Richard Quinby
Richard Quinby Poems
Just a quiet summer afternoon
Easy comfortable conversation
Two old friends
Catching up on each others lives
...
Looking out my back window today
I saw what this season of neglect has done to my yard
The weeds running wild, the shrubs untrimmed
And all the flowers I so lovingly planted,
...
We can’t go on like this
Living like two prizefighters
In this ring we call love
Locked in a clinch
...
It has become a pattern;
each night I sit here at my desk
writing,
delaying going to our
...
A passing phase,
Pus draining from a few
Festering sores,
A mild case of
...
Their voices call to me
Old friends whispering
pleading and entreating
Their siren song
...
Am I too honest?
Do I reveal too much?
I open my veins at the keyboard,
my poems are written in blood.
...
This is the last poem I’ll write for Robin
No more sad songs or
Lyrical longings
Enough with morbid metaphors,
...
Kissing you today;
Temptation tinged with nostalgia
I felt like a world weary traveler
Warily exploring
...
Richard Quinby Biography
Above my computer desk where I write hangs a Charles Bukowski drawing with the quote, “These words I write keep me from total madness.” And in many ways that sums up how I feel about writing, it is not something I want to do; it is a catharsis, a way of exploring my feelings. Born and raised in a small town in northern Alabama; I inherited a love of the written word from my mother, an English teacher. While I have been an avid reader since early childhood I did not first start writing poetry seriously until I was in my mid-twenties; even trying my hand at song writing until I decided I really did not have the ear for it. For the past twenty-five years I have been writing sporadically, mostly as a form of therapy or to share my feelings with someone. Only recently have I begun to write with the idea of being published someday. That is the reason I have posted some of my poetry here in hopes off getting feedback and constructive criticism from others.)
The Best Poem Of Richard Quinby
A Poem Never Written
I found your panties
tangled in
my sheets
and
laughed at the
ironic justice
of that:
You just three days
gone
but gone I
knew
forever.
And your panties
tangled in
my sheets
I jotted that line down
and for 17 years
I moved it
from
note book
to
notebook.
I never did that line justice.
But then,
I never did your love justice
either
7/9/00
Richard Quinby Comments
Richard Quinby Popularity
Richard Quinby Popularity
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/17/2024 8:28:31 PM # 1.0.0.1119
hello there. i appriciate your opinion with regards to my poem. i have to admit..writing poems is not just about expressing your emotions effectivly, you also have to consider the correct way of putting them into words..and so..thank you..please continue to help me...