Biography of Lawrence Beck
My advice to anyone reading one of my poems: read it so quickly as you can the first time through. Since I write in a rush, my melody will become most evident if you read in a rush.
I have a web site, www.lawrencebeck.net, which contains more of my recent poems than the 50 I leave up here. I refresh this site every other month.
Alas, I must add this: if you write to me asking me to read your poems, I may, but I will not comment on them. I am very sick of numbers hogs who troll through a day's list of contributing poets, and ask each one to read his or her poem. If you write well, someone may notice and comment. If you browbeat people into reading your poetry, the comments you receive are worth nothing.
Lawrence Beck's Works:
- Somewhere East Of Julesburg -new-
- Cinderella -new-
- Insignificant Other -new-
- No One Heard Them Scream As The Plane Sp... -new-
- Arabesques -new-
- So Long In Nebraska -new-
- Do You Need Burnt Offerings, Or Somethin... -new-
- One Only -new-
- There Was Nothing On Tv And My Pen Went ... -new-
- The Cutting Edge Comes To The Suburbs
- All I Want
- Never Statements, Only Signs
- The Snake's Version
Lawrence Beck Poems
A Late Fall Day
My past is here, a heap of shards, and, on A day like this, so gray and cold and Claustrophobic, I can sit and sort through Them. I find a walk to second grade
I Won't Be Staying
I'm aware that I've a knack for Being a stranger, the one on the Edge of the crowd, with a Friendly face and a wisecrack,
Who'd Have Thought?
One's apocalypse may strike someone else As mundane. A man in a pew in a church Loses faith, and must rise and walk out As family and friends watch in wonder
My life seems better suited to the night. One lamp's on in the hall, while I am In the living room, in darkness, staring Out across a city of a million lights.
Unexpected Visitor (Extended)
You've come! I never thought you would. Come in, and try to overlook the dishes Piled by the sink, the paper spread out On the table, crumbs, the laundry on
One Day, I Hope
If our shackles fell away, I'd like to go Somewhere with you, but where? What would you like to do? I'd Take you to Jamaica for the
Not The Apple Of Her Eye
The suitor, windfall apple, bruises, rots, When he has left the tree. I'm on the Ground. My thoughts grow dark. She doesn't love me, never did. It's
Not the End “Love, be means, not end this time, ” I shout, When he accepts the call. The haughty
Almost Like Tv
A cliched winter peace in view, The night, the gently falling snow, The silence, seen by firelight; There's nothing missing but
Wouldn't it be great to be an ugly Fish, all teeth and head, from in The ocean's darkest depths, caught On a hook and brought to light, and
Living Inside The Box
I will go back to living the life of the mind, The mind that is dying, not so much from Age as from loss of feeling, isolation. You may say my art has changed for
Thinking Inside The Box
We should be strangers again, I think. That would be better for me. I'm Not sure about you. You are here Now so little, my ledger is wrong.
Not A Life, An Existence
I don't wish that you were me. I wouldn't be so cruel just to Have you see how I exist. I'll tell you. Learn, but do
Offspring Of An Era Of Diminished Expect...
She's the same age as my kids, And shares their sober view of life. They've learned there's nothing Gained from dreaming. Plan
Living Inside The Box
I will go back to living the life of the mind,
The mind that is dying, not so much from
Age as from loss of feeling, isolation.
You may say my art has changed for
The better. It's what it had been before
She arrived: sterile and cold to the touch,
Really, dead, an item produced in a
Sealed off facility, textured to make it
Seem gathered outside, where the mind