Post A Poem

"Jack and Jill what up the hill, each with a buck and a quarter"

"Jill came down with two fifty" HEYO!

"Jack and Jill what up the hill, each with a buck and a quarter"

"Jill came down with two fifty" HEYO! Originally Posted by sinkerswim

Little Boy Blue ... He needed the money!

One of my favorites.

Robert Lowell-MOUTH OF THE HUDSON

A single man stands like a bird watcher
and scuffles the pepper and salt snow
from a discarded, gray westing house
electric cable drum.

He cannot discover America by counting
the chains of condemned freight trains
from thirty states. They jolt and jar and junk
in the siding below him,
he has trouble with his balance.
His eyes drop, and he drifts with the wild ice
ticking seaward down the Hudson,
like the blank sides of a jigsaw puzzle.

The ice ticks seaward like a clock.
A negro toasts wheat seeds over the
coke fumes of an open barrel.
Chemical air sweeps in from New Jersey
and smells of coffee.

Across the river, ledges of suburban
factories tan the sulfur yellow sun
of the unforgivable landscape.

Some much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

William Carlos Williams

One of mine

THE SNOWMAN

I stand and look across the land
A world I cannot understand

The children laughing
Indifferent people passing

A dog releaves itself on my lower portion
A cop across the street indulges in extortion

A bum stumbles and crushes a little bird
Many lies my melting ears have heard

Many sights my melting eyes

I stand and look across this land
A world I cannot understand

As my life slowly drips away
I'm alone to face the burning day

Soon to return to the sky

I call this one "Mrs. Taras, you Bitch" from my 12th grade Anthology.

An onion, your bunion,
A pass in the night.
An onion, you're undone,
Do he bite. Do he bite? Do he bite!

Reaper woman, my fun one,
Cold clip in the night.
Reap her, that woman,
Do she bite. Do she bite? Do she bite!

Overture, for Overton,
Fail me they might.
Taras, you won one,
Bite me.

From my first collection "Out of Vaseline"

Coarse light from a close TV,
How long does it take?
Two fingers and a thumb,
A corner to turn,
No.

Summer 78,
Gonna bate,
Next night,
Wait wait,
No.

Success.

Working title "Twist and Shriek"

Gripping, not slipping, not with a pull,
I tighten, not biting, never so full.
Whipping, not whimp - er - ing, not with a deep pull,
I lash, a gash, in a flash, a thrash, a mad dasher.
Pull, pull, you pixie puller. Pull me.

STUMBLE

Stumbled into a placed dream
There were isotopes and swirling rings
Molten lava and lipstick queens

There were covered wagons and
Robert Ford revolvers

Problem creators and problem solvers
Batches of moonshine and fraid twine

Espionage from the least likely culprits
Water stains on shellac worn pulpits.

Driving To The Lake.

Driving on through the night
I couldn't read the highway signs
with only one headlight
but I knew what they said
must be out of sight.

Orange flavored barium for breakfast
a magnesium crowbar for opening my suite case
can't see the side of the road from way up here

My boat got stuck on a sandbar that morning
a distant cheer
the crowd was pleased with the performance

Across the lake I thought I saw a swarm of butterflies
attacking a small flock of birds

We had peach brandy and popcorn
by the campfire that night

here's one I wrote, hope you guys enjoy it!

I was watching Scandal one day (I'm not a regular viewer but I catch it when I can) and I saw a scene by Huck that I thought was very compelling. I can't find a video to it, but he was at one of his AA meetings, describing how he felt when he "drank the whiskey". The words he chose, the allegory and alliteration used in his monologue inspired me, because it mirrored my feelings and view about the hobby. So here is my ode to the hobby, and it is entitled "The Whiskey".



I saw the people. The people who did what I wanted to do.
Arms raised, arms lowered. Lips pursed in a fake kiss.
Lips parted in a satisfied smile, or a burning grimace.
Those people did what I wanted to do. they drank of the whiskey.
Oh looking at their faces, all I could imagine is how it must feel
to drink of that drink. That whiskey.
Eve took a sips, and that amber pearl hung from her lips.
And in a kiss, Adam pursed his lips and took a lil sip.
And he was drunk on that whiskey,
even never having tasted that whiskey before,
at single sight
I wanted that amber drink.
And I felt bad exalted at the same time,
thinking about what it would be like,
ohhh, to taste that whiskey.

I saw him in the amber light,
he took a sip from his snifter,
and ohh my God, it smelt of whiskey.
And I took a sip, warm on my tongue,
like smolten steel,
then soft on the back of my palate,
the taste of his whiskey.
Pavlov's dog at first taste of that whiskey,
how so with no conditioning?
Because I had been dreaming, coveting, craving,
fearing the day when I would let it run down my lips.
that day came, and I drank.
Oh boy did I!
I drank and I drank, and I drank. I drank the whiskey.
And I did feel better,
but I still felt thirsty.

I saw her,
her voice was amber,
like honey, newly worked by its buzzing producers.
She sang to me, and her voice drew me, like a hopeless man,
to the whiskey.
Her eyes, golden, her skin golden.
Pink when agitated, like that swarm of angry bees that made that honey. The color of whiskey.
She took me to her garden one day, and reached into her satchel,
for there she hid her whiskey.
and there alone, We drank.
Smooth and sweet as apple cider on my lips.
I drank of the forbidden challis.
Pure in love and loose, I drank.

He took me.
Pants crumpled the backseat.
He disarmed me, and disrobed me, and displaced me. And then he found my whiskey.
That filthy bum, he stole my whiskey.
His palate numb, his tongue not knowing of sweet and oak,
the earthy, and the embers,
his palate is numb
Place a grey charcoal on his tongue and see!!

No flinch, no flavor, no savor, because his palate is benumbed.
And I drank of his dank whiskey,
I acquiesed, but I was not thirsty.
Hard and steel it was, no longer molten and sweet.
Cold against my back, and I went away on a song.
A dream, a boat,
hell I went under like a submarine.

Into cold steel,
dark waters and still nights,
A ship, a vessel, hell submarine, within a submarine.
I once knew the engineer on such a cold hard vessel.
Warm the heart, and take a lil sip of that whiskey.
Dreaming, coveting, fearless, the taste of that whiskey.
And what makes a man feel better, more himself, than that taste.
we tied the decanters to our necks,
an albatross of amber.
Sai Whiskey.

And we drank, and drank, and drank.
Like a fountain spews forth, so does that whiskey.
And the streets were twinkling bronze light,
dark waters, still night.
A refreshing mirage for the hopeless,
a place called home for the homeless.
We grabbed a cup, and a stool we pulled up,
and bellied up.
And boy did we drink of the whiskey.
And we drank and drank and drank of that whiskey.
Dreaming, coveting, craving,
fearing everytime we did taste of that amber whiskey.

We went to the bar, not once, not twice, but many times,
Alone and together, we related in our relations
Exalted and conditioned.
All for the taste of that whiskey.
And boy do we drink!
And we drink, and I drink, for I am no longer thirsty.
I do dream and covet,
and crave that ember light.
How can you not?
Oh the taste of that whiskey!
From pursed fake kiss,
burning grimace,
and the parting of my lips in a satisfied smile.
Dripping of honey,
and that whiskey.

Displaced and disrobed,
I sip from the snifter, and enjoy of every pace.
As things go, life and the state of our condition,
trials and labor makes the heart densen.
But that light amber fluid, whets the senses.
Now the alcoholic is also the bartender, and I pour me and you
a shot of whiskey.
A shot for you,
a shot for me,
and together,
we taste of that amber light.
The whiskey.
Originally Posted by Luxury Daphne

The Beautiful Woman

A beautiful woman
A delightful sensation
An artist heart
Her smile brings elation

I saw her from a distance
And could not help but admire

The warmth of her essence
Brings a bit of hope
In the lonely hour.

Fun With Friction

Charcoal crispies fall from the chimney
and sound like someone spilling potato
chips on a hardwood floor

You can't see the rings of Saturn this
time of year but a distant red and blue
star brings some enjoyment

Busted pipes in the basement
the waves wash over my shoes
at low tide I can get some work done

If I pet my cat backwards long enough
I can pick up a distant radio station
where they talk about the price of
wheat and corn and chemical farming

A spider comfortable in the confinement
of her web does a little dance in the
spring or is it autumn morning sunlight

The weather is warm
and I'm feelin right...
ready now,
for some afternoon delight!

Just shoot me a message
and I'll begin my ritual..
of getting myself right
for some afternoon delight!
I'm near the hub of the city
easy to get to
in a private humble abode
I call home...

So if we've never met...
you will need to provide two
your most recent references...
or be willing to tell me all about you!
So... let's make it happen
in the warm cool breeze...
clean linens...along with candles
to light the way!
I'm waiting now...
to be engulfed in your arms,
warm soft lips...
waiting for my next kiss....
by
Candence Shore

Annabel Lee
Edgar Allen Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee; -
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee -
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night,
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me: -
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we -
Of many far wiser than we -
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: -
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride
In the sepulchre there by the sea -
In her tomb by the side of the sea.



I have always loved his work. Dark yet brilliant.