Kingsley Station

Original Poetry | 11/25/2003 | January24th

[January24th]

This is a thread for readers and writers of poetry. You are welcome to join in this quiet room, but please respect a few rules that will assure that this thread is easy to read, loads quickly, and maintains the confidence of the poets and readers.

1. Only original poetry, please. All poems are the property of the posting poet. Please do not copy or reproduce in another area.

2. Shhhh! Please keep chat or comments to a minimum.

3. No huge graphics, blinking smiley faces, etc. Just words, please. Let your words paint the image! (Plus, it's easier for dial-up friends to browse.)

That's it. Now, get busy and write!

[Kay Syrah]

Each dawn begins
in mist and grey
suggestion
of the inevitable
progression
from what is not
to what is seen
and is and what
is meant to be
the red of possibility
scratches the serenity
of everything
in between.

[Camachee]

yawning
you mimicked
a dawn
of peach
and pearl
preference

[Kay Syrah]

Put the kids to bed Hon.

It’s an evening high,
ol’ buttermilk sky,
darling, make it easy
and play it for me
as if I didn’t know
what you mean,
and take it from the
horses mouth and call
it the truth about where
we get whatever when
the sky just keeps on
making that buttermilk
and we are hitched to
the stars if only
for as long as clouds
stay the way they look
tonight and you do too.

[Kay Syrah]

Eros Tyrannos


The moon’s a hungry lover
self consuming she makes
herself new,
leaving a dark cover
for completed hearts
replete in each other.

Her cool pangs
have not the heat
to draw the winds
yet she pulls the heavy
breasted tides
from full to slack
and back again
goddess of suspirations
and night lovers’ inhalations

To union or parting,
the longing, long sighing
two as one or one
by two undone,
she makes not distinction
in her indifferent reflected light,
she is her own satisfaction

grazing across the timeless arc
enjoying only her own appetite
the mensual consumer
of giving and taking leave
permissions and partings,
beginning and ending
each journey with a smile
she is as happy dying
As being born

[Kay Syrah]

Must till shoals

My passion stands
Oh my, me and eye
a light house beacon
full light swinging
a sign to passing sails
come to me, come and be
my fail of singularity

At the outpost
of land and sea,
oh wait, metaphor
abandons consistency
wanders upon the rocks
and keels up to salute

blinking lights as attractants
work for fireflies that’s right
but to sailors are a warning,
I think the universe in its
wisdom should arrange
its attractors with
more uniformity.
Strange.

[Kay Syrah]

Life goes on , Jack

I wanted to write
something that
concerned yin
and yang, but I needed
it to yan and ying
cause it was a rhyming thing
so I sent it to the
bin where everything
discarded lives to grow
again, cause the mind’s
a wonderful matter
Stating the obvious
a metaphor created,
sustained and destroyed
but never completely erased
some times it’s good to recycle,
garbage isn’t necessarily an article
of uselessness but an object
lesson on the drifts of failed
intentions, and lost
inventions.

[Soaring Feather]

The pastel skies
silence
lonely shadows
quiet mornings
and lonelier sounds
to his loving my bones

Blanketing all voices of soulless darkness
in a soft place
the dawn of desire....

bentfeather

[Camachee]

sugar time
memory
undilluted
fulfilled
by red slippered
fantasy
she dreams
about yesterday
and the
consequences
of rocking
sleeping
keeping
promises
of tomorrow

[Soaring Feather]

Sweet midnight dreamscapes
to ecstasies warm trappings
my midnight desire
tempting him in shadows
tasting his kisses would
entice me into needing him...

bentfeather
02/10/04

[Kay Syrah]

I have always
wondered how
tomorrow can be
considered an
afterthought,
in the arc
of history.

[Kay Syrah]

I leaped into the world
feet first,
a breech birth,
been cross threaded
most of my life,
but I've had a whale
of a good time
but I always wonder
what it would have
been like if I had
done it wright.

LOL.

[Soaring Feather]

This is amazing!!!!

I too, came in feet first
they have not been headed
in the right direction
most of my life
and my mother
never forgave me...

[Camachee]

if I had
done it wright

i pictured
wright
with hammered
copper plates
a pissed on
roof
and a leaky
ceiling
opting
for takeout

[Camachee]

domestic cats
protect my house
assured
that a can opener
and an opposable
thumb
are their
salvation

[Camachee]

you
considered
i
imagined
we
danced

[Soaring Feather]

I imagined
we danced
you considered

[Kay Syrah]

What are the odds
coupla sorta
but not so old
poetic broads,
leaving tracks
as their first
impression
on the world.
head over heels
wasn’t merely
an upended
metaphor in our
case cause
we started out
leading with sole.

[Soaring Feather]

Wonderful work Touche!!!

[Kay Syrah]

Understaffed
doesn’t always
mean overwhelmed.

[Kay Syrah]

I sang
an alley song
for him
but he said
he preferred prose
and the
pantry certain
purr of a domestic.