Gaer
"Angel whisperer"
- Location
- New Mexico U.S.A.
Good! Let's hear some more!
Do any of you write poetry?
- Thread starter Gaer
- Start date
IN THE DARKNESS
In the heart of the night
As I turn out the light
I suffer in silence
In a world without sight
Where only my mind can take flight.
Somewhere there is a light
Buried deep within the night
Tears rock me to sleep
As visions of you come to my minds sight
In hopes that someday my life will once again be bright.
In the heart of the night
As I turn out the light
I suffer in silence
In a world without sight
Where only my mind can take flight.
Somewhere there is a light
Buried deep within the night
Tears rock me to sleep
As visions of you come to my minds sight
In hopes that someday my life will once again be bright.
Figures of Speech
She was a mute
signing away her love,
figures of speech
from heated hands
He was deaf and dumb
unable to follow her rapid flow
Answering the only way he could,
awkward shrugs of things he did not know
(lines tend to suck, the thought is there, key words, but it just
does not gel
She was a mute
signing away her love,
figures of speech
from heated hands
He was deaf and dumb
unable to follow her rapid flow
Answering the only way he could,
awkward shrugs of things he did not know
(lines tend to suck, the thought is there, key words, but it just
does not gel
Crystal Cathedral
A pint, stuck down in my belly
dragging my cardboard behind
a concrete fissures sought
to hold a cease in time.
A dwarf whore offers,
“For a drink.”
She is brushed aside, these wintry men
left romance far behind
Refuge found,
burrow deep
cardboard laid,
forming a desperate barricade.
A hole pierced in the cardboard,
for the scrutiny of the eye.
Then dig out my bottle
No flash to prying eyes
Now, to worship
Toasting the crystal container high
Placing all my tomorrows
in this crystal receptacle of time
(True Stuff, a favorite of mine) I
A pint, stuck down in my belly
dragging my cardboard behind
a concrete fissures sought
to hold a cease in time.
A dwarf whore offers,
“For a drink.”
She is brushed aside, these wintry men
left romance far behind
Refuge found,
burrow deep
cardboard laid,
forming a desperate barricade.
A hole pierced in the cardboard,
for the scrutiny of the eye.
Then dig out my bottle
No flash to prying eyes
Now, to worship
Toasting the crystal container high
Placing all my tomorrows
in this crystal receptacle of time
(True Stuff, a favorite of mine) I
@Gaer Here is the DB Cooper one I wrote in about a minute. It is loosely based on a true happening. A bit juvenile and just for fun.
I highly suspect that DB Cooper was a near neighbor
living poorly slowly spending the fruits of his labor
I once walked by when he was out in his yard
His bushy bearded face looked weathered and hard
I said good morning and leaned forward to pick up a quarter
His eyes rested on my boobs, for a moment they did loiter
I saw those eyes, they looked like the ones in the paper
They had the set, the color, the shape, and the taper
He moved shortly after and my career playing private eye
was halted abruptly, but I won't stop searching until I die
I still walk the river banks, dreaming, searching for the cash
Old DB is real and I must find his mysterious hidden stash
I should have been more discreet with my female way
of seeing his eyes, something still in my mind to this very day
I bet he saw me drop that disc engraved with Washington, George
and went back and moved his stash hidden in the Columbia Gorge
Zek says I am delusional and it wasn't Cooper at least not DB
and I am a silly old broad that thinks I am Nancy Drew, hee hee
He laughs at my repeated, unyielding, insistence that I saw DB eyes
He says I watched too many movies about sexy women spies
Well, I told old Zek he is just a jealous cantankerous old fart
I saw Cooper, the DB's eyes, I know it and I feel it in my heart
I highly suspect that DB Cooper was a near neighbor
living poorly slowly spending the fruits of his labor
I once walked by when he was out in his yard
His bushy bearded face looked weathered and hard
I said good morning and leaned forward to pick up a quarter
His eyes rested on my boobs, for a moment they did loiter
I saw those eyes, they looked like the ones in the paper
They had the set, the color, the shape, and the taper
He moved shortly after and my career playing private eye
was halted abruptly, but I won't stop searching until I die
I still walk the river banks, dreaming, searching for the cash
Old DB is real and I must find his mysterious hidden stash
I should have been more discreet with my female way
of seeing his eyes, something still in my mind to this very day
I bet he saw me drop that disc engraved with Washington, George
and went back and moved his stash hidden in the Columbia Gorge
Zek says I am delusional and it wasn't Cooper at least not DB
and I am a silly old broad that thinks I am Nancy Drew, hee hee
He laughs at my repeated, unyielding, insistence that I saw DB eyes
He says I watched too many movies about sexy women spies
Well, I told old Zek he is just a jealous cantankerous old fart
I saw Cooper, the DB's eyes, I know it and I feel it in my heart
Gaer
"Angel whisperer"
- Location
- New Mexico U.S.A.
Wow! You have a REAL TALENT!!!!! Why don't yougather them alltogether and send them to a publisher? Serious!
I did on my cowboy ones and they were quickly rejected. I don't care about getting published anymore. I also wrote several novels that were also rejected. If others enjoy my poetry, I am happy to share it here for free.
Gaer
"Angel whisperer"
- Location
- New Mexico U.S.A.
I sent my manuscripts to many publishers before they were accepted by a reputable publisher. Please don't give up because of a few rejection letters.
Pecos
Well-known Member
- Location
- Washington State
I enjoy reading good poetry, but when it comes to writing it, "my brain waves don't oscillate at that frequency."
I am more at home describing the inner workings of some mechanism.
I am more at home describing the inner workings of some mechanism.
Gaer
"Angel whisperer"
- Location
- New Mexico U.S.A.
Pecos: I am considered an expert on Heavenly Angels. I consider myself an expert on Heavenly angels. Don't be impressed. This just means I know a lot about one particular thing and absolutely nothing about a thousand other things.
Pecos
Well-known Member
- Location
- Washington State
You are absolutely right, we all have our areas of knowledge and that is one of the main reasons I continue to hang out on this forum where I might just learn a thing or two.
What do you mean when you say ghost post??
grahamg
Old codger
- Location
- South of Manchester, UK
You've a real gift here. I struggle to write a single poem, though my mother, and my aunts all wrote slightly sentimental, though lovely poems, but the "poets gene" passed me by I think.
.
Gaer
"Angel whisperer"
- Location
- New Mexico U.S.A.
Thanks Graham G! That was so kind!You've a real gift here. I struggle to write a single poem, though my mother, and my aunts all wrote slightly sentimental, though lovely poems, but the "poets gene" passed me by I think.
Ladybj
Live, Laugh and Love
- Location
- Somewhere in the USA
Yes... I wrote a poem many years ago titled "Never Give Up". I submitted it and it was published in a book.
Gaer
"Angel whisperer"
- Location
- New Mexico U.S.A.
Will you share it with us?
Ladybj
Live, Laugh and Love
- Location
- Somewhere in the USA
It was so long ago.. I remember just a little
Never give up, never say I can't
If you can't, you won't and you give up without trying
and that's called failure..
Never Give Up
That's the jest of it, there is more.. its been so long ago - can't remember it all.
grahamg
Old codger
- Location
- South of Manchester, UK
If I can I'll find one of my mothers most poignant poems, where she wrote about what she wanted us to think of her after she had died.
The little bit I can remember though, at the end, went,"May my love comfort you",(or "I hope my love comforts you").
It is written on my parents gravestone, and was approved of by my daughter and other family members - my daughter, and another grandchild reading out two of my mothers poems at her funeral, though not the one I'm thinking of here. It would obviously have been the one to use, but hadn't been found by then. .
The little bit I can remember though, at the end, went,"May my love comfort you",(or "I hope my love comforts you").
It is written on my parents gravestone, and was approved of by my daughter and other family members - my daughter, and another grandchild reading out two of my mothers poems at her funeral, though not the one I'm thinking of here. It would obviously have been the one to use, but hadn't been found by then.
.Well, it was several and I understood their reasons. There really wasn't any market for it. I have had a few published articles but they were technical articles.
@Gaer Here is one I wrote all in fun, so please no one take offense. It is written in the style of the old cowboy poetry and lacks the graces required for the modern trend of cowboy poetry. Remember all in fun and chuckwagon campfire cowboy-style sarcasm and humor from an old ex cowgirls point of view. A few years ago at an old time cowboy poetry reading, this one was the crowd favorite. To fully appreciate this style and meter, it really is best when recited. Notice I didn't capitalize the 5th line as it is read as one line with the 4th. I added commas to indicate pauses and may not be correct grammar.
What Ever Happened to Cowpokes
by Faye Fox
Cowboy that and cowboy this
I’m sick of it, no respect for the Miss
In fact, little or no respect for the cow
Lots of bull while boys drink morning coffee
with half fried eggs and meat from the sow
Have these boys forgot who taught them to deliver a calf?
It wasn’t their daddy, who put his arm in half
Mama was the one that put her arm in all the way
She was never skirmish or dramatic but was calm and steady,
turned the breech around, then went about her day
Now I must address the real issue
So you drugstore types may need a tissue
I’m sick and tired of the boy or girl with only a horse or pony
Braggin about rodeo belt buckles so dang big from fancy riding,
just city slickers, and riding in the rodeo doesn’t erase the phony
They call themselves cow boy or girl
It makes me nauseous and sick, I want to hurl
If your mini ranch or city lot has no cows that moo
Just horses all groomed up and pretty,
calling yourself a cow anything is just lots of bull poo poo
Call yourself a horse girl or boy
Your $100K horse trailer pulled by your $50K toy
Doesn’t impress me, as I see no cows in the back
Just fancy expensive horses, special blended horse food,
choice hay, expensive custom made saddles, and all your tack
Your boots girl, look at the extra high heel
I bet that crocodile will soon off the cow leather peel
Lucky for you, you have a horse and don’t have to walk
Because those fashion boots you wear up to your knee
with those denim looking leggings, so tight you can hardly talk
Real western wear is not made in China or places with forced labor
It is made in the Americas, Australia, and such and something to savor
Real cowgirls or boys never dressed up all fancy and guss
Fashion wasn’t considered, just wear that aided them in their work,
their hat had a purpose as did chaps, boots, dressing was never a fuss
So real cattle people prodding cattle along were called pokes
Long before the all-inclusive cowboy became popular and material for jokes
Real cowboys never called their mama a cowboy, not even a cowgirl
When her jeans were ripped and worn, they got mended, not sold
in a boutique for a high price, because they had back pockets adorned with pearl
Just look at all the tops for women and girls, so many and once called a shirt
Spaghetti straps tank tops crop tops camis bandeaus all designed for flirt
I confess and reveal I love the fitted tanks especially ones with built in bras
My old age has made me observe being more traditional and modest,
therefore, I buy the built-in extra, not for support but to hide my ta tas
The cowboy of the past with all the blood and gore
Were not defined by dress from a western store
Past cowgirls worked hard from rising till bed
Not like the Hollywood ones, angrily marching,
wearing plastic female *******s on their head
Cowpokes is correct not slang as Hollywood wants us to believe
The cowpokes language isn’t totally lost, just needs retrieve
Ever try to poke a horse?
Just try it, if you don’t believe me
just don’t come crying to me with your fools remorse
Listen guys this isn’t a women’s lib rant
Just me, now a city girl, that doesn’t know can’t
I no longer can call myself a cow that or this
I live in town wear sandals and girly sports wear,
fix my hair all pretty, and the cow poo ..... I don’t miss
What Ever Happened to Cowpokes
by Faye Fox
Cowboy that and cowboy this
I’m sick of it, no respect for the Miss
In fact, little or no respect for the cow
Lots of bull while boys drink morning coffee
with half fried eggs and meat from the sow
Have these boys forgot who taught them to deliver a calf?
It wasn’t their daddy, who put his arm in half
Mama was the one that put her arm in all the way
She was never skirmish or dramatic but was calm and steady,
turned the breech around, then went about her day
Now I must address the real issue
So you drugstore types may need a tissue
I’m sick and tired of the boy or girl with only a horse or pony
Braggin about rodeo belt buckles so dang big from fancy riding,
just city slickers, and riding in the rodeo doesn’t erase the phony
They call themselves cow boy or girl
It makes me nauseous and sick, I want to hurl
If your mini ranch or city lot has no cows that moo
Just horses all groomed up and pretty,
calling yourself a cow anything is just lots of bull poo poo
Call yourself a horse girl or boy
Your $100K horse trailer pulled by your $50K toy
Doesn’t impress me, as I see no cows in the back
Just fancy expensive horses, special blended horse food,
choice hay, expensive custom made saddles, and all your tack
Your boots girl, look at the extra high heel
I bet that crocodile will soon off the cow leather peel
Lucky for you, you have a horse and don’t have to walk
Because those fashion boots you wear up to your knee
with those denim looking leggings, so tight you can hardly talk
Real western wear is not made in China or places with forced labor
It is made in the Americas, Australia, and such and something to savor
Real cowgirls or boys never dressed up all fancy and guss
Fashion wasn’t considered, just wear that aided them in their work,
their hat had a purpose as did chaps, boots, dressing was never a fuss
So real cattle people prodding cattle along were called pokes
Long before the all-inclusive cowboy became popular and material for jokes
Real cowboys never called their mama a cowboy, not even a cowgirl
When her jeans were ripped and worn, they got mended, not sold
in a boutique for a high price, because they had back pockets adorned with pearl
Just look at all the tops for women and girls, so many and once called a shirt
Spaghetti straps tank tops crop tops camis bandeaus all designed for flirt
I confess and reveal I love the fitted tanks especially ones with built in bras
My old age has made me observe being more traditional and modest,
therefore, I buy the built-in extra, not for support but to hide my ta tas
The cowboy of the past with all the blood and gore
Were not defined by dress from a western store
Past cowgirls worked hard from rising till bed
Not like the Hollywood ones, angrily marching,
wearing plastic female *******s on their head
Cowpokes is correct not slang as Hollywood wants us to believe
The cowpokes language isn’t totally lost, just needs retrieve
Ever try to poke a horse?
Just try it, if you don’t believe me
just don’t come crying to me with your fools remorse
Listen guys this isn’t a women’s lib rant
Just me, now a city girl, that doesn’t know can’t
I no longer can call myself a cow that or this
I live in town wear sandals and girly sports wear,
fix my hair all pretty, and the cow poo ..... I don’t miss
Last edited:
Gaer
"Angel whisperer"
- Location
- New Mexico U.S.A.
Ms Fox: Hahahahaha! LOVE IT! I grew up in Miles City, Montana, so it really appeals to me! Baxter Black, Move over!!!
Miles City! That is definitely in the cowboy range country. When I was 10 we visited someone my dad knew around there and I still have photos of a big bison drive. When I lived in Montana in the 70's, I was living in a tepee in the Bitterroot Mountains. I think you said you live south of Albuquerque. About 1969 I had a scary experience in Socorro about midnight that led to a high speed chase that ended about Los Lunas when my chasers finally turned around. I spent lots of time in Taos and Sante Fe at arts, crafts, and music events. I was always getting offers to buy my homemade buckskin dress (tanned the hides myself).