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Posts tagged ‘poem’

Ballad of Me

Guest post by Clara Littleton

 

I am a girl, pretty and fair.

I like to wear flowers in my hair.

I care and Share with all I meet.

I worry about all the people without enough to eat.

I am a woman and think with my heart,

by this is only a very ..very small part.

 

Some days…. many days….

When this is me….

I want to race cars, climb mountains and play baseball.

these are the days I dread….

when the words come that I don’t like,

I don’t like them at all.

 

Dyke, bitch, confused and not doing my part.

Now that I think back, not so much.

The names are here no matter the garb.

Tom boy, whore

Biker bitch, tease

My long dress, they think I cover for shame.

Too long or too short,

look at those clothes. She’s such as slut.

 

She must be selling something, I bet it’s free.

Tits too small, or too big. They bet they’re fake

They stop and stare.

Is it my clothes, maybe my hair?

I wonder why they are still standing there.

I turn away.

I want to fight back.

I want to scream,

but these same venomous words are all that is available to me.

To label me.

 

Not girl enough, too much a boy.

I dance with spiders and snakes.

Sometimes they assume it’s all a fake.

Is it because I am a girl?….

To the man crying out to be allowed to feel.

This all makes my head whorl.

From the men too, pride they steal.

 

Rare day they dare,

To ask me, to be fair?

What label may we address?

I’m always caught so unaware.

Bo, girl, femme, masculine,

modest, outrageous, too skinny, tooo fat,

I sometimes forget where I’m at.

 

Lost in what I might be called,

They ask again, wanting to know it all.

I sigh, the words don’t mean a damn.

Not to me, or these people who have set me free

from these labels, schemes and plots.

They ask again, what label do you want?

 

Finally, I look up, filled with dread.

I feel sad and mad and wish I’d fled.

I contemplate one moment,

the words still flying free.

If you want to label me…

I remind them of civility.

Label me please but with the label I want….

Stop playing this game,

for the label YOU want.

For everyone it’s simply the same.

I just want you to ask for my name.

About the poet:

Carla is an accomplished educator and art enthusiast who also owns and operates her own artistic services and jewelry business Archaeotype Designs.

Unrestricted (A Poem)

This new poem was written while on vacation in beautiful central North Carolina, I hope you enjoy it.

Unrestricted

Unrestricted by restrictive things

In nature’s realm from all things set free

Whether dawn or eve

What else can compare

To walking with feet upon the grass

And between trees reaching for the air

Nature shot by werner22brigitte

Nature shot by werner22brigitte

 

Alone (A Poem)

Compulsions and fear

Please leave me along

Knock on someone else’s door

And pretend that I’m not home

 

On second thought

Please do not

Don’t burden someone else

But flee from here altogether, away from every house

 

This is the newest piece by Jason Greiner, the author of two poetry books and more.

Unobtainable (A Poem)

I was inspired to write this poem, as well as what I am calling its sister piece entitled “Everyday Beautiful,”  which will appear in another post in the not to distant future, based on life-long experiences that have recently come into play once again. Perhaps I’ll include it in my next poetry book. Please enjoy.

beautiful woman

More surreal than real

And like a dream

The essence of flawlessness

At least in visual symmetry and form

—————————————————————-

Skin unblemished

Like a fresh, unpolluted snowfall

And eyes so mystical

With an enchanting lustrous glow

—————————————————————-

Sweet flowing lines

From head to toe

Like the many muses

Of Newton and Unwerth

—————————————————————-

Who is this man to her

But a speck of sand upon a beach?

Perhaps a fleeting thought gone by

But surely nothing more

—————————————————————-

Far off in the distance

Ever out of reach

Never to be held

Unobtainable is she

Untitled poem

When it comes to the genetics of art

I have often though that I got my photographic and visual artistic talents from my mother and my writing talent from my father. However, once in a while they each impress me with the skill set I often associate with the other. This poem, written by my mother during a road trip to visit my brother living three states away, is one such example.

While it is a raw version without any edits or separation of stanzas, I thought it was quite good, especially in terms of the vivid imagery. Check it out and enjoy.

mountain highway

Untitled – A Poem by Lisa Greiner

I was in a dream one morn’

As a passenger through someone’s life.

In the distance,

through the waves of green

rose puffs of white mist to the heavens

like smoke signals from Mother Nature to the divine

a blanket of soft grays moved overhead

that gave no more mention of warmth or light

and my face was bathed in nature’s shower.

What a journey someone else’s life can be.

The day will bring perhaps more gray

more dew to my thirsting skin.

A life bursting with the newness of spring

warmth and light

a dream to end.

Tomorrow I will journey again

but not in a dream.

Eternal Spring (A Poem)

While I love to use a bit of symbolism in my poetry and almost always want to allow the reader to interpret my writing how they see it, this one is a bit different. It is heavily metaphorical, while also holding some literal meaning and is really meant to mean one thing and one thing only. I also reference two English Renascence era poets in specific lines and phrases. If you’d like a bit of an explanation, please read the notes after the photo below.

Please enjoy.

Eternal Spring

—————————————————

With the winter

All foliage does fade

And decay under the weight

Of frigid air and show

——————————————————–

Everything hides in waiting

Under the soil of the earth

———————————————————

Then comes the spring

And all rises anew

———————————————————

In the grand scheme of the cosmos

The longest winter has seen its end

And the eternal spring has risen

Resurrecting all things to new life

———————————————————–

This eternal spring shall never fade

Even against winter’s bitter sting

As the warmth of the sun’s love

Has truly set all free

Courtesy of Free13k.com

Explanation (or at least partial clues) as mentioned above:

Stanza 1 – “Winter”, the fading and “decay” of foliage and the “weight of frigid air and snow” all have direct metaphorical meanings.

Stanza 2 – The phrase “in waiting” and “under the soil” are representative of a specific state of being.

Stanza 3 – “Spring” and the phrase “all rises anew” also have direct relation to a desired state of being.

Stanza 4 – Thegrand plan” and “the cosmos” refer to a specific entity. The “longest winter” further emphasizes the theme in stanza 1. “Resurrecting” has a fairly obvious connotation in my opinion and the phrase “new life” goes along with it.

Stanza 5 – The phrases “eternal spring” and “sun’s love” again refer to a specific entity. The “winter’s bitter sting” is a metaphor for the cause of the metaphor for winter.

The referencing of the eternal spring “shall never fade” is also a nod to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 and the aforementioned “sun’s love” also is a tribute to something in one of  John Donne’s works from his Corona.  Feel free to check them out.

A classic but important poem – A soldier’s night before Christmas

soldier's Christmas

‘Twas The Night Before Christmas,

He Lived All Alone,
In A One Bedroom House
Made Of Plaster And Stone.

I Had Come Down The Chimney
With Presents To Give,
And To See Just Who
In This Home Did Live.

I Looked All About,
A Strange Sight I Did See,
No Tinsel, No Presents,
Not Even A Tree.

No Stocking By Mantle,
Just Boots Filled With Sand,
On The Wall Hung Pictures
Of Far Distant Lands.

With Medals And Badges,
Awards Of All Kinds,
A Sober Thought
Came Through My Mind.

For This House Was Different,
It Was Dark And Dreary,
I Found The Home Of A Soldier,
Once I Could See Clearly.

The Soldier Lay Sleeping,
Silent, Alone,
Curled Up On The Floor
In This One Bedroom Home.

The Face Was So Gentle,
The Room In Such Disorder,
Not How I Pictured
A United States Soldier.

Was This The Hero
Of Whom I’d Just Read?
Curled Up On A Poncho,
The Floor For A Bed?

I Realized The Families
That I Saw This Night,
Owed Their Lives To These Soldiers
Who Were Willing To Fight.

Soon Round The World,
The Children Would Play,
And Grownups Would Celebrate
A Bright Christmas Day.

They All Enjoyed Freedom
Each Month Of The Year,
Because Of The Soldiers,
Like The One Lying Here.

I Couldn’t Help Wonder
How Many Lay Alone,
On A Cold Christmas Eve
In A Land Far From Home.

The Very Thought
Brought A Tear To My Eye,
I Dropped To My Knees
And Started To Cry.

The Soldier Awakened
And I Heard A Rough Voice,
“Santa Don’t Cry,
This Life Is My Choice;

I Fight For Freedom,
I Don’t Ask For More,
My Life Is My God,
My Country, My Corps.”

The Soldier Rolled Over
And Drifted To Sleep,
I Couldn’t Control It,
I Continued To Weep.

I Kept Watch For Hours,
So Silent And Still
And We Both Shivered
From The Cold Night’s Chill.

I Didn’t Want To Leave
On That Cold, Dark, Night,
This Guardian Of Honor
So Willing To Fight.

Then The Soldier Rolled Over,
With A Voice Soft And Pure,
Whispered, “Carry On Santa,
It’s Christmas Day, All Is Secure.”

One Look At My Watch,
And I Knew He Was Right.
“Merry Christmas My Friend,
And To All A Good Night.”

Written by Lance Corporal James M. Schmidt in 1986. Printed in Leatherneck (The Magazines for the Marines) in December 1991.

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