Submissions by dfwtinman
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
65 yo and I have taken up the pen (key pad) after a long hiatus. My focus in writing now is on having a clear intention and then realizing that intention.
SELF POEM
Published
12th Feb 2013 00:33am
12th Feb 2013 00:33am
Be mindful whom you save
A drowning man is fished from the sea
a long way from any shore.
A dozen pairs of questioning eyes regard him.
His interstellar stare his only answer.
"A bloody lucky stiff" says one.
"There but for God's grace" chimes another.
His soul returns one shiver at a time,
placid eyes now warmed by pain.
His face fairly screams he is remembering,
as he casts his eyes on the inviting sea.
a long way from any shore.
A dozen pairs of questioning eyes regard him.
His interstellar stare his only answer.
"A bloody lucky stiff" says one.
"There but for God's grace" chimes another.
His soul returns one shiver at a time,
placid eyes now warmed by pain.
His face fairly screams he is remembering,
as he casts his eyes on the inviting sea.
547 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Feb 2013 11:58pm
10th Feb 2013 11:58pm
Tree House Lost Newest Version
I.
With small and trembling hands,
we climb to our temple in the trees,
upheld by roots unseen.
We play under an amber sun
as it paints shadows on the leaves.
The sundown bell calls out,
in mother tongue, "come home."
With shoulders squared,
we clench our eyes and choose.
The bravest thing I've ever done
was just a kiss.
...
With small and trembling hands,
we climb to our temple in the trees,
upheld by roots unseen.
We play under an amber sun
as it paints shadows on the leaves.
The sundown bell calls out,
in mother tongue, "come home."
With shoulders squared,
we clench our eyes and choose.
The bravest thing I've ever done
was just a kiss.
...
679 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
30th Jan 2013 1:39am
30th Jan 2013 1:39am
Tree House Lost
With small and trusting hands
we ascended
sunward
A temple in the trees
upheld by roots
unseen
Our Treehouse Lost
With small and trusting hands
we ascended
sunward
A temple in the trees
upheld by roots
unseen
Unanswered prayers killed our
Paradise Tree
in time
As night bathed the forest's
silent sanctum
in dreams
Unanswered prayers killed our
Paradise Tree
in time
As night bathed the forest's
silent sanctum
in...
we ascended
sunward
A temple in the trees
upheld by roots
unseen
Our Treehouse Lost
With small and trusting hands
we ascended
sunward
A temple in the trees
upheld by roots
unseen
Unanswered prayers killed our
Paradise Tree
in time
As night bathed the forest's
silent sanctum
in dreams
Unanswered prayers killed our
Paradise Tree
in time
As night bathed the forest's
silent sanctum
in...
568 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
24th Jan 2013 10:38pm
24th Jan 2013 10:38pm
The Porringer (complete re-write)
Bottle by bottle the bowl fills
colored capsules chime
a piper's tune
Casually, there comes
a poison promise
to break all others
Cross-legged on the bed
I stare into space
no one's looking back
This crazy porringer
holds tomorrow in its orbit
a gravity all its own
To no one in particular
I say goodbye
a handful at a time
colored capsules chime
a piper's tune
Casually, there comes
a poison promise
to break all others
Cross-legged on the bed
I stare into space
no one's looking back
This crazy porringer
holds tomorrow in its orbit
a gravity all its own
To no one in particular
I say goodbye
a handful at a time
702 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2013 9:57pm
23rd Jan 2013 9:57pm
The Porringer
The bowl on any other day
would just mean breakfast
sugary start to a new day
today is not other days
Today is D-Day
the date set for my return
to the shores of commerce
dog eat dog and all that
Panic rises and hope falls
racing thoughts kick up clouds
of dust and fear
chasing language to the edge
Bottle by bottle the bowl fills
I am eerily amazed
as brightly colored capsules chime
a piper’s tune
Cross-legged on the bed
I stare into the bowl
I whisper “do I dare?”
while...
would just mean breakfast
sugary start to a new day
today is not other days
Today is D-Day
the date set for my return
to the shores of commerce
dog eat dog and all that
Panic rises and hope falls
racing thoughts kick up clouds
of dust and fear
chasing language to the edge
Bottle by bottle the bowl fills
I am eerily amazed
as brightly colored capsules chime
a piper’s tune
Cross-legged on the bed
I stare into the bowl
I whisper “do I dare?”
while...
486 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th Jan 2013 11:11pm
19th Jan 2013 11:11pm
My year in Review, the whole story
I spy the exits along the way
still contemplating my escape
as my wheelchair makes the journey
from the ICU to the Fifth Floor
served three squares a day
on trays which bear my name
which no one is to know
without a code
I share painful details of my life
with imperfect strangers
all part of the game
to say the right things
and win my release
But my freedom does not last
so it's plastic sporks redux
as doctors look for vital signs
to tell them I'm okay
Once again, I am paroled
after good time served...
still contemplating my escape
as my wheelchair makes the journey
from the ICU to the Fifth Floor
served three squares a day
on trays which bear my name
which no one is to know
without a code
I share painful details of my life
with imperfect strangers
all part of the game
to say the right things
and win my release
But my freedom does not last
so it's plastic sporks redux
as doctors look for vital signs
to tell them I'm okay
Once again, I am paroled
after good time served...
486 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
19th Jan 2013 11:11pm
19th Jan 2013 11:11pm
My year in Review, the whole story
I spy the exits along the way
still contemplating my escape
as my wheelchair makes the journey
from the ICU to the Fifth Floor
served three squares a day
on trays which bear my name
which no one is to know
without a code
I share painful details of my life
with imperfect strangers
all part of the game
to say the right things
and win my release
But my freedom does not last
so it's plastic sporks redux
as doctors look for vital signs
to tell them I'm okay
Once again, I am paroled
after good time served...
still contemplating my escape
as my wheelchair makes the journey
from the ICU to the Fifth Floor
served three squares a day
on trays which bear my name
which no one is to know
without a code
I share painful details of my life
with imperfect strangers
all part of the game
to say the right things
and win my release
But my freedom does not last
so it's plastic sporks redux
as doctors look for vital signs
to tell them I'm okay
Once again, I am paroled
after good time served...
674 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Jan 2013 11:57pm
12th Jan 2013 11:57pm
Wraiths of Appalachia
Ghost town, coal town
bringer of Black Death
coughing up life
shift by shift, ton by ton
Ulster-Scots conjure
Clans and Reivers and
Argent Arms, ever searching
for a New World
Kinsman, wafer thin, inhabits
a dark and bloody ground
serving Unholy Communion
to Kain-tuck-ee
Piercing eyes
atop hollow cheeks
faintly echo a smile
from centuries past
bringer of Black Death
coughing up life
shift by shift, ton by ton
Ulster-Scots conjure
Clans and Reivers and
Argent Arms, ever searching
for a New World
Kinsman, wafer thin, inhabits
a dark and bloody ground
serving Unholy Communion
to Kain-tuck-ee
Piercing eyes
atop hollow cheeks
faintly echo a smile
from centuries past
597 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Jan 2013 00:54am
2nd Jan 2013 00:54am
My Year In Review
From ICU to The Fifth Floor
Visitors with pasted-on smiles
The anti-Cheers
Where Nobody Knows Your Name
(Without a code)
Oh no, not again
Plastic sporks redux
Officially, nothing is a laughing matter
Officially, it's heart-attack serious
But the inmates know better
The third time's a charm
Inpatient lockdown
Three squares a day
Say the right things
Win your release...
Gold Standard Treatment
Electroconvulsive Therapy
memories lost, but
New neural pathways
Found
A month of...
Visitors with pasted-on smiles
The anti-Cheers
Where Nobody Knows Your Name
(Without a code)
Oh no, not again
Plastic sporks redux
Officially, nothing is a laughing matter
Officially, it's heart-attack serious
But the inmates know better
The third time's a charm
Inpatient lockdown
Three squares a day
Say the right things
Win your release...
Gold Standard Treatment
Electroconvulsive Therapy
memories lost, but
New neural pathways
Found
A month of...
571 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
23rd Oct 2012 2:57pm
23rd Oct 2012 2:57pm
My Supermarket Valentine
Beyond the Valleys of Frozen Corn
Lie lovely, loving, lover’s words
Guaranteed to snap the spell of marching time--
Or money back!
Fluorescent daybreak o’er the isle
finds rows and rows and rows
of husbands, friends and lovers
like a tomb of unloved soldiers
So what am I to think
of words close enough to claim your own
but, however carefully arranged,
so thoughtlessly evoked.
Last Revisited October 23, 2012
Lie lovely, loving, lover’s words
Guaranteed to snap the spell of marching time--
Or money back!
Fluorescent daybreak o’er the isle
finds rows and rows and rows
of husbands, friends and lovers
like a tomb of unloved soldiers
So what am I to think
of words close enough to claim your own
but, however carefully arranged,
so thoughtlessly evoked.
Last Revisited October 23, 2012
641 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Oct 2012 10:39pm
22nd Oct 2012 10:39pm
DAY ONE
Hard to grasp how I knew
19, with a pretender's polish
Still, I know I knew
...from Day One
Easy to recall, even now
that early morning confirmation
of the first New Arrival
A matchless joy, later matched!
Hard to grasp when looking back
that 2 and 20 years have passed
half the life I've lived
half the life I've left
Easy to recall to your face at 17
your veil at 21
Across the years I'll love you
from Day One till Day Last
Valentine's Day, February 14, 1998
19, with a pretender's polish
Still, I know I knew
...from Day One
Easy to recall, even now
that early morning confirmation
of the first New Arrival
A matchless joy, later matched!
Hard to grasp when looking back
that 2 and 20 years have passed
half the life I've lived
half the life I've left
Easy to recall to your face at 17
your veil at 21
Across the years I'll love you
from Day One till Day Last
Valentine's Day, February 14, 1998
596 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Oct 2012 00:22am
22nd Oct 2012 00:22am
Missing baby
There's a woman in the doorway
of your baby's room,
she's sweeping up the years, with a scrapbook broom
The window is closed
yet baby's blanket feels so cold,
Now you wish you could but hug
the one you used to hold,
The woman asked for Santa Claus
dressed in Daddy's clothes,
You answered that he never lived
to keep her on her toes,
You asked her where she'd been
she said you ought to know,
She asked you for the time
but your watch was running slow.
April 1979, Revisited June 2012
of your baby's room,
she's sweeping up the years, with a scrapbook broom
The window is closed
yet baby's blanket feels so cold,
Now you wish you could but hug
the one you used to hold,
The woman asked for Santa Claus
dressed in Daddy's clothes,
You answered that he never lived
to keep her on her toes,
You asked her where she'd been
she said you ought to know,
She asked you for the time
but your watch was running slow.
April 1979, Revisited June 2012
519 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by dfwtinman
