More Poetry
All poetry was written by me. I post poems that were previously written as far back as 1989. One little note, I never said any of my poetry was good. And certainly not everything is likeable.
My Hairy Little Man
My hairy little man
brings me my dinner
brings me my slippers
helps me cross the street
he is my eyes
for I cannot see.
Written February 17, 1999Before Sunrise
Before sunrise
I hope to find
My one true love
Hidden from my mind
Before sunrise
I hope to be
The one true thing
That calls to me
Before sunrise
I hope to see
That all the world
Lives happily
Before sunrise
I hope to know
That everything
Is good to go
Written February 17, 1999Before sunrise I hope to be The one true thing That calls to me
Before sunrise I hope to see That all the world Lives happily
Before sunrise I hope to know That everything Is good to go
Blissfully Inapt
I am a sqiggle hard to define, bob-
bing on the page, never the same again,
representing motion of stationed ob-
jects, quick random thoughts leaking from your pen.
I bounce along on my two legs, the es-
sence of the squiggle in motion, my limbs
bubbling, excited with happiness
and about to erupt over the brims.
I am like a newborn giraffe, gangly
falling all over itself, akward un-
sure movements holding itself on spindly
legs, trip over themselves, coming undone.
I am clumsiness defined in ani-
mal, movement, or shape, unaware of it.
Written February 23, 1999I bounce along on my two legs, the es- sence of the squiggle in motion, my limbs bubbling, excited with happiness and about to erupt over the brims.
I am like a newborn giraffe, gangly falling all over itself, akward un- sure movements holding itself on spindly legs, trip over themselves, coming undone.
I am clumsiness defined in ani- mal, movement, or shape, unaware of it.
Bonduel, Wisconsin
dead trees carrying snow on branches
narrow streets lined with wooden sidewalks
horse and buggy turned into sleigh
a winter wonderland
gave birth to grandpa
Written February 16, 1999The Literary Reading
I took my heart, feelings all inside
And put them onto paper
I read aloud, expressed myself
Appreciation doesn't follow
Like standing 'fore a firing squad
It gutted me with holes
I stood so proud, I wrote so well
Only to get shot down
Now what of all my dreams and hopes?
I'll never follow through
A writer I will never be
As long as there's critics like you
Written February 10, 1999Traveling Name
like a passenger on a long journey - Linda Pastan
I realized my name's defunct.
I am no longer Bianca.
I stand here on this day of my birth
And christen me by another name.
As if I stood on Ellis Island
And spoke some unpronounceable name,
I was branded as a Bean -
Beanpole for its long thin stalk,
Beaner because it's funny,
And Beanie because when I heard it
The first time, I laughed so hard
I tipped myself over in my seat.
My name's evolved as all around me has changed.
My name, a passenger on a ship
Sailing for that final destination.
Written February 9, 1999I realized my name's defunct. I am no longer Bianca. I stand here on this day of my birth And christen me by another name. As if I stood on Ellis Island And spoke some unpronounceable name, I was branded as a Bean - Beanpole for its long thin stalk, Beaner because it's funny, And Beanie because when I heard it The first time, I laughed so hard I tipped myself over in my seat. My name's evolved as all around me has changed. My name, a passenger on a ship Sailing for that final destination.
In Response to Nina
Soul
in music
makes me think
of good days gone
not over yet
everlasting
Written February 7, 1999Seasons with You
I kissed you in the summer sun
Felt the summer air.
Took a brisk walk in autumn gusts
Crunched dead leaves.
I watched the snowflakes floating down
Cozy in the warm indoors.
Ran through the first spring shower
Soaking wet we were.
Written January 22, 1999My Love
Feverish nights into cold mornings
My times with you.
Passionate explosions to quiet lulls
Loving you sweet.
Red rages blurred into pink soft edges
Living with you.
Short snaps with no apologies
Dealing with you.
The sun goes down
Time to repeat ourselves once again.
Written 1998Where Have You Gone?
Snow falls and all is quiet.
Where have you gone?
I'm curled in to my favorite ball
Alone on our bed.
Where have you gone?
I shiver thinking how alone I am.
It's dark and I can't see.
Is something getting closer?
Where have you gone?
I think I've lost it all.
It seems to keep getting colder.
I can't stop my shivers
Although I've got my blanket.
Where have you gone?
I stretch across our frozen bed.
I touch an ice cold object.
I shiver even more.
Where have you gone?
It's terrible the storm hit.
Destroyed our little house.
Where have you gone?
My fingers touch an ice cold corpse.
You never left.
Written January 4, 1999I'm curled in to my favorite ball Alone on our bed. Where have you gone?
I shiver thinking how alone I am. It's dark and I can't see. Is something getting closer? Where have you gone?
I think I've lost it all. It seems to keep getting colder. I can't stop my shivers Although I've got my blanket. Where have you gone?
I stretch across our frozen bed. I touch an ice cold object. I shiver even more. Where have you gone?
It's terrible the storm hit. Destroyed our little house. Where have you gone?
My fingers touch an ice cold corpse. You never left.
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Please do not copy my poetry and claim it as your own. If you like it enough to want a copy, e-mail me.
Poetry copyright beanpole
people have read my poetry.