PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Ink on pages smudged by tears

streaked by fingerprints of years

misused and abused

misfed and amused.



Hard to love in a fish bowl

hard to live, takes its toll

running is paced walking

laughing is paced talking.



Lost a step or two it seems

had my share of broken dreams

brittle bones, how they break...

giving more than we take.



Keeping busy at what cost?

angels born and memories lost

breathe in, breathe out

shoot to win - it's all about

gotta be bigger, better, faster

stronger, wiser, MASTER.



Feeding the world of peer review

matters very little what I think of you,

all that matters is who I am

what I can do?  who gives a damn.



Take your chance and if you fail

make the next one feel your tail

whipping past in quick debate

try to change the course of fate.



Press on, press in, press replay

maybe this time you'll make her sway

or maybe you can stir the pot

raise the simmer up a lot.



That's the ticket, that's the play

never give lost love away

free the presses, build the wall

careful not to let them fall.



Soldiers lined in perfect rows

watch your cue - the savior knows

it's time to go, this world is blind

one sip and leave it all behind.

a better place awaits, you'll see

just put your faith and trust in me.



Times arrange and rearrange

years roll by and hide the change

and still they run and still they hide

and how they lived and how they died.

Still spinning, weaving, winding down

still robbing souls to wear the crown

and still the strong ascend the wall

and laugh while weaker mortals fall.



To climb a step or two a time

to gain new heights when bells doth chime

and fly away on gilded wings

and dance each time the devil sings.



And watch the foolish poets scream

expressing life and love as dream

and lose their thoughts for just a while

and somehow seem to etch a smile

remembering somewhere long ago

a simpler life they used to know.



Hmmmm....but that was then

a peasant's spell it must have been

and still the world spins on its way

and poets come and go each day

and in the end what have I done?

which one of you has touched the sun?



And knows that life is what will be

each time it gets the best of me

and settles down beneath the cries

and takes a final breath and dies.