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Open Poetry #38
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mindmapping
| Open Poetry #38 |
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mindmapping |
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LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296
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optimism sends a frail noise faltering straining blindly feeling its way through the dark spilled milk on a tablecloth sweet children, swell a lump in my throat giving quick looks taking missteps fresh scraps & cuts with barnie band aides using they’re inside voice molding a fishing boat with play dough & straight trees it carries the king of Sundays who weeps speechless tears he gives them strength to stand on hills alone I watch he waits, crucified, unable to fold his hands but the children build him six new ones with happy meals from eagles soaring through storms thru winds of forgiveness whispering “tell us your secrets” but merrily run away bringing back puzzles & games to give to the secrets I turn my mind manually absorbing every last drop of spilled milk which tattooed it’s white mustache on both my upper and lower lip full time job balancing best friends appear in spirit they know the child who makes treasure chests from debris of humanity’s left over thoughts they told me of his wings & compromises keeping diaries dreaming of eye lifts skipping with dead ends knowing the power of touch skpping rope the value of everything the overwhelming tears of happy sometimes plays hide and seek I count to ten they ask love to take me with them falling to my knees in tears Albert Einstein softly strokes my hair pushing me toward a starting line I cry, "nohhhh, I want to stay with you" he smiles and says, “you should focus on things you can’t see” I wonder how long my dreams will live after I’ve gone? Will they wear cloths? write poems? skip along with children? I lower my head pout but float away...to a place I've always dreamed of The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. - Edmund Burke [This message has been edited by LeeJ (07-20-2006 11:27 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2006 Lee J. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Dark Stranger Member Patricius
since 2001-03-19
Posts 13631West Coast |
the only place I ever dreamed of truely was a place to dream truely ms lee j, I hear your shoes on the stairs today.. not tiptoe..not running.. perhaps just admiring the paintings of open windows along the way enjoyed this |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
they know the child who makes treasure chests from debris of humanity’s left over thoughts wow, Lee...great thoughts hugs M |
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JL Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128Texas, USA |
"I lower my head pout but float away...to a place I've always dreamed of" Me too! ((You da bomb!!))  JL  Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: |
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