Tag Archives: Poem

A Random Poetry Experience

19 Feb

My Impressions of Three Poets Writing Three Different Styles While Relating To My Life Experiences.

Poems are like members of the opposite sex, often complicated, yet
Relatable, when you think carefully
How we’re really all the same inside our covers
Different environments and varying lifestyles and societal norms based
On gender
Yet the same human feelings, of
Love and jealousy, hope and despair
Too many to count all, at one sitting

Thinking of that makes me happy; I appreciate these strange works
Of art, which are transient and livingMimosa
Unlike journalism,
Cold and indifferent to the human condition.

Sipping a mimosa reading Husband by Miller Williams, I thought
How it helps to have a prop, drinking with the character, although it was
Sunny then and not at all the
Nighttime rejection and deception described.
The poem is my comfort zone, all the breaks
At the end of the line.
I am branching out, trying new things by
Suggestions of others more experienced than I.
This is my third favorite, not least favorite, I say, because it is still a good poem
Easily relatable, yet a little too easy — a challenge would be welcomed.

Picking up Recuerdo by Edna St. Vincent Millay, I think of Christmas, perhapsPortrait of Edna St. Vincent Millay (1933-01-14)
Because there is mention of a stable and also a fire
Not to mention the spirit of giving at the end,
But maybe also because of the Christmas music playing in the
Background
A hint of what’s to come.
The end-rhyme is familiar and comforting
Like the tree in the corner with all its lights winking
And the cat, warm and soft in my lap.
I’m not sure why anyone would ride the ferry all night
Back and forth like a loom shuttle, a seemingly pointless affair.
Perhaps they had more mimosas than I.
I deem this poem my second choice, it’s
Young and adventurous
Full of fun and memories of youth.

Flight.
Oh to soar among the clouds.
Or so I thought at first, now pleasantly surprised at the
Nostalgia I feel at the knowledge
Summer is long-gone and winter isG-190. The Swimming Hole (1884-85). Wallace is...
Peeking in through my windows.
I love the fact Greg Pape makes no mention of anticipating sex
Only seeming as well to be pleasantly surprised at his female companion’s
Abandonment
And enjoyment of nature in its simplest form
Seeking to contain
Only the memory, never the girl.

I’ve found my favorite, it’s abundant of treasures
Words pregnant with importance and delectable descriptions
Like a film you watch over and over, yet always
Finding something new.

Ash Wednesday – A poem by T.S. Eliot – American Poems

13 Feb

Ash Wednesday – A poem by T.S. Eliot – American Poems.

220px-T_S__Elliot_Ash_Wednesday_Cover

Poem: The Moon Over Asylum

4 Feb

The Moon Over Asylum

There is a quiet village,

just beyond his reach, with

a place to preach to the few

who would listen tonight.

The picturesque countryside

tries to hide, beneath the

soft light of the quarter-moon,

the ones who are in the wrong part of town.

He is trapped by the walls

named a refuge by some,

a prison by others, for all

a home for distorted minds.

Listless, he gazes at the

Swirling, bright evening sky

envisioning a serenity

only sunset can bring,

And begins to paint, the

sun now burning through the haze,

a scene of peace, of freedom,

of the Whirlpool Galaxy.

Van_Gogh_-_Starry_Night_-_Google_Art_Project

 
by Jennifer Boissonneault, April 2009
 
 
23 Dec

Here’s today’s lovely little find. Merry Christmas! Even if you don’t celebrate it, know that I wish you well!

Jerrye's Blog

Reaching Back In Time

Reaching back in time, there’s so much to be said~for the memories that are triggered by a song, a voice, a smell or tasteeach stored within our heads

The season we call Christmas~is celebrated with family and friends in a place we lovingly call homeWhere memories were made and through them even those who are gone from our lives will in our hearts liveon.

When we were young, we were always looking aheadcouldn’t wait ‘til our birthday or Christmas for the gifts we would receiveOr when we were youngcouldn’t wait until we were 18 or 21 because everything would be perfect, so we believed.

But the older folks seemed to live in the pastthey were always telling their stories of happenings long agoDon’t get me…

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