Submissions by standingmyground
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
21st Jun 2017 9:56pm
21st Jun 2017 9:56pm
A Day in the Life
dawning of a new day
or close of a day spent
I feel an excitement
matters not, matters not
I am but passersby
I’m here for an instant
gone for an eternity
if I think upon thought
and let it die slow death
I rob thought of substance
I walk through the swamp
a sense of quiet takes hold
what used to make me sad
I pause on my journey
find a gnarled cypress root
sit upon it
listen to nature's song
don't know how I got here
don't know how long I will stay
I enjoy the moment
as I empty my thoughts ...
or close of a day spent
I feel an excitement
matters not, matters not
I am but passersby
I’m here for an instant
gone for an eternity
if I think upon thought
and let it die slow death
I rob thought of substance
I walk through the swamp
a sense of quiet takes hold
what used to make me sad
I pause on my journey
find a gnarled cypress root
sit upon it
listen to nature's song
don't know how I got here
don't know how long I will stay
I enjoy the moment
as I empty my thoughts ...
574 reads
9 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jun 2017 00:01am
20th Jun 2017 00:01am
A Widow of Substance
Stooped and alone, standing beside the creek,
Ermine around her shoulders, keeps off chill.
Or to lock in a hard heart that beats and leaks
heartache so pure she has made out her will.
Married for money, he had other plans,
Her scheming now a horrible defeat.
The mansion she desired is her hangman
Trapped inside its walls, rotting like bad meat.
She was nineteen when she wed the old one,
He was almost gone they said, one and all.
She could live with the drooling old dragon
These few days, then there'd be a rich windfall.
...
Ermine around her shoulders, keeps off chill.
Or to lock in a hard heart that beats and leaks
heartache so pure she has made out her will.
Married for money, he had other plans,
Her scheming now a horrible defeat.
The mansion she desired is her hangman
Trapped inside its walls, rotting like bad meat.
She was nineteen when she wed the old one,
He was almost gone they said, one and all.
She could live with the drooling old dragon
These few days, then there'd be a rich windfall.
...
#sadness
#regret
#narrative #escape
#narrative #escape
532 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Jun 2017 10:03pm
18th Jun 2017 10:03pm
Thinking Out Loud
always said
before I get stuck
inside a nursing hone
I’d walk in front of a
big diesel truck
eh . . .
way things are going
it won’t be much longer
to make good
of my thoughts
eh (again)
thing is
I don’t want to leave
this old earth
never understood
those who clung onto life
no matter
how wracked with pain
they were in
though I am not wracked with pain
(yet)
I have my problems
and where it used to take
years for things to change
for the worst ...
before I get stuck
inside a nursing hone
I’d walk in front of a
big diesel truck
eh . . .
way things are going
it won’t be much longer
to make good
of my thoughts
eh (again)
thing is
I don’t want to leave
this old earth
never understood
those who clung onto life
no matter
how wracked with pain
they were in
though I am not wracked with pain
(yet)
I have my problems
and where it used to take
years for things to change
for the worst ...
552 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Jun 2017 10:23pm
16th Jun 2017 10:23pm
Deep Fried Okra and Fried Green Tomatoes
I think of the days when we were one
she watching my back
my back needing watching
when times got hard
when things started to go wrong
we had a "time out" phrase
deep fried okra
fried green tomatoes
seventh inning stretch words
you know chill out time
whatever the name
when things were bad
one of us sometimes both
would say quietly
deep fried okra
fried green tomatoes
time to step back
think of the good things
wrap our thoughts around
smiles...
she watching my back
my back needing watching
when times got hard
when things started to go wrong
we had a "time out" phrase
deep fried okra
fried green tomatoes
seventh inning stretch words
you know chill out time
whatever the name
when things were bad
one of us sometimes both
would say quietly
deep fried okra
fried green tomatoes
time to step back
think of the good things
wrap our thoughts around
smiles...
514 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jun 2017 5:22pm
15th Jun 2017 5:22pm
Yin and Yang
she seemed to belong there
its as though
I'd laid it all out for her
oh, let's not misuse our time
that's the stuff life is made of
psst!
doesn't she look flawless, eh?
she came to me with lively hips
offset by my two huge, hairy testicles
both of us screaming for attention
and some satisfaction
don't ya know
something's gotta give
let's talk about getting amoral, heah
she's trying to get a grip on her breathing
I'm nursing a hard-on
and having a deep desire ...
its as though
I'd laid it all out for her
oh, let's not misuse our time
that's the stuff life is made of
psst!
doesn't she look flawless, eh?
she came to me with lively hips
offset by my two huge, hairy testicles
both of us screaming for attention
and some satisfaction
don't ya know
something's gotta give
let's talk about getting amoral, heah
she's trying to get a grip on her breathing
I'm nursing a hard-on
and having a deep desire ...
660 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Jun 2017 2:25am
14th Jun 2017 2:25am
Massaging the Moon
to massage the moon’s limits
elicits a heavenly response
satisfyingly cool
to the touch
as you allow your manipulating
cresses to wander
it feels as though the moon
shudders
revealing its delight
the shining stars
happily gather around the
sighing moon glow
there for all the heavens
to see
you heed a voice
not your own
murmuring go to the dark side
please
go to the dark side
and so you allow your fingers to
meander to the dark side
as you do
all the twinkling...
elicits a heavenly response
satisfyingly cool
to the touch
as you allow your manipulating
cresses to wander
it feels as though the moon
shudders
revealing its delight
the shining stars
happily gather around the
sighing moon glow
there for all the heavens
to see
you heed a voice
not your own
murmuring go to the dark side
please
go to the dark side
and so you allow your fingers to
meander to the dark side
as you do
all the twinkling...
491 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Jun 2017 8:24pm
13th Jun 2017 8:24pm
Whew!
I’m still alive!
Barely.
Almost three weeks sans computer
About did me in. Heh.Heh(not)
Something reached inside my computer
And destroyed my motherboard(?)
Left it bleeding and dead.
It has been tough trying to get it fixed.
Money-wise and
Trying to find someone who
Knew what they were doing.
Ahhh . . .
But here I am back again
The computer is back in front of me
But it is gonna take me
Like forever
to get everything all figured out.
Later . . .
©June 13, 2017 / Jerry Pat...
Barely.
Almost three weeks sans computer
About did me in. Heh.Heh(not)
Something reached inside my computer
And destroyed my motherboard(?)
Left it bleeding and dead.
It has been tough trying to get it fixed.
Money-wise and
Trying to find someone who
Knew what they were doing.
Ahhh . . .
But here I am back again
The computer is back in front of me
But it is gonna take me
Like forever
to get everything all figured out.
Later . . .
©June 13, 2017 / Jerry Pat...
490 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
11th May 2017 9:42pm
11th May 2017 9:42pm
Being There
I squirted red wine
From a goatskin flask
In a besotted Greek salute to
Bacchus, god of wine and revelry.
But I wasn’t there.
I wore fine linen garments, powder in my hair,
A manly rite of passage
In perverted old Europe
And stepped gracefully to the
Minuet with Lucrezia Borgia.
But I wasn’t there.
I jitterbugged in the Speakeasy
With the Flappers of Chicago,
Kicking high and lovin’ hard
On bathtub gin, free expression
And Marxists philosophy.
But I wasn’t there. ...
From a goatskin flask
In a besotted Greek salute to
Bacchus, god of wine and revelry.
But I wasn’t there.
I wore fine linen garments, powder in my hair,
A manly rite of passage
In perverted old Europe
And stepped gracefully to the
Minuet with Lucrezia Borgia.
But I wasn’t there.
I jitterbugged in the Speakeasy
With the Flappers of Chicago,
Kicking high and lovin’ hard
On bathtub gin, free expression
And Marxists philosophy.
But I wasn’t there. ...
545 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
11th May 2017 1:39am
11th May 2017 1:39am
Boredom
boredom
cancerous in its stealth
sneaks upon you
seizes your thought process
dead center
and there you are
frozen without words to write
without motivation
bored
worse than writer's block
more like
death of all creation
I've heard it said
when all else fails you
turn to porn
even that didn't work
boredom
killer of porn and all living things
let's see now
I have poems to write
a new novel to start
(Really? A novel? I don't think so.)
but nothing seems to be coming together ...
cancerous in its stealth
sneaks upon you
seizes your thought process
dead center
and there you are
frozen without words to write
without motivation
bored
worse than writer's block
more like
death of all creation
I've heard it said
when all else fails you
turn to porn
even that didn't work
boredom
killer of porn and all living things
let's see now
I have poems to write
a new novel to start
(Really? A novel? I don't think so.)
but nothing seems to be coming together ...
619 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th May 2017 1:29am
10th May 2017 1:29am
Living Too Long
you know you’re gonna die
why then
do you bitch and moan
doctor’s pills, needles, x-rays, etc.
can maybe prolong it
into your senility of old age
where you're quite alone
in that other world
that world you left
you mind is a jumble
can’t think straight
they have you in this place
people paid (very little)
to watch over you
change out your Depends
sometimes
wish you could return
to that day
when death came to call
but the doctors
with their smart pills,
putting the...
why then
do you bitch and moan
doctor’s pills, needles, x-rays, etc.
can maybe prolong it
into your senility of old age
where you're quite alone
in that other world
that world you left
you mind is a jumble
can’t think straight
they have you in this place
people paid (very little)
to watch over you
change out your Depends
sometimes
wish you could return
to that day
when death came to call
but the doctors
with their smart pills,
putting the...
577 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th May 2017 1:45am
9th May 2017 1:45am
I'm Almost Certain I Will Die
I'm almost certain I will die
In a thunderstorm from the sky.
It will be my finest hour,
Oh, don't do that, look so dour.
I will have lived large in my time,
So, it's okay, church bells can chime,
Though I'm not a religious man,
But the Golden Rule I'm a fan.
It's what we do before we go
That gives us gladness, maybe woe.
Some will say, why'd it take so long,
Others will sob o'er my bones.
What can I say, what can I do?
Maybe they're right, I'm overdue.
I do know for a natural fact,
I lived my life...
In a thunderstorm from the sky.
It will be my finest hour,
Oh, don't do that, look so dour.
I will have lived large in my time,
So, it's okay, church bells can chime,
Though I'm not a religious man,
But the Golden Rule I'm a fan.
It's what we do before we go
That gives us gladness, maybe woe.
Some will say, why'd it take so long,
Others will sob o'er my bones.
What can I say, what can I do?
Maybe they're right, I'm overdue.
I do know for a natural fact,
I lived my life...
556 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th May 2017 9:08pm
7th May 2017 9:08pm
Blank Page Runnung
the blank page
not unlike a deserted road
the page
is there for you to spin your magic
write your poem
for a better tomorrow
the road
likewise it is there for you to run
hanging thumb in the wind
hoping for good luck, knowing you won't find it
you spend time writing on the page
even as you are putting
miles behind you and your good old town USA
breathing agreeable air
that comes from each mile of freedom
you put behind you and
home sweet (not)home
the tumultuous weather conditions
a distant remembrance...
not unlike a deserted road
the page
is there for you to spin your magic
write your poem
for a better tomorrow
the road
likewise it is there for you to run
hanging thumb in the wind
hoping for good luck, knowing you won't find it
you spend time writing on the page
even as you are putting
miles behind you and your good old town USA
breathing agreeable air
that comes from each mile of freedom
you put behind you and
home sweet (not)home
the tumultuous weather conditions
a distant remembrance...
529 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by standingmyground
