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Author Topic: Poetry original, spontaneous, continuing  (Read 4531 times)

J0

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Poetry original, spontaneous, continuing
« on: August 25, 2011, 10:30:53 am »

This thread is for everyone who would like to express what they feel through poetry. Di ba sometimes there are things in your mind and heart, but you can't say what they are exactly.  You are concerned that others may not fully understand what you are going through.

Emily Dickinson describes it this way:

This is my letter to the world,
   That never wrote to me,--
The simple news that Nature told,
   With tender majesty.

Her message is committed
   To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
   Judge tenderly of me!

Ako, I've been writing on pages of different notebooks and pieces of paper.  There are a few that I was able to finish...some were published.  Many of those I wrote are now lost, remained unfinished...and never shared with anyone.

Comments and messages about what has been written here are also welcome rin ha.

J0

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Re: Poetry original, spontaneous, continuing
« Reply #1 on: August 25, 2011, 04:31:06 pm »

There is an ocean surging within my heart
And it is there that I have set my sail
Where storms and waves could tear a ship apart
And the wind breathes out a resounding wail!


To be continued  :) Composition began on a piece of catalog card, on Aug. 25, 2011, 12:00 noon, while sitting on one of the empty picnic tables overlooking the grade school cafeteria where I could see my daughter having her lunch.
« Last Edit: August 25, 2011, 04:45:50 pm by Daddy Jojo »
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J0

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Re: Poetry original, spontaneous, continuing
« Reply #2 on: May 11, 2012, 06:52:44 am »

A STRANGER, that is what I am today,
Too lost to notice the silence of things
And yet I come here seeking for old friends
Or just the echoes of their fragile wings.

April 01, 2003 1:07 PM
Copyright 2003. All rights reserved

Mommy Jazz

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Re: Poetry original, spontaneous, continuing
« Reply #3 on: January 25, 2013, 02:52:35 pm »

Then my heart breaks as I kiss her sleeping head goodbye the next day, as I leave for an early morning flight. I get sooo stressed that there would be days I could cry while brushing my baby's bottles. Then I think of my old friends having cafe in Paris or in a rush at a New York sale.
One month, two months, three moons passed, I felt my daughter and I are drifting apart. Time for myself, I have not. Time for her, I can't make.


From Diary of a Flight Attendant. I wrote this 9 years ago
http://www.jazerc.blogspot.com/2004/09/my-last-day-as-flight-attendant.html

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