In the darkness does he hide In the open is the sullen death Eating all of us inside, deceiver with his truth What weapons do we seek To pierce a hidden hide the tiger with no stripes A damage to his pride Taking of his breath The old man falls to youth Veins in open leak Give him back the hate he likes
I was a child, we all were Small of size but not of mind A bit wild at times demure A better infant hard to find The time has made me Experience grown The old man you see My lifetime shown Yet some they stagnate Life stuck in when A fantasy date Herewegoagain.
Do we fear, do we hide Is reality of this life so intense Do we hate whats inside Do we swagger in our pride Living a pretense Not noting the mother who cried We scream the thoughts and prayers Knowing no one hears Hiding under chairs This anger comes in layers
Explore and seek as we do Wander and wonder at crimson sky If I breath my last breath An Alien death, my wish be fulfilled The dreams of my fathers true What they sought a reason to die Here do I give reason to death The dying breath is chilled This God of War takes my sacrifice with glee
Sweet and salty my taste buds lick Moist drips my tongue with taste A Tulip of treating desert my meal The appetizer savored he trick My chef in apron of lace Delighting the salivating face So cunning she squirms, delight Day and night So tight This dinner is perfectly right.
'Tecoyahtry.' Nice. Looks like I'm the first to respond! I'm unable to contribute any 'Christry' though.
These Godly pieces that float in my mind Speckles in my eyes after a rush Meaning is what I define, what I find What is real often hides, it seldom resides on tongue tip or burning bush So nice to be blind, to never be forced to see The hardships given to me, humanity Lightning explained
In that question do we find the purpose of Tecoyahtry and every other poem ever written....it is meant to make us think about what it means to US. You get to define the meaning and what it meant to me is less important.
What do I say, or what did i Am I to pay or should I die Did I misstep, a bad trip I just don't get where I slipped This hour will pass Claws withdrawn but wet I lick the wounds hoping you will regret
First of all, I really like your work. Please keep sharing. The hardest part of poetry--being able to express ideas while leaving room for the individual. I like "snapshots" or images of something I've seen that can have simple meanings on one hand and yet have room for complexity on the other. I like to get out and walk early in the mornings, and I have poems and photos of this road I walk. It's fun and I don't take it seriously. Here's one I wrote with beat I found for it. Morning Sunlight, To a Groove in G If you want to say something profound, Make people nod, pass your book around, Hear them “hmmm” like Buddhist monks Pondering some great insight, A light the poets missed, A thread unweaving itself in the mind, You should start early in the day, While the leaves on a sapling have their way With a stray shaft of morning sun That slipped under the canopy Silently
Memories of a Maple Tree in October Low cut straw in a rolling field dotted with bales of hay blue silent morning air graced by the long shadows of an old broken maple tree slowly losing its rusty leaves like memories of a time when its full shadow fell on a small farmhouse that it has outlived
Crispy white the screen Soon to be plastered Words and thought mastered Imagination seen in digital prose Creating the beauty of a rose I can smell it already