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Posted: |
Jun 14, 2018 - 9:46 AM
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By: |
madmovyman
(Member)
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Highwayman by KC Bryant
A highwayman dwells in darkness
and hides from the light of day
for ol' Scratch is ridin' with him,
or never too far away.
To ride the Devil's Backbone,
with its crook'd and twisted ways,
is a journey of hell's damnation
where a man of suffering stays.
Forged by tales of peril,
but damned by another's deed,
he ran the path of shadows
bound by the highwayman's creed.
Take from them that travel
on the Trace or near the road
whatever can be taken,
whether paper, horse or gold.
But mind what's done and fast run away
leaving no trail to follow,
for some will come after and ride you down
tryin' to take tomorrow.
Can't be said what's true or not,
yet there's this story to tell
'bout a man who rode to glory
past the devil, through the gates of hell.
© July 1994
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Posted: |
Jun 14, 2018 - 11:34 AM
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By: |
madmovyman
(Member)
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Stan the Rat by KC Bryant
My name is Stan and I am a rat.
I can see by your face that you don't like that.
When you see me you run or cry out in fright.
That's why I prowl only very late at night.
I know that I'm ugly. You've all made that clear.
So I hide in the dark to pacify your fears.
But why am I scorned and treated so badly?
Yes, I live in the sewer, that's why I'm so scraggly.
I'm really very smart, 'least that's what I'm told.
Research has proved it and the facts will uphold.
I can't venture out in daylight, no sir.
You scream and kick and I'm off in a blur.
But, I want you to like me like bunnies and squirrels.
Cute fluffy creatures that hop and twirl.
I'm really not different than those that you tame.
It's just 'cause I'm ugly. You should be ashamed.
I found a costume, a stuffed animal really.
thrown away in the trash and it fits me, not badly.
Will I a be a bunny hopping all over the place?
Or a humorous squirrel all bouncy and funny face?
Maybe you'll pet me just to feel my fluffy fur.
I will be very nice, maybe even offer a purr.
A moment to remember for both of us, see?
You won't be scared, 'cause you don't know it's me.
© October 1989
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Or i will have your fingers.  2018
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Posted: |
Jul 7, 2018 - 2:41 PM
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By: |
joan hue
(Member)
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Very nice, Dogbelle. You said, "a parent to child that's grown to fast." So true. Here is a poem I wrote to my daughters inspired by helping them get ready for Prom. Three months later they left for college and learned to fly on their own.
FIRST PROM
Your formal
like water over
round, smooth stones,
flows down your arms,
waist, hips.
Somehow this glide
of royal blue velvet
trimmed in white lace
and pearls forever
transforms you.
Your amazed hands
repeatedly stroke your
curve of waist
and thigh with the
insistence of a
future lover.
More to the mirror
than to me,
you confess,
“I feel beautiful,
finally. I don’t
ever want to
take this off.”
As you finger a pearl
and trace the V
of your bodice,
my forehead caresses
your hair, this nuzzling
numb to you
now somewhere in a
sensual castle
housing you
more than I.
Its battlements
are surrounded by a
moat so intensely
blue, deep and wide,
I’ll never span it again.
Still I touch you,
searching for
the contrast of
our reflections,
finally seeing
my own invisibility
in your new, clear mirror.
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Posted: |
Jul 7, 2018 - 4:24 PM
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By: |
DOGBELLE
(Member)
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Very nice, Dogbelle. You said, "a parent to child that's grown to fast." So true. Here is a poem I wrote to my daughters inspired by helping them get ready for Prom. Three months later they left for college and learned to fly on their own.
FIRST PROM
Your formal
like water over
round, smooth stones,
flows down your arms,
waist, hips.
Somehow this glide
of royal blue velvet
trimmed in white lace
and pearls forever
transforms you.
Your amazed hands
repeatedly stroke your
curve of waist
and thigh with the
insistence of a
future lover.
More to the mirror
than to me,
you confess,
“I feel beautiful,
finally. I don’t
ever want to
take this off.”
As you finger a pearl
and trace the V
of your bodice,
my forehead caresses
your hair, this nuzzling
numb to you
now somewhere in a
sensual castle
housing you
more than I.
Its battlements
are surrounded by a
moat so intensely
blue, deep and wide,
I’ll never span it again.
Still I touch you,
searching for
the contrast of
our reflections,
finally seeing
my own invisibility
in your new, clear mirror.
"To everything, there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven:"
it seems to me you have been very blessed.
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) 
