Imagery

in this mystery

Folder: 
cast

in

this mystery

you are fast



fast as the bonneville

salt flats, but with

so many more curves



you are taking romance

with lips that bend around

words like they are nuances

on a fortune cookie



there are no questions

only moral dilemmas

and they are like a storm

coming off the ocean

off the west coast

of a Caribbean island



there is the romance

you walk away from

and there is the torrid intrigue

you fall into like rhythm

that takes you to pleasure



that takes chances

that doesn’t hid behind

a pet weakness for desire



the desire to have it all

but not to offer up anything



in this mystery

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the daisies greet me

there are the white toothy smiles

of adirondack daisies greeting me

as ride by them on my bike



but i am in a surly mood

so i am not as responsive

as i should be



i want more, i guess

i want to grumble



the yellow kiss

in the center of the smile

pushes out so much



i am happy on my bike



you can be a king

if you can be grateful

for what grows freely

along your forbidden

interchange



the daisies, like spots

on the fawn that strolls outside

my sliding glass door

rumble against the retinas



i want to ignore the alabaster greetings

but the daisies outnumber my self-pity



somedays, all the world is my table

and the cluster of wildflowers hold

me to the consequences of pathos

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Hunter and Prey

it's a constant battle

between hunter and prey

one yearns to go while the other begs to stay



a piece of flesh is all the hunter wants

while the prey must put up with the hunter's taunts



defense is the only way the prey (tries and) survives

but a constant state of violence and pleasure

is how the hunter thrives



so helpless is the prey in all his weakness and fear

unknowingly crawls along as the hunter comes near



but when the moment is just right

and everything is to the hunter's liking

the hunter crouches, the prey hesitates

and then

comes

the

striking...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'm using an analogy here between the hunter (abuser) and the prey (victim) and the struggle that exists between them.

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A Rock Sang to Me

Green as in a faded family dress,

smoothed out by the passage of time.

A spot on one side rises suddenly,

like a face lifting from the waters.

Found on the slope of a starry walk,

it glowed with life in the snow

and was found by a wandering monk

making a trip to Heaven's gates.

It now sits, alone and resting,

on the shrine of said monk,

taking sunlight and reflecting back

the colors beheld in our minds.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I was inspired once last semester to take a slow walk and really enjoy myself and look at everything while walking up to the observatory at the college for a class, which I didn't get to do much.  I found the rock on the "Planetary Walkway".  It now sits on my dresser, pretty as the day I found it.

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Blue Period

Folder: 
Poems

Today is different,

Today is new,

Tonight I'm going out,

With my friends,

We're going to the beach,

We're going to laugh,

We're going to hang,

We're going to have fun,



Then why do I feel so sad?



I painted my toenails blue today,

Maybe I should paint the fingers too?



Blue,

Blue is all I can see,

Blue is all I can feel,

Blue has taken over,

My world is Blue



Blue is my heart,

Blue is my mind,

Blue is my soul,



I hear Blue,

I speak Blue,

I write Blue,

Think Blue



Not the Blue of the sky,

Not the Bluebird's Blue song,

Neither suede or navy jean,

Nor the deep Blue sea



Once in a Blue Moon,

Unzipped out of my skin,

Crawled into another's,

I am Kurt Cobain



Resurrected from the grave,

A temple,  

With windows reflecting Ash Pale Blue



Now I am Blue,

I stare at my hand,

Maybe I should paint my fingers too

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I am painting a blue monochromatic painting of Kurt Cobain at school and so I've been focusing my mind set on everything blue. Thus the 'Think Blue'

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DISMAL VEIL.

Folder: 
NATURE

I touch you with caresse of silk

as soft as feather down.

When you awake, why, there I am

embracing all the town.

My damp, amorphous form enwraps

your downcast, forlorn frame,

cold fingers crawling up your spine.

How I enjoy this game!



Melancholy is my face,

dismal, grey and dank.

I coat each strand upon your head

till it is wetly lank.

Your straining eyes peer through my mist

but all's a foggy veil.

If you should wish to travel far

I'll hamper wing and sail.



Deathly quiet in stealth I drift,

you shiver neath my pall

My clammy breath glides oozing by,

a water vapour wall.

My cheerless nature, bleak and chill,

makes you feel depressed.

Glumly sinister am I,

Your unwelcome, languid guest.

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Museum Quality

Museum Quality©



You’re a masterpiece.

No. My masterpiece.

The Venus de Milo would grow arms just to hold you.

The stone Pharaohs curse the white man that smashed their noses because now they’re unable to inhale your essence.

You are the secret behind the Mona Lisa’s smile.

The histories of cultures are hidden in your eyes.

And now I want to paint you.

Not a picture of you.

YOU.

Your stretched-taut skin be my canvas.

Blood and sweat my oils.

Thinned with tears to become my watercolors.

We need no brushes.

Hands and bodies creating swirls and whorls.

Each movement recorded – stained and etched in my heart, my head

My sheets.

My bed.

It’s selfish of me; art of this magnitude is meant to be appreciated by many,

Shared with the world.

But sorry. No general admissions here.

You’re my private showing.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I was reading poems on another site today (9/15/2006) and got inspired.  This tumbled out in like 20 minutes.  I love when "the bug" bites me!

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Would There Could There Be A Haunted House?

Folder: 
FOLKLORE POETRY









Would there, could there be a house

that is scary even to a mouse?



A huge dark cavern of waiting

unknowns, of ghostly happenings

and horrible moans?



It sits, it lurks, it's hidden in the

trees, the wind it howls and nobody

sees.....



the walking shadows in the rooms,

the dark places, where danger looms...



the spiral staircase that climbs

so steep, the imagery on the

walls that keep....



making strange faces and

moving about, most ghost

gawkers may want to shout!



A haunted treasure of lore and

myths, the neighborhood's house

with ghosts adrift...



the cold spots are "here and

there", the ghost hunters they

come but do not fear...



the sounds the smells, the

wayward creaks of a haunted

home that dares to speak!



If you or I, have seen this place,

dare we enter this dark

gloomy space?



For I , not you, certainly

say, this is a haunted house,

in this time and day..



I would rather hear the tale,

then stand amidst the dreary

wails, and hear the loathsome

grating howls, that this

house cries when all is foul....



and so I say, and walk back

to, a pleasanter area without you!



You can roam, and seek and

find, if you want , on your own time...

but, mark my words and hear me

well, this house is under it's own

spell!



So if you're brave, and

brave at best, take that walk

and test, test, test....see if it's

really what they say, the scariest

house, in the light of day!







Author's Notes: By lilwinky*/ladykelshan*/luvscoco99*

*penames also known as Julie A.Katz-O'Neill

Written Tuesday August 16th, 2006



Would there could there be a ReALLy ScArY HaUnTeD HoUsE?



Thanks to Dr. Suess too! LOL!




Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just thought about what if there was a house like this out in the middle of the woods, somewhere...and it made people so curious as to want to visit it....wouldn't you want to?!?

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THREE JAZZ MICE

Folder: 
FUN POEMS







The Three Blind MIce..

gave up running all around,

and now instead,

they play Jazz, (they love the sound) !

They play on the old town square,

they play in pubs, bars, you name it,

nearly everywhere!



These Mice they play

with soul, these

"hip" mice, they

will play on the go!

One plays the saxaphone,

he hits great tones,

the second plays a trombone,

his stage name is "Bones",

the third mouse plays,

bass, he's got a great face!



The ThreeJazz Mice,

live way up high,

the cat next door,

can't reach to their

height!

The mice, play

JAzz all night long,

their neighbors don't mind

because they all

sing along!



Forget your Jazz favorites,

the ones , you're used to,

Check out the New Guys,

they jazz up the blues!

Three Jazz Mice, are

no longer on the run,

they're out playing Jazz,

and havin' loads of fun!







Author's Notes: By lilwinky

Written Tuesday May 23rd, 2006



I think that it's high time that those Mice have a "better life"...don't you?!!


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