Monday, February 09, 2004
Thank You George W.
Meet the Press on Sunday cleared up one thing for certain. My previously held assumptions about the President are right on the mark.
Subliminals
- Identity:: stolen
- Reveal:: expose
- Live:: moving
- Attitude:: stubborn
- Night:: nocturnal
- Nevada:: gambling
- Weekend:: fun
- Write:: poetry
- Friend:: companion
- Seventeen:: youth
Saturday, February 07, 2004
Cold
The young boys face
stung with the bite of the icy wind
but he said noting.
His mother's flesh was no different
than his. They waited for the bus
knee deep in the road waste piled
at the bus stop by plows.
stung with the bite of the icy wind
but he said noting.
His mother's flesh was no different
than his. They waited for the bus
knee deep in the road waste piled
at the bus stop by plows.
Friday, February 06, 2004
Newsletter
For those would like a taste of Stick Poet in the mail boxes from time to time, you are free to sign up in the yellow box at the upper left of the blog (just below the masthead). I promise you will not be subjected to massive amounts of e-mails.
Stick Poet Top 5 Blogs of the Week
It's Friday and I am on time - hooray!
No. 5 Ivy Is Here [First time on the list]
No. 4 One Good Bumblebee [Also No. 4 last week]
No. 3 The Poetry Hut [Also No. 3 last week]
No. 2The Chatelaine's Poetics [Last week's No. 1 on the list]
No. 1 Awake At Dawn on Someone's Couch [First time even on the list]
No. 5 Ivy Is Here [First time on the list]
No. 4 One Good Bumblebee [Also No. 4 last week]
No. 3 The Poetry Hut [Also No. 3 last week]
No. 2The Chatelaine's Poetics [Last week's No. 1 on the list]
No. 1 Awake At Dawn on Someone's Couch [First time even on the list]
Thursday, February 05, 2004
No One Listening
The glum will surely fade
and I, I can taste the grape exalted
to its supreme perfection
dry and with a hint of oak.
I want to dance
though my feet have no special steps
I want to shout though I have nothing distinguished to say
but only a desire to be heard.
And you, like so many others look at me and wonder.
It is the water passing swiftly in the narrow stream that
travels so far with so little,
And I look inward and see in myself a raindrop that wishes
beyond all hope to travel half as far in my quest. Sometimes
the desire is far greater than purpose. Then I too wonder
is there something missing? Is that why no one is listening?
I build a fire out of doubts and questions and douse it with
the enthusiasm that seems misplaced. I have no need for it.
At least I will be warm.
and I, I can taste the grape exalted
to its supreme perfection
dry and with a hint of oak.
I want to dance
though my feet have no special steps
I want to shout though I have nothing distinguished to say
but only a desire to be heard.
And you, like so many others look at me and wonder.
It is the water passing swiftly in the narrow stream that
travels so far with so little,
And I look inward and see in myself a raindrop that wishes
beyond all hope to travel half as far in my quest. Sometimes
the desire is far greater than purpose. Then I too wonder
is there something missing? Is that why no one is listening?
I build a fire out of doubts and questions and douse it with
the enthusiasm that seems misplaced. I have no need for it.
At least I will be warm.
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