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while not being able to get on here yesterday, found myself writing more 'over there'....
so thought to bring one or two here and start a new thread for anything poetic that might want to be said....
please come and share, if you wish....write if you dare....we're no longer just fish....

written last night on the first line/last line thread....this first line generously donated by rasko....

not knowing if it's right
staying up so late tonight
writing rhymes among my friends
yet that term so much depends....

we've got history, my friends and me,
and many don't live in this country
though some go back and went off track
and others may have felt attacked,
it's writers here from over there
who gathered today just to share....

not knowing if it's wrong
to follow another poet's song
yet my heart is happy with all we've shared
my soul's content to know we cared
my body's tired from a long working day
my mind's relaxed 'cuz we played here today...

for writing poetically has been a whole lot less
having some fun with those who know best
how to make me laugh with their all too sharp wit
I try to keep up but I'm not nearly as quick
at having a come-back that shows I can tease
or let the words flow with the greatest of ease

yet it's poetry that I've missed recently
so time to begin perhaps yet again
a thread that is filled with poetic passion
one where I'm free to write spontaneously
and create my own first lines actually....

time to find space to write in the night
or the wee hours of the morning
when the muse calls without warning...
time to detach just a bit from the wit
though I'd miss the tears of a good laughing fit....

one more from the first line/last line thread 'over there'....again this first line came from rasko...thanks, hun!


there is no time for sorrow
though grief will always follow
a loss or a death until we can see
when someone dies it can set them free
while those who are left might feel a great sadness
until the day comes they celebrate their loved ones
replacing despair with knowing they care
and sometimes their presence can be felt right here
on their birthday or anniversary, especially,
or maybe the day that they died annually
a smell or a warmth might suddenly appear
and it's your beloved you'd know anywhere

written yesterday on ash's thread...with her line in quotes that inspired me...

she writes....
"wears a black man like an accessory"
wearing anyone....
we do that, don't we
sometimes
when imagining what others see
a new friend could be just an accessory....

until we can see past the subjectivity
until we can feel what is real
until we find not everyone's blind

for those who can see
can feel intuitively
when one is overbearingly
wearing someone like an accessory
or being worn like a piece of jewelry
honouring the beauty
but only superficially

one more to share...written yesterday on 'my own' thread over there....

revisiting this forum and thread
been months since it's been read
has this much time just passed?
perhaps poetry does not last
and yet to read the pages here
I'd know these writers anywhere
from writing with the past two years
since my days wandering in here
since I first tried to write poetically
getting stuck in rhyme phonetically
still have that issue when it's long past due
to let go the rhyme and let the words through.....

been a summer of adventure
of travelling with friends
of exploring a rainforest
and covering us in mud
made with a paste of water from the gorge
and chunks of earth from the mountain
washing us off in the waterfall
swimming the gorge at night
a bonfire in the darkness
and walking in the rain

been a summer of adventure
of travelling with family
a cruise with so many
and 28 of us for company
being there upon the sea
meditating as the waves
washed through me
walking the shores of bermuda
the pink sand so velvety

ahhh...the rhyme returns again
release its hold on me
just write and be free
no structure...no rules....
whatever will be....will be

sharing some inspired from my trip to the puerto rican rainforest earlier this summer....
these two were written with my non-dominant right hand on the plane coming home...


I watched spirits
on the rocks
holding council
holding space
our bodies glowing
in the dark

I watched spirits
by the fire
gathered in love
our faces glowing
in the firelight

I watched Spirit
dance in the fire
dance in the water
dance in the rain
dance in the mountain
dance in the trees
dance in our eyes
dance in our hearts

and loved poured forth
with the rainfall

and love flowed
in the water

and love flowed
and flowed

until it filled
the container
of my being

and overflowed
creating
FLOWers
in miraculous
colours

and beauty
filled my
being as
tears of love
flowered
and showered
us all

..................

And so it is
feelings flow
gushing like the gorge
throwing me against
the rocks

but I wasn't hurt,
I became the water,
I became the rocks,
I became me

pure energy

and oh so lovingly
I played as we
always have
played
in the gorge

the coast salish people
have a woman's face
carved into rock
on this island
and others
at low tide
she watches
the islands
the waves
as the breaths
of the seen
the necklaces
of sunlight
on the lips of waves
at high tide
she smiles
at the summer salmon
crowding past her
she nods
to congregations of orcas
her hair becomes kelp
she kisses
the sea
and she knows
her bed so well
the sea

^^thank you for sharing here...

beautiful vision
fills me with fascination
through the magic of your words
the coast salish people sound very special

poetry is my love.
i have loved her for many years.
she kisses my ears,
breathes warmly on my mouth,
and when i read her out loud
... sitting alone or with others ...
she touches my eyes
with her fingers of words.

i love her relationships
with others ... longfellow ...
day is done and darkness falls
from the wings of night
as a feather is wafted downward
from an eagle in light.

... basho ...
a gentle pond/ the frog leaps/ the sound of water

... camus ... in the poetry of his memories

in ibiza i sat everyday
in the cafes that dot the harbor.
toward five in the evening
the young people would stroll back and forth
along the full length of the jettey
this is where marriages
and the whole of life is arranged
there is a certain grandeur
in beginning one's life this way
with the whole world looking on

... gide, in 1895, in the sub-sahara ...

in vain i have searched for that dim cafe
patronized by tall black men from the sudan
some were missing one toe
... a sign of servitude ...
most of them were wearing,
stuck beneath their turban,
a tiny tuft of white flowers,
fragrant jasmine ... this boudquet
falls against the cheek
like a romantic lock of hair
their faces express voluptuous langour
they so prize the scent of these flowers
not satisfied to inhale the fragrance
they thrust crumpled pedals
far into their nostrils
in this cafe one was singing
another telling stories
and doves were fluttering back and forth
landing on their shoulders

... machado ...

and before me the house
and on the house an iron grille
outside the window
that light blurs
her placid and smiling face
i will go away
i don't want to call at your window
... spring comes, her white dress
floats in the wind of the dead plaza
she comes to burn
the red roses
of your bushes
... i want to see her ...

and the last few lines of anna akhmatova's
"on the road"

and the sun goes down in waves of ethr
in such a way that i can't tell
if the day is ending, or the world
of if the secret of secrets
is within me again ...

weariness descends
sending me into a state
of near oblivion
on the edge of my being
teetering on the balance beam
why not just let me fall?
why hold on to this at all?
yet life and love does often call
whispering sweet nothings
memories that once belonged
in a fairy tale
imagining a fairy's wing
flittering to and fro
following love
wherever I could go
until it took me home
to me
when I could see
finally
it's all within me
that makes me free
so seeking
becomes releasing
and freeing
of energy

This here poem's dedicated to Robert, my buddy.


Bullets whizzin by as I head to my buddy, on another rainy day in Nam
God, sometimes I think you forgot me, I don't think you even care who I am.

He's OK, bodies shakin with adrenaline, tonite we'll calm down with cocaine.
How we got here? Hell, I was somebody! I used to live at Fifth and Main!

Sunrise again. Never get used to it, the smell of human blood a percolatin' in the sun.
Hell's no worse than this. None of us ever think that we will ever again have any fun.

My buddy took it today. I swore to him that we would always have each others back.
And I know, it's all because, for some reason, I feel that it was something that I lack.

Tonite, my mind is filled with killing gooks and wearing a necklace decorated with their ears.
With my buddy gone, my eyes are bloodshot with revenge, I no longer have any fears.

Killin but not just killin; making em hurt, makin em suffer as much as they can bear.
God, I swear, what plan did you have, that you need to see my heart completely tear?

A monster now, I realize, I enjoy the screams, I look forward to the suffering.
That's all I live for, no use in pretending that there are feelings I am buffering.

How did it come to this? Why me. I was only eighteen.
But I reckon on war, them fat politicians are always keen.