Inner tears

Words of anger, left unsaid
Are like tears we shed inside
Words of anger, snarled out
Are like knives cutting into the hide
Of those we have given control
Over our thoughts and our deeds
These angry words imprison us
They become captors that we feed

It is better to shed a tear in love
Than cut another to the bone
With words that ring forever
Causing pain to each of us alone
Go ahead and cry the tears
In the shadows of our mind
And let them flow as words of kindness
Leaving only love behind

A poem in the style of Edgar Allen Poe

If there were a dream, that a man could dream
Of a love which could last evermore
It would be the dream dreamt by the dreamer off upon Annabel's shore
where a boy loved beyond love
Beyond heaven above
Beyond life, beyond death into lore
Out there in the sea, that tumultuous sea
Where love is all that is worth living for.

Memorial stone in the rain

it isn't like the night was long
or the rain cold upon our lips
it isn't like the shadows moved
just to hide us as we kissed

our bodies intertwined together
on my raincoat in the grass
the world didn't care, nor stars
nor the future nor the past

the only ones who ever cared
were just we two alone
now that we are not two
that memory stands like polished stone

in a storm that never ends

She left me

It wasn't like she was beautiful

and neither was she plain

She wasn't tall or skinny

and she could really be a pain

but there was something 'bout her

something in her touch

that set my heart aglow

and I couldn't get enough

We weren't together long

just fifteen years or so

and one day she just left me

but I haven't let her go

I threw away or gave away

almost all of her old stuff

without her it meant nothing

just cotton candy fluff

She left a dog behind her

I never liked that mutt

he whined and shat and demanded food

and wiggled his cute butt

I walked him, and I cared for him

knowing she wouldn't return

and I wondered what we two

might possibly could learn

Not long ago the dog passed 'way

and I miss the stupid mutt

the way he would get underfoot

and wiggle his cute butt

and all that's left is me alone

with no forevermore together

and no space within my soul

for any kind of tether

And yeah, I can smile

and share a little time

with some woman that I met

with some ridiculous line

and have a little fun

faking a smile with my mind

but my heart feels hard as stone

some petrified white lime

I miss her even now

though it was years ago

when she turned her back upon me

and decided she should go

I had her body burned

put the ashes in a vase

and I had the hardest time

crying

Baubbles

It isn't much, this heart of mine
Just one in several billion
I shared it over Christmas time
just a bauble you did piss in

Foolishly I followed
Disbelieving my poor eyes
As you ground it in the dirt
And shat on it besides

And as you skipped away
Singing your happy song
I picked it up and cleaned it up
For when another comes along

My heart is tougher than you know
Forged in the fiercest fire
Stronger than the hardest steel
Touched by God's own desire

My heart is clean, my heart is whole
Just one in several billion
Were you to try again though
I have to be a mor-yon :-)

Yeah, that last line is hokey, but, I like it.  And yes, I mis-spelled baubbles.  It is a pun, but, no one will ever get it and I ain't telling. 

Writing Poetry

I can't believe
     I could write poetry
Versification
     is way beyond me
My syllablization would be a catastrophe
I just can't write poetry

Imagine
     thinking up words that rhyme
That would take
      way to much time
I'd go crazy trying to write the next line
I just can't write poetry

Sestet, Sestina, Sijo, Hiku
Why can't I just write about you?
this poetry thing isn't something I have to do
I just can't write poetry

How do these guys singing rap
rhyme so easily, tit after tat
I can't rhyme if even on them I sat
I just can't write poetry

Of course not all poetry rhymes
some just keeps a kind of a time
a rhythm sounding pleasing in the mind
I just can't write poetry


There are a million verses to this one, it is something I start repeating to myself when I am writing a poem and can't come up with anything so I make up new verses to this one.

Edgar

This man whose sorrow could not awaken
A man who loved, yet, loved alone
Whose women had hearts that had been taken
Thus turned the poets heart to stone
From pen flowed words more eloquent
Ink flowing through his veins as blood
These women whose hearts were diffident
And understood not how the poet loved
Inspired in prose a beauty beyond
The earthly beauty of aspect or eyes
When falsely compared as lovingly fond
As poor Edgar was of serenest skies

For one of my favorite authors, Edgar Allen Poe