Winged, Poetry & Art Photo's

By Winged - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Monday, March 2, 2009

Pimping out our love in poems...

Some love affairs go on too long in our heads, The truth is we have become our own sad poems, Our mouths opening and closing, weeping and wailing, Loud fingers, disconnected, while our strangeness and clumsiness yearns for the fire of yesterday’s love, half falling over ourselves in the dark,... Sign in to see full entry.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Mother Nature's Garden

Insects compared to man.., Evolution favors us but compared to man... INSECTS COMPARED TO MAN Evolution favors us but compared to man, we’re built inside out and upside down with an ugly face, We have no bones, our skeleton external, to grow we must molt which takes a little trouble, Like man, most... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Cloning, science-designed kids...Who's for it?

I wrote this poem thinking about how our world would be if science begins designing kids in test tubes. Then there is the ozone thing. What will humans be like if all is bad becomes true. Years 2000-3000 Mother Earth, is damn mad now, her rain forest so beautiful and strategically placed are gone... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Money, grammar and endless love...

The Birth of Venus My brain has been working overtime, thinking about money, grammar and lost love, what shoes I should wear, how to eat and how much not, I don't know what I'll do, if my Yorkie won't stop barking, soon, I drag my tired brain, from place to place, dreaming about justice and... Sign in to see full entry.

The little boy and his first dirty word

This one of my sculptures. tore at the sweet meat of his brain repeatedly and awkwardly like a young vulture snaring a tiny rabbit he was hungry and knew not else his first dirty word was beckoning him, he waited patiently, when early manhood calls, he must be ready. Sign in to see full entry.

Born again with each new season...

I open the windows and tear the dirty plastic away, I let the sun in... Each summer is like a rebirth for my soul, a new book to write, a new movie to enjoy. Soon my poems will blossom while birds outside my window are singing hysterically from their meal time choices, I'll watch the trees change... Sign in to see full entry.

Reading Picasso...

Three Women and a Turtle by Picasso *Three women and turtle by Picasso He was was born in Spain, the son of a painter and teacher of art, he was astonishingly prolific moving on to Paris, as a theater designer, draftsman and sculptor, he was believed to be the greatest printmaker of the 20th... Sign in to see full entry.

Blindness is not always a handicap...

Of His Blindness John Milton (1608-1674) Hermes standing and waiting. When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true... Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Check out the new POETS & WRITERS MAGAZINE ON LINE!

http://www.pw.org/ Sign in to see full entry.

Lord Forgive a Spirit..so what shall we do about this angel?

Growing dizzy every time he climbs a ladder, crying over his old poems. I walk out into the garden and there he is, watering the lilies and studying the digitalis. He is talking to his own invisible heart; he is leaking blood. The sun shines on him all day long as he wonders from bush to bush. His... Sign in to see full entry.

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