Submissions by thoughtjotter1 (R. T.)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am Robert T., My only true regret is that I did not begin writing down my thoughts at an earlier age. My new Motto: If I can't do anything worth writing about, maybe I can write something worth reading about.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th May 2014 1:01am
14th May 2014 1:01am
Breath of Life (rewritten)
Crossing seas from dawn of time,
elicits words for sailor's rhyme.
Singing songs to lonely wives,
the wind in tune upon the chimes.
Bearing rain when spring arrives
or random fury, taking lives.
Cooling brow with gentle breeze,
the smell of autumn at sunrise.
Unseen fingers through the trees,
to sway the branch and rustle leaves.
Passing over hills of green,
this restless spirit, earth conceives.
Waving aspen's golden sheen,
on through the canyon rock it screams.
Moaning as the cold snow flies,
these lonely sounds make...
elicits words for sailor's rhyme.
Singing songs to lonely wives,
the wind in tune upon the chimes.
Bearing rain when spring arrives
or random fury, taking lives.
Cooling brow with gentle breeze,
the smell of autumn at sunrise.
Unseen fingers through the trees,
to sway the branch and rustle leaves.
Passing over hills of green,
this restless spirit, earth conceives.
Waving aspen's golden sheen,
on through the canyon rock it screams.
Moaning as the cold snow flies,
these lonely sounds make...
33 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
4th May 2014 3:02pm
4th May 2014 3:02pm
Faith Unearthed
The bones of an Angel - the bones of a Saint,
barely enough for the Artist to paint
Guided by innocents - Discovered by chance,
could not be embellished could not be enhanced
we argue the Truth while ignoring the facts,
blinded by fear rather than follow the tracks
Found in the earth and written in books,
we've seen in the past - we know how it looks
still hidden so deep in the mysteries of time,
what guides our thoughts, makes up our mind
Why do we wonder when it has been said,
"the proof of life is left by the dead"...
barely enough for the Artist to paint
Guided by innocents - Discovered by chance,
could not be embellished could not be enhanced
we argue the Truth while ignoring the facts,
blinded by fear rather than follow the tracks
Found in the earth and written in books,
we've seen in the past - we know how it looks
still hidden so deep in the mysteries of time,
what guides our thoughts, makes up our mind
Why do we wonder when it has been said,
"the proof of life is left by the dead"...
88 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Apr 2014 2:55am
27th Apr 2014 2:55am
Whippoorwill (rewritten)
Whippoorwills
Childhood memories,
of warm southern nights;
The rhythmic squeak of the
front porch swing
in cadence with thousands of frogs,
cicadas and crickets.
A raucous cacophony of pulsating rhythm.
The whippoorwill joins in repeating his name,
"WHIPpoorWILL, WHIPpoorWILL, WHIPpoorWill".
Such is the music of warm southern nights,
the harmony of life in concert with time.
Childhood memories;
Had the old man blinked?
The porch swing was gone,
along with the porch.
Asphalt, packed flat in the sun,...
Childhood memories,
of warm southern nights;
The rhythmic squeak of the
front porch swing
in cadence with thousands of frogs,
cicadas and crickets.
A raucous cacophony of pulsating rhythm.
The whippoorwill joins in repeating his name,
"WHIPpoorWILL, WHIPpoorWILL, WHIPpoorWill".
Such is the music of warm southern nights,
the harmony of life in concert with time.
Childhood memories;
Had the old man blinked?
The porch swing was gone,
along with the porch.
Asphalt, packed flat in the sun,...
63 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
17th Apr 2014 2:16pm
17th Apr 2014 2:16pm
Hell Bound Train
font=Times New Roman][/font
Listen to the rhythm of the tracks
feel the winds of life rushing past.
Our eyes meet in the darkness, unseen,
though no doubt felt.
feelings of mutual understanding,
no hope of looking
into a more miserable soul.
it is simply this shared curiosity
we have in common.
What is this quest we seek?
but more confusing,
why is it even sought?
Have we not come to the same conclusion?
our lives are hopeless,
Yet, here we are,
knights from the land of misery,
rushing down the same tracks ...
Listen to the rhythm of the tracks
feel the winds of life rushing past.
Our eyes meet in the darkness, unseen,
though no doubt felt.
feelings of mutual understanding,
no hope of looking
into a more miserable soul.
it is simply this shared curiosity
we have in common.
What is this quest we seek?
but more confusing,
why is it even sought?
Have we not come to the same conclusion?
our lives are hopeless,
Yet, here we are,
knights from the land of misery,
rushing down the same tracks ...
65 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Apr 2014 11:06pm
14th Apr 2014 11:06pm
Farmer God
(no blasphemy intended, just another senile individual's theory or belief)
"How many is that?"
the old farmer asked
himself, as he dropped
another seed.
"I've been farming this
eternal field since before
time began."
"How many endless galaxies
does one God truly
need?"
"I've been planting these
cosmic seeds
forever, what the hell
was my plan?"
"Yet, it is such a
delightful sight to turn
and watch them all
go Bang."
"How many is that?"
the old farmer asked
himself, as he dropped
another seed.
"I've been farming this
eternal field since before
time began."
"How many endless galaxies
does one God truly
need?"
"I've been planting these
cosmic seeds
forever, what the hell
was my plan?"
"Yet, it is such a
delightful sight to turn
and watch them all
go Bang."
50 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Mar 2014 6:57pm
30th Mar 2014 6:57pm
Babbling Old Fool (Humility's Champion)
Are there no disciples of the babbling old fool,
with the erudition of an accredited school?
Self assured of his intellectual mind,
why are these believers so hard to find?
His profound thoughts could not be kept to himself,
should such brilliance gather dust on the shelf?
He babbles aloud to anyone within range,
any marvelous phrase that he could arrange.
Never demanding to be understood,
Sharing his gift could only be good.
Those who know him can always expect,
no subject in which he can not reflect.
with the erudition of an accredited school?
Self assured of his intellectual mind,
why are these believers so hard to find?
His profound thoughts could not be kept to himself,
should such brilliance gather dust on the shelf?
He babbles aloud to anyone within range,
any marvelous phrase that he could arrange.
Never demanding to be understood,
Sharing his gift could only be good.
Those who know him can always expect,
no subject in which he can not reflect.
65 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
29th Mar 2014 2:06am
29th Mar 2014 2:06am
Of Whippoorwills and the Truth
Have you ever sat on the porch on a warm Southern night?
Listened to the Whippoorwill tell you who he is, over and over and over?
Did you feel that melancholy heart that comes from those simple memories of youth?
The recollections of my rebellious past remind me of the time my Mama spent hoping and praying that I would one day find that elusive buried treasure of contentment.
All the times my dad tried to show me the way and I stubbornly shrugged my shoulders and walked away.
Now I struggle to look myself in the eye because I hear the Truth so much more clear today, as it...
Listened to the Whippoorwill tell you who he is, over and over and over?
Did you feel that melancholy heart that comes from those simple memories of youth?
The recollections of my rebellious past remind me of the time my Mama spent hoping and praying that I would one day find that elusive buried treasure of contentment.
All the times my dad tried to show me the way and I stubbornly shrugged my shoulders and walked away.
Now I struggle to look myself in the eye because I hear the Truth so much more clear today, as it...
72 reads
5 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
26th Mar 2014 11:34pm
26th Mar 2014 11:34pm
Ruptured Duck Flight 1.5
(This was a Delta flight from New York to Tallahassee FL. with a stop at Atlanta Ga. . From New York to Atlanta, NO PROBLEM, From Atlanta to Tallahassee, well, here's the Story.) Note: The absurdity of this narrative exemplifies the absurdity of this TRUE experience.
Ruptured Duck: flight 1.5
Captain to the co pilot:
I can't find my sun glasses.
Co pilot to the captain:
You wearing em man.
Captain :
Oh yea, Oh yea, I see em now.
Captain to the co pilot :
Remind me one more time man, uh, where we going again?
Co pilot back to the captain:...
Ruptured Duck: flight 1.5
Captain to the co pilot:
I can't find my sun glasses.
Co pilot to the captain:
You wearing em man.
Captain :
Oh yea, Oh yea, I see em now.
Captain to the co pilot :
Remind me one more time man, uh, where we going again?
Co pilot back to the captain:...
56 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
25th Mar 2014 2:55pm
25th Mar 2014 2:55pm
Sweet Weapon
Inspired by the graphic in TimEros' "Saul's Prayer"
with an affinity to Dr. Seuss
It can find you in the night,
when there is no light.
It can find you by the ocean,
if it takes a notion,
It can find you in the forest,
in a peaceful rest.
It can find you in a dress,
or a little less.
It can find you on the street,
at a place you like to eat.
It can find you when you're looking,
especially if you're cooking.
It don't care about your color,
heritage or any other.
It don't care if you're thin or fat,
as a...
with an affinity to Dr. Seuss
It can find you in the night,
when there is no light.
It can find you by the ocean,
if it takes a notion,
It can find you in the forest,
in a peaceful rest.
It can find you in a dress,
or a little less.
It can find you on the street,
at a place you like to eat.
It can find you when you're looking,
especially if you're cooking.
It don't care about your color,
heritage or any other.
It don't care if you're thin or fat,
as a...
82 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Mar 2014 6:38pm
24th Mar 2014 6:38pm
Robin Would, Robin Could, Robin Should
Would
Robin[ could
[ should
HE would have lived his life in quiet peace
WOULD that life would grant such a simple wish
HAVE all his friend's and family's love increase
LIVED all this love to a happy finish
HE could have loved his lady, but for fate
COULD not have known the lonely life to come
HAVE time to find lost Hope before to late
LOVED all his friends and endured hate from some
HE should have known the tricks that life can play
SHOULD hope to find his answers from the past
HAVE a...
Robin[ could
[ should
HE would have lived his life in quiet peace
WOULD that life would grant such a simple wish
HAVE all his friend's and family's love increase
LIVED all this love to a happy finish
HE could have loved his lady, but for fate
COULD not have known the lonely life to come
HAVE time to find lost Hope before to late
LOVED all his friends and endured hate from some
HE should have known the tricks that life can play
SHOULD hope to find his answers from the past
HAVE a...
74 reads
4 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
23rd Mar 2014 7:47pm
23rd Mar 2014 7:47pm
Owed To The Fiddler
When I woke up that next day the fiddler was there demanding his pay.
How much do I owe you today ? was all I could manage to say.
" Just start counting it out boy, you'll know when it's enough,
But it'll be quite a bit because you look pretty rough."
Rush to the bathroom, flip back the lid,
another gut full of dues to the Fiddler you pay.
Red eyes, busting head,
another fist full of dues to the Fiddler you pay.
If you want to dance, well, here's the bad news,
the fiddler will be back collecting his dues.
Some times it's less, some...
How much do I owe you today ? was all I could manage to say.
" Just start counting it out boy, you'll know when it's enough,
But it'll be quite a bit because you look pretty rough."
Rush to the bathroom, flip back the lid,
another gut full of dues to the Fiddler you pay.
Red eyes, busting head,
another fist full of dues to the Fiddler you pay.
If you want to dance, well, here's the bad news,
the fiddler will be back collecting his dues.
Some times it's less, some...
136 reads
5 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
23rd Mar 2014 6:08pm
23rd Mar 2014 6:08pm
The Slippery Slope of Despair
Gone is that fluid gait of the young man's confidence,
Reduced to a doubtful shuffle by the lose of direction.
Now precariously balanced at this precipice of uncertain purpose.
Reluctant to continue this journey yet pushed on by the eagerness of time.
Groping for a grip on the fading Hope of assurance,
My hand grasped the bottle of hollow encouragement.
I am soon washed away by a flotilla of regret as I seek to drown reality.
Caught in a this flash flood of despair, drowning in self pity,
I allow myself to be carried to the bottom of misery.
...
Reduced to a doubtful shuffle by the lose of direction.
Now precariously balanced at this precipice of uncertain purpose.
Reluctant to continue this journey yet pushed on by the eagerness of time.
Groping for a grip on the fading Hope of assurance,
My hand grasped the bottle of hollow encouragement.
I am soon washed away by a flotilla of regret as I seek to drown reality.
Caught in a this flash flood of despair, drowning in self pity,
I allow myself to be carried to the bottom of misery.
...
104 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by thoughtjotter1 (R. T.)