Short poems by artists

[windsongmeditation]

The house next door

The gate was old and crooked, half open with vines wrapped and wound.
The walkway path was uneven and packed with leaves that made a crunchy sound.
The old frame house was weathered, without paint, and shutters lay on the ground.
The porch was a home for cats of many colors and sizes, that skittered around.


I knocked on the windowless door and after a time there was a faint voice from inside.
“Who is it?” Is that you Molly?” and the door was opened only a few inches wide.
“Hello” I said, “We just move next door” and handed her the pie with a ribbon tied.
She was old and unkempt, and glanced down at the sight of a stranger, she sighed
“I thought it was my daughter, Molly, she’s coming home today” glowing with pride.


She took the box in her frail hands “Thank you” she said as her eyes filled with tears.
She gently pushed the door closed, and I stood by the gate, as the mailman appears.
I told him the story, and said I hoped I hadn’t said something wrong to cause her fears.
He put his hand on my shoulder and said “It’s O.K. her daughter has been missing now for 40 years”.

The old woman died last year, and we can never forget the very date.
For on that same day every year a single red rose is placed by the old wooden gate.

R. Stagemyer

[tjhi]

WOW - that is all I can say, you all (and your daughter) are so talented. So glad I read this thread.....


Thank you all for taking the time to share with me.

Terry

[LeeCrossley]

A poem by my son Llewellyn 2 years ago when he were deeply hurt by a friend.(18Yrs)The Thunder within

A darkened day, a darkened mood,
The thunder within me begins to brood.
I cannot stand it, I hate it all
My happiness inside begins to fall.

Clouds form in the darkened sky
I can't think straight as time passes by
My mood has been spoiled
My blood bubbles and boil.

I want to scream, I want to shout
All of my anger I want to let out.
But their is no relief insight
As I have been deeply hurt tonight.

But the storm clears and go away
And I no longer feel astray.
It leaves its mark, a mark of pain
like leftover water forming window stains.

In time it will mend an heal
And sometimes completely seal.
But one day it might come again, the darkened mood
and thunder once again might brood

By my son: Llewellyn

[briannaM]

Surfing,

Water rushing at me, hot sun on my back
feel the power beneath me, floating me away
sealife all around me
play with me awhile
I have come to visit
on your turf to swim and glide
feel the freedom you feel in the water thats your home
ecstasy.... as sea and I meld into one

briannaM.

[henrik]

Originally Posted by bsnowden

Henrik, Tsk, tsk! You can do better than that!

Henrik paints while roses and violets fade
Lost in a world full of magic and thought
His brush like a feather glides, thus he has made
His own paradise - has he not?

ok, how about...

Roses are cadmium sulfoselenide red
Violets cobalt ammonium phosphate blue
thats why I am a painter, and even when dead
my roses and violets will be clear in hue

[bsnowden]

Originally Posted by henrik

ok, how about...

Roses are cadmium sulfoselenide red
Violets cobalt ammonium phosphate blue
thats why I am a painter, and even when dead
my roses and violets will be clear in hue

Bravo!

[bsnowden]

Here's something for a chuckle. Not a literary gem.

Blackberry Pie - Song by Bernice Snowden

Black Dan woke up with a plan one day
So he combed his black beard and his hair right away
He'd had a powerful craving in the middle of the night
For blackberry pie so he thought he might
Ease his desire for this delight

So he donned his gum-rubbers, took a margarine tub
Said goodbye to his wife with a giant hug
Said I'm going to the woods, I won't be back 'til noon
She said, "Dan, you be careful you crazy loon".
(For she loved that great big goon).

He parked his truck by the side of the road
And he passed by a tree with a croaking toad
And he passed a butternut tree to the right
To the blackberry patch where the bushes were tight
And the berries looked just right

He started picking them left and right
Put a few in his tub and more in his mouth
And he had that margarine tub half fulll
When he heard a sound like a raging bull
And his blood turned as cold as ice

Out of the thicket came a big, black bear
And no one but Dan would have even dared
Face the anger and the fury of this raging beast
So rudely disturbed from a promising feast
But he feared not even the least

For his craving for blackberry pie was so strong
That he routed that bear and it didn't take long
He gave that bear a left and a right
And he didn't look much worse for the fight
And he had his pie that night

[windsongmeditation]

When your pet-kids are in for the night and the tea is brewed just right,
And you’re comfy in your bed, with pillows stacked behind your head.
Prints from this thread would be the best, to give you rest til morning’s light.

.....Bob

[RuthT]

Originally Posted by henrik

ok, how about...

Roses are cadmium sulfoselenide red
Violets cobalt ammonium phosphate blue
thats why I am a painter, and even when dead
my roses and violets will be clear in hue

Poems bring a smile,
Once in a while.

[AirBrushGoddess]

I wrote this 5 min ago, hope you enjoy! This is a fun thread Wonderful work everyone!!


Love In The Sky


Magnificent evening
It’s been awhile since I’ve been to this place…
So many familiar feelings.

I am so full of love
But like a fenced in animal,
I have to wait my turn.

Patience… always comes to patience
It’s not yet time to spread your wings
And taste the sky

I’ve missed this place
Wrapped up in a nice warm blanket
Inside the arms of my love
I wish I knew for sure this would last forever.

Love, a bedtime lullaby
A comfort when you come home with a bruise
There to dip its paint brush in your tears
And make a masterpiece of your sorrow.

I want the future, I want all time to
Re-direct itself for a hint of reassurance
But logic makes its point- patience…
Though it’s not yet my time to fly
It’s worth the wait to taste the sky.

Rebecca E. Bornemeier

11-08-2005

[windsongmeditation]

To all of you who are painting with your words, and shaping and sculpting your thoughts. You seal them with tears and laughter, frame them with love, and give them away. To you I say BRAVO………To you I say THANK YOU….for making this the best thread ever……Bob

[LightDancer]

A little something I wrote last night ...

Dreamer, by Karen Marion

The woman wakened to darkness. No sight, and no sound, except the quiet breathing of her dogs. What had wakened her?

She did not know.

Gently, she disentangled herself from the covers and went to the window. The quarter moon was out, lending a dreamlike appearance to the desert landscape. She could just barely make out the giant cactus next to her trailer.

All else was in shadow.

A chorus of cries erupted from the hills. Bizarre, loud, and vaguely menacing. She listened as the coyotes sang, and watched, enchanted, as the coyotes trotted out of shadow. They surrounded her rig, baying, laughing, singing.

Her dogs did not awake, causing her some puzzlement.

Finally, the coyotes began to drift away. And the woman realized, that for the first time in a very long while, she was finally awake.

Fully awake in the darkness.

[LightDancer]

Nowhere Place, by Karen Marion

There's a nowhere place I sometimes go.

It's not dark, it's not light. It's merely nothing.

Nowhere.

Nothing is done. Nothing is felt.

Nothing ever happens in nowhere.

I don't want to go there again.

[windsongmeditation]

In little cups made of foam I mix my paints and hues.
In the same little cups I poured my coffee and tea.
After sipping acrylic colors a time or two, or three,
I bought a ceramic mug which I almost never confuse.

R. Stagemyer

[bsnowden]

Originally Posted by villageart

In little cups made of foam I mix my paints and hues.
In the same little cups I poured my coffee and tea.
After sipping acrylic colors a time or two, or three,
I bought a ceramic mug which I almost never confuse.

R. Stagemyer

That is so funny Bob. Done that many times! How mant times is "Almost never?"