Catch 'em before they rust away
Saturday, July 24, 2010
words that tell us just how far
we are from now, and let us know:
where we can and cannot go.
time past present future tense poem poetry
Friday, July 16, 2010
Come on, take a trip through hell.
Yes, I've done it, know it well.
See the sights, you'll think it's swell.
It's all great, except the smell
of burning bodies; charcoal eyes,
the constant swarm of spirit flies,
the double-talk of constant lies,
mournful pleas, regretful cries.
Stop and take a closer look.
You won't see this in any book.
For every evil thought you brook,
there's one more jerk to set the hook.
So, your time comes, you start the climb
till Satan tightens up the line.
You jump and flail, but there's no sign
of being saved by
Who's to blame? You took the bait.
Evil doings, you couldn't wait
to score a gain, your greed to sate.
But now that you have seen your fate,
you'd take it back, but it's too late.
hell satan divine evil tour poem poetry
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Wave Tops Crash
Grey clouds sink
into the sea, I think
they dye the waters, too,
to match their own cold steely hue.
White surf grinds
pebbles into grains quite fine
'Cause without salt the swirling sands
make up a soup that's rather bland
Wave tops crash
whipping creamy foam, they mash
sea creatures into paste
then mix in sand and salt to taste
'Tween split cracks
in timber planks of wood sea shacks
the cold wind sneaks to make a play
at stealing warmth from us today
driftwood bulkheads. Wind torn
sea grass holding fast
in hollows safe from gusty blasts
Clam shells gasp
for breath, shell hinges rasp
as op'ning to the rising tide,
they fill their gills till satisfied
above the waves; I heard
pounding surf accompany
a cawing seagull symphony
surf clouds seagull clam surf driftwood waves sea sand shack poem poetry