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!

[Camachee]

some
times
she
just
sighs

[Camachee]

pragmatists
don't hear
the sunrise

what night
is enjoyed
without
the illusion
of diamonds

what sunset
separates
the truth
and us

[Kay Syrah]

He sinks
into his
sunset surround
more moment than
tomorow
less permanent
than a green sky.

[Camachee]

coasting colombia
he remembered
lessons learned
and the remorse
of rumbas

[Kay Syrah]

the beat of samba
sublimates carnival
to the penitence
of wednesday
flagelados only
understand half
of the equation

[January24th]

la rumba
a dance of desire
never regretted
never better
than when you
stepped forward
into my circle
raised my hand above my head
and bid me promenade
the small orbit of
of my world

Like the sun
you smiled approvingly
and drew me close

and so we journey
sun and moon
in the elliptical
course of our universe

[Kay Syrah]

music felt and played
never leaves the universe
but rings forever.

[Kay Syrah]

Self parody #1 (metaphysics)

The heart of the matter
is that truth is
not what coincides
with what we want
or otherwise
nor is taken from a chart
or map that exchanges
itineraries or fares
for destinations

or seats us for an experience
without having our tickets taken
for its borders unsought
untried, will still the traveler
shape and ply, and mark
with stops along the way

regardless if we sleep or wake

So we are wearied, stamped
travel stained
with all we loose
all we gain, and whether
it is understood it moves us ever
where it would. tho longing never
makes it clear, the stop we seek
around the curve, it is the where
that is the when of knowing
it if we are there.

Neither created nor destroyed
it binds us even as we rearrange
the forms we raise against its
guides that remain fixed
tho we are changed

[Camachee]

shrinking thinking
after a
timid beginning
when metaphor
was less
a whore
of convenience
than an
exploration
of exuberance
and the condoms
on inflection
offered no protection

[Soaring Feather]

On my last birthday
I was thinking how
a timid beginning was
a concept new to me

and while the convenience
of condoms and exuberance
did go together

upon reflection
when all things came together
condoms were unavailable
therefore offered no protection

I think I should not think about birthdays anymore!

[Soaring Feather]

#830 I meant for all.

[Camachee]

I think I should not think about birthdays anymore!

Or maybe the metaphor of condums?

such a stately lass
some enchantments never last
fijords in the spring

[Soaring Feather]

Oh that Helga was a golden girl
she left old Hagar in a whirl
the long boat tango did ensnare
her lovely locks and Hagar
hit the docks a running

Melting ice in the fjords
caused a quaking heard by all
yes, that's it a mating call
of Helga and the lass's small

Rocking long boats soon gave way
to those old warriors sailing away
to return in the fall when the
fjords froze over and they held their ball

[Kay Syrah]

and the condoms
on inflection
offered no protection

tarayza's exuberant
expostulations
uncontained,
unconstrained
effusive
practicing
unsafe rhetoric
uncondemed
protected by
disposable income

bwahahahahaha

[January24th]

RE: Self Parody

This poem has such a nice cadence to it, different from many of your other writings. It brings a mood that surpasses just the words. Very nice!

[Camachee]

another
starry night
without

[Camachee]

we thought
portugal
a safe harbor
lush
with the blush
of blue forests
and green reefs
susceptible
to the vision
of red wine

[January24th]

left wanting
right waiting
forward-side-step-back
static footprints
of formality...
some call it dancing.

laughing eyes sparkling
soft hips orbiting
centered on an idea
of rythmn and joy...
some call it life.

[January24th]

"red, red wine
goes to my head
makes me forget
things I knew"
like Portugal
in August

indifferent heat
suited the days of
canteloupe-water respites
and benevolent rain
when it pleased
and we were pleased
to dream...

red, red wine
sends me to bed
with an aching head
for things I do...

I'll be fine.
:o)

[Camachee]

why should
midnight
divide
provide
decide
the consequence
of loving you
today
but parted
from you
tomorrow