Please Them All | Russ Cope
You can’t please them all
got to put your
words out there
Let them crackle
like bacon on the sidewalk
Sell them like portraits
at the beach
Art is more than high bids.
creativity poems
Loads | Camille Clark
We each carry out
loads, baggage on our
nomadic backs,
We roam, asking
questions, prodding,
Invisible artists.
Rewards | HR Creel
It’s not likely
I will know the
rewards of a literary
life now
But I can still
etch my little words
carve my name
here and there.
Ink | Alan Inman
A swell of bursting
black spill
I can use it to spell my name
suss out my fate
or smell my doom
I can twist this ink
so that it draws a portrait
of my best side.
A Focus on Gesture | JD DeHart
Where did these various
signs and gesticulations
bubble up from? The bottom
of bleachers, candy wrapper
comics, bathroom stalls?
Were they taught to us
by some kindly giant
with a Scottish name? And
where does language come
from, after all, a seamstress
of sound sitting in our
mind with nothing better to
do but unravel words?
More at http://jddehartwriting.blogspot.com.
Dangling String of Pearls | Judy Moskowitz
There comes a time
That pivot point
When you lose balance
And cross over into
Creaky bones thinned-skin
Words lost in a foggy
Rear view mirror
No amount of Spackle
And paint can hide,
An uneven temperament
Of aged walls
Where nothing hangs right
Sentenced and caged
Into a mindset
Chipping away your world
Getting smaller,
Visiting hours are over
Floating thoughts from
A dangling string of pearls
With a teasing luster of light
Unresistant passion
Still within your reach
You grab it
Plan for tomorrow
And write.
Misguided/Inspired | Stan Morrison
I’ve been daunted by an evil muse
sending me ideas indiscriminately
mesmerizing me to write it all down
like i’m some indentured slave
but when the fog has finally lifted
all the failures come into clear view
the my interjects:
“too bad that you’re so gullible
I have no real contract with you”
then I pathetically reply:
“I never signed up for muse service
now I’m stuck with all these duds
obscuring my perfect points of view”
Every Waking Thought – A Poem by Susan Marie
every waking thought
is the flight of a monarch
before each bud that blooms
she gathers
from both hemispheres
left and right,
like her wings
birthed twins,
where every waking thought
begins
– as a first breath
– and the last gasp
where dreams become life
in the dank cloak of midnight
gaining momentum
churning the vortexes
of hurricanes
such raw passion
complicated
never simple
a thought
is the genesis of energy
the beginning of understanding
a means to communicate
the subconscious of the artist,
insane
writing words such as this
solely to prevent the skull
from bursting,
spewing bits of memories
and rivers of tears, endless
that never run dry
a place where angels reside
sitting upon clouds
of sentences
the most holy poets-
sending telegraphs
to the chosen.
More at http://susanmariepr.blogspot.com.
Frustration – A Poem by Roy Pullam
I pound the words
As best
I can
Trying to force
The pieces
Into the puzzle
That is an emotion
Edges break off
Not fully revealing
The total picture
How I long
For others
To recognize
The thought
To find common ground
In something
We can share
Triad – A Poem by Danny Faragher
ripe fruit
poems appear in my mind
like ripe fruit on a tree
near, but out of reach
ah, to muster the gumption
to climb the fence
and traipse through thicket
to pick them
wet words
sometimes my mind is a desert landscape
and thoughts are like bleached bones in the sand
then suddenly the words seem to fall like rain
from the sky – a trickle, then a downpour and I’m
frantically throwing out buckets to catch them,
knowing the dry spell may soon return
ball point
a poem may be like
the stubborn ball point pen that
refuses to leave a mark
I must scratch around in circles
before the ink will flow
don’t think – just write