No Red Poem

NO RED

used up all the paint

no red

damn

can’t paint

no red

no rose, no

apples, no

red limozines

running through the night taking

queens to kings

no red for the joker’s cap

no red for her lips she might as well

be

dead

no red

and the yellow’s running low

for the sunrise

for the little lady’s hat

so little time so little yellow

and no

red
Copyright © 1998 by David Michael Jackson, Originally published at Motherbird.com

Gone Forever Gone Poem

Gone forever gone

as the flower fades,

gone forever gone

as the oceans dry

and earth shrivels

gone forever gone

as distant seas on

distant worlds

roll noisily

against distant shores

unseen and unheard

gone forever gone as

galaxies collide

and the energy waxes and wanes

gone forever gone

as

love in the night

as

the perception of it all

Was the wind was just

molecules floating in random

space being driven by

forces and effects which

somehow lead to

raindrops on my lover’s face?

Was it?

Perhaps is all we will ever truly know.

 

 

david michael jackson july 15, 2012 dave @artvilla.com   send sunshine

The Facebook Poem

I like you

will you like me too

I’ll share you and

you’ll share me and we’ll all like each other and

there will be peace in the world

and if anyone

unlikes this

fine

I’m pressing like

now

you are pressing it too

aren’t you

well

I’m waiting!

Most out of Life Poem by Marylin McIntyre

Surprise Surprise

make your do’s

match your says

pick up the goddamned garbage

“they” can’t always do it for you

life, live it

draw your head from the keg

move damnit

mark the globe

stroke a tree, a child, a leaf

look through your veil of tears

hazy though it may be

budge yourself, love yourself

find god in your glass of beer

count your cliche blessings

surprise, surprise…

***

Originally published  on Jan 6, 2005

To Notice Poem

To Notice Poem

Download

I was created to notice the cat,

catching butterflies.

If I were God

I would be lonely

and I would need

someone

to notice

how the cat catches butterflies

and brings them into the house

and how they are

to her as big a prize

as any mole or mouse.

***

Chasing the Dream Poem by Marilyn McIntyre

Chasing the Dream

by Marilyn McIntyre

time floating downstream

in an ancient bottle

plugged with different futures

I dash excitedly

up and down the bank

like a well trained Lassie

barking excitedly

and then wade in to stop time

the eddy pried it away

running on rapidly

burbling with life

and plunging round the bend

i wonder what the

message might have been

don’t chase me down

I’m here, I’m gone

and life is but a dream.

***

via Chasing the Dream Poem by Marilyn McIntyre.

Blinded by the Light of Your Eyes Poem by Susan Mandel

Susan Mandel
(1)
Blinded by the light in your eyes
I cannot see the truth.
The darkness in your stare tells me
that dreams fade by the light of day.
Who do I see when I open my eyes?
Does it really even matter?

(2)
When you run to catch up with yourself
do you ever reach the end?
Exhaustion is bound to catch you before you do.
If the exhaustion doesn’t kill you, will you kill yourself?
Or can you not run quickly enough for even that.
Keep trying.
Swim.
Run.
Ride.
You’ll catch up eventually.
Just in time to see yourself die.
Never having found a finish line.

Write a million poems by Homer Aseptic

We’ll hide in here,
in the Wordplay hotel.
Nobody will find us here.
We’ll sneak around pretending Bukowski.
Our streets are not ordinary.
We are not ordinary.
Life is not ordinary.
I
for example
am a
nut
on a
tree
in a
forest.

POEMS DONE ON A LATE NIGHT by Carl Sandburg

POEMS DONE ON A LATE NIGHT CAR

I. CHICKENS

I AM The Great White Way of the city:
When you ask what is my desire, I answer:
“Girls fresh as country wild flowers,
With young faces tired of the cows and barns,
Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries,
Slender supple girls with shapely legs,
Lure in the arch of their little shoulders
And wisdom from the prairies to cry only softly at
the ashes of my mysteries.”

II. USED UP

Lines based on certain regrets that come with rumination
upon the painted faces of women on
North Clark Street, Chicago

Roses,
Red roses,
Crushed
In the rain and wind
Like mouths of women
Beaten by the fists of
Men using them.
O little roses
And broken leaves
And petal wisps:
You that so flung your crimson
To the sun
Only yesterday.

III. HOME

Here is a thing my heart wishes the world had more of:
I heard it in the air of one night when I listened
To a mother singing softly to a child restless and angry
in the darkness.

I am the Grass Let Me Work Poem by Carl Sandburg

Grass

PILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.