried For You

When your phone range at 4 A.M.
You knew someone had died.

You called me later with the news,
I listened as you cried.

"I've gotta be strong for the kids, you said
There's just so much to do."

We made a pact:
You'd make the plans,
And I would cry for you.

It broke my heart to see your hurt
To see the pain, the stress.

But,

You survived that awful mess
Because I cried for you.

 

[salvo]

I thought I thought a hint of endless,
Nameless on a walk.
The ocean bound from this Abyss-
Was just a passing thought.

Note:
I'm really not that depressing a person in real life, but that's all that comes out in my writing.

 

[pegesus]

this is who i am, it is the legacy my mother left to me (i was her caregiver till she died)
~~~~~~

A Cozy Little Room​

deep within lies a place for my mother
a place where she is no longer a victim
alzheimers cant find her anymore
within my heart is a cozy little room

she is whole she is young she is happy
there she resides in peaceful bliss
no more pain no more fears to worry her
within my heart is a cozy little room

yes i have enshrined my human mother
accepted her human ways she tried her best
gave her a place of honor for all she wanted to be
within my heart is a cozy little room

she was not perfect she knew this to be true
but she gave it a shot her very best she knew
and for that i honor her for i inherited her ways
within my heart is a cozy little room

she was my mother and i love her still
felt her regrets at her mistakes
felt her pride when she knew she did well
within my heart is a cozy little room

she didnt know the legacy she left me
but i am proud to be her daughter
knowing she was only human doing her best
within my heart is a cozy little room

 

[MidlifeMark]

when I find I have something to say,
there's a certain and lyrical way
my words tend to go;
I write them, you know,
to the beat of A-A-B-B-A.

 

[O'Guillory]

The Epileptic Rap

The Epileptic Rap

Blink I’m here, Blink I’m there,
Blink I wake up anywhere.

Highway wind, filled with trucks,
Midnight seizure, Blink you fucks.

Piss my leg, wet my pants,
Think me lost, childish rants.

Till I shake, start to drool,
Blink it’s over, not so cool.

Blink I’m back, what did I do?
Hope it didn’t involve my poo.

I’ll be around, the next few hours,
Blink, forgot, did I have superpowers?

Cop on my face, Cop on my back
Blink mid-evil, back on the rack.

IV’s in, IV’s out, red lights blink and flash,
Blink again, broke I am, finances rest in ash.

Take a pill, no just one more,
Blink, awaken, on the floor.

Blink your Honor, it wasn’t my fault,
Blink your Honor, let’s call a halt.

I wasn’t asleep, it wasn’t a nap,
Blink I drove, doing the epileptic rap.

RJO

 

[O'Guillory]

Greenwood

Greenwood

Off the trampled path of Main Street,
beyond a swollen mountain creek.
A warmed and sheltered cabin,
Greenwood is the peace I seek.

Tangled limbs, a lust-warmed bed,
tattered souls in a moment with a mission.
Bodies piled between scattered sheets,
Greenwood has no bad position.

The softest of her pleasured snores,
fill the gaps between locked fingers.
The radio plays a country tune,
Greenwood shows joy still lingers.

Forest greens, and mountain blues,
the palette of a gentle soul.
Pain and loss burden her heart,
Greenwood helps to hide the toll.

Within this stony mountain town,
ancient gold and modern speed.
Families ripe with ravaged demons,
Greenwood feeds their festering need.

The beauty of this mountain town,
across generations of true love.
From deep within these people,
Greenwood grows as heaven above.

RJO

 

[O'Guillory]

Boomer

Boomer

A winter wind upon us,
Crystal, chilled silk bones.
Lust, no lonely orphan,
In manufacture of our groans.

Joys of youth, sands of time,
Pass slowly through the crack.
Aged genie, trapped in a bottle,
Life’s set, fades gently to black.

Material gain, material loss,
Get George Foreman's grills.
Magnetized cards, late night orders,
storage lockers, filled to the gills.

Broken families, raised by a village,
perhaps, battered by a spouse.
Credit floats the whole generation,
everything riding on the house.

From the bottom of the barrel,
Looking up, from where one lay.
Rot dreams of glorious youth,
The price we were forced to pay.

The barrel may be home or den,
Hell takes any kind of shape.
Looking up, from the bottom,
It still feels mostly like a rape.

Everyone may think us done,
America remains, just a rumor.
Who pulled down those towers,
You’re nothing but a Boomer.

RJO

 

[O'Guillory]

Search the Darkness

This poem serves as a preface/introduction to my published memoir titled, Webster Groves. I hope you enjoy it.

Search the Darkness

Standing silent, on the edge of life,
Alone amongst the crowd.
As laughter lays against my soul,
And the terror screams out loud.

Ride the banshee of loss and despair,
Briskly into the cold, dark rain.
Let loose the reins of the beast of Hell,
Ride firmly into the pain.

Search the heavens quick and fast,
Uncover the depths of Hell.
Prepare to ride, accept the costs,
For it’s yourself you will have to tell.

Stories lost, old tales left behind,
From a record you’re afraid to start.
In a library mixed with pain and fear,
In a volume called your heart.

Your soul screams out, an endless cry,
From the quiet darkness it calls.
“Come to me, end this journey,
For in life you have seen it all.”

But in our journey of life on earth,
False prophets trade in soiled goods.
The pain and horrors of the journey we take,
Need merely to be understood.

RJO

 

[nevile]

authoraddict.

my poem the first one
dont wanna write
flying kite
wanna have fun enough for my diet
idea strike
goodnite goodnite.

 

[kdnxdr]

Sorry for the 'station break', William Haskins initially started this thread as a spot where contributing poets to the AW forums could post a selected piece, or pieces, that the poet represented their style. Thank you to all who have contributed.

I'm sad to admit that it took me FOREVER to discover there is a complimentary thread where discussion on these poems takes place, you can access that with the link William provided in the very first post of this thread.

Just saying. (I'm also on a mission to bump up every thread that I see that has sat for awhile and has been inactive.)

 

[Mom'sWrite]

This looks like a great spot to park a video I made of NeuroFizz's poem, "Shadow to Shadow." Enjoy.

Thanks, Rich, for letting me play.

 

[kdnxdr]

Awesome piece of mixed media incorporating such a great poem. Thanks for sharing this piece....very exciting to see this kind of stuff!

 

[Kittenmay]

Fire and ice surge through my veins
Breathe into me and feel my pain
Angst and anger, teeth and claws
Rake my body with velvety sharp paws

The temperature rises as we intertwine
Bite my ear, whisper “you’re mine”
Heaven is a place of light and fire
Burning passion and flaming desire

Melt the ice inside my soul
Hold my tightly, heal the cold
Be a master of the pain
Stare into my eyes and feel no shame

Gasp in agony, scream in fury
Pain is required to get the purity
Sink your teeth into my skin
Watch me scream with an unholy grin

Colors flash behind closed eyelids
Bodies move as the passion rises
Move together, hard to breathe
One in our striving to be complete

 

[Danielle Notaro]

Poems and such

Hi Folks, newbie to this site. Been writing and acting a long long time. I resisted computers for a long time. Finally got one 2002 to submit a screenplay. The library ladies taught me the basics of computers. I haven't advanced much further. I did just get a Flip video camera and uploaded poems and vlogs on You Tube. If you want head over to see/hear them. If that's not cool. I'll post something here. Thanks, Danielle

http://www.youtube.com/user/danpeak?feature=mhum#p/u

 

[robingood]

Eulogy

A world of form and function, bind
you take the time, you draw the lines
to toil at work in wearied bone,
immortalized in works of stone,
And yet the wind doth weave her way,
eroding that we wish to say,
our whispered prayers,
our last despair,
to face the end in hopes she cares,
And will she take our memory?
Of course! It is our eulogy.

 

[rescuecatsrule]

Hope this one's OK to post ...........

You Walk On By

I'm sat in my pen
With people all around
Wondering who to look at
I look at you
But you walk on by
Without a glance.

I'm sat here, lonely and afraid
Looking out at you
But you don't seem to notice me
And you walk on by.

I'm sat here wondering
If any of you will look at me
But no
You walk on by.

I'm still sat here waiting
For you to take me home
My old life was hard
But not as hard as watching you
Walk on by

I can't help my fear
I can't help my past
So I wish you would
Stop and look at me and
Not walk by

I've been here so long
Watching all of you people
But you don't notice me so
You walk on by

 

[HarryHoskins]

First poem I ever wrote; never had no training either.

Randolf Hirst

I done a poo
It looked a little like you
I wrapped it up
In a muslin sack
And framed it in the Louvre

 

[SinK]

I'm just starting out and learning the basics so perhaps I don't really have a style yet but here is a pair of Rubais I penned in the summer sun at Coventry train station on a topic close to my heart:

I
Through bottle’s mouths the gods in eddies twirl
In heavens glass the amber liquids swirl
Sweet vapours rise on heat the hands bestow
And into Bacchus’ cosy arms I curl

II
Its fear; the thing that feeds death to the heart
That makes a hope to halt before it starts
You never know from where the spectres come
But of the cure the demon drink is part

 

[Billycourty]

The Contented Road​

In every town you'll find me --

Sprawled, cluttered, empty, straight. ​

Way that ties the world,

uninvited guest beneath crusades and pilgrim's knees.​

Bearer of the hearse and slow steps that follow.
Resting place of parting tears.​

Escape and the way home,
I am the journey others take --​

I am the road.​

By Jaymee Bennett​

 

[Al Stevens]

This was a poem first, then I put music to it.

A Mockingbird Sings
-----------------------

A Mockingbird Sings from an old tall pine tree,
It seems that her songs are meant only for me,
She sings when I'm happy, she sings when I'm blue,
Why is it that she makes me think about you?

Like you she is distant, won't let me come near,
Flies away when I try to draw closer to hear,
But she'll sing all day long if I just stay away,
Like you her aloofness holds my heart at bay.

Why am I expected to stay in my place?
Why must you and she keep me out of your space?
Why can't I give back some of what you can do?
A song for her highness, another for you?

Each twilight she leaves the old tree by my dunes,
Goes somewhere to someone to sing some more tunes,
Perhaps she finds you and sings down from your tree,
I wonder if she makes you think about me.

Come morning she's back and she reclaims her site,
Not knowing or caring how I spent the night,
She measures my mood, picks a fitting refrain,
And raises my spirits and eases my pain.

Songs without number, each one just as nice,
As the other, and never does she sing one twice,
But her notes touch my soul, and her soul breaks my heart,
'Cause we've not been as one, yet we'll ne'er be apart.

A Mockingbird Sings from an old tall pine tree,
It seems that her songs are meant only for me,
She sings when I'm happy,
She sings when I'm blue,
Why is it that she makes me think about you?

 

[Perscribo]

I'm not certain I'm particularly gifted when it comes to creativity on the fly--though I do have occasional flashes of inspiration. However, if you give me a bit of your yarn and a pattern I find I can usually knit up a clever bit of wit--a reflex, really, developed only after a few decades of reading and typing. I figure I've got at least a few decades left to develop this copyist reflex into something more original. In the meantime, you'll usually find me getting side-tracked in places like the triolet trail.


Nymph on a Railing


See the nymph on the brink
feeling no trace of fear.
Looking cold in hot pink,
see the nymph on the brink.
Cars crash. Boys crack. Eyes wink.
Twirling strands of rock hair,
see the nymph on the brink
feeling no trace of fear.

Is it wrong to protest:
"Is your mother around?
Does her absence attest?
Is it wrong to protest
she did not do her best
carving into that crown?
Is it wrong to protest?
Is your mother around?"

See her stoic, hard look
scanning rooftops,
wristwatch, hand bag, that book.
See her stoic hard look
at that woman with hooks
hanging signs on thrift shops.
See her stoic hard look,
scanning rooftops:

"Mother minds her party--
not so much this railing
Daddy gilt so smartly.
Mother minds her party
favors for her gentry
come to bid her sailing."
Mother minds her party--
not so much this railing

constant nymph of concrete.
Seagulls, vultures, gargoyles,
lurk in darkness, discrete
constant. Nymph of concrete,
eye-lined, shadow-thick streets.
Daddy's rich ore hard-boils
constant, nymph of concrete
seagulls, vultures, gargoyles.

 

[ErstwhileA]

Ours Poetica

Let us examine the scythe-toothed
poem, the maw on it: yellow, first of all
functional. If we speak of the poem, let us
pitch our voices low: that it might not overhear us.
Let us be reticent with our praise: let us note the poem’s
heft and lunge, the lumber and staggering
bulk of it. But climbing a spruce pine
to the thrall of bee-hymn, bowing
to morning, O, distant improbable flea
on a single Godhead hair:
let us remember the awe in it.

 

[Raventongue]

Well this is
Recluse rehab for
Minds warped, cracked, twisted, scattered like
A city conquered,
Ready for repair