Memory Metaphor Original 03 13 2010
Ruthlessly search memory -yesterday’s not so very
Memorable deposits put unaccountably in the black
Stashed in banks written in poetry books
Today’s gift to think a spirit full -goodness drained
Through clogged senses substance penetrates
Deeper thought - run of the mill think faithfully
Surmises indelibly written fancies personas in
Haute party dress -labels pinned onto
Poly-psychic monetary disguises –the very
Thought of you -I think -remembers deep fathoms
Each to depths of metaphor –to rules of grammar
Neither temper nor philter languages of love
But savor good to taste honey and milk in the
Sop of kisses lick of tongues to the lip sink in pitch
With love song -the smile wide eyed -opened
When done gift kiss liquor forgot new spiritual savor
Memory intrudes on awareness to sleep tossing
And turning spasms recede to blinking at flickering
streams of extra-dimensional Dural membranes
-Gift upon gifted dream -improvising on theme
–Go there…?
Ruthlessly
Searching situational memory beyond spirit metaphor.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Reproduce with permission only.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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Related quotes
I Am Already (Original 09 27 09) Improvisation 20 21 09
I am already –no needs -always I look to
Need no skies to write the bend to eternity no
Order of operation code -no optic set to write
And display -my poem writes in the star’s bouquet
I am already –black and Spirit too -spirit energy
Discerns the spirit of my act I am already matter’s
Forces noisily disturbed –sky mapped rainbows
Of off-take to the shoulders of roads laid for painted
Lanes behind me imagined -spirit like arrangements
Make themselves obtrusive out of the corner
Of my eye -the love I have for my reign has will
To share never to apologize for the gift of love
Reaches stretched to the given dimensions of
Everything -I am laying down under the feet
Of defeat surfeited by my mentor’s underground
By the trillions of numbers for the stars they count
Glimmers that dim to the dark red –the flow of the
Rays of the silver crimson rain –the lights that light
Up in forgiveness for the moral indulgence in the
Judgment in the self infliction by the shit filled needle
Used to shoot in the gallery lit with pain -real
Forgiveness is the gift that I am -passion for the
Visions for the moves I make –rest in the sleep
For the dreams I forsake I am gifted to pen
The poems of gallery light games that we play.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permission.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking At Family Portraiture Original 09 30 2010
LOOKIING AT FAMILY PORTRAITURE:
Original 09 29 2010
Looking at family portrait albums
Of days long gone children at play
Party revelers growing old never to tire
Looking at ex-wives as beautiful
No stretch of imagination for
Suspension of belief -see that she is
The set decoration –the lighted stage
A beautiful and black woman glare is like
A quintet of four great jazz musicians
And a sideman –a walk-on drummer
Asleep at the end of every measure
She is a memory to wet the dreams
Of rainy dry Augusts -returns the
Roar to rivers from rainy springs
She is a memory in blank stares
At every vamp
And laughter at the chances we dare
To take
But Oh I miss the rivet that held me close
She’s gone leaving me no good humor
She remains a lively portraiture
Children in their play make mothers
Of themselves as if they share their fates
Games are merry and different -she’s
Gone leaving us no good humor -the
Soul will make her boast in lively memories.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permission.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Without Our Gift Of Memory
What would we be without the power to recall?
Without our gift of memory we'd be little at all
To those who lose their memory confusion is their lot
The faces of friends and family by them even forgot
For the children and kindred of alzheimers sufferers life must be very sad
The memory loss of a sibling, uncle, aunty, mum or dad
Though 'tis a natural instinct for us to cling to life's breath
In a choice between death and loss of memory I think I would choose death
I am a lucky fellow my gift of memory I retain
And I hope till my last breath of life that with me it will remain
To the great gift of memory I will gladly drink a toast
In that sense I am lucky far luckier than most
Life would not be worth much without it the great gift of memory
I am sure at what I say here that most with me would agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Loss Entities In Dreams Original 01 26 2011
LOSS ENTITIES IN DREAMS:
Original 01 26 2011
Loss existentialities in dreams faceoff…
Artless object repellant pits dreamer
And the dream face encounter duel
Contentiously sweating loss as the
Peal of desire’s risk to make love
Unprotected –to engage the pipe of
Dreams in sibylline ecstasies induced
By metal and liquid juices that love
Should ferment too for the good of
Finite suspiciousness artless dreams
Desperate for good learn to know inner
Intent and pictured face consistency
Spiritual faces pit the conscience state
Growing out of gardens of object literacy
Weed grows perfectly out of inedible
Content into the toxic climate dwarfing
The slow flowering growth and ambrosia
Of aerate herbal root veining through
Firmament fueled refinement into
Ignitable lightning fired to feed life her
Gift of spiritual strength –so she shares.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permissions.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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I live and will die by you
It is my memory of you
That kindles my spirit.
It is the same memory
That swindles my heart.
My head is full with your thought.
My bed is sore from the same thought.
Day by day pain aggravates;
The same way does my plight.
It is my memory of you
That gives me joy.
It is the same memory
That sends me to sorrow.
You throw on me the day and the night.
I enjoy both in different lights.
I cherish you in my memory;
I may perish from the same memory
29.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0008 The Gift
Who does not wish to give the perfect gift
to those we love – to whom we have already
given the greatest gift we have – our heart?
To choose a visible and outward sign
of love whose meaning’s inward, spiritual?
But who would dare to challenge innocence
and ignorance in their demonic bond,
and break the spell of Christmas wish and hope
by telling children, that old Santa Claus
is but the God who gave their life to them -
dressed up in red and white and snowy beard;
and who, in needing nothing of himself,
would be delighted to receive their thanks
and nothing more; and who, we might believe
of one who has all gifts in his command,
might be obliged by those laws he himself
created, out of justice, equity,
to give them that which they themselves have made –
a life of gratitude for life itself –
a life of praise, where all the world is gift
beyond all human gifts?
What parents now
might give their children gold, myrrh, frankincense
with all their love; and teach them by this show
why Christmas gifts are godly metaphor?
Of course, no parents would dare break this spell;
you’ll laugh at me for this absurdity;
yet it might build a clear-eyed, praising race
who thought in metaphor; spoke poetry.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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With Each Memory Drained
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
What was her name
I think I already forgot.
A remembrance that matters not
Is it really the now that you got?
Grab hold
Squeeze till it never stops
Like a heart dieing
I must try harder, harder
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
What did her face look like
Another one erased
I am walking backwards
Picking myself apart
Digging and searching
So maybe these feelings
Will just fade
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
As I touched her only the way a man could ever know
What were the sounds
The moans, the whispers
In the dark
I must make it blank
Wipe the slate clean
But it just seems mean
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
Where was it we first met
In the summer yet
If only I could just forget
I must be stronger
I must not hold on any longer
Like an obsession it just won't die
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
What was the first kiss
What was the first taste
With such a sweet embrace
This is something I just no longer want relive
I gave it all I have give
Still suffering.
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
The muffled sounds of a fight
Screams and shouts brought to the light
Just dim it all out
Absolutely nothingness
A void I must become
With a sadness that must be unknown
With each memory drained
I feel better
I write another letter
But never the same
Not as I once was
If only because
The loss of love matters not that much
I keep telling myself
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas At Its Best
To know Christmas at its best, you must come to Christ and rest,
Far from that weary holiday time, into that Light, which is sublime,
For a real meaning to this season, one with a true spiritual reason,
Beyond the songs this world sings, to The Lord of Eternal Things.
Away from all that holiday rush, God brings upon the soul a hush,
Quieting both the heart and mind, to find that gift of another kind,
This really is that special gift, not gained by one’s shopping thrift,
The Gift provided by God’s Grace, one in which you gain by faith.
Men only need to rest and pause, ignoring trees and Santa Claus,
Looking for the deeper meaning, as they seek a spiritual gleaning,
From the unmatched Gift of love, presented by The Father above,
As He presented to men His Son, the Gift from God for everyone.
The Gift of God’s Son Jesus Christ, truly changes a receiver’s life,
Unlike any other gift on this earth, Christ gives to one a New Birth,
Born Again of The Spirit of God, while present on this earthly sod,
Born from above into God’s Family, not for a season but eternally.
Not only does God offer us rest, but, the Gift of Christ is the best,
His Gift, not available in a store, offers the receiver so much more,
Unlike all gifts from seasons past, the Lord’s Gift will eternally last,
For when in Christ you do believe, eternal life with Him you receive.
(Copyright ©12/2009)
A Pale And Distant Memory
She now is nothing more to me
Than a pale and distant memory
A hazy dismal reverie
Of a forgotten failing fantasy
One fallen from my conscious mind
Extracted from my broken heart
The eyes I had for her are blind
To feel a love that’s torn apart
And what is art with out the passion
I’ll need it all not just a ration
Not one that's worn and dropped like fashion
And come a distant memory
A pale and distant memory
An empty vessel on the sea
As she has become to me
Just that and nothing more to me
'A Pale And Distant Memory' Copyright © 2010 Matthew Densley
Permission granted to reproduce for personal and educational use only. Commercial copying, hiring, lending is prohibited. Any unauthorised broadcasting, public performance, copying or recording will constitute an infringement of copyright. Selling without prior written consent prohibited. Obtain permission before redistributing. In all cases copyright notice/disclaimer must remain intact.
poem by Matthew Densley
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To Know The Word of the Spirit Original 01 16 2011
TO KNOW THE WORD
OF THE SPIRIT:
Original 01 16 2011
To know the word as motive
Know that God speaks the nous
Between his will and knowledge
Prerogatives of vision and reason
To know the word as verbal
Know that God speaks transcendent
Nous -to know the word as noun
Know God speaks the tone of you
To know the word as poem read
To know the word as pronoun
Know that god does not speak
Of you god speaks to you
To know the word as adverb
Know that God does not speak
About you God speaks through you
To know the word as adjective
Know that God speaks by you
To know the word as preposition
Know God speaks from the heart
To know the word as poem write
To know the word is off the table
Know that God knows who sops
And all that was [was] forgiven
To know word as free verse
To know the word as parable
Know that God speaks nous
To know that God has spoken
Know pain and pleasure in spirit.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permissions.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'll Carry You with Me!
I'll carry you with me here in my heart
From now 'til forever, we never will part,
Though all that we hoped for is now in the past,
Your memory lingers -the mold has been cast;
I'll carry you with me each day from now on
Though miles lie between us and you may be gone,
You inhabit my dreams as you always have done,
Your memory lingers as bright as the sun;
I'll carry you with me in each precious thought
Remembering your smile and the joy that you brought,
My life has been touched by each gift that you gave
Your memory lingers from here to the grave;
I'll carry you with me wherever I go
Your love still surrounds me and grounds me I know,
And I can be happy just knowing you care -
Your memory lives in my soul everywhere.
10/25/2008
Nobody's Business If I Do (Origilnal 04 01 2010)
NOBODY’S BUSINESS IF I DO:
Original 04 01 2010
Sing one old song… “This Bitter Earth…”
Nobody’s business if I do
Events surprise in seldom habituated
Innocence –screams aloud that object
Of impulsive fear
Poignant infrequent relationships bedazzling
An obscure Patent Clerk of noble selection
Last never least of many
Ordained head of suitable disciple companies
Esoteric genteel shooting stars indoctrinated
Poll Northerly –sings off key
Rising student nonviolent coordinating
Dimensions on paper charters written for
Free ghetto children breakfasts
Underwritten by that Constitution nation
Set aside belief re-represented in moral
Value sunset to sunrise
On the event horizon surprise information
Can be heard in gut-bucket lyric about
Blame not ashamed
An old blues tune “If I go out on Sunday…?
Nobody’s business if I do.”
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Reproduce with permission only.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Special Memories
My memories are special for they leave a good feeling for me
Some just a day, a sight, a voice, an experience; you see.
They have made my life bountiful and beautiful and ever so much more
A singular memory to display an earthly journey with each an open door.
Just one memory could elicit a dialogue of meaning and feeling
To open up my humanity for a full life that was revealing.
So much has been given to us as part of our earthly treasure
The spiritual and the material; and most importanly, also nature.
Important things about life in my memory and all the rest
Seperate from our being and are the very best.
Most of these things took but a minute and others more than a day
Some like love have lasted a lifetime; along memories way.
That which caused fear, pain, sorrow or regret
To find their own repose or disappear; which would be best? .
I can withdrawn from my memory to view and savor
Very first love; and my best ice cream flavor.
I never have to replace nor even to renew
As my memory is guarded by God's love; just for me and you.
I don't believe I would trade even one memory of mine
For a taste of heavenly bread or a sip of its wine.
I leave you a sample of what I absorbed in this life
Gifts from God and you; and all with very little strife.
12-03-05 Aho Speaks
poem by AHO Speaks
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Those We Pass By
So many today sporting a smile, this, as they live in denial,
Of the Lord God, their Creator, living apart from the Savior;
While some sporting a frown, are not joyful at all but down,
In full denial of the Lord above, having no true joy and love.
Many like this we see each day, yet we have so little to say,
But, in The Spirit, we must rely, in His Power, from on High,
As we seek in another's life, to be a voice, for Jesus Christ,
A voice people may not heed, but, it is Truth that they need.
One thing cannot be ignored; all these souls need The Lord,
How can they continue to cope, without The Blessed Hope?
A hope that comes from above; Jesus, the Hope I speak of,
He's the only one who fulfills, the deeper need in individuals.
It's nothing new under the sun, that deeper need in everyone,
For all upon this earthly sod, the need to know the Lord God;
A vacuum in the heart of man, that needs to be and only can,
Be filled in both you and I, through God's Spirit from on high.
The need can be filled only with, The Creator's Awesome Gift,
God's Gift, sent to everyone, that Gift being God's Only Son,
Who grants all souls restoration, through grace and salvation,
Which brings peace, be assured, as one believes in The Lord.
(Copyright ©09/2012)
Old New Wise Original 07 23 2010
NEW OLD WISE:
Original 07 23 2010
New: appendages to wing
Torrents on nature’s streaming
River courses and grand parading
Troubadour boulevards and
Evening lady Promenades
Could music proclaim –or silence
The after-hour’s joint red haze
Minstrel melody line for melody
Line -halt momentum mood
Let alone mark time’s waning
Heart’s heartbeat pump spills
Octave fulfilled recital metronome
Old: spiritual gifts ordain
Immortal family strength
We knew to suffer anger
Express spiritual hymnals
Epical men in battle fatigue
Which ones were lovers?
Wise: with strength reserve
Which leaping deer -which
Mentor’s hidden –given ear
Forward toward lengths
Under natural cover of fear
Yell out appendage -sing.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permission.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gift You Are
This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the flower that shattered the stone album, and has also been released on the stonehaven sunrise, the gift you are and the john denver
Ction - annies song albums.
Imagine a month of sundays
Each one a cloudy day
Imagine the moment the sun came shining through
Imagine that ray of sunshine as you
Remember your darkest hour
With dawn still far away
Remember the way that you longed for mornings light
And think of yourself as a candle in the night
Make believe this is the first day
Everything all brand new
Make believe that the sun is your own lucky star
And then understand the kind of gift you are
The gift you are
Like the very first breath of spring
The gift you are
All the joy that love can bring
The gift you are
All of our dreams come true
The gift you are
The gift of you
You are the promise of all the ages
You are the prodigal son
You are the vision of prophets and sages
You are the only one
Dream of a bright tomorrow
Know that your dream will come true
Carry your dream in a sparkling crystal jar
Then you will know the kind of gift you are
The gift you are
Like the very first breath of spring
The gift you are
All the joy that love can bring
The gift you are
All of our dreams come true
The gift you are
The gift of you
The gift you are
Like the very first breath of springtime
The gift you are
All the joy that love can bring
The gift you are
All of our dreams come true - yes they do
The gift you are
The gift of you
The gift you are
The gift of you
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Gift Of Love
When you were born
There in your mother's arms
An angel told me always you will be
A gift of love from God to me
Though your road is long
I'll be right by your side
Through changes you'll see always you will be
A gift of love from God to me
Love took flight the day you came into my life
There is magic in the way I feel
Hearts opened wide gazing into your eyes
I'll be there for you
As long as I am alive
I have never loved
More than I love you
A gift for free always you will be
A gift of love from God to me
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Savor
I want to,
Savor his hugs,
Keep his kisses,
In my chocolate covered heart,
As it melts from his soft, hot touch,
I want to savor every moment,
That we're together,
Remember every conversation,
Kiss his soft lips,
Feel his abs,
Be there for him,
When he gets mad,
Never let him go,
Will always know,
My love for him is strong,
Nothing can go wrong,
Loving him,
Touching him,
Kissing him,
Talking to him,
Being with him,
I want to savor him,
Because I know this,
Won't last forever,
My love is deep,
My love is true,
I just want...
To be with you.
poem by Keisha Swafford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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I thought it was a gift.
They told me it was a gift;
they told me and I was so glad.
I put my heart and soul into it all,
cried tears and sweat so many beads of my own metallic crimson blood.
I gave it all; I thought it was a gift.
I worked longer than anyone I knew.
I worked harder.
I gave up so much more, I did so many things, all at the same time;
just so I could please them. I put their needs and wants over mine.
I gave it all; I thought it was a gift.
I thought that this was what they called fate,
I thought that this was what they called destiny.
I thought that I'd been given a gift for good.
I thought that gifts were supposed to bring joy, and happiness, and peace.
I gave it all, all because I thought it was a gift.
You never told me,
that one day I'd be sitting here,
questioning myself -
about how and why a God given gift, had suddenly turned
into a curse.