Tag Archives: poem

Opinions on my poem?

War-Burned Grass Grave

Covered in the cold, night after
The fire whipped the forest away
The wolves mouths are red
And all the children are dead
And no one’s left alive to be gay
For the soldiers homecoming
Flying back from the sands
To find the grass he left is much colder
And will never be so green again

He wakes one night, back, cold and distanced
To the bell tolling for the men left
Sprang up and tied on his boots
To sail to sea and face his own death
And tire and fire and shoot up on meth
For a cause that he didn’t
And just couldn’t believe
To find pointlessly injured
And too late to relieve, the men.

His Mary caught the plane in to meet him
Her gorgeous red light blown in the wind
An air of unconscious
Illusioned subconscious
And nothing to hold her from sin
Until the wind brought the chill back
In the night men’s shots rang
For her, this pale beauty
The bells toll, the man hanged

The train arrived back at the station
Meeting all the men in the town
The platform estranged
The men all deranged
Black velvet draped all around
The casket was carried
And all the men in the town
Cried for the corpse of
Such a graceful dead clown

The soldier served his time and released his
Cold self back in to the wild
To where the fires swept back and ruined
The place where winters are mild
He found himself alone at the station
To carry his lone bag by himself
The station-man said
What a sad life ahead
Your only love is gone at your own fault
The grass will never be greener
The fire burned it up clean
And over the raw grave
The soldiers hanged self is seen

Opinions on my poem?

War-Burned Grass Grave

Covered in the cold, night after
The fire whipped the forest away
The wolves mouths are red
And all the children are dead
And no one’s left alive to be gay
For the soldiers homecoming
Flying back from the sands
To find the grass he left is much colder
And will never be so green again

He wakes one night, back, cold and distanced
To the bell tolling for the men left
Sprang up and tied on his boots
To sail to sea and face his own death
And tire and fire and shoot up on meth
For a cause that he didn’t
And just couldn’t believe
To find pointlessly injured
And too late to relieve, the men.

His Mary caught the plane in to meet him
Her gorgeous red light blown in the wind
An air of unconscious
Illusioned subconscious
And nothing to hold her from sin
Until the wind brought the chill back
In the night men’s shots rang
For her, this pale beauty
The bells toll, the man hanged

The train arrived back at the station
Meeting all the men in the town
The platform estranged
The men all deranged
Black velvet draped all around
The casket was carried
And all the men in the town
Cried for the corpse of
Such a graceful dead clown

The soldier served his time and released his
Cold self back in to the wild
To where the fires swept back and ruined
The place where winters are mild
He found himself alone at the station
To carry his lone bag by himself
The station-man said
What a sad life ahead
Your only love is gone at your own fault
The grass will never be greener
The fire burned it up clean
And over the raw grave
The soldiers hanged self is seen

rate my poem?

oh sweet lady under a full moon
eating chicken wings
and playing the beef flute

along came a naked black man
on a bicycle
and stole my chicken wings

oh woah is me said the lady o’ beef flute
this buffalo sauce makes me toot

o where o where have my chicken wings gone
theres a black man on a bike
eating my chicken wings
in my lawn

when lo and behold a chipmunk from the sky
jumped out of a tree and pooped on my eye

the chipmunk ate the chicken wings
they were so delish
then the black man let out a toot
that smelled like fish

oh beautiful lady you play music so well
you just hit a c note on the beef flute of that male

eating chicken
and letting out toots
flying squirrels
and beef flutes

Poem COLORFUL KITE?

In a lonely park I sit upon a bench waiting for your meeting to end. For duty to once again be satisfied.

While there I happen to notice a beautiful kite flying upon the wind. Within its brightly colored patterns I see myself… bobbing and weaving… caught up in a comforting embrace it danced in a joyous freedom.

Entranced I watched… soon I became aware of a small figure in control of the kite. His blue eyes lit up in the joy he felt… his small fists clutched tightly upon his beautiful treasure.

Suddenly out of nowhere a burst of wind came and the kite found his freedom dancing away seeminly unaware of the pain its sudden departure would cause…

Startled I felt your warm hand upon my arm. My lifeline… so solid and true. Tying me firmly with love.

“A Daily Joy to be Alive” written by Jimmy Santiago Baca. What does this poem mean?

No matter how serene things
may be in my life,
how well things are going,
my body and soul
are two cliff peaks
from which a dream of who I can be
falls, and I must learn
to fly again each day,
or die.

Death draws respect
and fear from the living.
Death offers
no false starts. It is not
a referee with a pop-gun
at the startling
of a hundred yard dash.

I do not live to retrieve
or multiply what my father lost
or gained.

I continually find myself in the ruins
of new beginnings,
uncoiling the rope of my life
to descend ever deeper into unknown abysses,
tying my heart into a knot
round a tree or boulder,
to insure I have something that will hold me,
that will not let me fall.

My heart has many thorn-studded slits of flame
springing from the red candle jars.
My dreams flicker and twist
on the altar of this earth,
light wrestling with darkness,
light radiating into darkness,
to widen my day blue,
and all that is wax melts
in the flame-

I can see treetops!