Artistic Expressions
 

The Fortress
by -tena

This fortress of walls that I have built
To suppress my rage, impatience and guilt
I need them there to keep me sane
To keep silent the knowledge of the pain


I have subconsciously put up these bars
To halt the tears and hide the scars
And forget the years the locust ate
To forgive myself and those I hate

I’ve put them there to save my heart
In case it heals from being broken apart
These are my walls of discontent
To hide my hell to a greater extent...

who dare go next?

excellent dear sunnyside~
 

you are a poet - and quite excellent too!

you can post your poems or any poetry that you may read -
for many years I have read Ms.Emily Dickinson -
as I relate well to her
so I will quote Emily Dickinson for you, dear Miss SunnySide...

Delight becomes pictorial
When viewed through pain,--
More fair, because impossible
That any gain...
_________
~
I am the flower
tread under foot
crushed were my heart petals
of pain~
and though glancing back
does me no good
I do it again and again...

written by tena

Oh be still my heart! Ladies...what a wonderful thread to wake up to!

Tena I knew of your talent but now you have company in our Sunnysidedown.

I have lately discovered Ellen Bass and am slowly devouring her book, "The Human Line". Here is one of her gems.

The End

All through the dark hours
she mumbled goodbye,
as though the word itself
could make it happen.

As if she were a novice witch
learning an old incantation,
Goodbye, she'd say
with fresh determination.

But night after night, the lungs
kept stealing air, the stubborn
muscle refused to give up.

Help me, she begged,
an ashy whisper. Please.
I stood in the cold spot in my heart
from where I could watch everything.
She was out beyond being a mother
and this my brief chance to know her.

In the morning, when the new
angel of morphine arrived
in its full brown bottle,
we funneled it into her throat.

My daughter helped me
and when the rattle began
she was closest. I leaned in behind,

It was like a birth that way -
The baby coming too fast
to change position-
and I thought, Okay,

She'll know how to do this.
And we kept at it together, both of us,
killing her as fast as we could.

Wren,

Education happens more in life than in any classroom. We learn from being curious, wondering, searching - no need for formal education. (sh.. - must remember not to put that on my teaching resume! - or hell maybe I should - it's true!) Never equate education with intelligence - just not the same thing!

TC,
I would never consider myself a poet - actually dreaded poetry in school. There were patterns to use, rhymes, etc. I hated it! I like reading poetry periodically. I like writing about stuff but am highly critical of myself so it is hard to share. But I will accept the complement coming from someone who writes so well.

Alffe,
Ty - I don't think TC has anything to wrorry about. Ty for the poem.

A special place to post Poems, Drawings, whatever is your means for expressing yourself.

dear sunnyside
 

Wonderfully written - I have been published...
what you may have disliked in school taught poetry was called - "Form"
that was suppose to be a rule of poetry style
the reason why I love Emily Dickinson -she made her own style...
poetry is art -art is in the hand -eye and mind of the Artists... :)

and you are a Word Artist...
and Wren - You too have an artistic gift...
Bravo to you both!

thankyou dear Alfee & dear Curious! ~~~ :hugs:
:Thanx:

this a quote from Einstein
It is important for the common good to foster individuality: for only the individual can produce the new ideas which the community needs for its continuous improvement and requirements—indeed, to avoid sterility and petrification."

—From a message for a Ben Schemen dinner, March 1952; Einstein Archive 28-932; Expanded, p. 286

'ello...
 

dear poets and poetry lovers -
I was very tired and had too much shakey shakey pain today -
so I will post now --- perhaps I am the midnight writer? ;)
for you youngin's that was a pun on a old song sung by the Allman brothers band, it was my older brothers song era... my high school daze had disco and Queen? etc. feels like a century ago - probably because it almost is? :rolleyes:


I am concentrating on healing emotions
I still have scarsz - don't we all...it's evidently what we do with the pain
that helps us heal instead, and with that I submit these two poems...



Sunset Blue
Out across my minds eye
I am sailing to sunset blue
An island hidden far away
where my heart ran away with you

I see you there so handsome
I feel you like you are there
and I hear your voice, and laughter
The passions from everywhere

Oh my love what happened?
Please tell me where you have gone?
I searched for our life,
till midnight broke the dawn

Was your love a fable?
Were your words untrue?
Tell me someone if your able?
While I sail to Sunset Blue
_______________



In the twilight garden
one eagerly awaits
amongst the blooms of ardent flowers
and past wrought iron gates

Her loving heart skips a beat
While breathlessly she sighs
And his steps are quicked by
The love light in his eyes

Glancing past the summer rose
Trail the honey suckle vine
With passions kiss upon their lips
That taste of vintage wine

Amongst the floral envelope
Wild fantasies collide
The night of hot passions rage
will now, no longer be denied

Hence those nights now are past
And colder went my bones are chill
Yet like a beacon in the night it's search
My heart is shining still
written by: tena
__________________

*smile
 

what a wonderful gift -
:grouphug:

today for me was full of woe
the pain crept through my brain
and night revived me and so I awoke
to see what was pain -is gain!

:heartthrob:

see ya, up-top!

Here is another Ellen Bass poem from The Human Line

Gate C22

At gate C22 in the Portland airport
a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed
a woman arriving from Orange County.
They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after
the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons
and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking,
the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other
like he'd just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island,
like she'd been released at last from ICU, snapped
out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down
from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing.

Neither of them was young. His beard was gray.
She carried a few extra pounds you could imagine
her saying she had to lose. But they kissed lavish
kisses like the ocean in the early morning,
the way it gathers and swells, sucking
each rock under, swallowing it,
again and again. We were all watching -
passengers waiting for the delayed flight
to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots,
the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling
sunglasses. We couldn't look away. We could
taste the kisses crushed in our mouths.

But the best part was his face. When he drew back
and looked at her, his smile soft with wonder, almost
as though he were a mother still open from giving birth,
as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after - if she beat you or left you or
you're lonely now - you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth.
The whole wing of the airport hushed,
all of us trying to slip into that woman's middle-aged body,
her plaid Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouse, glasses,
little gold hoop earrings, tilting our heads up.

wanna see a tiny picture of me?
 

it was taken when I was 15 years old -my thirty seconds of youth
I just turned 45-

age 15
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2052/...ca937b51_t.jpg

age 20 -married oh -very young and stupid
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2201/...bf04cf57_m.jpg

divorced -age 45
http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:...lanchester.jpg

I am starting to mold?
hahahahaaa! :D

my ex-husband age 46 -last time I saw him
http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:.../fat-elvis.jpg
http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:...-Omaha-77a.jpg

I will be posting - look up at -----> the top of the page: where the Artistic Expression is located -

well shite -
 

I forgot the poetry?
;)

by Lord Byron

When we two parted
in silence and tears
half broken hearted
to sever for years
pale grew thy cheek and cold
colder thy kiss
truly that hour foretold
sorrow to this...

THE COMPUTER SWALLOWED GRANDMA



The computer swallowed grandma.
Yes, honestly its true!
She pressed 'control' and 'enter'
And disappeared from view.

It devoured her completely,
The thought just makes me squirm.
She must have caught a virus
Or been eaten by a worm.

I've searched through the recycle bin
And files of every kind;
I've even used the Internet,
But nothing did I find.

In desperation, I asked Google
My searches to refine.
The reply from him was negative,
Not a thing was found 'online.'

So, if inside your 'Inbox,'
My Grandma you should see,
Please 'Copy,''Scan' and 'Paste' her
And send her back to me.

****************

author unknown *grin

Lara had posted this and it's so lovely I thought it belonged here. :)



I held a moment in my hand,
brilliant as a star,
fragile as a flower,
a tiny sliver of one hour.
I dropped it carelessly,
Ah! I didn't know, I held opportunity.
~Hazel Lee

lavenderlou reads aloud -at youtube?
 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vvfsEc1DK4

this is my video to the world...
;)

my request~
 

Oh dearest spring
if you could please
notify the Winterman
and tell him I am done,
With his palette of white

tell him I am ready to see
the jewells of spring
the lovely pink flowers
and children playing in the ring

oh dear spring of beauty
Please give the Winterman
my notice of dismay
yet if he would please leave
without delay
for I must live to see the
the lovely flowers of spring anew
before I must bid this grand old earth
adieu

written -and
copyrighted by christena parisoff

Tell Them That You Love Them
 

Tell them that you love them
And never try to hide
Let go of your emotions
And the love you have inside.

Tell them that you love them
And that you really care
Because one day, possibly today
They'll be no longer there.


by Cloyde F. Coffman, Jr. (miss you Bud)

copied from a post of mine from jan 2007
 

http://neurotalk.psychcentral.com/im...cons/icon7.gif Lil'Monkey's Wonders
with her permission i am posting her poem she won 2nd place in a state pta contest last year. it was in the visual arts catagory. it has a drawing with it, but my scanner isn't hooked up right now. wondering must run in families.:D


__________________

Emily Dickinson poem #103
 

THE MOON was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.

Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.

Her lips of amber never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will!

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.

Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities of blue.

Only December
 

Feelings heavy,
tears and tears,
Will the darkness last?

Or is it -
only December?

Hadn't past months
brought peace and hope?
Where is the strength
of October-
and November?

Lights, carols,
ornaments on trees,
cards from friends,
happpy times in
seasons past.
We remember.
We remember.

Will January bring
light at last?
Will we be stronger then,
for making it through
this December?

When people ask
how I'm doing I say,
Well,
you know,
it's December.


author...Genesse Bourdeau Gentry

i put this one on BP site for dear befudled.



Why is this void, and pain, so immense?
Why is this sorry, so sad and intense?
Why has my life, now come to a stop?
Why am i so tired , but my eyes wont drop?

Why did this happen, and happen to me?
Why do i cry so much?, please look at me!.
Why did you die, and leave my life?
Why does my heart feel wounded by a knife?

Why am i angry, frightened and scared?
Why do i wonder , that you knew that i cared?
Why do i doubt that life must go on?
Why does the room appear as though the light is not on?


Why do i hear that voice deep inside?
That softly Says ' I love you, and I know that you tried'.
When will this sorrow pass,.. when will it end?
That softly voice Says, 'Your heart will soon mend'

Why did i befriend you , why did i care?
The soft voice inside says, 'God said you'd be there'.
Why do i miss the sound of your voice, and the gentle touch of you?
The soft voice replies ' I love you,....... and God does too!.



David

9-11
 

From England with love

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was my day off, and I was just sat at home,chilling
I'd cleaned up the house, and finished some drilling.
Pictures to hang that symbolized life,
The pictures I saw next cut through like a knife.
Mid afternoon, around two thirty-three
My youngest son grinning, was sat on my knee.
I glimpsed at the TV and strained to hear,
My stomach sank quickly with horror and fear.
The sadness that unfolded was tragic to watch,
And with child on my knee I grabbed for a 'Scotch'
Disaster, then Disaster appeared in my gaze
Then the shock set in,..then a 'Mania' phase.
Could this be happening or was it a dream
This was truly happening... or so it did seem.
SIX years on.... this day is here once again
And the sadness i felt then is here and will remain.
To those souls who died on this terrible day
my thoughts are with you, i would just like to say.


David

To my Dad
 

[ My father died 11 years ago on Fathers day. ]


Can i make it through this day, will my heart, and mind hold out
will the tears subside today, and if need be can i shout.
Will i be able to carry you aloft, inside your wooden box?
Will time stand still, no 'tick no tock' upon the church yard clock.
Will my eulogy to you, describe your life, and fill the church with tears.
Will the congregation share my loss, their you friends, your colleagues, your peers.
The time has arrived to say goodbye, with a rose in hand and a tear in the eye.
I wish you peace and rest forever, my one true friend, the best forever.
Let the church bells ring, and hearld you leaving this earth.
May the angels above prepare for your death, and the beauty of re-birth.


David

Always Remembered
 

I know I am still with you
In your prayers, your thoughts, your heart.
And although you cannot see me,
I will always be a part
Of life's sweet celebrations
In those times when you reflect
On how, though things are different,
Through our love, we still connect.
We'll see each other someday
When are spirits are all free,
Until then, I am with you
Because you remember me.

Daddy will know[ me and my father 7 years old]
 

Daddy, why are green's so good for us
Yet grass will make us sick.

Why do you hate chicken so much
Yet you still call Mummy 'Chick'.

Daddy, why will eating carrots, help me see more in the night.
I wouldn't have to eat them, if you left on my bedroom light.

Daddy, why do you let Father Christmas come down our chimney pot.
Mummy told me 'Dont go there! it's very, very hot'.


Daddy why will eating porridge help to make me grow.
Granddad's huge! and hates the stuff, he told me don't you know.

Daddy why does medicine taste so bad, but always makes you better.
And why do you always get bad news, inside a big brown letter.

Daddy why does eating burnt toast, send your hair all curly.
I really like the taste of it, but dont like Auntie Shirley.

Daddy why is it that big boys shouldn't cry.
I know that when i'm older, i will do, if you die.


David

My Mum [she had breast cancer this year]
 

i've seen some realy great poems on this site. I would like to share one i sent to my mother recently.




'You didn'nt invite him in; he just took it upon himself to stay.
you asked him patiently to leave ; he even listened to you pray.

He caused you so much anguish; he was always in your space,
And even though you sought to evict him, he ignored the saddness on your face.

He took advantage of your health he knew you hadn't the strengh to shun him.
He just planned to ware you down; this lodger was wicked and cunning.

Behind his back you sought more advice; you even prevented him bringing round friends,
You stoically ignored his presence; you even fed him to make amends.

You never wanted him to see you down; you bravely tried to ignore him with a scowl.
But your mood towards him was changing, this lodger was crude and foul.

Your secret meetings behind his back were calculated and well thought.
This evil squatter, come lodger, was convinced he could stay, and not be caught.

Then twelve months later, after he rudely invaded your home, your life, your space.
This rogue tresspasser, was about to be put firmly and rightfully in his place.

On the 12th of June 2007 , when your health was at its peak, you suddenly got the
ANSWER

You went to hospital, with faith in God, and a Surgeon evicted,
BREAST CANCER.


David

Thank you
 

TenaLouise

Thank for starting this thread.

Poetry has always been a huge part of me.

I often wake up with a line in my head, then never use it for months.

Poetry expresses the soul.

Thank you:hug:

David

you are a great poet~
 

I love reading poetry...
I believe it is therapeutic and healing -
It has a very human connection involved in all of life...
also dear david~
my mom had breast cancer, -
my eldest sister was just given a cancer free diagnosis, she did not choose chemo, she chose alternative therapy,

lysine the amino acid and high vitamin C - has been proven anti cancer therapy that works,
my sister was told by the oncologist she had less than 2 years to live if she didn't take the chemo, and she didn't
today her oncologist discharged her because he read the tests and
which revealed my sister was cancer free -
the doctor - he was abit freaked out wanting to know what she did
to rid herself of 3 rd stage cancer -metastatic cancer...

and she said - she prayed - changed her entire life style -macro biotic diet etc...
take care of you dear david...

a small part of a john shaw neilson poem
 

Have you ever been down to my countree
Where the trees are green and tall?
The days are long and the heavens are high,
But the people there are small.
There is no work there; it is always play;
The sun is sweet in the morn;
But a thousand dark things walk at night
In the land where I was born.

john shaw neilson

Silent Running
 

Darkness and ocean surround my ship
forty fathoms deep below.

I await the enemy above approach
to take away my soul.

Torpedoes locked in place for fire
as time ticks slowly by

Depth charges all around me now
exploding as they dive

They seek out the metal coffin
but never will they find

I'm set for silent running still
from the sweeper of my mind.


Cloyde F.Coffman, Jr. :hug:

Don't Expect Applause
 

And yet, wouldn't it be welcome
at the end of each ordinary day?
The audience could be small,
the theater modest. folding chairs
in a church basement would do.
Just a short earnest burst of applause
that you got up that morning
and, one way or another,
made it through the day.

You soaped up in the steaming
shower, drank your Starbucks
in the car, and let the guy with the
Windex wipe your windshield
during the long red light at Broad Street.
Or maybe you were that guy,
not daring to light up
while you stood there because
everyone's so down on smoke these days.

Or you kissed your wife
as she hurried out the door, even though
you were pretty sure she was
meeting her lover at the Flamingo Motel,
even though you wanted to grab her
by a hank of her sleek hair.

Maybe your son's in jail.
Your daughter's stopped eating.
And your husband's still dead
this morning, just like he was
yesterday and the day before that.
And yet you put on your shoes
and take a walk, and when a neighbor
says Good moring, you say
Good morning back.

Would a round of applause be amiss?
Even if you weren't good.
If you yelled at your kid,
poisoned the ants, drank too much
and said that really stupid thing
you promised yourself you wouldn't say.
Even if you don't deserve it.

****************

by Ellen Bass The Human Line

john keats -
 

O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—
Nature’s observatory—whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

john keats - english poet...
_________________

ps. Dec.10, 1830 -the birthdate of Emily Dickinson -
Emily Dickinson lived quietly in Amherst, Massachusetts and wrote poetry for most of her adult life. Her verses were short but inventive, and her themes universal: love, death, and her relationship with God and nature. Dickinson was not famous during her lifetime; she rarely left Amherst and according to the Encyclopedia Britannica, "after the late 1860s [she] never left the boundaries of the family's property." Dickinson's output was prodigious -- over 1,700 poems in all -- but only a handful of her poems were published during her lifetime. Her sister Lavinia actively promoted her work after Emily's death in 1886.

dedicated to a Emily ~

Solitude
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of it's own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

poem by emily dickinson
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you--Nobody--too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Dont tell! they'd banish us--you know!

How dreary--to be--Somebody!
How public--like a Frog--
To tell your name--the livelong June--
To an admiring Bog!

sorry alffeee she said just a plain frog - not a dancin frog!! ;)
______

Humour[a GP i had when young]
 

:)

Oh God i'm feeling funny and don't know what to do.
I had a drink an hour ago; I think i've got the FLU.

The room is spinning badly now, I've lost my fags and lighters,
My neck is stiff I hate bright light, have i got MENINGITIS?

My stomach is doing somersaults, my mind is in hysteria.
I've thrown up twice, but i dont have lice, but i think i've got DIPTHERIA.

My head is shot, my mouth is dry, but i do not have the answer,
My lips are numb, my gums still hurt; I think i've got Throat CANCER.

Oh dear Lord i've been sick again, and my spleen is in the sink.
If only i could control myself, and never bloomin DRINK

I will go to hospital tomorrow morning, and tell them of my pain.
And they'll all just look at me and 'TUT'....

Oh! DR Roberts, NOT AGAIN..................

David

poem by eugene field
 

Little Boy Blue
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)


The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue---
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place---
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face;
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.

Hope this is okay. :o I'm not a poet and this is a song, but I don't really see a difference between poems and song lyrics. It touches me deeply. Makes me wonder how this man found his way into my heart to steal the lyrics. Glad he did, because his singing voice is MUCH better than mine. :p It relieves my pressure, especially after I've watched the news. It keeps me from throwing my baloney sammich at the TV screen - or giving up altogether. :(

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Es7S4kMPxs8

"What are We Fighting For?" - Tyrone Wells

People get ready
There’s something in the air
Creeping in slow so we don’t even notice
Brothers and sisters beware

People get ready
Open up your eyes
Hatred and violence, millions fall silent
We don’t even hear their cries

It’s time to love one another, we’re sisters and brothers
What are we fighting for?
Too many backs that are breaking, lives being taken
What are we killing for?
I think it’s time for forgiveness, to rise up and end this
What are we waiting for?
Love teach us the way, to overcome hate
And weapons of war

People get ready
What’s your loaded gun?
Silent indifference
Hunger for vengeance
Or words from a wicked tongue

People get ready
Only you can choose
What you will do
When it comes down to you
No one else can walk in your shoes

It’s time to love one another, we’re sisters and brothers
What are we fighting for?
Too many backs that are breaking, lives being taken
What are we killing for?
I think it’s time for forgiveness, to rise up and end this
What are we waiting for?
Love teach us the way, to overcome hate
And weapons of war

Oh my Lord
I have a dream
Oh my Lord
One day we’ll see
Oh my Lord
All men be free
Oh my Lord
I still believe

People let's love one another, we’re sisters and brothers
What are we fighting for?
Too many backs that are breaking, lives being taken
What are we killing for?
I think it’s time for forgiveness, to rise up and end this
What are we waiting for?
Love teach us the way, to overcome hate
And weapons of war

A Short Story
 

just a reminder...artistic expression...can be songs..poems...drawings..paintings...just artistic. :grouphug:

my artistic photos ~~
 

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2218/...f301b1f08f.jpg

love is a lily pond~

my mom as a child
 

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1233/...ccde73ab_o.jpg

my mom in the late 1920's -to early 1930's
she was born in 1924...

my grandfather had a chili bussiness - redbird chili...

Tena

As a kid, I used to spend as much time as I could out in the woods - walking with my dad, working at a stable, and partying with my friends.

In my early 20s, I had a friend who grew up downtown and had never been out to the woods. My friend and I took her for a long walk, and she was amazed. We passed by a lily pond, and she said "This is really beautiful - who does the gardening for these forest preserves?" :D

Nice pics - your mom was a cutie.