Sinfest

[Secret]

Look to the south for bright skies blue,
But touched a bit with haze,
Or to the north, for darkened gray,
Under the Norse king’s gaze.
Small snowflakes swirl in gleaming light,
And forests drape in silk,
As cleared paths melt while watchers gaze,
And rain gods call their ilk.
The seasons change, or stay the same,
As winter –yields?- to spring
And humans call out March’s name,
And wait for what it brings.
The blizzards swirl and thunders storm as nature adds her twist,
Now watch what comes, or fails to come, within the season’s mist.

~

I love this kind of weather.
_________________

[bun bun]

nobody loves my poetry thread anymore

[rm]

oh yes, because you were the first person to create a poetry thread that you thought would be the only one needed ever again, one that would stay near the top of the page, or would be remembered so well that people would seek it out whenever they might be struck with the poetic urge. not that it wasn't a fine idea. many among us hate the fact that so many of these threads even exist. perhaps having just the one would placate them. but it is doubtful such a plan will ever work. there aren't enough poems going around, for one thing. interest is short-lived. so we get threads like this one every month or so. I have personally created twenty or more of them. but now I just toss the random poem out into whatever thread I care to. anyway, I think it worked better when we had coffee house threads. it wasn't so formal and we had the usual barrage of fun inanity. doesn't matter. now everyone just hates poetry threads, and I don't blame them.
_________________
...

[bun bun]

[rm]

[bun bun]

[rm]

to be honest, that was my intent. all my above statements are to be taken literally, even if they seem to be skewed towards sarcasm. I just like how touchy you can be. sorry.
_________________
...

[rm]

every day my thoughts take the form of poetry
like bourbon in a bottle, how noir, how black and white
how smoke-filled room with a view
I'm watching old films again and again
wondering when I'll ever get so bored
that I won't have to pretend anymore
_________________
...

[Spanky]

Oh you can be so reasonably maddening sometimes.
Forsooth!

[crossbow]

For I am the first and the last
I am the honored one and the scorned one
I am the whore and the holy one
I am the wife and the virgin
I am the barren one,
and many are her sons
I am she whose wedding is great,
and I have not taken a husband
I am the midwife and she who does not bear
I am the solace of my labor pains
I am the silence that is incomprehensible
I am the utterance of my name.

Thunder, Perfect Mind
Excerpt from The Gnostic Gospels

[andrew]

[Secret]

Grr, I just realized that I lost a ton of ideas for poems because I wrote them down on something and then lost it.

It's made even more tantalizing by the fact that I can remember three ideas, but there were more.
_________________

[rm]

[crossbow]

[andrew]