LITTLE BOY
A little boy with stoic face travels,
Through life with pain and anger held within,
Unable to express his life long trials,
He wrestles to keep demons locked within.
Along the road he dons some new apparel,
Affects a new demeanor as he needs,
But deep within the onion layers of terror,
The little boy remains and slowly bleeds.
The lad may fight to break his layered prison,
A child however cannot wield that knife,
The rescue effort must be done in common,
With those whose lives have met a kindred strife.
Polished exterior not withstanding,
The small boy remains and is demanding.
© Bart Breen
HEALING HANDS
In past years, I have sought in vain
for one, whose caring hands might touch
the wound that I have sought so much
to heal, and finally free me from my pain.
Deeply I have sighed and fought
inner demons, seeking to be free,
I caged them back inside of me
and pasted on my mask as I was taught.
Now I see the hands I need
are not those of another,
rather, I may touch an inner brother
who resides deep down in me.
The hands I need then now exist
down my arm, just past my wrist.
Did you hear ……
Prattling tongues have often wagged and spread this
type of sordid thing. Their speculation
rife with innuendo. That fleeting kiss
observed in haste, a vile inculcation
burned into the corp’rate grid, repeated
freely for all within ear’s range. Story
multiplied and amplified and heated
to a frenzied pitch. A stolen glory
conferred upon repeating lips which smile
and knowing nods confirm with evident
delight, two reputations now servile
to gossip’s grand design, two lives now rent.
Affection shown between platonic friends
now twisted beyond reach by rumor’s bends.
© Bart Breen 2001
I wanted to try writing a sonnet.
I’ve not really done one before.
So here I am making a start on it
If you like it read on, there’s more
For research, I read an example
Hoping the form to elicit
Three quatrains suits most every sample
A rhyming couplet to finish it
Other variants I wont try here
Though be noted that there’s a profusion
And now that the end is near
I’ll bring this all to a conclusion
So with rhyme I hope timely and true
I’m done, now it’s over to you.
I
Captive in your arms
My heart alone perceives
Held so close to every dream
Will soothe me constantly.
II
Showing love with tender touch
Always somewhere you can go
My soul now sadly roams
The heart that is my home.
III
Be still my heart it beats so fast
To rest upon your pretty wings
Upon life and all good things
Together my love will always be.
IV
We catch these gifts in passing
In life our works of art.
LadyDP2000(Dorian)
copyright@1999-2002
GOD BLESS AMERICA!
as i move along to my class
students dont talk to me they move right pass
i go in my class and get my trumpet case
just to sit there and watch mr. running's face
i sit down 3rd from the best
he's name is brain and he is so obessed
with the band teacher mr. running
he think thats he is the king
Mr. running is weird and really tall
to him i am small(duh)
whenever he gets mad he frowns and points at you
then when he points to another spot you have to move
he start talking soon
he wants to yell at this cussing goon
he sits next to me and he always attends
my birthday party cause he is my friend
Das Ende
The circle of Life goes around and around
Stopping who knows where or who knows when
The beginning becomes the end, the end the beginning
There is nothing new to discover, lets just love one another
The circle of life spins by one so fast
It stops for neither you nor I my dear friends
Going on and on into the future no one know its past
Lovers come and lovers go let us love all those we know
The circle of life is an unbroken band
With no beginning viewed and with no end in sight
It can take ones will or it can make one stand and fight
It turns and rolls its merry way, come join in its fray
The circle of life is to be lived in its entirety
Where dreamers dream and mortality does expire
In revolutions it doth take its toll in its unending turn
And in its turning all life problems and tribulations do burn
The circle of life takes us within its orbit
Bringing us back to our beginnings and our ends
Nothing stops its endless turning, or its constant yearning
Let love your aim and challenge be, let it come unto to me.
Above the clouds what is seen
Can't exist
And many have seen the lights
Under stars
Around the world strange forms
Appear, taking their specimans while
We humans deny
Fear things creep around farmland,
And symbols left
Incomprehensible yet to man
The bastions of popular culture seize
These days
Distract us with alien's ways
The unidentified party tonight
Atop rough hills, desert, and never leave
But a calling card that
Rests securely locked from curious
Brave questioners
Who'll never prove anything here amiss
Liking much to dangerously our bliss
A sonnet is not that easy to write
I sat up thinking of this most the night.
Ten syllables per line, no more, no less,
Without rhyming, it can be quite a mess.
To write these darn things, you must be quite bright,
Forcing your mind to work on a new height.
You could write about somebody named Tess,
Or about her dog if you want, I guess.
I’m now almost finished, I’m almost done,
And I’ve realized this sonnet won’t be best.
I could do better, I could do worse,
It doesn’t matter because I’ve had fun.
I’m just very glad this wasn’t a test
This sonnet belongs inside of a hearse!