How did I get this lost
loss
on my own,
at this age?
Silly old bear
Thump
Thump
Thump
or is it,
think, think, think?
It could not of,
can not,
Be my own doing
entirely.
Where is the Hand of God?
and
Where is the remote?
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Almost-Dead Poets Society | surviving ourselves despite ourselves
Almost-Dead Poets Society
surviving ourselves despite ourselves
Silly Old Bear
Posted in misterbooks, Poetry with tags aging, choices, god, Poetry, reality on March 20, 2009 by WulfgarThe Sleeping sun
Posted in Authors, Poetry with tags melancholy, romance, thoughts on September 8, 2008 by Dream Peddler
Into the sleeping sun,
Of a parabolic freedom,
I want to escape.
to the woods.
to the silence,
where words kill.
Into the melancholic evening,
of an enthralling beauty,
I want to break free.
from the boundations.
from the death and hush,
where you can’t say what you want.
Into the utopia of my dreams,
Of an euthnasic way to awakening,
I want to lie forever.
in the laps of the angel.
in the greens of my past,
where deceptions stop.
Into the night stretched to eternity,
Of an enchanted star studed sky,
I want to steal the world.
to keep them to myself.
to let them live with me,
where separation never comes.
trouble
Posted in angst, Authors, etta11, prose poetry with tags Depression, fatigue, hopeless on August 26, 2008 by etta11I’m in trouble.
I’m tired.
I’m lethargic.
I could care less
about running
or goals.
I couldn’t go yesterday.
Today doesn’t seem different.
And I don’t care…that’s the trouble.
I don’t care.
Not a good place for me to be.
Trouble.
I don’t care is unsafe.
I don’t care is frustrating…no it’s not.
Frustration would require caring,
and I don’t care.
Trouble.
I don’t care is unsafe.
I don’t care is heavy and stuck.
I don’t care is sleep and sleep some more.
I don’t care is restricting.
leaden
shackles
binding
my
feet
I can’t move…that’s the trouble.
I can’t move is trouble.
I can’t move is sickening
fattening
frustrating.
I can’t move is frustrating.
Frustration is trouble.
I’m in trouble.
Trouble is trouble.
Trouble drinks.
Trouble cuts.
Trouble thinks.
Trouble hurts.
Trouble sinks.
Trouble
s
i
n
k
s
.
.
.
Doors
Posted in angst, Authors, beartwinsmom with tags choices, Depression, memories on July 28, 2008 by beartwinsmom
Which one would you choose?
What waits beyond
The light through the cracks?
Memories of past hurts
And previous loves?
Surrounded by the doors,
I need to choose:
Which one to open?
Which one to lose?
Savouring the sanguine memories of love on my tongue;
Suffering the bitter sting of failure in my heart;
Perceiving the faint echoes of melodious promises in my head;
Envisioning my life like a slideshow in my brain
Sensing that the choice is upon me again.
Should some doors stay closed?
Photo courtesy of ohad*, by a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved.
My Quandary
Posted in greybeard on July 12, 2008 by GreybeardI need my privacy
I can’t afford it you see
Either monetarily or
In what it does to me
And Along came my Dreams
Posted in Authors, Poetry with tags dreams, love, pains on July 6, 2008 by Dream Peddler
I
When the pain subsides,
I close my eyes, to get back my past
Hallowed memories burn and blur!
Life has not been
The dream I saw!
I turn every page, to see it bleed,
I turn every corner, to wish you were there
The sun is so silent, the moon burning!
The night gave the pains
And along came dreams!
II
I so wish you would come,
Hold my hand, take my breath,
Into the cages of love!
I wish I could have held your hands till eternity,
Bring you flowers, and write you poetries,
I showed you my dreams,
But,
You gave me fresh blood!
And along came my dreams
Comfort
Posted in Authors, beartwinsmom with tags beartwinsmom, Depression, hope on June 27, 2008 by beartwinsmom
Wrap me up in comfort that I yearn to feel
Remove me from cold, uncaring steel
That ensconces me like a cage.
Let me savor the senses of love and compassion
Drown me in warmth, fire of passion
One is that legend of the ages.
Photo courtesy of confusedvision, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved.
time
Posted in paisley, Poetry on June 25, 2008 by whypaisley
it came upon me, as a thief.
silently, stealthily… stealing
my beauty,, my passion,, my dreams,, my desires…
i was swept up from behind,
now i’m caught-
i am held fast,,
i am struggling,
but the feather like fingers have taken hold.
slowly entwining themselves around my very soul…
coiling,, choking me from within…
i stand motionless… waiting..
afraid any movement, may propel me forward
when all i seek-
is to go back…
as if i no longer have any control,
as if the fates have finally won,,
and i have lost-
all but what i see…
i close my eyes,, my mind,, my heart
i hide in the shadows
of my own thoughts-
as i feel that is all that remains
of that which i cannot see…
i dream of me then,, sometime
before i was lost-
before time, had its way…
before i was introduced
to the art of decay…
photo:
https://www.toddmessegeephoto.com/FineArtFolder/The%20thief%20who.jpg
Echo..alas tis my bosom that heaves….
Posted in Poetry, site news with tags blogging, ehoes, humour attempt, Poetry, quivering bosom on June 25, 2008 by WulfgarAhem…for yay, I do not write to be right, but write to be wrotten..alas tis a quivering quiver of ink and quill that spilleth my coffee, all painful, and scourging in my lapeth. Oucheth, as I jumpeth and runneth for the mighty towel of chamois, and wipe up thine mess. It stingeth, like words from a mind gone to mush, and which is assualted by lack of blog activity.
Bring me ale, bring me the mightiest mead, let me drink forth thine words of love, pain, sorrow, and fruit bats. Do thou hearest mine groans…helloeth?? echo….echo…echo(and the bunnymen).
——————————–
Just keeping it alive….and loony and not real whatsoever.
Peace and poetry and smiles,
goofball golf
Posted in greybeard, Poetry on June 1, 2008 by GreybeardI’m thinking about changing my handle to “Sunbeam”…
deep into the back nine
way off in the weeds
i am not religious
but lord i’m on my knees
i gotta put some distance
between me and all the strife
help me make some sense
of the days left in my life
the fairways weren’t my thing
perhaps it’s a disease
i always took the shortcuts
look where it’s gotten me
am i lost forever
hidden in plain view
or is there some salvation
to make the old anew
Notice
Trying to format your poems to look right in the wordpress.com wysiwyg editor will make you loose your religion. Much easier/better to compose and format in a simple text editor (emacs, vim, gedit, etc.) then copy and paste into wordpress.Dedication
Rick Mobbs is the inspiration for this site. His generosity is what blogging is all about. His artistry augments the lives of many.
Thank you Rick. You the man!
README
Welcome. ADPS is where poets and wannabe poets come to play. Almost anything goes here so sign up and start posting your creations. Remember, fun is good, so by all means have some!
Here are what pass for rules...
- play nice -- no flames or nastiness directed toward any of our contributors, or for that matter, anyone not in the public eye. This is a place to relax, enjoy yourself, and make new friends.
- no spam -- if someone posts something that even resembles spam without a very thorough disclaimer at the top of the post, said person is done. Barred. Banished. No second chances. (If you pen a poem about spam just state that up front and it won't be a problem.
- no porn -- there are no banned words here. We believe their are no bad words, just the inappropriate use of some good ones. Nasty ranty-poems are encouraged. Not so porn. Porn might look something like this;
She licked his $%&! until is was rock hard, then he pounded her little @%@!^ until it was tattered. So he flipped over and worked on her !@##$%7. When he was done it was big as a saucer.
That would be porn and inappropriate for this site.
That's about it. So get busy playing and we'll see you on the perches.
HOWTO play
Simple. Send us an email (address below) telling us you wanna be an Almost-Dead Poet and we'll set you up with an account. To make sure you're more interested in having fun and growing than in making a jackass of yourself your first two poems will have to approved prior to publication. After that you're on your own. Publish as much or as little as you like. You can upload files too, should you want to share a piece of art or a photo that inspired you.
There are bound to be few glitches, especially at first so be patient. We're not professional webmasters. We're just almost-dead poets.
email ADPS
aldeposo at G mail dot comRecent Comments
beartwinsmom on Silly Old Bear Wulfgar on Silly Old Bear Angry Ballerina on Silly Old Bear Rohit on The Sleeping sun etta11 on Comfort Categories
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