Go ahead, throw words
and words and words
over me until I am covered.
A strong wind comes-
they blow away.
Save me the trouble
of sneezing from the dust
of your pointless particles,
your endless verbage.
Verbs are action words for a reason.
Action speaks more to me
than your cheap, cloying, meaningless cliches.
I'm closing my ears
and opening my eyes
to SEE what you are really saying.
jkc 2010
Poems from my favorite poets, Photo-shopped images/backgrounds that I created for some of them, poetry that I have written. This is a place for me to explore the beauty of words, poetry, life. It's my happy place.
Monday, July 17, 2017
Saturday, July 8, 2017
The Dream
Illustration: Where Have All Your Dreams Gone by Joel Robison
- LOVE, if I weep it will not matter,
- And if you laugh I shall not care;
- Foolish am I to think about it,
- But it is good to feel you there.
- Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking, --
- White and awful the moonlight reached
- Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere,
- There was a shutter loose, -- it screeched!
- Swung in the wind, -- and no wind blowing! --
- I was afraid, and turned to you,
- Put out my hand to you for comfort, --
- And you were gone! Cold, cold as dew,
- Under my hand the moonlight lay!
- Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
- But if I weep it will not matter, --
- Ah, it is good to feel you there!
The Dream
Ashes of Life
- Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
- Eat I must, and sleep I will, -- and would that night were here!
- But ah! -- to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
- Would that it were day again! -- with twilight near!
- Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do;
- This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
- But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through, --
- There's little use in anything as far as I can see.
- Love has gone and left me, -- and the neighbors knock and borrow,
- And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse, --
- And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
- There's this little street and this little house.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
Ashes of Life
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