(10/17/2009 6:49:00 PM)
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Free Form...isn't that what is the basis for the whole reality we think we observe? A complete, without reasons presented, whole does it all, FREE - of no cost, (How do we pay for anything like the fish in the deep, or creatures roaming?) , form - within set designs or precepts that are followed, form that no one individual can say for certain why form is a guide....ahh but we speak of the pen and paper. It is here where the freedom of form mixes and mingles, drawing from all, missing nothing, as the ideas present themselve's as living forms of what we call literature, or poetry....that sometime gather in a form that seems free of rule or boundry, or lines of limitations. FREE FORM.
Where is the Form to write in the Free?
What are the Free?
Why even inquire?
Bless our pens and papers that they don't stop with their understanding that surpasses our complete understanding, bless the individual who lets the inkling of thought, feeling and emotions to emote in the sight of others, who they themselve's await this 'literature'.
James Timothy Jarrett
(10/14/2009 7:16:00 PM)
Beat the plowshare
Pound the drum
Of war to come
Rhythm on steel
Red from the forge
Forms the sword
To carry to war
The sledge makes beat
On thinning edge
As it pounds
It sounds the drum
Of war to come
Soon it will be echoed
By marching men
and battle cries
The sword will lead
Followed by the sound
Today, I beat my plowshare
And listen to the drum
(10/11/2009 9:40:00 AM)
thoughts of suicide run through my head
like little spiders haunting the hallways of an old mansion
Something that was once so grad and majestic
now there just the echoing sound of the wind flowing through my head
as if the lights are on but it's clear noone is home anymore
When did life go so wrong
that I can no longer feel the sun's rays on my face,
I just feel cold damp darkness
inside of the mansion's basement
watching as I slowly go insane through half a mirror that was broken long ago. Today is a new day they say,
hmpf that rhymes,
**** you all this is the same ****, it never changes,
Once I felt happy when someone first finished building me,
though it was clear they didn't know exactly what they were doing,
but they put all their love into me,
as the years rolled on like waves crashing on the beach
it was clear that there is just not enough love to hold everything together, try as they might to fix me
they couldn't keep up with my vastly deteriating body,
all that is left now is thoughts of suicide
and the cold cold feeling of being alone
while I am still surrounded by newer dreams and love
nothing seems to shake these feelings
(10/11/2009 2:15:00 AM)
I've just posted the first chapter of my new independent zine that I'm working on.
Its been a labor of love, a tale of strength and at long last acceptance.
You are welcome to check out this lengthy poem and hopefully share in the joy and catharsis of writing it.
Entitled - Because..this is my story
(10/10/2009 10:45:00 PM)
I would like to invite you all to come read my newest poem entitled It's Not Funny! Please feel free to express your opinions. Thank you
(9/25/2009 8:17:00 PM)
Would you visit the clouds?
Would you attend to the poor?
Can you take a moment to contribute something of Love and Compassion to a stranger?
These quest-ions are posed to me every week.
I answer with studying clouds, naming them one by one, imagining that I am rider of the clouds, sharing their magnificence and joy.
What wonder it must be to be a cloud. Angels of the sky I read some where, as they deliver water and capture water to be delivered again.
Often the attending to the poor in my place is to share bits of food or words of insight, poems that lift spirits, join souls, and let us know we are not alone.
Many times a month I share with a stranger, which is really a friend I haven't yet met, a simple smile, a soft thought from Beauty or Grace.
It is sometimes acknowledged, and they return with surprising blessed words.
Or they look strangely at me and walk onward as if I wasn't there....
thats ok to.
Somedays are better than others, and it is never predictable what will come my way. But it is important, it is a form of service to the greater whole. Jestures and words, poems and ideas all add to this ongoing life of living.
I would like you to visit my site, which is some where between Satori and Agape.
If you do, please look me up and we can share our experience alittle.
Above all thank you for being able to play your part and I congradulate you on your effort. Into the Silence we go.....
(9/10/2009 10:45:00 PM)
I would like to invite you to my web site:
Here you can down load a FREE copy of a song 'O'er Yon Mountain' sung by Jeeeny Plume out of Nashville, Tenn. which is one of my poems. You can also check out my Book 'Poems from the Heart' which is available amazon.com and barnesand.noble and other internet outlets. Please read my poems here on Poem Hunter. Thanks and enjoy. Lynn
(9/3/2009 7:43:00 PM)
Dearest poets each and one, your hearts arise while walking as one.
Rocks and dirt, and grassy greens, sand and earth and hills of dreams.
You inspire many, often without notice. But I wanted to share what you have done for me.
Some have asked what I wanted to know. Others answered questions not even asked. There were some that made me feel, deep inside,
and some made me see how far I've got to yet travel.
Once a poet made tears from my soul, and then another healed me and
urged me on to grow. There are those that try to say their mind,
and those who come lost like the blind. I check in each day to see
and learn and know. With great gratitude and thankfulness I am able
to visit and always leave with at least a new thought, view or poem.
(8/24/2009 2:36:00 PM)
hey if you get time check out my poems and tell me what you think.
(8/22/2009 10:33:00 PM)
Get magnetised and feel your adrenalin pumping up...read my poem called Magnets. This in top 500 poems...also if you feel grateful for women folks read my poem....'Let her not sacrifica anymore' if these two poems touch your heart...then rate them too...