 |         |  |
 | ||
GeoCities - your home on the Web.
| | |
| ||
| Angels | -by MichaelBread | -by Ingrid Maria TothReactions to Genius | -by Christopher E. WoodWarrior | -by Corinne GilroyYou | -by MLASnowflake Tears | -by Daniel J VanDusen Jr.The Orchard | -by John DurlerThe Abuse Series | -by Diane KruegerSwamp Thing | -by Jeff NelsonThe Chase | -by Corinne GilroyAs the Soul Leaves the Body | -by Swati VamjaOur Russian Liberators | -by Ingrid Maria TothInner Storm | -by MLACan't You See Me | -by Matt FreemanCrucifixion Waltz | -by Pam KentDon't You Know | -by Ellen FlicknerMy Ode to Poetry | -by Swati VamjaMirrors | -by Emma IhsanLittle Voices | -by Sarah WebsterBumphi | -by Ingrid Maria TothShadows | -by Matt FreemanOde to My Home | -by Ira GamoA Mothers Wish | -by Kay WengerI Hear You Calling | -by Emma IhsanUntitled | -by Viesta BarkerMotion | -by Viesta BarkerBad Girl Blues | -by Viesta BarkerAs I Am | -by Viesta BarkerAimless | -by Viesta BarkerHello Fate | -by Viesta BarkerFreund Who? | -by Ira GamoHope For The World | -by Tothart
Angels come to me ,each evening, From afar Sharing gifts of crystal eyes And caring smiles Spreading wings,and shining brightly, like a star An endless wealth of hidden treasure In their styles Angels waltz into my heart , And leave their peace... Twirling rhythms,dancing gently, On a chord Sprinkling stardust over moonbeams, While I sleep; And dream of rainbows Glistening off the distant storm I am enraptured by such warmth, And zeal for essence... They’ve orchestrated,like a harmony, Bathed in truth While holding hands,and hugging tightly, Omnipresence... Within their hearts of solid gold, And inner youth But now they’ve left me with this burden To increase As they have journeyed to the Heavens, far above... With hopes,I’ll choose the finest fruit That ripens peace, While holding firmly to that gift Of lasting love
© 1996
To survive each day is a constant fight; my mother searches for food in the night. She walks for hours and sneaks into fields to look for whatever the hard earth yields and before dawn, returns with her treasure: maybe one potato...just to assure avoiding starvation for one more day, daring the fine there could be to pay. In our house now loud Russians are staying; their "commandant" acting like a wild king. Once, overwhelmed by the sweet smell of bread, I beg for a piece...the Russian gets mad. Dizzy from hunger pains, I jump enraged-- my cravings much too long had been caged-- and from his hand a small morsel I caught and stuff it into my mouth without thought. Shocked, I suddenly realize my deed, sure now that I have to pay for my greed. But no more indifference he can pretend, as the man lays a whole loaf into my hand.
© 1998
Often quick we die such beams that are colored strange lights shining. If a bulb cannot be found, the beam is bound and made to shine like most already. We make instant words, saying a gift is dark in coming-- that a gifted joe has come to do evil shades if too beautiful his feats exhibit. So sad it takes death to a hero's trophy shelf for him to be put. And then we say, "What . . . no more dance for us to cast our coins?" We kill them to feel their dents and catch up to them. We die them so we can miss them.
© 1998
I see the spines of shattered glass
Or barbed wire spider webs
Grazing bullets only sting me so
But heaven'd be closer when I'm dead....
How can I lust to see this death & blood spill
Just don't get on my bad side
I can break more than your will
I wonder who was the next that died....
Can you hide & hold onto your fear
I bet I can make you cry
Millions meet me & fate every year
Can I kill you and are you ready to die....
I see the streaks of pouring rain
And the tears from up above
How hard do the bullets hit you
When can we put back on our gloves....
© 1998
sighing soft caress
gently whispered words
tender holding arms
soul burning passion
gaining long looks
sweet loving surrender
moonlit perfumed walks
sensous silk
erotic love
© 1998
A winter's cold day would leave me
no colder than my lonely heart is now.
When but a kiss from thy loving soft lips
would warm my heart back to life.
Do you cry for me my Lady
or is that just snowflakes
melting upon thy cheek?
Are you but my dream lover
or are you the love I have dreamed for?
They are not melting snowflakes
that spill down my face,
when my arms pass right through you
and know you for the dream that you are.
© 1998
The long hill-road, too high,
muddy ruts packed in wet leaves,
leads to orchard apples.
foxglove among evergreens,
our brook feeding their hungry roots
vaulting its rushing water, sometimes
to appear as arches, bent and twisted,
animals use to cross, as I sometimes,
to the other side, whose hollow
holds wild things of the wood.
It beckons in the chill sweet ripple
of a robin singing.
Yet I hold to the road, apples in mind,
swing from birches along the way,
as their sweet scent draws me,
singing "apple pan dowdies make your eyes light up.
Gimme some more of that wonderful stuff."
I walk through swarms of bees, flies, gnats.
Worms crawl or drop on silken threads,
I brush away as I fill coat and shirt,
head back down the hill burdened by the
light roll of apples against my skin,
dreaming of buzzing insects, furry worms,
communal in peace, headily content.
Light plays on the trees, songs of the forest
ring subtle and pure as church chimes.
I am in awe as I hurry, apples bobbing, down to the house.
His four year old daughter
crying out,
her tiny hands covering her
eyes, ears...
Her seven year old brother
turns his radio too high,
beating his ball vehemently
upon the wall...
Their mother's screams reverberating
throughout their frightened souls...
their father's malicious words
fists flailing...
Whaling sirens screaming out
within the night,
Children are grateful but
Fearfully, silently they wonder...
Will it be too late for their mother?
Beaten regularly by
the man she once
so loved...
Forbidden to leave her home,
life spent closeted away,
hiding bruises.
Her self-worth, pride
gradually had been beaten away.
She cowers once more...
Meeting his every demand
no longer suffices,
his temper flares over naught...
A sick man,
visualizing himself,
all of his deeds
as perfection; not sickness.
Repent?
A word he never learned.
Beaten for a lifetime,
each battering worse until...
she died at his hand.
Her youth spent crying
as she listened to
her mother's wailing pleas...
She was growing up without
her feminine self-worth;
Preparing to be a battered wife.
His youth was spent frustrated;
too small to try to stop
his father's flailing hands...
His youth taught him,
through pain and bitterness,
it was manly to be an abuser of women.
Loathing their youthful start
they still knew no better -
Growing up to beat, be beaten...
The cycle continues.
Today the world sadly has
too many men as
victims of marital abuse.
Men, raised in a society of
the macho male,
still suffer silently...
It's not manly to cry!
No real man is beaten by a wife!
However we look at it,
a battered man is
an abused soul too good to retaliate.
Today's man is
too gentlemanly to strike back,
too embarrassed to admit he's being abused,
with nothing left to do but
hide his wounds from the world.
Until...
He noticed his beloved daughter,
her behavior...
Suddenly she's emulating her mother!
Watching the birthing of his wife's
abusive tendencies he suddenly has no choice...
To save his daughter,
her future children,
he has to find strength, fight back.
He was suddenly willing
to pay the price...
Her soul was worth public humiliation.
Delving deeply from within
she had to find the strength to
make things right...
Saved by a policeman,
gratefully, numbly taken to
a shelter for battered women,
she gradually accepted...
Money, social standing, influence
left him untouchable; yes!
even gained him custody...
Finding strength from others,
she fought back when
he children, battered in his custody,
begged to be free...
Grabbing, hiding them,
for years they struggled, waiting
praying the laws would change...
Today they walk the streets
fearlessly,
finally having won;
painful years of fear far behind them now.
Please send any comments to :
Black figure rising up from your muck
Dark eyes searching, ears perked to attention
Hearing only wind through your reeds, discouraged,
Growling stomach wakes the night from it's slumber.
Aimlessly wandering, stealth feet, undetected
Against the moon lit horizon, trees
Stuck here and there, like giant pick-up-sticks
Fantasty world, known the world over, as your silence consumes him.
Rustling amongst your waters, weeds disturbing it's path
Attentive ears tune to your frequency, "Haha," it thinks
Silently perched, strike position, ready to pounce
It passes him by, your sycamore tree is the last vision it sees.
Deftly pouncing on his prey, tearing with hardened claws
Ripping flesh from muscle, from bone, he doesnt return a thing to you
Frugal he may seem, yet so wasteful in stature
It eats not to survive, but for the sheer joy of the hunt, ripping, shredding.
Quickly as it occured, it was over, he walks
Silently in your waters, returning to his place
Amongst friends, "familiar foes," he thinks silently
Sinking to the muck from whence he came, the sun rises to your east.
Please send any comments to :
Sit down, child
I have business undone
You left without asking
You went on the run
I screamed and I threatened
But my scares did you no good
You ran even faster
Burning bridges of wood
What drives you to torture
I saw the murder take place
I saw the horror in your eyes
I saw the blood in your face
How can you kill
Tell me, is it in fashion
Or, tell me now, child
Is it your passion
Run now, run now © 1998
I'm running, too
You'd better hope
I can't catch up to you!
Corinne Gilroy
You give me the rain,
With your touch.
You give me the snow,
With your kiss.
You give me the waterfalls,
With your hug.
You give me the trees,
With your embrace.
You give me everything,
When you give me yourself.
© 1998Swati Vamja
It does not rain outside,
But in your world, it does.
Being thankful it has come,
You await all the evil to leave.
Finally, as the soft kiss of the sun melts your body,
Your soul runs free:
Free to caress the clouds,
Free to be swept away with the winds,
Free to dance with the water;
As your soul leaves your body. . .
© 1998Swati Vamja
© 1998Ingrid Maria Toth
© 1998 MLA
Can't you see me here
Can't you tell I'm listening
Can't you feel me near
Watching every move
Freedom we must choose
now the serpants loose
Paths of shame that shelter me
deciet and lies are true
How will
I ever know
you?
Mindless thoughts
that torture me
Pain my soul
you let it be
Crying eyes
tears of stain
A Bleeding heart
that turns away
True love awaits and empty heart
crying out and torn apart
Evil holds the souls desire
to walk the path of deadly fire
So look within
and find the end
Of laughters starvation
and lost imagination
© 1998
Lo and behold I am swaying, softly succumbing.
Wandering ghosts have arrived unbidden.
didn’t a friend just recently advise;
Dance lightly with your goblins?
Is this an opportunity to spin with grace,
or a stumbling block to trip and fall
thru time and space?
As I try to hold on to the periphery of a past
parading itself plaintively on todays dance floor.
But I always danced too closely didn’t I ?
Melding to flesh so easily,
molding my body to the curve and rhythm
of my partners loins.
Believing it safe to be close on a dance floor....
And now this wandering ghost of yesterday
has its cheek tight against mine,
its hand pressed in the small of my back
bending me to its will
and I’m moving without resistance
holding tightly to a ghosts arms
succumbing to a goblins charms.
Not even a thin film of air
sweeps a current between us now,
the past is here
and I am dancing once again to
the crucifixion waltz of reverie and death,
caught on the notes somewhere between a dirge and a hymn.
I see the silent drops of blood
dripping on the floor
as he twirls me round and round
the stigmata weeps again for love,
and I dance gently with my ghost partner...
as softly sways my mind,
in and out of time.
© 1997
Don't you know
That once I sat here
Among the clouds
Watching them roll in
Wishing i could be
Feeling so much alone.
Don't you know
That once I greeted the day
With tears and fears
Watching others march by
Feeling so much alone.
Don't you know
That once a demon chased me
Driving me to thoughts of suicide
Feeling so much alone.
Don't you know
That once today was all I had
With no dreams of tomorrow
Nor a future beyond today
Feeeling so much alone.
Don't you know
That once I knew the chains
The chains that bounded me
Feeling so much alone.
Don't you know
That today is tomorrow
Brighter with freedom
Feeling alone no more
As the past becomes a nightmare lost.
© 1997
The language of love,
Life,
Poetry.
Fulfill my heart with your words,
Oh poet.
Sing to me and make my soul soar!
Oh poems. . .
You enhance my life.
I sing those I love with you;
I sing to those I hate. . .
I let my emotions pour out from within me
Through you.
For all those days I knew not of you,
I feel sorry for myself.
Like lovely music that fills my ears;
Like the fragrant scent of jasmines in the spring;
You fill my body with a sunshine no one else has posessed.
Thank you.
© 1997
A beautiful woman seeing herself in the mirror, knows 'This is I.' An
ugly woman knows, with equal certainty, 'This is not I.'- Simone Weil.
My reflection stares at me defiantly.
It mocks me with my face and body.
"This isn't me," "Yes I am," it taunts me.
"This is you, don't deny it.. Forget your dreams,
Forget the face you see in your mind, your illusions of you."
So clearly I can see my lithe dancing figure,
Long flowing hair, and beautiful skin.
I am me. The woman in my dreams.
Only through her, does the real me live.
What does that say about me?
I can only live through another's life,
Through her excitement, which lives only in my mind.
My joy is a mere reflection of hers,
As she dances through my mind, laughing.
I am a mere imitation of her, a fake.
Just as the reflection in the mirror,
Is not the real thing, just a shadow,
A replica, a duplicate, not the original.
Yet I let my shadow mock, and torture me.
What does that say about me?
Shadows disappear with the night,
Reflections shatter, with a swift motion of the hand,
Imitations can be destroyed,
As can duplicates and replicas,
But the original me is what lives on through all of these.
You live in your haze of nicotine and weed.
She lives in her glass, never empty of security.
He lives in his mind, his solitude.
You live in your reputation, which you strive to uphold.
What does that say about you?
I live in my day dreams, and illusions.
I live in my imaginary friends, and paradise.
I live in tomorrow...
What does that say about me?
© 1997
Words Of Wisdom fill my head
Usally while I'm laying in bed
From a distance or nearby
They always Reply
You may ask who is my friend
No one else than the voices inside my head
Some people they're denied
But they are always there no matter how hard you try
© 1997
Cookoo...cookoo...the siren chirped the cuckoo's call
during the war, whenever bombs threatened to fall.
The day when the earth shook and the windows shattered,
I was forced to run; nothing else should have mattered,
but I cried bitterly, "My Bumpfi, my dolly..."
"Better run for your life. Indeed what a folly
to worry about! Your doll will survive."
My rescuer grabbed me to keep me alive;
to the basement he dragged me without any pause.
"Every second counts; a bomb hit the house."
His voice seemed to shake, as he pulled me along.
People, bleeding and screaming, some limping, some strong,
they rushed down the stairs--to the damp underground.
Quite lost and confused I felt 'til I found
my aunty, gasping for air in the crowd,
choking from falling debris, without doubt...
Men broke down the wall to the shelter next-door.
"Thank God, we'll be safe in a few minutes more,"
my sweet auntie said, gently drying my tears.
Grieving, I sobbed, "My Bumpfi is dying upstairs."
© 1997
While the past remains in shadows
the time will soon begin
when questions turn to answers
and the sun will rise again
Its growing in the distance
waiting to be seen
hiding behind its virtue
lost inside a dream
alone in the dark
we're all the same
nowhere to hide
no one to blame
facing the truth
and going insane
Summers dreams are fading
as I look upon the mask
hiding behind expectations
laughing at the past
On the edge of madness
the truth comes into light
forbidden desperation
a fire in the mind
© 1997
Such a humble dwelling
a matter of time, have I retreated in
i touch the 13 bloody faces of grieved beings
hearing cries of agony
running up against hardships
seeing repulsion on one's face
as death knocked on doors
as asylum
i felt obliged to constantly return to
in a mere utopia, it stood
experienced exhaustion trying to survive tragedies
crying in horrid pain
by witnessing people dying around me
my handsome heroic home
the one and only life as seen through its eyes
a haven
fervent beings yearned for
none of the misery and oppression i have endured
it comforts me
to leave is not to forget
forever the same through the passage of time
a constant to return to
when i am saddened and suffering
away from the blur
of such dreary matters.....
Ira Gamo
© 1997
He likes country and western.
He wears cowboy boots and hat.
He aint no city slicker.
The country’s his habitat.
He tolerates his schooling.
Indoors is not for him.
He’s happy fishing on a lake
with the water full of brim.
With the stars as his ceiling
and the hard ground as his bed;
he eats, sleeps and dreams fishing,
he can’t get it out of his head.
He has a truck and a pickup dog
and a boat in which to fish.
He feels his needs are simple,
still I have the mother’s wish.
I wish he’d find a nice girl
and marry and settle down;
but his only interest is fishing
and he ain’t seen a mermaid around.
© 1997
Like a whisper on the wind, a feather floating across the skies,
A bird's call to its mate, the sound of a leaf as it dies.
I hear you calling,
I feel myself helplessly falling,
I hear you calling me.
While sitting with the radio on, music pouring from the speakers,
I suddenly hear the music fade away, and your voice enter.
You call out my name from the black mesh, and stir my heart,
With a familiar echo, resounding through my body,
Causing me to shudder and moan with memories of the past.
In the bath, with waterfalls cascading down the contours of my legs,
That curl into the curves of my body, folding me into a parcel of defeat.
Water flowing down my hair, the hollows of my cheeks, my shoulders,
Your voice calls out my name, and I hear you calling me.
I weep as your voice wrenches the tears from my heart.
Lying in another's arms, amidst the throes of passion,
I bite my lips to keep from answering your call, giving away my secret.
You call my name, as I resist to scream yours out loud,
Desperate to answer your call, I cry with frustration.
I hear you calling out my name, weakly, but with increasing frequency.
Talking to friends, listening, discussing, I freeze, as their faces
melt into the sound of your voice calling my name.
Desperation increases, as sounds, voices, thoughts, smells, people,
All merge into the sound of you calling me,
I hear you calling me, to come join you in your coffin of peace.
I lie on your grave, the cool concrete headstone my pillow, your jacket
covers me, And the weeds watch me sleep, in the only place I can find sleep.
How I wish, oh how desperately I wish, I could make you hear me,
Wherever you may be, beyond this life, hear me call your name,
Every minute, of every hour, of every day.
Like a whisper on the wind, a feather floating across the skies,
A bird's call to its mate, the sound of a leaf as it dies.
I hear you calling,
I feel myself helplessly falling,
I hear you calling me.
© 1997
Every drop of rain
strokes the ground
softening nature’s
lump of earth
once harden,
now velvety smooth
as mud puddles
form to the taste
of dust,
dryness
calmed to
soften touch
of raindrops
quenching
thirst of fruitless
lands
now lush
by the dispersing
of joyous gift
by thundered
clouds,
sharing
© 1997
Motion swiftly like a whirlwind,
Come with haste to a glorious end.
Rush.
Rush along with power
To a abstract, calmness, and mild settling.
Abruptly.
Abruptly get on your beast of burden.
Trek with me through mysterious deed.
Anxious
Anxious I am plumb before you.
To seduce you into a union..
Pace.
Pace your likeness and theme.
In me they can be understood.
Energetic.
Energetic come to me as my want,
Bring us to the passions fields where we lie
© 1997
Glory in the moment,
she swings her hips,
Oh Lover, the Night trips’
Flare of delight
She wears a coy smile,
For her, they walk that mile’
She has the extra,
that brings out the good,
Peace of mind is understood’
Glint of her eyes,
Sparkle of class
Lady is never crass
Knows what she wants
and how to perceive,
leaves em lustful for reprieve’
She takes you
as her very own
Lady likes to hear the moan,
Taunt in the moment
With the wink of a eye,
She departs, never to cry’’’’
© 1997
You intimidate me with questions
and tell me not to lie,
You treat me like a little girl,
not seeing a womans tears I cry’
You mull deep inside
and say you know me well
Of what you want to view
Not the monsters in me dwell
he sum of my feelings is love.
Spirit are a lost echo in my heart.
Bittersweet tears are my warmth from your cold.
My heart sings love's beauty, but
The love filters through my eyes
and reflects off yours,
back to my heart, in silence.
( When a heart skips a beat, is it about to be broken?)
© 1997
Wading through the leaves in this unfettered autumn town
I wonder where the aging drifters go when the sun goes down.
My weary, weakened eyes can see the truth when no one knows,
and sorrow plays no part in any seed this farmer sows.
You stand there, in the light, as you hold the candle clear
of any breeze that threatens you; of any voice you hear.
The day will come when all you own is a candle with no fire;
when every word you speak deceives, and every friend, a liar.
Please send any comments to :
Viesta Barker
© 1997
Caressing me in a special way
No definition needed
passion and laughter that fills my heart,
Again my soul has come to play.
Tears of eyes no longer spill,
as thoughts of you fill my mind.....
as I walk towards you,
departing bystander past, left behind.
All this came from many miles between us,
Retrieving the heart, brought out the smiles..
opening my eyes to the real meaning of life,
fuel to my fire, gave my life desire.
From so far away , you did this.
from the numerous miles away,
I love you for this,
now I ask you to stay......
© 1997
Please send any comments to :
Viesta P Barker
FREUND who brings me happiness
and makes me complete
who is desperate yet strong
whose actions are self-less
whose wisdom is continous
is my soul's balance
who tells me of fortune
who tells me of pain
whose words are cool drops of water
can't see in me the preciousness of a rare gem
who used to be as genuine as platinum is fake
whose burnt words are scorched by truth
is no longer there
doesn't see my dying joy
is running from empty utterance
who made me feel complete
is now as dry as an empty stream
who brought me happiness
is now as poor as a graceless beggar
asking why am I not still the same?
who is sad
who is sorry
but who is no longer a friend of mine.....
© 1997
Please send any comments to :
Ira Gamo
I'm singing a song of hope for the world
for all the children young and old
a song of joy to fill your heart
and smooth the journey from beginning to end
Let your heart sing with the wind
carried by the rivers of your dreams
on clouds of love thundering in the light
bathed in the warmth of the sun
Rainbows glide over rain-cleared skies
lifting us all to realms of a higher oder
breaking all earthly bounds to soar further
born anew in the weightless feeling of freedom
Sing along with the bright eyes of a child
full of wonder and awe as your spirit smiles
returning the world to a time of innocence
with an endless fountain of creativity rising
The tears of our foolishness have subsided
wahsing the pain for a glowing future of sharing
giving all an abundance born of warm hearts
sailing on the wind song in the choir of life.
Please send any comments to :
© 1997 HREF=mailto:sorthious@aol.com>sorthious@aol.com
Get your own Free Home Page