Musing Mind of Wanderingdeerpoet

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<a target="_blank" href="http://www.copyrighted.com/copyrights/view/db9l-sdqh-zezx-gjat"><img border="0" alt="Copyrighted.com Registered &amp; Protected DB9L-SDQH-ZEZX-GJAT" title="Copyrighted.com Registered &amp; Protected DB9L-SDQH-ZEZX-GJAT" width="150" height="40" src="http://static.copyrighted.com/images/seal.gif" /></a> Copyrighted work by bambie wodkins Registration date: December 13, 2015 - 10:43 AM Copyright number: DB9L-SDQH-ZEZX-GJAT Fingerprint: Show fingerprint a111024c551e11dc9a2e3d5347b9baa995a8b29affe8d61978867daa6728754f Title: Poems from the Attic Description: A collection of poems about matters of the heart. Category: eBook

searching I am searching for a poem reaching I've been reaching to find it here and there high and low all the usual places poems tend to go I thought yes, I thought I saw it yesterday in the sky the very blue sky above my head with whitest clouds clearest view of nostalgia almost ... you yes, I thought I found my poem as I ought but it was just a sky with rambling memories in a passing cloud gone by I wondered if it just might be my poem in this morning's rain that fell drop by drop on me caressing my skin so cold and harshly briskly wakening me but no only rain only pain no poems hidden here I fancied a look in the mirror and in pictures I took was this some existential crisis? was I to seize some grand truth about myself? To learn some horrid fault I hid on some subconscious shelf? Nope It wasn't all me, me ,me as we like to believe not this poem not this time ...

There he is Almost a man A tyrant of one Still blossoming Coming of age My son- Angry at the world Weren’t we all at that age? And for what? To what end? All the world had wronged us so We shook our fists at the night So indignant Balled up tight With self-righteous angst Battling everyone Especially ourselves Being a teenager- A special kind of hell.

Like lightening in the skies You flash before my eyes whether open, closed or in between you are felt, missed, aching, even when unseen- It catches up with me like a storm I didn’t see Just on the horizon all the time and it breaks me, shakes me, takes me back to the moment you were mine.

Let the waves wash over me The blue and green and foam Take me and down and then Perhaps they’ll take me home.

Goodnight my love Can you hear my heart? Beating for you Naïve enough to still adore you? Listless mind turning Foolish desires Foolish girl I stand still burning Long forgot I’m sure I still get drunk on your memory Played As a favorite record every night My last thought Before I turn off the light.

Your words melt Over me Through me They continue to be felt Despite the passing of days Weeks, years Missing you Hating you Screaming beside tears Once my greatest fantasy Now a ghost that insists on haunting me The boy who held my heart in his hand The voice I worshipped Acquiesced to it's command Like a song stuck inside my head Refusing to take it's leave Though the music is long dead You repeat You dig in your heels More profound with time Yet to you I'm a few lines In a haphazard rhyme.

I am the answer I am the question And sometimes I am just … Blank. Blank pages, canvas, screen Will the words come to me? Will I know what they mean? Will they share their grace? Have me shed a tear or put a smile Upon my face? When inspiration strikes It’s like lightning from the skies Flashing as a bolt before my eyes And I am a vision A voice wondering in the desert sands Will the story find me And give itself to the writer’s waiting hands?

I am surrounded by liars Drowning in their version of the truth I am knee deep in reality Stealer of my ambitions, hopes and youth I am walking on the coals Feet burnt, still burning to their soles I am left wanting, forever wanting Filling up but eternally empty, falling I am a tale better left untold.

So, is this a poem? Or merely a gripe about a real life pain in the ass we experienced the other night? A small scare of mundane life Told by a slightly poetic (needing to complain about it) housewife- So I sent the boy to walk the mutt Up, up the yard she went to do her have-to-pee puppy strut- Right after to dark (only 8:45 at night) All fenced in, so big deal, right? Not a hard chore for a boy of eleven years old A nicety for me, he sweetly does as he's told- Then a scream! For his sake we'll say ... it was a small manly yell ("YIPE") He comes in breathless, swearing there's a man Peaking in the bedroom windows Tall skinny body type- A hoodie, running fast on sight Up the hill into the night- (But is it a joke? a young boy's hype?) Dad and granddad close at hand Ran out with flashlights to see this "Mystery Man." Darkness. At this point we are all wondering why Why didn't we ever fix that light-...

She supposes She smells like roses Ruling from a cloud She won't come down How does she see You and me from such a height? So we throw our trash and resentment towards her Out of all this built up spite- These people must be punished! She schemed And rained down brimstones to crumple all our dreams To quash these simple attempts of men To rise above what was given them- Angry gods, Ungrateful children Such brats all around Her wrath bathes the needy ground Heaven's tears come without sound- a hint of regret? I wouldn't count my chickens yet! This tempest inside I try and hide But I hate what I hate And I dislike this empty plate- But who am I against this disdainful eye from the sky?

My prissy little pup walking in the yard, Picking the perfect spot A task so very hard- Smelling the grass Where has been my wee ass? Sniff until found A familiar piece of ground Just the perfect space To warrant her to grace With a good steamy pile and that smug Collie smile- Frolics about every tree before finding one good enough To receive her pee- Prissy bitch about the yard Finding the perfect spot A task so very hard.

A moment of such brevity Light glorious levity Passed so quickly A reminder of how fragile Is the flame That lights the candle We burn as arrows without aim, Pointless? Unsure, but enjoyable? Yes, I confess these so-named "happy" times are few and far between for some of us Its go, go, go till win or bust and more so the latter, I'm afraid- It was morning (or was it night?) You were a ship (what a cliché) That passed, intersecting with mine In the night- Passion? Perhaps But different to be sure- Shall I treasure these small things? Allow this sham called "hope" offer me wings? I believe Reality supersedes such foolhardiness I will go on As if I've walked alone- For it was merely a moment Of such brevity To be remembered with a sigh and bits of Levity.

You & I heaven's sky a brisk romp a quick trisk about the hillside hay wanting taking being taken with not words but bodies to say yes yes yes unashamed in the light of fullest moon lips bitten in hopes we can go again soon-

There is no greater pain Than that which leaves the stain Not of ink spilled But of time killed- I have been with you forever But forever has been swept away with the night Along with the cobwebs from the corners You know the ones, those just hidden from plain sight Into life’s dustpan they went My heart, my soul, now spent- It all started out so grand You and I and that dashing setting sky How, my love, has it come to goodbye? I find the tears hard pressed to stop falling Though I plead with them with deep groans and sighs Hope crushed will not be silenced But keep calling- I never wished pain for you Yet here we are all mixed up with this harsh to do Not making up, no light at the end of our path Only good cries and lonely sighs to be had in the aftermath.

Art splotch By art splotch Ink blotch Unveils An artist’s idle mind Her hands dipped in rainbows & storm clouds & interwoven dew-dropped spider silk besides She knows no repose Other than how her flowers grow In neatly tended rows- Order given to the world Chaos hold no place for this girl with the art splotched face, Only ironies & cliff notes. I would say that I am she But that would be a lie And a liar am not I, not now, this time I envy her simplicity Painting as she feels But each feeling accounted for Her life a canvas Her heart a door But without the surprises I jump for- I tire of jumping- In a mess Out of trouble- Here and there as others command Or as they lay shame Should I know better now than as then? With age, where has my wisdom gone? But she, ever young, and not as me Is the artist I had hoped to be- Pictures converge making sense Other lay thick high praise f...

Goodnight my love Can you hear my heart? Beating for you Naïve enough to still adore you? Listless mind turning Foolish desires Foolish girl I stand still burning Long forgot I’m sure I still get drunk on your memory Played As a favorite record every night My last thought Before I turn off the light.

DOES ANYONE ELSE FIND THAT THE URGE TO BANG YOUR HEAD AGAINST THE NEAREST WALL INCREASES EXPONENTIALLY WHEN ANYONE OVER THE AGE OF 13 ENTERS A ROOM AND OPENS THEIR MOUTH?????!!!!!!

Last night I dreamed about a girl. Not just any girl. I imagined that I had a daughter. She was as real to me as any of my sons Or at least she was in the dream. I was going to lose her. She kept telling me “You are going to lose me.” Then I found that I was waking up. The more awake I felt the further away and smaller she was. Aren’t our minds funny things? As if we don’t have enough suffering in the real world? Now I’m awake and my greatest concern is coffee. But it does make one wonder …

A new day dawns though it appears as any other There is something different in the air- Can you smell it? Just there ... Its change! Perhaps just little things But change nonetheless Hitting us Bombarding as it wills- Knocking down Building up Taking apart Delivering thrills Did you see that one coming? The red on the horizon Is that new? It looks somehow different now that I'm seeing it with you. Those clouds up in the sky Were they always so white as that? I guess they were just hidden by the rim of my Yankees hat! One day yes, one day indeed It will all look different even you and me The lay of the land When we sit or we stand- The earth moved just a bit Did you feel it? And beneath this skin that we shall molt our hearts and minds they will revolt against the old against the grain Its just a random switch in our brains That whisper words into our ears Change Change Change Through the years ... Can you hear them dear? It looks just ...

So my kids ...   They're on summer break right? As parents we all know this is just a conspiracy by the government and "them" (you know who I mean ... t.h.e.m. an acronym for t.eenagers h.ellbent on e.xterminating m.ankind) To what purpose? Driving all the sane parents who are left (our numbers are small)completely off the deep end. As a minority in this country I believe we should stick together.   I keep sending the White House memos about this but my neighbor Mrs.Finch keeps driving by throwing them back at me screaming, "You idiot! Not a white house, the white house!" Her and the President must be on the outs.   Then there's always the fallback theory that they're grooming our survival skills because the hunger games are real and their coming for us. But again I believe this is just misinformation spreading around like bees buzzing in a garden.   By who? Our enemies of course! The children. Back in the war of the sexes ... I feel a flashback...

This morning is a good morning to be alive I’m serious! It is … Close your eyes Now open them again This time deep breath- Taking stock of what all truly separating You from death.   Now then … This morning wanted you to wake up Put something hot and caffeinated in that cup- Wipe the sleep from your eyes And thank your god that you’re alive.   Do you think you can manage that?

         Some days are more explosive than others!!!!!!!!!

Someone special, was she? That nameless shameless girl ... the one running out my backdoor tripping on her bygone graces she left alongside her bra of crimson laces decorating my kitchen floor. Somewhere we lost a certain shine, didn't we? After Paris but before New York ... the feeling of hot that gave me chills over champagne and strawberries cares cast away with our swimsuits rolling in someone's yard laden daffodils. Sometimes life just cheats, doesn't it? Truth mocking us with smug looking face ... a wanting of things keeping us on our feet hopes begin so very high, remember? but such honesty just doesn't keep our place: where hello and goodbye meet. Sometimes ...        Somewhere ...                 Someone ... I had a heart and so did you ... Do you remember being there?  

Every high that goes up Sadly, Must come down Each blow below the belt Gladly, Comes back around to each we get what is deserved if only life were fair our reservations reserved Madly, I cry out my defiant pout What has the world come to?

#POETRY #CRAFTOFTHEMIND #LOSTDREAMS #RETWEET #RETWEET   I tear out my soul with paper and pen Crafting it to shape again and again Sometimes it is lovely and fragile At times runs from me, quite agile Then there are days, She will just lay, sad Crying over lost things Forgotten dreams.

Morning bleeds sunlight Puffs white clouds at those hard to get to places but still feels completely exposed for all to see Damned infernal light! So unforgiving! But she looks just fine to me ... Tell her she looks lovely. This debate could go all day ...                                               .... .....                                                 And it did as a matter of fact. The night leaks moonlight Stars get so jealous! "She's such an attention hog!!" they all say. Perhaps that's true actually, ...

#HUMOR #POETRY #RETWEET #RETWEET   Sometimes I lose it. I stumble. Trip. Fall. Do you ever get that feeling, you know the one, that life is out to get you after all? That this and only this is real, the boundaries of your own thoughts & the disconnectedness of how your innards feel? Wouldn’t that be a scary world in which to live? Prisoners of ourselves? No one else selling long stem yellow roses or having hope to give? Sometimes I drop the ball . It slips my grip. Bounces. Gets away. Then I get that eerie curiosity, you know the one I mean, why do I ... ...

#BOOK #POETRY #LOVESTORY #RETWEET #RETWEET     Such careless words! Not careless because they hold you in any malcontent Not careless because their “polite” has all been spent Not careless as my jagged soul of unkempt words that frighten so Not daring to purpose to be careless, Love For they are under strictest orders from my eyes, holding tight picture of You, My careful, kind, gentile Maid May my words find you, a smile at the corner of your lips, Unscathed. I am but a clumsy rugged man Devoid of riches, without clan Scribbling pretty words on a skin bottle where my water should be- Is there greater thirst to fill than my heart inside of me? These “careless” words I’ve penned Do I dare to send? What would your father say? He would have me drawn and quartered in a day! I imagine your fragile ears, so easily broken, catching my words on the wind Mulling them over, tasting them again and again Keeping them fresh...