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RETRO POETRY
OK...my last entry had to do with clearing out that which was no longer needed in my space. This one is a blast from my past.
As I was clearing some items from a box...I found an old folder which had several items from my past...my mother's driver's license and some other items I acquired at her passing well over 20 years ago and some of my old poetry from my days as an aspiring writer.
I know I have more of these around somewhere but, for now, I am only posting three. These are a bit of insight into the old me...prior to my awakening as a metaphysical student and practicianer.
(Ok you armchair psychiatrists...let me know what you glean from these. Others added as I find them will increase that opinion or picture or whatever you want to call it.)
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POVERTY POET
by
Tamera Crosby
©1986
I am a poverty poet,
No pillar of society,
And deep within my heart and soul
Are sown the seeds of artistry.
The tender shoots which grow from them
Thrust forth in loving lust for life,
But even though they're written down,
Their blooms are doomed to die in strife
For I am a poverty poet
And no one will know it but me.
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A POET'S FLOWER
by Tamera Crosby
©1986
The pacing starts
With pen in hand
And paper lying there
Upon a worn and cluttered desk
Before a mismatched chair/
A seed is planted
In the fertile ground
Of my poet's mind
And watered by my searching soul,
A present from mankind.
A flash
Of inspiration
Is like the sun in May
Which brings forth budding flowers
And spawns pretty things to say.
A flower's grown;
A poem's born;
Both works of artistry,
The first's by Mother Nature,
And the second is by me.
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This next poem is more for listening than simply for reading but, since I can't offer that at this time, I present it in the written form. Just try to imagine two separate tones or voices while reading through this…one normal voice for the regular print and a softer, more sultry voice for the part in italics. (Believe it or not…I do this poem quite well!!!)
BLACK LEOPARD
(For Sheena, My Fictional Creation)
by
Tamera Crosby
© 1986
She tracks her prey
In soft-footed silence,
Treading the trails they leave behind.
(And she is mine
As she paces the pages
Leaving typed trails on smooth white faces.)
She's a bright-eyed shade
In the shivering shadows
As she lazily lounges on a lush-leafed bough.
(And she is mine,
A glimmering carbon ghost
Amid the mounds of my imagination.)
She's dark and sleek
With just a hint of hidden spots
Upon her skin.
(And she is mine,
My friend, my foe,
My languorous beast in MS form.)
She's a sensuous symbol
Of white-fanged death
Within the warrens of her world.
(And she is mine
Until that time
She springs to life from printer's ink and book-bound pulp.)
BLACK LEOPARD was spawned from a particular character I was creating while I was in my sci-fi/fantasy phase. The leopard's name was Sheena...which is obvious...but it has been so long I can't recall much more of the story. I probably have it in some box in storage and will come across it sometime.
Also...in case you didn't notice...I really like alliteration...hehehe.
That's all for now. Check back for more retro poetry as I come across it.
{mos_fb_discuss:24}
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