My Poem....be kind

Terrorism​

Three year old baby child-​

Skin splotchy, purple blue bruises-​

Don't touch, festering blood blisters, colors of summer ripened plums, agonizing to the smallest graze of human contact-​

Outline of feeble, withering skeletal frame seen through milky, bruise-blemished skin-​

No tears, puckered, liquid-absenced body incapable of producing salty emotion-​

Hand reaches out, not for mother's sweet embrace but to add more painful pictures to little one's body-​

This is Terror​

Ten year old little girl-​

Golden ringlets cascade down smooth, tan skin-​

Sits alone under pink, lace canopy-​

Daddy says too old for baby dolls-​

Time for more grownup games-​

Tender sobs unheard by absent Mommy-​

Cries herself to sleep-​

This is Terror​

Little boy-​

Gasps for breath after earnest sprint-​

Runs getting harder with each added pound of fat-​

Beads of salty sweat trickle down coke bottle lenses-​

Capture means the taste of metallic blood-​

More running means certain collapse-​

What to do-​

This is Terror​

Family dinners at home-​

A roaring fire around which to gather-​

Fluffy coats thrown out, one size too small-​

Soup tossed in the sink, a cup too much-​

Daughter's no bully, just boisterous-​

Shaking homeless man, probably an addict-​

Not abuse, children need discipline-​

Ignorance of the world around us-​

This is Terror​

Young Man Reflecting on Aged​

Old man​

Don't look at me with your tired eyes​

Your wrinkled hands-​

Colored with the marks of years faded past,​

Reach out to my heart and almost stop the fluid-flowing of the blood bath within me​

Your skin-​

Black from the sunwork of ninety long years-​

Hangs like loosely strung cobwebs not swept away but left to disentegrate from the wind's steady erosion​

You terrify me with your toothless grin​

The gums which have come to gnaw at my being tear my soul's flesh away​

Old man-​

You smile at me and wink​

But still cause me to cower at one glance of that beady, wrinkle-crowned eye​

The disease of age, contagious to the multitudes will not infect me​

I will stay as a youth, kissing the lips of pretty young maids who call to me to share a drink of their strong love​

So Old Man-​

Turn your tired eye on some other young one​

Pass your disease of decay onto him​

As for me, my hair remains fair and I will forever gallop through the fields of my life-​

Ever remembering never to die​

Me and Kermit​

Me and Kermit
Sometimes we just sit here on this bridge overlooking the muddy water others call life
Maybe we come to this spot because of loneliness
Maybe in remembrance of childhood past
We both grew up on this bank you know
Both knew the smells and sounds of this flat land
The magnolia trees-their blooms bursting forth in brilliant, sweet-smelling glory
Sounds of the tractors, bringing in the livelihood of the sweat-streaked, sun-dimpled men and women of the dirt

Yes, me and Kermit are like one
We both know of the Delta Dawn
Its colors of rust and mud mixed with a pinch of yellow from the lemonade drunk by countless hat-crowned, garden club debutantes as they spin the webs of gossip that hold a southern town together

We wander this place, Kermit and me
The dust swirling from the ground with each step
Hate the way the sun beats down and causes the pealing away of the skin and soul
We pass the graveyard where sweet Jeffery lies and wonder when the spider lilies will devour everything
But this town itself will live on
Its legacy will remain because when the last tractor is silenced and the last debutante has passed
Kermit and I will remember

 

It sounds like 'found poetry.' Steinbeck?

 

No honey. I promise it is all mine and am kinda proud that you think I plagiarized such a master author. Wow that is a head rush. I wrote it about my surroundings growing up in rural Mississippi. I was at a point where I could look at the nature around me and recognize its beauty but at the same time I was rebelling against the society I grew up in. I wish I had "found" it because the process of writing this poem was draining emotionally. I was leaving the place I was raised in and had conflicting views about whether to leave or stay. Would you like to hear another poem?

 

Certainly! If it's yours, you're doing very well indeed!

 

Ok guys. I just put a new poem on this one but I can't figure how to get it to move up.

 

Hmmm, you really did a number on the old bugger. I like the wording but as much as I want to laud you for being proud and young and free I can't think but what a terrible prison an old body must be. Maybe even an old codger needs a day with young maids in bright summer fields as much as we.

 

awesome! thanks for sharing

 

New poem guys...what do you think

 

~*Very sad, but theres alot of sadness and misery in this world (Terrorism). I liked the way you wrote "Young Man Reflecting.." but didn't care for the message. I just don't hols those kinda views toward old folks so I couldn't relate to that one. Thanks hun!*~
P.S. this is another one I hadn't realized was a multiple post of more poems btw. lol, not keeping up very well i guess. thanks again

 

you're a very good and elaborate writer. i think the last one is my favorite. keep sharing!!

 

Oh guys, I am so sorry. The second poem was intended to show my friend how ridiculous he was being in his fear of the elderly. It is his feelings exaggerated. I should have explained that. Please read my other post though because it is not as depressing. Sorry for not being clear.

 

Ah well, that does explain it better, unfortunately I know a few peeps like that second one. Treat me fine till they find out how old I am and then totally freak on it, lol, ah..their loss, not mine. Like I said. I liked how it was written, just living a lil too close to the content, hehe.

 

you write well... you might like :
www.allpoetry.com
... have a look... i enjoyed these.