Read It Like This

Sometimes when I write a poem that I am really excited about, I get my wife to read it out loud to me.  It’s disappointing when I realize it doesn’t exactly sound like I intended it to.  When I write the lyrics, it’s like song in my head, I have a rhythm, but even with punctuations, it is still difficult to convey the intonations and rhythm that I have in my head as I write.

When I read back my poems, they sound wonderful and I can’t wait to publish so everyone can read them the same way.  But then I thought, “What if the reader doesn’t read it like that?  They are going to miss the gist of it.  It doesn’t even sound as good if not read the way I intended.”  I wish I could read my poems to you instead of writing them but unfortunately I can’t.

That makes me wonder about those poems we dissect in school.  Is that exactly what the writer, who is long dead, wanted us to get out of his poem or is it just us interpreting it in our own way?  Who knows.  In the meantime, go ahead and read my poems your way.  Then read it over again, but this time read it like this…

 

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I Am Back!

Hey followers and readers, I started this blog because I like to write poems about any and every topic. It started out well and was very popular, but I signed up for the NAPOWRIMO, which is the National Poetry Writing Month and wrote a poem a day.  It was a good. I did great but when it was over, I was done! Like dinner. Nothing in the tank.  Depleted.

I took some time off.  Didn’t want to think of another poem.  Then it happened!  This morning I jumped out of bed excitedly.  And way to early for a Saturday morning. I had poems in my head! They had to get out! I was back!  I am back!

Thank you my faithful followers for sticking with me and not jumping ship.  For you new readers, fasten your seat belts.  I am here to stay.  I am digging in!  No more deserting the troops.

I am back!

 

Blaming It On Napowrimo

Napowrimo made me ill
And months after, I’m ailing still
Writing poems every day
Finding things I had to say
Now I’m all poemed out
Nothing cometh from my mouth
Napowrimo is to blame
Napowrimo, what a shame!

Maybe I wasn’t deep enough
Life as a poet can be rough
I was just a part time poet
And maybe that’s just what did it
I probably drained my poetry tank
A negative amount in my poem bank?
Napowrimo, if this is true
I’m sorry for putting the blame on you

BE BACK SOON…STAY TUNED

I don’t care

I used to care

what you think

but now I don’t.

Thought I would be

in despair

but I won’t.

What you think

is really not

a big deal.

What’s more important

is how I make

myself feel.

Life’s too short,

I can’t afford

to fret and worry.

I don’t care.

and I must say

I’m also not sorry.

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

The Author.  April 30. 2013.

Final entry for National Poetry Month! I am not sure what inspired this poem.  I was just writing as I go, which basically is also how I write just about all my poems.  I hope you enjoyed the poems as I enjoyed writing them.  I am glad it’s over though!

Good Morning!

In they come, all three of them.

Is it that time yet?

I’m still fast asleep

in la la land.

but who cares?

Who cares that it is

Saturday morning

and only six o’clock?

Daddy! They shouted and jumped

on me.

Bringing me from the depths of sleep

to full awareness.

Oh no…please, a few more hours!

I beg to no avail.

My bed-turned-bouncer

is alive with jumping boys.

My room, a once quiet sanctity

is transformed into

a playground.

Good Morning!

 

 

The Author. April 28. 2013

Woman

I have travelled all around the world

So you could say I have seen it all.

Saw exquisite diamond rings

And the joy a baby brings.

On a rose a drop of dew,

Natural beauty, that is true.

But a woman to me, is the star

That outshines them all by far.

*

No matter what the size or shape

Color, class or even race.

A woman is so richly blessed

with beauty at its very best,

that can cause strong hearts to flutter

and eloquent men to even stutter.

Her body’s like Da Vinci’s art

or  music by the great Mozart.

 

It’s All A Conspiracy!

I believe in conspiracies,

replacing ‘facts’ with theories.

Did you know that Marilyn

was murdered by a drug king pin?

And MLK and JFK

was a hit by the CIA?

*

I am sure you know about Princess Di

If not just ask the FBI

I have a feeling that MJ

Was done in by the KKK

And if you think Elvis is dead

Someone needs to check your head.

*

How about Tupac and Biggie?

Maybe ask their friend P.Diddy

Someone out there knows something

Even who shot J R Ewing.

The Boston Blast were by two brothers?

Could be so but were there others?

*

Lance Armstrong’s moon landing wasn’t real.

I heard it from his brother, Neil.

And one more thing before I go,

Area 51 does have a UFO.

Open your eyes and you will see

that it’s all just a conspiracy.

 

 

The Author. April 26.2013

 

Self-ish

I was talking to Myself

about Himself

I said,  “You should take care of Yourself.”

Myself said Himself

“You don’t  love Yourself

because you think that’s being Self-ish.”

Sometimes Myself

Just keeps to Himself

Like stock on a shelf.

I can see Yourself

looking at Himself

While I talk to Myself.

“Are you mad at Yourself?”

I asked Myself

Shouldn’t he go and play with Himself?

So now Myself

Is off to play with Himself.

How about Yourself?

 

 

The Author  April 25th 2013

The Storm

As I lay in deep slumber,

oblivious to the distant thunder,

lightning pierces the darkened skies

but not the eyelids of my eyes.

Pitter patter goes the rain

drumming on my window pane,

and while the moon looks down and scowls

as if in pain the wind it howls.

The clouds as if in sympathy weep

but I miss it all for I’m fast asleep.

 

 

The Author.  April 24th 2013

 

 

Dying Laughing

If I die laughing

at your humor,

is it murder?

If my joke

splits my side,

and I die,

is it suicide?

*

In a world so sick

where laughter is lost

Kill me at all cost

If not, I will fall

on my own sharp wit

and impale on it.

*

Murder or suicide?

Your joke

or mine?

Either would be fine.

Laughing like a clown

as I leave the world.

Goodbye all.

*