These poems were written in honor of someone I haven't seen in years, but think of every day. I'm not sure which color M&M he is...blue, red, yellow and green have all been taken, but the other colors don't quite fit him. ...Yeah...that's only going to make sense to a couple of people.
~He stands alone who stand for truth
In this world filled with lies
And everywhere he turns he finds
No one can hear his cries
They think they listen, these hardened hearts
But what they do not see
Are the hands which cover every ear
In failed attempts to make men free
They smile as he speaks to them, they nod at every pause
But still the hands block out his words
Like Satan's very claws~
I don't think I finished that one...hmm. I can't remember if I thought that was completed or not. It doesn't *sound* finished. Guess I should work on it some more.
~Jezebel, Jezebel, can't you hear me calling?
Further and further I feel myself falling.
Somebody help me, does no one know how?
If ever you'll do it, the right time is now.
God cannot hear me from this pit of despair.
Somebody help me. Somebody care.~
Same thing with this one. It's been a while since I wrote these.
So, yes, I'm very capable of being dark and morose and morbid.
To the Colorless M&M--I haven't forgotten. You're always in my prayers.
Pax.
10 comments:
Good job, Tracy-laroo. ;-)
Just keep it up.
Beth
::falls off of chair laughing::: Oooh my goodness. We've got a nut on our hands, friends. Christa, you are absolutely hilarious!
I like the second poem because it is extremely depressing.
Was the first one about me? You haven’t met me in years- indeed you never met me!
JB
You are such a nut. No. It wasn't about you, and you would like the second one.
Christa, I have the most definite feeling that you are a nut, as well--but, trust me, a completely different sort from our depressing friend, JB.
Welll--I shall be away from my blog until tomorrow night. :::sigh::: I've gotten addicted to it. Aah! I just remembered...I'm going rock climbing tonight...I hope I'm alive tomorrow night.
Oh my goodness, you all are hilarious.
Beth
The fact that the first poem was not about me is extremely depressing also. So that's good.
JB
I loved the peoms, Tracy.
You did an awesome job. I'll keep that M&M in my prayers, as always.
Okay, let me just say, as the humor authority, that CHRISTA, Shaved and Mad-Hattered, is definitely NOT hilarious. Funny, witty, etc, etc, is not her cup of tea.
EXASPERATING would be more like it.
Spammer? Yes.
Comedian? aheheheh, NO.
Tracy, those poems WERE good.
Great?
Wouldn't that be nice.
But then, I am comparing you to Keats, Butler, Poe, (He would be proud of Jezebel!) Wordsworth,
Dickenson(the Emily kind) Sandburg, etc. etc., ad nauseum.
So, good, in the light of their poems, Good is actually QUITE GOOD.
So, keep trying for greatness. You will get it.
If you really want it.
I'll see you there.
-Restless, as always.
PS- I have a Ship of Bone waiting for you. It's at the harbor, it's bags are packed, all you have to do is send it home. Send him home, Trac-Y.
Restless, be nice to our new friend, Christa. *You* are not my blog's official Humour Authority (did you notice the spelling, John??). That title belongs to someone else--namely, ME. And *I* say she's very funny.
Christa, don't pay any attention to Restless Native. He likes to do weird things--like talk about ships made out of bone, and plan what he'll do when he's 80, and schedule certain things three weeks apart.
In short...
He's a little crazy.
But since he's a character, and he's funny, we let him hang out with us anyway. ;)
...I'm still waiting for that Ship of Bone.
Yes dear Tracy. I noticed the spelling error. Tell Restless Native that she is quite wrong to even think of putting you in the same sphere as those crackpots. Did I tell you that I desecrated WB Yeat’s grave? Next time I pass, I shall do so again in your honoUr! So, my advice to you is not to keep “trying for greatness” but to continue BEING great. Sweet dreams, O Great One.
JB
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