“I’m a great believer in poetry out of the classroom, in public places, on subways, trains, on cocktail napkins. I’d rather have my poems on the subway than around the seminar table at an MFA program.” Billy Collins Hi, I’m a garden variety poet – an armchair poet, if you will. I’m a graduate from … Continue reading Why bother sharing mediocre poetry?
My Collection of Assorted Poems:
Heels striking the cold stone In the open arms of day Slip into visions of Crackling glass that Explodes into sparks in The depth of night, One figure intertwined in The closed embrace of darkness With only an occasional silhouette Illuminated by the coy glare of streetlamps – Tears of joy streaming down A faceless … Continue reading Acceptance
I yip and yap, Yet brood all day, And look for stupid Things to say. I spy and glare And mutter too, To find a little Thing to do. I do not help, Just sit and judge And when they call I do not budge. But when I need A spot of aid That’s when … Continue reading Cries of a Crocodile
It’s like a meandering path – A constant wax and wane. One day this blazing sun will laugh, The next will shower pain. Where soil is seeded For want to grow Nurture is needed Yet droughts are woe. You sing it song and music too And books a-plenty – Your job to do. Yet life … Continue reading Friendship
Sitting in this garden I wonder each day anew, In this world of anguish The human thing to do. On Monday morn I’ve shops to tour, My cooking to pursue But I see people steal and think of The human thing to do. I see their bones quite plainly, Their eyes and sunken cheeks, Their … Continue reading The Human Thing to Do
‘O ye whited sepulchre, Whose Rosary a mere adornment – A jewel, and not for prayer, You cling to for frigid warmth. Far more suited are ye To dine at Pilate’s table Than utter Jesus’ name And bear unto him Pyrite, Not Gold, at that holy stable. You here, stand witness – The pious fraud … Continue reading Hypocrite
Athena sings a siren’s song Her court above A dying throng The shout, the scream, the cry, the groan The stab, the shear, their acts atone. The earth a pock-marked, Marred old drum Where bodies fall To Ares’ thrum. An old folk’s jig, They practice here, Though old men shrink, Cower. Fear. The young are … Continue reading The Meek Shall Inherit
The crunch of snow Recalls me to a familiar scene, That remind me of purring, Wooden beams and pillars Shattering beneath the columns of flame. The snowflakes, falling, cosy up to wooden silhouettes of houses, Gigantic housecats tumbling in snow-dune deserts. They shine under the sun’s mischievous glare. Pale contrast to the ash-snow that fell … Continue reading Fire-Storm Snowfall in Tokyo
Grind my feeble bones to dust! My lover’s quarrel must be brought to heel, Love need not be born of lust. My affections are oft met with sneers of disgust, My clueless love I seek to steal. Grind my feeble bones to dust. Appearances are lauded, a handsome face a must, To receive good grace … Continue reading Should Love Be Blind?
Every time the answer’s a sigh, A forced smile, a roll of the eyes. But once they appreciated her fabled pie, Her stories, kind old heart, books and her time. Now nobody has a dime to give, Because they all have “lives to live”. But Granny remembers even if she forgets The way her heart … Continue reading Why Does Granny Cry?
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