posted on September 2, 2000 11:15:34 PM new
Tell me somthing beautiful about who you are...write a poem to me...for poetry is not only a joy to read but a joy to see...
posted on September 2, 2000 11:19:41 PM new
I met a woman named JT, she is a writer buried under a moutain of homeschooling and ambitious desires. I know a woman like that...she has more in her than can get out...what happens to that dream defferred as Langston wrote about, where does that dream go? does it float away, does it sink? does it fly? do you make it fly?
posted on September 2, 2000 11:25:23 PM new
there he was, shining in the sun, black curly hair rising in all directions, I walked behind him, exploring those same woods over and over and over, He always found somthing new, he found the beach, the secret beach he wanted to take me to so badly, I looked down and I saw bit and pieces of broken glass casting hard glints in the direct light of the sun. He didn't really love me, I knew it. Have you ever had that feeling, when you wanted someone to love you and it wasn't going to happen? It was forever going to stall out as some kind of intimate friendship, no more... you could put your life on hold waiting for those kinds of situations to work out. People dole out crumbs to the unrequited everyday...it sure is not fair...surely not
[ edited by artdoggy on Sep 2, 2000 11:26 PM ]
[ edited by artdoggy on Sep 2, 2000 11:27 PM ]
posted on September 2, 2000 11:33:15 PM new
Everything whirls like a farris Wheel, all the sounds the colors the smells, everyday we ride that wheel spinning rocking laughing hoping that our seat will stop on top. I look down and I hear the voices of the crowd, I see it all, all the people winding through the crowd, there is no desitination but just to enjoy the moment. Then the circus leaves town and they have to wait till next year. What happens inbetween? Where is that feeling when the ferris wheel is gone. Take me high on that ride forever I wished, if only it could be sustained.
posted on September 2, 2000 11:33:40 PM new
A rocking chair,
in a room too bare,
its motion never ending.
Her thoughts, her ways,
"Oh, Lord," she prays,
"Like old clothes, they needed mending."
She prays for health,
she prays for life,
to keep her mind from straying,
to love and men and times back then
that now have got her praying.
Yet still, at times,
the woman finds,
when the sun is warm and gold,
A smiles still there
for the seasons rare,
on the path to growing old.
posted on September 2, 2000 11:39:51 PM new
Somtimes,it feels good to cry...a sweet long tear like a dewdrop falling off a morning glory into the grass to quench the earth. One little drop can't quench the earth, why yes it can, one little tear can quench you soul, I should say, my tears don't mean sadness anymore than the dewdrop is rain, but I feel so soft inside when I do cry, cleansed inside, baptised with the living waters that flow from the windows of the soul
[ edited by artdoggy on Sep 2, 2000 11:41 PM ]
posted on September 2, 2000 11:43:27 PM new
I say farewell as my rein as queen, I hope you all find your way in life. This has been quite a journey. Goodbye, the artdoggy
posted on September 2, 2000 11:46:48 PM newartdoggy; sometimes it feels good to cry. Er, uh. Yeah. I pretty much just get puffy eyes and have to breath through my mouth for a long time after. So I try to avoid tears. Screaming obscenities in a tone of voice that reaches the cheap seats without aid of a bullhorn usually gives you the same feeling of release, and pretty much gets everyones attention at the same time.
[ edited by yorequest on Sep 2, 2000 11:49 PM ]
[ edited by yorequest on Sep 2, 2000 11:50 PM ]
posted on September 3, 2000 12:21:10 AM new
Rose's are red,Violets are blue,Where are you going to?,You hussey you.Makin fun of southern belles,Is your plight.Did you step up for a fight? Names and games you did so vary,And yet we think you be hairey.You act a tramp,And profess to be a vamp,All in all,You just might be a scamp.When you glance in the mirror,Does the glass break?You know you may need help, for your own sake.Loose morals,
And loose ways,Is that how you collect your
days?You are a legend in your own mind,Please
Don't show your behind.Your stories are a little runney,full of fluff and stuff,And boy they are funny!
posted on September 3, 2000 11:29:22 AM new
Pareau....(((BLUSH))))..I forgot to put a title on the poem,"Ode to the town trollop"
I was wild in my younger days,Had artdogy
Lived in our town(anywhere in the south)I would have looked like a saint, as they tarred and feathered her, and rode her out of town on a rail.I think I would have missed her persona back then too.What a tramp!Teehee
posted on September 3, 2000 12:12:27 PM new
I just hope she's okay. I don't think tequila is good for doggs. Someone should be watching what she puts in her water dish. If she doesn't come back, I'll trust she's living it up with an exile who appreciates her special qualities.
posted on September 3, 2000 12:27:23 PM new
Artdoggy:
If you want to come back as a different personna (e.g. to post seriously in the eBay Outlook) the proper procedure is to e-mail [email protected] and say you want to change your ID.
posted on September 3, 2000 12:50:38 PM new
I attended a high school where we were the Rebels, our fight song was to the tune of Dixie, and we waved the rebel flag. Then they told us we couldn't do it anymore and we were sad. That's my poem.
