NEW ACCOUNT
Tada!
The TreesTreesThe Trees
Walnut, Pale grey, smooth between wide, deep fissures. Sinuous, low And lace-like in winter.
&nb
Con LongIt was like a miracle. Huffing, hissing, black-coal eyes. A Dragon. The summer was hot and languid. In the air, swollen bluebottles circled clumsily, colliding with windows. Vines snaked up telegraph wires, peppers hanging from them like jewels. Everywhere, boundaries were bursting; tapioca fences straining, bamboo ploughing up the soft earth like gunfire.Con Long
Bao-Long watched with fear and no little wonder as the steamtrain drew up to the platform, childhood memories flooding back to him with a rush. In his village there had always been a dragon. The men of the village came together each year, all quarrels forgot
Digging a HoleDigging beneath dappled shade, And a chorus of applauding trees. Crunch. A sharp-spade chewing sound,Digging a Hole
Metal hum like plucked wire.
Aching back, muddy smears, And not a blister; just A certain hardness of the skin, Cracking like a gourd Across the wrinkles of my thumb.
“Why were you digging a hole?” She asked me, afterwards.
My RoseI chanced one day upon a twilight scene, When the sun set low on summer mountains: A field of roses, red, soft and serene, Their petals blooming like velvet fountains. But all of them had nothing like the charm Of the rose which I longed to see, back home, Safe from the winter and the frost’s cruel harm, Protected by love and a smooth glass dome, From frost’s kiss and winter’s chill which conspire To shred her bare and take that which I love. For never could there be a cause so dire, Plucking the feathers of the whitest dove. &My Rose
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"When the toast is burned, and all the milk has turned, and captain crunch is waving 'farewell'. When the Big One finds you, may this song remind you that they don't serve breakfast in Hell!" - Newsboys: "Breakfast"
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Forget all your needs
Lose the grip of all control..
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Forget all your needs
Lose the grip of all control..
I am not a poet. I'd like to think of myself as a wanna be writer, but let's face it--I'm dirt! I love the English language and you seem to have very good control of it. And I'm impressed by your vocabulary. I love words--I love the way they sound, the pictures they generate in your head, and the feel of them. I know that must sound weird.
I took a creative writing class some years ago in a vain effort to improve my fiction writing talents. The teacher was a poet, and most of the class were writing poetry. Yours has the ring of some of the better poetry in that class. I think my instructor would have been impressed by it.
So for what it's worth, that's my
Good luck in all your future endeavors! I hope to see a lot more poetry here in the months to come!
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Work like you don't need the money, love like you have never been hurt, and dance like no one is watching. (author unknown)
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