Gord

2018-02-28 12:36 pm

Lyric, I write divine,
Chorus determinism.
Mind fine but life grand,
Guitar a work of vine,
For too few seconds,
Then bent to sand.

Humorous religion,
Reception mad alive,
Forewards and artistry,
A life pious. Mine.

Flounder only eaten,
Soul aptly designed.

Father, I write of lions,
But only of your will,
Type defined, candid.

Tina Marie

2018-02-20 03:12 pm

As I looked into my mirror  one day, I could see, that a sad little girl was looking at me. I said to this child where is your smile? Through tears she replied, "Can we talk for a while? Your mommy is dead. They took your daddy away. I don't know how you face your mirror everyday?" Besides the lump in my throat, I also felt, a tear trickled down as my heart begin to melt. Sweet Child you see, it is hard to explain, how people can hurt you and cause you such pain. but if you believe that God sent us Jesus his son, you can face everyday and you won't have to run. So smile little girl there is a whole new world of love and happiness and a brand new start, the moment you ask Jesus to come into your heart. Looking deeper yet, into my mirror I could see, that this sad little girl looked exactly like me.
  

Gord

2018-02-13 01:49 pm

Birds flying apart,
They desire not;
To be of is,
Someone begotten;
New to art,
Liar at port,
of port, drinking port,
Thinking unimportant.

Gord

2018-02-13 01:01 pm

Gatekeeper,
Chaste to a fleeing care,
Fleeting in your fairness,
Future harnessed, idle,
All of what she gave me,
Rusted.

Gord

2018-02-09 01:57 pm

Always crows flying, living Ottawa,
Silence as loud as a passing truck.
Liar of the present, fool future,
Suture and praying for none at all.
Always comedies written, hands numb,
Painter finishes his castles, backward,
Words tired yet landing with oomph; 
Posture lacking, Skull bashed in,
Tomorrow's recluse and marked man,
As the crowd begins, he rescinds.

Gord

2018-02-08 05:06 am

A poem written in jest,
Forgive my candidness.

Live life a person kinder,
Man damned and woman candor,
Sky full of condors, vultures,
Even politicians disgusted.

Red lines and yellow subjects,
Life full of candid sculptures,
Culture vulgar, Butler colored,
Abreast cigarette smokers,
Who vote for nothingness.
A king of the foreward,
And cowards who sit home.

Gord

2018-02-06 09:34 pm

She lays, sunbathing,
Awake in the sunset,
Placed as an epithet,
Following but shadow,
Celebrity malleable.

Sequence engaged, tomorrow;
Letter sent too late,
Bed slept in layman,
Words dear borrowed,
But a fool too vague.

Sheets in disarray,
One saves time folding,
Sleeping on top.
One who faces the cold,
Has no reason for folio,
Numbering hardships for foals,
Galloping into the distance,
Their grandeur taught.