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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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 | Most Recent Poetry  (E)Poetry most recently written. #2035077 by Vanishing Vapor   |
   Where do the dead go after they've died? Can the woman I love see the tears I've cried? So many questions running around inside, I seldom find answers, although I've tried. Why did the Lord take her away from me? Here, much needed, was she by family. Sometimes I feel the Master is blind to my plea, Was her death worth whatever he could foresee? I'm angry and hurt although I keep it masked, When I stop the screams and curses I've cast She speaks through the stillness at long last, "Does there have to be a reason?" she asks. |
Deep in the night, You come to me, Stay for a while, Then want to go. The reason I cry, I don't want to fall, I want to get high, But you're not playing ball. Who's the other mister? Lady don't you lie, I'm not a jester, Who's the other guy? It matters if we are what we are, Tell me we're both still in love, Anything less won't get us far, It's honesty we're both worthy of. |
 My cat rests on my pillow, But I feel I must lay down, I sure hate to disturb him for, His untroubled sleep is sound. I try to move him, he resists, His look says I'm dead wrong, Finally, he slides an inch, No more would he withdraw. So I lay down against my cat, With effort he gives way, I stroke his coat of warm soft fur, His purr says we're okay. |
 I taste the wind upon my face, Soar down a smooth curvy road, As songbirds relate to their mates, Hair dances upon my nose, The sun blares through cool fresh air, Tires explore fresh asphalt, Acceleration presses me, Trees trek like hypersonic stars. |
 In my youth, with worries naught, I found the untold truth I sought, Hidden lies in lessons learned, Left me cool to fools that taught. Most my songs have long been sung, Although I feel as if still young, Only the merciful breath of time, Smooths the tone of an elderly tongue. The universe lurks black and vast, No gray matter will ever last, But of memories I now recall, How fast the sun of summer passed. We all face life’s end alone, The fear of death is to the bone, Soon will come our time to die, To be the dust on crumbled stone.
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 Amazing how we take for granted, The shocking bounty we consume, When this strange and terrible world, Could easily turn to doom and gloom. When men are unsatisfied with peace, When the enemy sends a battle group, Most people are not prepared for war, With no bell pepper, no curry, no soup. Then what will be our first regret, The sogginess of our crisped rice? No, the market's barren shelves, Mark the time we'll pay the price. Of course, the deaf will yet lament, "We only hoped to have the best, Who's to blame for our plight?" Those who failed the prepping test. |
 I lay this broken body down, To sigh my last sigh, I'm tired and my body aches, To say a last goodbye. If I call but no one comes. If all my hope is lost, If lying inside emptiness, If left to bear the cost, I'll scream within my dream, Let fly my last cry, Cling to my everything, Try to wonder why, I'll scream within my dream, And if there's no one to hear, I'll take one last look around, And scream within my dream. |
 In Summer's raging swelter, I dream of Winter's dagger, Icicle points, sharp and stellar, Relieve this overheated nagger. To lie in blankets of frosty snow, Blue shadows cast on winter white, Crystals cling to fruiting branches, Sparkle in bright summer light. Cool heat of which I suffer, Until my lips are quivering, Crusty slippery frozen snow, Numb me until I'm shivering. |
 We glimmer for moments in time, Away we fade to gray haze, We count on tomorrow though fallow, As if living in oceans of days. Convections in thin atmosphere, Smoke signals in life's ether, Though fallow we count on tomorrow, And drizzle away in our leisure. Life fades like fall's morning mist, Vapor forming no droplets, We count on tomorrow though fallow, Temporary plumes the ozone forgets. We seem liquid-but life's made of steam, No velum contains our air, Though fallow we count on tomorrow, A rift of hope in the fog of prayer. |
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