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Poetry Information.... from Heart-Links.com |
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A Case of The FearsChicken Soup is good for a cold Sleep is good for the Flu When I get a case of the Fears What is a person to do? It is not bacteria Although it can eat away my soul It is not a virus Yet, it can keep me from feeling whole I know what will do the trick, What will put me back on top, A great big bowl of Ice Cream Will really hit the spot That was great and now I am done One bowl just won't do If one is good, then more is great And now I have eaten two. Bowls three, four, five and six Came and then they went I think my case of the fears are fixed Look at how my time was spent I am getting sleepy It is time to go to bed My fears are no longer in my stomach Now they are in my head I close my eyes and I can see The Fears I want to kill I will do, whatever it takes To keep the monsters still. When I rise to greet the day My fears are rising too I know I need a friend right now Whatever will I do? I walk into the kitchen And Open the freezer door I stop myself and think real hard I have been here once before. I grab a seat in my comfy chair And reach over for the phone What will I say, if you are there? I can hear a dial tone. I enter all your numbers You answer right away You sit and listen, as I speak You said I would be ok. We say good-bye and I start my day I knew I had been wrong I start to read and then to pray To keep me feeling strong. If you are like me then you will see That the fears, they come and go Be the person you were meant to be Let your feelings show.
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During interviews and general conversations with the public,one of the most difficult questions for me to answer(timely and thoroughly) is,"Why do you enjoy writing"?So due to the challenge manifested in such a question,I pondered on creating an answer. Many reasons came to mind,but after digesting much"time for thought",I managed to condense my response to three items. Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish] Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To face God's grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig today? In the forest of your head,So-: Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the crazed eyes of death.He summons you to his den- The devil and his wind,So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood stained brows He will take you to the edge. Lucky... You make me smile like I've seldom done before You give me a reason to want more and more.. Ballade of an Inca King Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?; In Spain, they leave the bustling streets, For sail to Peruvian shores;The murmur of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sun A mountain of gold, or the grave Awaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea; Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded behind prisons doors-?They chatter about his golden ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores? They count the days that idle by, For gold they worship and will die.Envoy. Poetry in a Nutshell Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is in meters and verse. It is an art form. Five Poems from Home [And a view on the planet vs. the poet] Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker [Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said, Dorothy Parker lies dead, cremated to ash and poetry; thus, she died at the ripe old age of seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth, who got caught in the rain and couldn't get out: continued to play the game, all the same, like drops of rain upon a pane. |
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