Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gabriel burnS Oct 2017
The Sun is growing distant
The Earth is turning in her bed
Waking up in an instant
With her nightgown
White in the cold
Opting to sleep it through
And dream herself up, green
And breathe proximity, serene
Jayantee Khare Oct 2017
All run a race
Beelines they trace
Some overtake
Others couldn't make

Vehicles are sprouted
Making the roads crowded
Aspiring to win the race
Have a restlessness

Occasional roadblocks
All gather in flocks
Few do find a way
Others left away

No sit back
No look back
To reach the destination
To attain the culmination

Chasing-leading-trailing
on a long drive, driving
the longings in this way
When you're on a highway

They, you and me
on an eternal journey
to both heaven and hell
You lose and you win as well
A long drive of 2000 km ...provoked thoughs on life...
Pete Leon Oct 2017
Poetry and I have broken up,
Words were spoken, she took dog.

We tried speaking to someone together,
They didn't say much, just listened.

Poetry and I are back together,
We had a chat, she gave me cat.

We're going away together soon,
Nice hotel, gonna read horse together.

The trip didn't go well,
Things were said, she took a fence.

It's my faulty though, I spoke poorly,
I have no fence.
Bobcat Oct 2017
It's 12am and I'm 20 feet up its 32 degrees am I brave enough?
The misty water from the falls sprinkle my face
Not a soul around just my skateboard and I to fill this space

One light illuminating the rocks below as the water dances upon them
I'm getting butterflies just thinking about cutting in
A man walks by does he know my intent?
I begin to panic, this consuming paranoia is it just in my head?

I can see my breath, is it getting colder?
I bet the water is freezing, what if I just break my shoulder?
All the scenarios are depleting my course of action and I can feel my feet back off the ledge
Maybe tonight's not the night, maybe I should sleep it off instead

I grab my skateboard and turn around
What I didn't notice was the ice on the ground
My knee buckles from under me and the concrete meets my head
I start bleeding, panicing and pleading

It's 12:07am and it's my turn to dance
In 1.6 seconds I made my way to the dance floor
I thought this is what I wanted but no, not anymore

Warm blood covers my face while the ice water fills my lungs
I should stop fighting it I should accept this is where I belong
I close my eyes and see your face
I put on a smile and meet my fate
The mileage added up to just a grand
Not a lot for 20 days,
No crossing of a dateline
Or a continent’s divide.

But still that world seemed somewhat foreign
and I saw streams of amazing things,
That were echoes of my teenage self,
As different now as I was then.

A hazy forest, dark and damp
Where the mist turned into fairy snow
And we walked on in muddy shoes
To learn the mysteries of falling water.

A midas treasure of wave-borne findings
Spilling from a cavernous hall
Pieces of so many lives found
Floating on the morning tide.

Stories of a Nippon sailor’s life
From things that got thrown overboard
Images of fishing boats
In round glass ***** and floats of cork.

Carve the circle with a line
That led to a reunion of
The ones that I grew up beside
But never quite was welcomed in.

A rounding up of recollections
Shared at tables set for eight
Where those left out still don’t fit in
And bonhomie was the music played.

To the ocean of my childhood days
Waves that tell me who I am
And fill up all the empty spaces
City life drained out of me.

A shining tower with ninety steps
That wound around like pizza slices
And tripped me up to ******* blood
As balsa airplanes spiraled to the ground.

No time for wounding on the schedule
Shedding blood but never tears
The leader of the band played on
Admiring a Tsunami boat

Come all the way from far Japan
With cargo of the local fish
Still swimming in the unspilled sea.
A miracle born from true disaster.

Another beach, not like my own
A warmer, calmer span of sand
With jutting rocks in shallow surf
That dare you out to climb them.

Drawn once more to city lights
And the grassy ***** where mother lies
There were other gardens to enjoy and
And contrivances with just two wheels.

How quickly we grew shuttered in-
Just two days in big city life,
The restaurants and funny shows
Still told us it was time to go.

Longing for the beauty of the Gorge
We were met by smoke and blackened stumps
And exits blocked to waterfalls, ravaged
By the fires of hell, and ugly now for 50 years.

A teenage boy with fireworks and no sense
Destroyed the loveliest drive on earth
And bragged to all his awestruck friends
That all the news stories were about him.

With fingers crossed at Mount Rainier,
The sunny weather turned to slush and
Fell two inches in an hour.  I ate fresh snow
Off branches as we hiked, and froze my tongue.

We wore the heavy coats we almost didn’t bring
And cheered when sunshine took the snow away
And we could walk in forests once again
On trails we never knew were there.

A wonderland of cast off parts and metal bits
Became giraffes, seahorses and other marvels
In the hands of a roadside welding artist
Who sold a giant piece to my home town.

A visit with a sister who shared my youth but not my soul
Who grew one way and I another
Leaving not a thing in common for us
Except the love that comes from blood.

No way to avoid the final city
Hellish place of one way streets
Endless detours and construction
Pay all you own to park two hours.

Yet there was the comedy and
Segways once again to ride.
A troll under a hulking bridge and
Poor Rapunzel in the tower.

Passing up the tourist musts,
Visited in journeys past, we saw
The small and quirky things
That make a foreign city yours.

Twenty days, almost no rain
Unheard of in that rainy clime
A lot of sun, some cloudy skies
A bit of snow to frost the cake.

Twenty days to drive a circle
On the map of who I am
And where I came from
To bring it all back here with me.

To this place so vastly different
I wonder how I found a way
To fit inside this giant tumbler
And plant a seed that actually grew

A would-artist long ago
I wonder how I mixed the paint
To make a life so changed, in colors
Blended from Seattle’s soils.

Painted on a Portland canvas
With a brush of Longview bristles
Wetted with Pacific water
To present my image to the world.
                       ljm
Should anyone be curious about our route, here it is:  Fly to Seattle, pick up car, Ferry to Kingston on Olympic Peninsula, drive to Hurricane Ridge and Sol Duk.  To Forks (No interewst in Twilight locations) to Beachcomber museum, and Hoh Rainforest.  Aberdeen (skipped Curt Cobin park) and Longview.  Class reunion.  To Long Beach  (the only REAL beach on the west coast), To astoria to climb the tower (and fall).  Maritime museum and that tsunami boat.  Seaside, Canon and Red beach.  Tillamook and the cheese factory.  Portland.  Mom's grave.  The poor mutilated Columbia Gorge, to Umatilla.  Then through Yakima and Ruchland to Mt. Rainer Nat. Park.
To Puyallup (properly pronounced pew-al'-up) to see sister and on to Seattle for the last 3 days, then home.
*** - I've just done a boring vacation letter.  Be glad you aren't on my Christmas newsletter list !!
Daniel Magner Oct 2017
More okay things?
No anger?
I need more laughter.

An acid trip disaster,
left him mentally shattered
for a few hours.

Everything is *****.
Take a shower!
I can't go in that giant sink.
Then go to sleep!

More okay things?
We could move planets with this.
No anger.
More okay things!?
Daniel Magner 2017
Some time ago one went on a little trip*
To check out the internet poetry landscape
What one saw remained in the mind's tape
A movie reel which had a compelling grip
Poet's comments were of such cliquish old rock
Like being an exclusive remarking club
Outsider verses left out of their hub
The scenery verily stunned one with much shock
One so wishes one had not gone away
A dream of venturing did disenchant
The roads lead to (an in house favouring)
After sighting the terrain's mode of sway
Taking a journey one may well recant
*These vistas weren't enjoyable savouring
Dan Sep 2017
On a Sunday afternoon he sits with doubt
about the girl with long brown hair.
A couple months ago, when it all began, it seemed so potent.
The messages they would send to each other were endless.
He saw her last before leaving on his trip for two weeks,
it all seemed perfect, but, upon his return she’d lost interest.
She won’t agree to see him or return his messages with witty replies
as she once did.
Two weeks is too long to go without seeing someone at the very beginning
of the kindling. The fire was not yet ready to stand alone, it’s since gone out.
Perhaps someone else was there as he traveled the country,
an escape to see the world, something he’d only heard of in books.
At some point in your life you have to go for it, buckle up,
drink a coffee at 4AM,
see the sunrise through your windshield -
no matter how the world is going to look when you get back.
Next page