MY CREATIVE CORNER

I have always written. In good times and bad I have tried to put down on paper how I felt at the time. Here is a sampling of some of the things I have written over time. For other glimpses into my soul you can follow my ranting in my blog.

PIECES OF SELF
Poetry is that which stirs you
beyond yourself.
Not just pleasant little verses
that make us laugh
But something deeper,
rowdy, richer and
More lasting than life itself.
It offers up bits and pieces
of self.

Poems About my Family
Sad Poems
Poems About Life
Love & Passion
Random Thoughts
Send Me Your Creative Side

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This poem is about my daughter....

REBECCA
I give her a scrunch and she wiggles with glee
As she looks at me her eyes twinkle and
her face glows with unspoken contentment
Love flows between us as we sit and snuggle.
She drinks her bottle down and I look into her eyes -
a precious moment to store in my happy memories box to be able
to relive when she is grown and on her own
with maybe a baby of her own...

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As you can see...this one is about my kids! (hee hee)

MY KIDS ARE GREAT!
Bubbly, bouncy, always on the go
Joshua Daniel doesn't know the word "slow".
Funny and daring, a giggle, a scream
Always thinking and digging up a scheme.
A cute little bundle who is growing up to be
someone to notice "Mommy - look at me!"

Rebecca Michele, well, what can I say,
always different each and every day
Bright eyes, a smile, that can make her Dad melt,
A devil, a clown, an actress - emotions heart-felt.
A whirling dervish one minute, an artist the next
Nothing about her is written down in a text.

Together unbounded, together a team,
As brother and sister, they make my heart beam.
They're great together, they're great alone
It's hard to explain or put in a poem.
I love them so much and I hope they know it -
my son the witty clown and my daughter the actress and poet.

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This topic is really hard for me to talk about. If you know me well you know why....

CANCER
A silent monster
attacks without warning
ruthless and deadly
It listens not to pleas for mercy
or cries to stop
It gnaws away life,
cuts to the bone,
and when it's finished with you
Death is welcome....

CANCER - VICTIM II
A silent killer
with stealth
sight unseen.
No knife needed
its hand cuts so keen.
No mercy shown to victims,
only pain does it gain
on its path of destruction
again and again.
Slowly or quickly
with death in its wake
young lives and old lives
it counts up its take.
It comes and invades
on a winged black steed
no invitation needed
for this wicked deed.
Life loses the battle
after going through hell.
This killer is cancer
and I now know it so well.

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I wrote this poem while sitting on the dock in Annapolis...guess it came to me in a day dream.....

A QUESTION OF SHORES

With the driftwood of acquaintance
lighting the fire to love once more
I went sailing off into the ocean of dreams,
A steady light in the foggy night beckons me.

I sleep with you -our dreams mingling,
our breath like gusts of wind
trifling with the breakers,
our arms touching
our legs, our hair
reaching out like a moon jelly's tendrils
interwining, floating with the ocean current.

The first time
I melted into your arms,
I knew I had come home,
a ship to the right shore.
The light had guided my way
I missed the sharp crags near the shoreline
and was guided to a safe port.
Your body was a tall ship
and I rocked gently into it,
utterly safe in the breakers,
utterly sure of this love.

I fit into your arms
as a ship fits into water,
as a young reed roots into sand,
as the sun nestles into the blazing horizon.

Our dreams are the flags
of little ships on the horizon of a dawning day,
or messages in bottles floating to shore
waiting to be discovered.

There is no point to this poem.
What the sea loses
always turns up again;
it is only a question of shores.

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To my favorite muse who inspired me to write this poem.....

Wild Abandon
He peered past potted palms
as if he were a tiger in the jungle
Eyes transfixed upon the dance floor
As the woman, scantily clad in red
with sensuous curves
slick and glistening with sweat
danced with wild abandon
round and round her primal undulations
seductively tempted all who might be near
but she danced within the flickering strobelight
a wild dervish, on and on,
not caring who might be watching
not caring that she might be prey
to many hungry eyes of those watching from beyond
those who stood outside the warmth and glow of the steamy circle
of her safe haven....
on the disco dance floor

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I wrote this poem while camping in Yosemite...don't ask the genesis of it...cause I really don't know...guess it came to me in a dream.....

THE MONK AND THE MARRIED LADY
The monk and the married lady lay still this night
deep in their own separate thoughts.
Their gentle thoughts twirl upward and dance to the sky,
intertwining along the way.
Impassioned dreams wrestle as one as they float through the
midnight magic
to join the slow dance of rainbow bliss and
deep and inner desire.
Dreams and thoughts, now as one, break through the
dark silent lonliness
and soar into a sweet climax of light.

Though worlds apart, bodies never to touch,
their spirits will always be free
to break away for a slow midnight dance -
thoughts and dreams rejoice into one -
breathing life into both so each may refresh and renew
as the monk and the married lady.

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While Daydreaming on a beach one lazy weekend in California....this poem came to me...

Bella Maggiore

The beach, the stars,
A bench, a breeze,
A look, a tease,
An evening chill
All is still.

Candle light through the night
Two hearts are touched
Two want so much
Warm breath, warm skin
Wanting to begin.

A move, a glance
A slow night's dance.

Then break of day
Night fades away
A look, a sigh
A sad goodbye.

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I think we all know someone like this...this one is for my special dreamer...

The Dreamer

You keep your dreams
in a pocket kept close
to your heart -
zippered so tightly,
sealed from the fates,
protected from misfortune
and so well guarded from
disappointment.

You keep your dreams
well protected
hidden in a glass jar
high up on a shelf
in the back of the closet
in your mind,
so they won't be stolen
or crushed
or the glass jar won't fall
and the dreams lost and shattered.

The dreams are there
your special hidden treasure
yet you sometimes forget
live your life feeling
so much anguish and regret.

Open the jar to the light of day -
let the dreams flow free
let them soar, let them be.
Only then can they take flight
Only then can they find reality.

Let me help your dreams come true.
Let me share your dreams with you.
Don't be afraid to share
your dreams with me.

I also have my hidden dreams you see
You are a dreamer not so unlike me.
I also yearn to let my dreams soar free.
So, if you open your dream jar for me
together we can make our dreams soar free.
Wouldn't that be wonderful to see?
Please, Won't you share your dreams with me?

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I wrote this next poem about two friends who were very much in love to thank them for giving me kind encouragement when I needed it most.

Shy Dreamer

He sits there dreaming alone
his head in the clouds
so shy, no words
but you know what he wants to say

He stands there quietly
with his heart in his hands
with only love to offer
willing to give it all to you
If you want it
he will give you every ounce
of what he stands there holding

He lies there lonely
alone in his thoughts
waiting for you to see
that with you he need not be
a shy dreamer at all

He walks to you
and stands at your door
so shy, no words
but you hear what he wants to say

So you take his hand and accept his heart
and offer him the love that he dreamed of
and with you he knows he need not be
the lonely shy dreamer he used to be.

A butterfly in flight is such a wonderous thing. When I watch a butterfly in flight I often wonder what it would be like to soar so carefree.

Butterfly

Butterfly blue, butterfly white
you make my heart soar, you make my soul light
watching you take off on a winged flight
is such a joyous and wonderful sight.

Butterfly purple, butterfly yellow
you make a day seem so very mellow
floating and flitting about so carefree
flying so high, looking down at me.

Butterfly orange, butterfly green
your wings so beautiful, such a wonderful sheen
So graceful a dance, so graceful a flight
flutterby wings so very light.

In my mind I'm with you as you take flight
Soaring, dancing , I feel so light
Wish I may, wish I might
Please share with me your gift of flight
On one of your journeys so carefree
Can you bring my loved one home to me?

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Sometimes someone inspires you to write something you'd otherwise never dream of writing. To my muse, where ever he may be.....

Blueberry Fire

Nature's paintbrush
scarlet leaves
brush a vast tundra
dancing under frigid wind driven skies
over a harsh landscape
colors ablaze
fiery blueberry bushes turn
against evergreen
rolling in waves over
the lichen encrusted
granite sentinels
guarding the wilderness gateway
to the virgin meadows waiting to be explored.

Season's changing her dress to flashy Fall finery
green to red to amber
she wears a golden crown to adorn the day
taking lazy summer's slumbering days and
sparking Autumn's vibrant song.

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Sometimes questions about a relationship are hard to answer...Sometimes things are better left unanswered. Why can falling in love be so hard?

Again

I'm filled with doubt and indecision,
As I watch you take my hand.
Feeling that familliar heat in my heart,
Wondering why I haven't ran.
I just found my way out of an endless night,
Will I find myself sinking back in?
How quickly things change,
After a simple smile
After a brief encounter
This isn't stable-
It never was...
Are we just playing with lust?
Are we falling in love,
Much too fast,
And there's no way
It could possibly last?
I pull away, you draw me back...
I'm not strong enough to read your eyes-
I'm not fully recovered from last time...
Am I too frail to survive this?
You are draining me of my will,
Leaving me so weak.
And you are sabotaging my soul,
Leading me to believe you are all I need.
I am not healed from the damage of my last love,
And here I am again.

Is Love worth the hurt?
I know not and never will learn.
Should I take a deep breath,
And dive back in?
Does it really matter,
If neither of us wins?

Another time around,
Had to be the charm-
And I'm completely convinced,
As you hold me in your arms.

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This poem was written while I was in college about a friend of mine who was having a hard time "finding herself" ...

THE ULTIMATE GOAL
My eyes flood with words of pain which my mouth refuses to speak
A contradiction -
My face shows the strength of a poker player
My mind refuses to accept defeat -
Questions unanswerable
strength weakening
crying silently for help
I stuggle to continue
"I exist"
The attempt at the ultimate goal
"I belong"
"I know"
"I understand"

Lonliness
I sense the uselessness everyone feels when they are around me
"Nobody can help me"

Confusion
Scattered pieces never quite fitting right
"I am different"

Frustration....

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I worked in the New York Port Authority for awhile. I couldn't help but people watch during my breaks....

IN A NEW YORK SECOND
A View of the N.Y.C. Port Authority....

The shopping bag ladies clutch tightly
their portable homes filled with dreams
and old, shattered memories
as they wander and roam
using the building as a refuge
from the harsh words and harsh weather
of the wintry city.

Old, worn-out, ragged men
whose lives are slowly being crushed
by a world changing too fast
for their aging minds to follow
sit babbling about a beautiful before
and a better tomorrow or patrol the halls
continuously throwing their thoughts
at the thoughtless rush hour crowd.

Masses of thousands of people
ebb and flow
in and out
of the building,
Each mass together for an instant,
sharing the same history,
then
separated
and spread apart
As each person continues on
to his destination
never giving a second thought
to the future of the people
he was close to just minutes before.

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I try to picture my self like this....I'm hoping my positive attitude and stamina will always get me through tough times so I may enjoy the good times that come after...

EVER FORWARD
Lithe and graceful she scampers
quickly over some rocks
And lightly touches down on the other side
The day is hot, the gritty earth
sticks like flypaper on her skin
But on she moves, only forward
Her hiking boots scuffed and worn
Battle tested like she is
But still she trudges on
No weighted pack can slow her down
No obstacle can block her way
Forward on through the day
Til the last of the sun's light
Streaks lightly through the trees
Then slips away.
Only then does she rest
To let the tired little girl inside show through
And sleeps a deep child's slumber
Amidst the tranquil wooded sounds
As Mother Nature watches over
Gently through the night
And crickets sing in unison
Toads and owls join in song
A peaceful lullaby as nature's child
Sleeps safe and tight the whole night through
To wake refreshed with the new dawn
And face the morning sun with vigor
To start her hike renewed.
Ever looking forward,
Never looking back.

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Random Thoughts purple dot

Someone should be hired to collect all the lost thoughts, forgotten dreams, abandoned ambitions, and left-over desires and put them to use. That person would either become the most creative person alive or the most tormented. Could one person handle all that in one mind?

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More Random Thoughts purple dot

In the depths of your mind are things long forgotten. To dredge them up would be a violation of the rights of losts thoughts. Remembering the bad may hinder future plans. Remembering the good may make us stronger. To never remember....
Broken cords of thoughts, memory puzzles with its pieces scattered
too far or lost completely. Memory puzzles never completely fitting back together.
Can you select what your mind will remember? Is it better to leave the past buried or to violate its sleep and awaken old thoughts? One has to think about that doesn't one?

TIME WHISPERS
Time whispers to me
and echos down the corridors
of my mind.
She is reminding me
I should no longer be a child
but a woman, capable of doing anything -
anything set in front of her...
Well almost anything.
But, sometimes the quiet sobs
of the child shut within me
grow to loud angry screams.
The child wants to be let out
to roam free through the hall of thoughts
in my mind.
The child wants to keep her spirit alive and open
and to shut away the adult which grows bigger everyday
the adult which is squeezing the child
into a small room to be locked and the key to be lost.
The struggle is endless -
the child gains control; the adult weakens;
the adult gains strength; the child is quieted.
I ask myself - In order to adjust to and survive
in this crazy world - Who should ultimately win this struggle?

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*All poetry and other writing on this page shall be deemed copyrighted material and shall not be re-printed without express permission from the author.*
*Bella Maggiore graphic created by and courtesy of Michelle Brooks*

YOUR TURN!

TAKE ME TO THE JAVA POETRY PAGE

I have created a page where you can create dynamic poems of your own. Feel free to send me copies of any poems you create and I will start a page of your poetry.

purple dot HERE IS A PAGE CREATED FOR YOUR POEMS!

I would like to post creative ideas from you. You can forward anything you might like published to me at my email addy for consideration.

Hungry for more? Here is a link to find more books about Poetry:
Search Barnes And Noble For Poetry

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