Day: January 27, 2022
And Then… #Poetry
Take one silken thread And then Let it free to touch And then With wings unseen, fly And then Unite the world in thought And then Take each other’s hand And then With touch, love springs And then Ghosts whisper of demons gone And then Old memories come knocking And then The silken thread is broken And then You see change is fleeting And then New ideas keep breathing And then You start again ©AnitaDawes2022
About a Boy
You could eat pancakes all day
When I was a boy
No one was ever in a hurry
My grandfather used to show me
The foundations of the country
You could see faces everywhere
For free, unobscured
When I was a boy
They had just discovered the cure for boredom
And it rained blood constantly
When I was a boy
My mother pointed out how overnight I became skinny and morose
And now even she is a ghost
You could spend the whole day dreaming
When I was a boy
No one forgot to love a stranger
My father used to take me
To see the limits of my imagination
It was a wonderful life
When I was a boy
A short note.
One of the many sighs,
Silent cries,
Unnoticed tears, you hid away from the world.
That kept sliding down your cold cheek amidst the dark night,
Shall one day either become a distant memory of the past.
or
Become a reality that you shall never be able to escape, ever in life.
Self-Published Book Awards – Writer’s Digest
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Wrapped up in me
All of you is wrapped up in me.
My jaw hurts again, perhaps I’ve beaten that path time and time again.
I found a new writer, a writer who reminds me of me.
A writer that I found myself wanting to read more of, to absorb that feeling of being exactly like me!
Like a meal you never want to stop eating.
Or sex you never want to stop having.
These are the feelings that make life worth living.
These are the things, I never wish to stop reeling.
I long to be me.
A blue bird doesn’t know they’re blue.
Doesn’t know that when it cries out all we hear is singing.
A tree doesn’t know it’s a tree.
Doesn’t question what it means to be what it’s meant to be.
I long to be a song bird.
I long to be a tree.
Still.
My cries sounding like sweet melodies.
I long to be me.
The whiskey and the beer song…
The whiskey and the beer song.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Easy to hide in the wrong things.
The whiskey and the beer song…
A whiskey and a beer was the song we sang to each other.
We found each other hiding in a corner in a dark Austin tavern. We fell together.
Not to celebrate life but to celebrate death.
She told me. “I was a beauty once and many desire my attention.”
I kissed her whiskey soaked lips. Told her. ” Beauty is one more bloody thing to blind us from the truth.
Now we are ugly with disappointment. It don’t matter, beauty isn’t what we need now.”
I ordered a pint of good English lager and a double shot of Jack Daniels.
We sat together daily. Two strangers with no place to go. Somehow misery bring two angry people together.
Somehow we become one for…
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RISE AND RAISE YOUR VOICE, a poem | johncoyote
Reblogged on WordPress.com
Your love, like heroin…
Your love, like Heroin…
Lace and silk, whiskey and sin, pain and misery we loved. I loved to watch you paint your beautiful face and I told you. You are a natural beauty. Your pale skin and your face. Men would die for. I asked you. Are you hiding your true face my lady love?
You sat bare-ass on a soft chair facing the mirror. You turned to me and you told me. Johnnie, Johnnie, you are addicted to me. I am your Heroin and you do not want to see how ugly I became. I was once a beauty, damn cigarettes, booze and drugs. And I love the damn men who would steal everything from me. Johnnie, Johnnie. You are just a con man with a poet’s face. You don’t want love. You want to become a part of me. You love us fighting in a bed of sin…
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The Reluctant Poet 