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Kerri Williams

Anonymous — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 22:48:27 CDT

The Dreadful "fine"

Sitting in Starbucks
Watching the world go by
Out of this space continuim
lost in this train of thought.

These words blotching
this page of nothing
slowly becoming
this masterpiece
...maybe

Sipping on my coffee
wondering where this
thing that I call a poem
is going...

Being distracted
from this masterpiece
by the people walking in
..."I wonder where
they came from"

Not their address
But what was their
last conversation,
or their last meal,
or when was the last
time they slept a full night
full of peace and empty of worry?

Is he getting coffee
because he was up all night
with a precious new baby?

Or that she was up all night
fighting the temptation
of making it her last?

Are they getting the usual
because they are afraid of change?
The same reason
they won't quit
that dead end job...
that is leading to nowhere
...And seek after that job
that they have dream about since
they were kids.

Or what about
the woman behind
the counter...
I wonder her story...
Did her boyfriend
leave her after
she lost her everything
that night in her bed
Did he leave her heart shattered
on the floor as she holds
that pregnancy test that screams
.....POSITIVE?

I gently smile
and say...
"Hey, How are you?"

With fear in her eyes
she painfully smiles,
gently says, "fine"

Barrel of Monkeys

We are just a barrel of monkeys
We are together
We bind our selves
and build forces
but the lid pops open
and a child turns
the barrel upside down

We stick together
One falls
two
three.
and soon we all hit the ground
And our bond is broken

We don’t know what to do

We soon realize
We cannot move on our own...
we need outside forces

We look up
there He is
with joy and compassion
in His eyes
The Father here to pick
us up one by one
Naming our name as
He pick us up

We are now put back
not in the barrel
We are now a strand
because
A strand of three cords
Is not easily broken

Jail Break
You are that feeling of pain
We can not describe

Our understanding of You
is that of a child
who has been sent to his room
for breaking the rules

We try to find You
In the crevices of the jail cell
We have put ourselves into
Searching yet forgetting
The lock is on the inside
Not even sealed

We hear you clanking
On the bars
but we dont answer
too scared to get outside
We just sit and stare
Wishing there was a way out

We try to deny
Your presence at the bars
but you are
...undeniable

We run from corner to corner
trying to escape
but we are too caught up
trying to get out
we forget that you are there
Because you are
...Omni-present

We have created our own prison
and cant even
figure a way out

We try to be
our own god
of this prison cell
But you are I AM
We are not God
We did not create
what can never be destroyed
We did not heal
We did not raise from the dead
We did not
We can not
and will never
Sanctify

WE ARE NOT GOD

You are
-- I AM

Blood-Stained Note

She lies in her bed
alarm still on

no movement...

She is found
arms limp,
blood dripping

no movement...

The mourning begins
that Sunday morning

A blood-stained note
found near the knife

Her last words..
"I am sorry
I could no longer help myself
It was too painful
to look at that mirror image
of the person I was.
You no longer have
To worry about me
I am gone...
on my own accord."

No one ever asked
why she always
covered her scars,
or about the wounds
that were created
the night before
on that over-turned
blood stained rug

Untitled

With each stroke Of this pin Another part of me dies. A part of me that I never wanted anyone to know about But each new stitch is a new part in this dreadful timeline
called my self righteousness. I need someone to undo The holes I have made And fill them whole Fill them With something That is never failing Something that will never die

Justin Manuel

Anonymous — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 13:22:39 CDT

Home

Anonymous — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 21:57:24 CDT

This page will be used to eventually launch an online poetry journal. Writers will be able to submit poems for publication during specific times.

At some point I will seek out the best poems from the year and publish an anthology. Contributors will receive copies for their participation.

I'd also like to see articles shared on Modern Poets and Contemporary Poets.

My favorites are Theodore Roethke, John Donne, Franz Wright, and Charles Simic. Read their work and write something about them. Or write a poem in their honor.

Kyle Merryman

uriah — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 17:29:23 CDT

'Let's Start With Ridiculous and Work Backwards.'

21 Years old and a life without a plan.
A life without a goal but to live from day to day.
I woke up this morning to realze I don't want to live this life today.
But where do you start to change the whole life you portray?
What do you do to start over again?
Where do you begin...Where to begin...?

I want you to know the person I really am.
The one I am inside - not the one you think I am.
No, you don't know me.
No, I don't know why.
I've held it in so long that it's gotten so hard to let it out.
I want to be that person, the one you don't know.
I am not all jokes.
I am not not all laughs.
I am not all games.
I want to cry.
I long to love.
I do feel pain.

I want to drive,
Far way from this place,
Find myself
Be myself
Search for you
Come back to this place a different person.
A Better person
The person I have wanted to be.

I love my friends.
I love this place.
I love all these things,
But it's time for a change.
Not an overnight, instant change in it all.
I need a change that will break me.

'A Lonely Prayer'

I've never felt as unworthy as I do right now.
Empty - Worthless - Now broken for you.
Lord carry me until I am strong enough...
Strong enough to face this world alone.
I guess that I am never truly alone.

In the darkest of nights,
When all hope is gone and I feel so alone.
Comfort me.
Remind me that you are there (always).

I need you now more than ever.
Chase away these fears, this loneliness.
Bring me to tears.
Show me your holiness.

The seasons change and so do people.
But you are always here, always the same.
ALWAYS the same.
Forever.

Don't let me forget.
Don't let me doubt.

'Don't Worry, It's Only A Fracture'

Silly Silly little girl, with your priorities all a wreck.
Take a look at the choices you have made.
Who are you becoming?
There is no reason I should miss the old you the way that I do.
But I do.
I hate to see you become these things you so firmly stood against.
I hate it, but I will not intervein.
What a show this is to watch.
Have a seat my friend, watch as this girl throws it all away.
To my dismay, we will just watch the good decay.
Maybe I have grown slightly numb,
But this all just seems okay.
Thank you for showing me the path not to take.
I could write a book on the things I have learned.
Page after page of things not to do.
Things that will destroy.
Things that will lead to only destruction and chaos.
The things that now make up your life.
Maybe one day you will come back.
But I doubt it.
Not that I have no faith in you.
I just see how quick you have fallen, how deep you have sunk.
You are leaving no trail to follow back.
There may not even be anyone to lend a hand.
What a nightmare this must be.
Don't look back little girl, this nightmare is real.

'Morning At Night'

Another 24 hour day.
Driving home, body tired, reactions delayed......delayed.
Yet my mind races faster than ever.
Full of things I should have said but my mind kept them in forever.
Full of things I should have done but second guessed.
I want to scream to the sky and get them all off my chest.

But I can't.
I can't, so they will stay trapped in me forever.
Forever driving me crazy.
Forever they will be unsaid.
Forever they are echoes inside my head.

A day ends.
Another Begins.

One of those morning where nothing seems wrong.
But absolutely nothing seems just right.
Wake up when it's dark, go to bed when its light.
Same thing as the day before.
Battling these emotions. Constant war.
I try to tell you how I feel from this spot on the floor.

But I can't.
I can't, so it will stay trapped in me forever.
Forever driving me crazy.
Forever it will be unsaid.
Forever it echoes inside my head.

A day ends.
Another Begins.

Constant cycle.
Never ending pattern.
Day after day.
Same today.
Same tomorrow.
Yes, this all get's old so quick.
A change must be made.
The battle now is to not be afraid.

'Note To Self'

It's on the tip of your tongue.
Can you taste it?
It's closer than ever.
Just reach out and touch it.
Tell me, Is it what you thought it could be?
Is it really what you hoped it would be?

Everything seems so right.
But inside you know something feels wrong.
At the time, you couldn't ask for more.
But when away, the doubt is sickening.
Deep in your stomach you know something's not right.
Maybe you've known it all along.

Happiness. Joy. Contentment.
These are only a temporary muse when followed by,
Numbness. Depression. Desperation.

May God open your eyes.
You have been blind for far to long.
Allow yourself to be happy through him and the gifts he gives.
Destroy the selfish person that you have become.

Step up. Be a man.
You know what to do

submissions

Anonymous — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 23:42:51 CDT

Please submit up to 5 poems. Right now we are looking for all types of poetry.

Shorter poems will be given greater attention.

Send emails, no attachments. Paste poem into body of the email at uoxford@yahoo.com

Uriah J. Oxford
Editor

poems by Uriah Oxford

Anonymous — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 13:53:02 CDT

untitled

Look away I’m smiling and you can’t see me like this.
Turn away I’m happy and you shouldn’t have to witness this.

Walk away I’m whole again and you wouldn’t want to suffer to know what I’ve become.

“Stop writing, stop writing on yourself with those blades.”

The feel of metal on my skin makes me big.

Big little kid—stomping into a bathroom prison;

“Knock knock?”

“Who’s there?” said the lover of no good to me.

“It’s just me, the one who runs.”

It’s just me the one who runs who?

The running pain drips into the faucet of a vanity.

Conversation at a Chain Coffee shop

While sweeping around his feet I disturbed him from reading

His Shreveport Times.

“I can move if it will help.”

“No you’re fine.” I reply close to the end of my shift.

“So what happening in the news.”

(Pause) “Aw, same ole, same ole---just war stuff.”

----Well, Ok, how’s your triple venti toffee nut latte, this afternoon?

It’s perfect.

So there we were two perfectly disconnected men drinking bad coffee

While a nation is a going through “just war stuff.”

So how’d your son die maam? “aw same ole, same ole, war stuff.”

I see.

Will you kill me please?

Yes. Let me finish this last sip.

One girl’s lips

her lips were a

“gorgeous concert of colours”

stylistically (sucklings)

and subliminally

lyrical

Bone Knife of My Bones

Barns holding vats
Of our bones that we discarded
Once—
Shimmers smiling at my
Frigidity;

“I gave that bone to you and you made it sharp.”

Then she cut my ankle
With that bone knife of my bone—

When I wanted to stop bleeding, I didn’t.
The blood ought to have repelled
But it drew her in---even more:

Slashing with that bone knife of my bone

Hidden deep in the camp

Hidden deep in a cut down by the bayou
Threatening the barn…

Theodore Roethke

uriah — Sun, 17 Jun 2007 19:31:49 CDT

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/13

This is my favorite "dead" poet.

His famous work "Waking the Wind" is always close by too.

Read, enjoy, comment.

Write a piece in his honor.

Franz Wright

uriah — Sun, 17 Jun 2007 19:28:05 CDT

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/519

This poet is my favorite living poet. He is a Guest Professor right now at Brandeis University. I've corresponded with him through email a couple of times and he is very humble and gracious.

I rarely leave home without a copy of one of his books in my bag. Especially "Ill Lit".

Read some of his work and tell me which ones you like and why.