Current poems in progress...

A Human Head

A human head would never do
under the mists and rains or tugged
by ruthless winds or whipped with leaves
from raving trees. But who is he
in bronze, who is the moveless one?
The poet laughed, It isn't me.
It's nearly me, but I am free
to dodge the showers or revel in them,
to walk the alleys under the stars
or waken where the blackbirds are.
Some day my veins will turn to bronze
and I won't hear, or make, a song.
Then indeed I shall be my head
staring ahead, or so it seems,
but you may find me watching you,
dear traveller, or wheeling round
into your dreams.
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very nice.

Blonde bomber
everso somber

The Sun peaks into the Day
To scavenge a star or two from Night
lines her pockets with luminous dust
skips to the shadows of silent turning
repairs to the mocking bird's cry
and rests easy on the silhouette
of the once slumberous city

very nice direction

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very nice double j.j.

a reason to write, a reason to sing
without pain, what are these things?, but hollow lies and memories
a truth to frame, a lie to believe
to make the future more necessary
A reason to think, a reason to give
Without generosity, how would we live?

The eyes have stolen the truth,your soul awakens
Dispair embraces your every thought
Have you forsaken reality for redemption
Does time heal all wounds or simply mask them
They pretend healing and leave a shadow of pain in the scar

Classic 38 "Does time heal all wounds or simply mask them" is a brilliant line. It is a stand alone line. A poem unto itself.
jd

The autumn leaves are falling on her grave
like gold and crimson teardrops from the sky
the live is wave after wave
I should never let her die!

electric shock why do you linger, why must I invite in more than I can handle

I saw beauty today. ever conflicted I sit. my hands smell like freah cut potatoes. my free will escaping me is it enough to know what is real or do I need to become part of the outside
my instinct bites at my insides like fire ants of truth as I stagger forward into my mediocrity