PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The American soldier in Iraq bathes his head in blood;

He no longer knows what freedom is; he is a victim of the

Helskinki syndrome. He cries,"Let me be a prisioner of Arabs."



Of all the gin joints Bogart said, I had to meet you here;

love far away has a way of creeping up on you.  We have a longing for the riverbanks of wet mud; muddieness colors all.



Brief is the call of the morning dove; eternity makes all

cries transient. Mother's reach for her doomed child goes unnoticed;transcience is the stone in the shoe of eternity.



Cry out when hitting rock bottom. We know your sincerity when there is nothing to lose. Love from afar is never questioned; swimmers never get a second gulp of air at the bottom of life.



Under the sea we can hear the morning dove; it is a brief cry from afar and eternity. Love tries to reach the bloodied but light on the surface is killed by raging bulls so far away.