More poetry sites
According to my boy Russell, I shouldn't preface anything. But I have to make an exception with this first poem. It isn't mine! But it was written for me and in my presence by my boy Rick for whom I wrote the second poem here. I think its the perfect opener to a page like this. Confused? Just read....
What are words
but sailing ships
rolling on a sea of tongues
powered by the wind of voice
in order to reach
the shores of others
ears in understanding
by Rick Duda 7-97
for Ken Adessa
Visions of LBI
for Rick Duda
I have Visions of soda cans in
coin depositories
Eternal car rides with pricks
in Saabs
Half naked showers with Conditioner
Giz on the walls
Perching on jetties and trying to
get Deep
Blasting some Dead at 80 MPH
Port Wine Sunsets turning to
Guitar Driven Nights
James Taylor Sunny Days and
Bob Weir Saturday Nights
End it all with some freshy-fresh
salt air and some comfortable
Pulp Fiction Silence
Ode to O'Shaughnessy
If you're hurt or feeling down
If life is greeting you with a frown
If a lover has left you
If your vision is all askew
Come to 110C
The Home of O'Shaughnessy
If you're hungry she's Italian
If you're thisty shes Irish
If you're tired she's got a manger
If you're lost she won't be a stranger
Come to 110C
The Home of O'Shaughnessy
If you're hurt she's a friend all ears
Even if you need to shed some tears
If it's a friend you need
She' got them indeed
Practically right next door
Come to 110C
The Home of O'Shaughnessy
If you need some Solace
Or if you're poised on the Precipice
Port Wine cheese and Ho Ho's
(Who the hell eats those?)
O'Shaughnessy I tell ya'
So come to 110C
The Home of O'Shaughnessy
(untitled)
When everything reminds you
When everything inspires you
When you are sick in anticipation of sight
When every song tells of you
When the mere thought of contact turns your stomach into a butterfly net
When you'd do anything in the world
Metaphor
Gone
Time to heal
How can one heal a wound
By constantly picking at it?
The bandage finally applied
I look with
Satisfaction
Accomplishment
But how I love to pick!
But now it is done
I find myself peeling the tape
Only to refasten it a little tighter
Eyes closed
Breathe deep
Cleansing my spirit with life giving breath
exhale
Eyes open
Bandage catches my thoughts
Then my eye
But it is done
Something to come to terms with
All the picking could lead to a serious scar
But again
It is done
So howcome all I want is to pick?
More poetry sites
Some longer pomes by me
My lit page - some literature links and suggestions
Becc's poetry page - this is some great stuff. go there now.
Katie's random info page - theres some really great poems at the bottom
© 1997 trane100@hotmail.com
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