Bonjour, and welcome to my Regular Poetry section. If you want Phan-poetry, go to the Phantom-poetry section. Otherwise, stay here and enjoy! *S* 'Nuff said, I should think. Why should I babble on when there's poetry for you to read? *S*
This series of poetry begins with long-ago stuff and proceeds to poetry written a mere five or so months ago. Now, on to the Poetry!
"Who Knows of Heaven?"
Who knows of Heaven? None, not even I!
Some say Heaven is among the stars;
Stars are like windows that angels peep through,
And some people claim they have heard Heaven:
Angelic choirs singing down through the sky.
Who knows of Heaven? None, not even I!
Some people claim it is a peaceful place.
There is no crying, sobbing or deep pain.
The people who scorn at all this are fools.
Still, who knows of Heaven? None, not even I!
"Trains and Other Lines"
Boarding a train
moving fast towards town
arriving at the station,
disembarking...
Joining a line which is curving
through the station
like the train
you just left.
"Ice Cream"
Chilly is an enemy
Face frozen, mean and harsh
like ice!
Sarcasm drips from their
voices, like cold water, and
the words are salty and bitter
to cover their hatred.
Sweetness oozes like thick cream;
Cold and cloying.
You want it all to melt--
the sarcasm, bitterness and chill,
so you leave the freezer door open.
"Robotic Zombie"
I feel like a robot.
So tinny, so mechanical.
Going 'bout my routine as usual
might turn me into a zombie...
If I'm not careful...
What else does a robot feel?
Nothing! It never complains
'bout the tasks it has to do.
But I'm a person with emotions...
Talking to you.
What does a zombie feel?
Who knows? No one stops to ask.
We just take zombies to task
for frightening us...
Am I scaring you?
Let's ask a robot and find out
what it feels. When it doesn't reply,
we should know why. Let's ask a zombie
to tell us the same...
What? The zombie is gone? Let's play another game!
"A Cat Poem."
Cats, cats
sleep on mats.
Cats, cats
shed on hats.
Cats will untie your shoe
while thinking
of other mischief
they can do!
Hairballs, hairballs, hairballs galore!
Hairballs on the living room floor.
Cats look at you so innocently...
"Hairball?" they ask. "What? Who, me?"
Snore, snore, snore some more!
Cats can sleep for hours
numbered eleven or more!
Wheezes, wheezes!
Oh, sweet Jesus!
I love cats,
but not the sneezes!
"Music's Mysterious Cloak"
When rain falls,
sun-shadows leave.
Cold and dreary,
the day drifts on and on.
But in my mind,
the sky is clear;
the sunshine turns into
moonlight as though the
rain never appeared.
The stars sparkle
like jewels against
black-purple velvet
and the moon looks
upon the earth with love.
Music quietly wings its way
across the sky, through the air
and straight to me. And I stand there
on the pavement, caught in the music's
familiar entrancing snare.
I feel I am spinning 'round
in circles as the melody wraps me
in its mysterious, shadowy cloak,
and carries me off to an unknown somewhere.
"Discoveries."
What I have discovered
about music and love
is that music, like love,
can be bitter or sweet.
Can it also be both?
Of that I am sure.
But not one tune should be discordant,
without another being pure.
Love can be sour:
a love that causes heartache
and much pain, confusion,
and emotional rain.
But the sweet sort of Love:
the love of the angels that
never becomes defiled. This love
reaches the highest heights
yet plumbs the depths of the soul.
And though it is tried
for lasting power,
it is a love that will hold on
until the planet's last hour.
Discordant, dissonant music
of any kind has proven to reveal
an anguished soul. This I believe
and now I find that in this anguish,
the sad, bitter sort of love plays
a chief and significant role.
Even in a harmonious flow
of notes comes a minor chord afloat
on a raft of lost dreams and hopes.
Though some hear a happy ending,
other lonely souls feel their hearts
just rending. And the tears start their
flowing, and there's no earthly way of knowing
where the lonely tune is going.
And so a major chord must
be played, to dry the tears,
and stop the rain. A chord so mild
to soothe the soul, and lull to
peaceful sleep the weeping child.
This major chord is none other
than the purest form of love
given to us by the Angels above.
"Come to Me"
Come to me by night,
my dear, and set my spirit free.
Wrap me in the warm cocoon of
your voice, and speak softly to me.
Make my soul come to you,
I will follow willingly.
Softly, tenderly, send us to the moon,
and we shall dance upon a beam.
At midnight, we shall ride
the beam back to a mossy forest floor.
Then might you begin to seduce me again,
and I to melt once more?
Yes, because you have seduced me
with your voice, so rich and clear.
I feel like time is no object,
as to you I draw near.
You take me into your embrace
and love me until the dawn is breaking
and my heart and soul are quaking.
Do not say goodbye yet, my angel!
Come to me again tonight, my love
and we will dance among the stars!
Around Jupiter we will fly, soaring
around Venus and Mars. Among the heavens,
my angel, we will dwell, forever in love.
"Stages"
Set the stage,
you and me...one
whole week carefree,
then fade to black, the
lights of romance growing
dimmer and dimmer, leaving only
the blue glow of mere friendship.
We stand alone, you on
one shore, myself on the other.
Wanting to reach out to you,
my dearest friend and brother,
but the churning waters of the sea
hold me back, and I cannot swim.
So I must fly...
Fly across the stage
to change the scene again.
How can I be happy when you
are sad and lonely? So I will
come over to you, and as I get closer,
the lights will brighten, and though
the red lights of romance are still dim,
the yellow lights of friendship,
happiness and hugs will shine,
as I look into your eyes, and you look
into mine, and we, as friends
will never part.
"Let Me Fly"
This soil holds no more
charms for me, but the
memory of the years gone by.
Now it is time for me to fly,
let us say our last goodbyes.
We'll call and write, but let me
have my flight.
I've a promise to fulfill
to a friend. You cannot hold
me here! I'm breaking the chains
this life has on me. Conformity
is not my cup of tea; you know that
as well as I do...I'm not your ordinary
girl with oodles of friends and gossip mates
who fill their lunchtime plates with tofu
and yogurt...and only skim milk, or
pricey bottled water. No, this life
is not for me!
So...let me be, let me take
my leave. Purely and simply,
let me have my wings, so I can
start life on my own again,
to fulfill that promise to my friend...
so that my loneliness may end.
"El Zorro"
Would that I
could fly on the wings
of Toronado,
sail over the plains
with the man with a "Z"
for his name...ride away
from this pain with such a
caballero. But as I
have broken a man's heart,
I am not worthy to be in the
presence of the mysterious,
swashbuckling Spaniard of Romance.
Well, this is it for now...more should be coming soon...depends on if the Muse inspires me...*S* And let the Muse inspire you to send me YOUR poetry!
