Friday, October 13, 2006

New Jersey

Give your dreams a chance.

7 comments:

  1. Rob E6:38 PM

    If you think THIS is bad,
    You should have seen...
    Old Jersey

    ReplyDelete
  2. jill james9:35 PM

    Puberty:



    the Hungarian girl
    still haunts me

    first
    she was ice skating
    upside down on the sky
    holding a pointy paper airplane cup
    up like a hat to her pigtails

    I considered her the prettiest
    and the cutest boy in corderoy
    thought she was sex-eeeee

    but yes (you may have already guessed)
    the father was
    very strict

    & something happened
    something disgusting

    like a rat chewing through the sun

    maybe her pants were too tight
    or maybe the lawless look in her eye

    cause then
    her lights went out
    her flight got cancelled
    she started to play the wrong notes
    on the recorder and trip
    on her rainbow shoestrings in the hallways

    we had to leave her there
    stumbling through her Tchaikovsky routine

    losing the music

    we were in a rush
    and none of us
    not one of us knew what to do

    ReplyDelete
  3. so much depends
    upon

    a red wheel
    barrow

    glazed with rain
    water

    beside the white
    chickens

    william_c_williams@yahoo.com

    ReplyDelete
  4. CinnamonGhoul7:24 AM

    Oversea, oversea
    I loved you long and hard
    Softly with the walking of my feet
    Tenderly with the creaking of a ship
    Warmly with the good-natured screaming
    Of a blinded giant
    I must harden myself as the wind blows
    Harshly over the place we once lay, now cold
    It is almost as if
    Ten years
    Melt with the flaring of youth
    Your suitors cluster around me
    And I can no longer pull the bow
    I left as a challenge to myself
    Long ago


    CinnamonGhoul
    j_gulbranson@Hotmail.com

    ReplyDelete
  5. sharon harvey9:13 AM

    Gentle yellow blanket
    Sewn leaf by leaf
    The underlay carpet before a white winter....
    But its so warm, its unnerving.
    These falling rainbows which we shuffle through, so lush, too lush.
    Overfeeding a fat part of earth,
    while another portion lay starved, full of a humanity ravenous, eagerly watching us.
    Are they hearding us waiting for the right moment to sink their jaws and draw out our goodness?
    We must prepare for this to happen.
    Not in the way of force or violence,
    but keep our souls in mind.
    That no matter what they take from us,
    Our glass buildings, our food, our means of wealth.
    We have to keep our hearts beating,
    no matter how broken.
    Remember the things that cannot be taken.
    For without that we cannot flourish.
    Just as the trees so amongst this toxic hell we must keep growing up through those who want to keep us down.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Christina3kye1:00 PM

    The Problem of Universals:


    When nothing comes to mind I
    think; move metaphysical,

    In the rain,
    Writhing like Brigitte Bardot on
    the cusp of spring.

    Someone mowed the grass
    On an
    artificial plane,
    But it’s not proper
    To remove my shoes.

    Paint can jazz blared through
    Plexiglas walls so,
    I got metaphysical,
    Shoes and all.

    Brainwaves manic with
    Punches of color,

    Moon, sun, cold, heat, flame.
    When a problem comes,
    I get metaphysical.

    Electric shock stars,
    the devil comes through.
    I’m blowing a fuse,
    a metaphysical muse.


    Christina3kye
    Christina3kye@yahoo.com

    ReplyDelete
  7. Anonymous6:24 PM

    What an interesting idea
    I’m quite amused.
    This may be the only entry
    That’s Dr. Seuss-infused.

    What a silly claim,
    You may be thinking.
    Now I must think extra hard
    To keep it from sinking.

    So judges be wary,
    Readers take heed.
    This might not be
    The most serious poem you'll read.

    One question I have
    To which an answer must be found:
    Is the name of this challenge
    Grammatically sound?

    We know it must be;
    BBC News tells us so.
    But we are not British
    So methinks “No, no, no!”

    It sounds a smidgen fishy,
    Poet laureate not preceded by an “a.”
    But thanks to beloved Google
    We know that this issue is indeed gra/ey.

    But this is no time
    For frivolous chatter!
    We are due to discuss
    The heart of the matter.

    Much time has been wasted
    Akin to a withered flower.
    Yes, friends and foes,
    It is now time to shower!

    So good luck to you all
    Both poets and non.
    Please don’t forget
    To turn the humor on!

    ReplyDelete