Made me uncomfortable, reminded me of listening to mom and dad fight. But of course that just means it's a good poem since it has an effect on me. Excellent write.
Reminds me of childhood memories running out the door over avocado color carpet, gold chairs, Silver-foil Christmas tree, Legos I had left out along with those little green plastic army-men. Running down the hall with all those Pictures. Slow-motion, can see them all till my head hit a Frame... Blood rushed. All I could hear was hard rain outside.The pounding on a roof of hard rain. Got that door. That gold knob. went out to dark and nothing. That hard rain was parents fists upon each other. Bleeding in very stupid PJ's, I was holding the Frame that almost took me out. 4 ppl. in that pic. I don't know them. But I know the wood that carried them.
running out the door over avocado colored carpet gold chairs, silver foil Christmas tree legos I had left out along with those little green plastic army men running down the hall with all those pictures slow motion can see them all till min head his a frame blood rushed all I could hear was hard rain outside pounding on the roof got that door that gold knob went out to dark and nothing hard rain was parents fists upon each other bleeding in very stupid PJ's holding the Frame that almost took me out four people in that picture I don't know them but I know the wood that carried them
used to do her make up for her when she was too drunk to do it herself i'd paint her beautiful face while she sat pouting in silk and lace framed by the sunlight, she looked like an elf been painted made her tranquiller
wouldn't leave the house till her frame was perfect in the mirror but the picture turned in to dorian grey and all the frame rotted away her beauty became a killer
the mona lisa fades in her place beside that immaculately painted and framed face.
wow! you found some excellent imagery that brings this poem to life. I'm sure you have used those first two lines before but since it is about the same person those lines will probably find their way into other poems as well.
i did use similar first two lines about doing her make up for her, cos she was hammered on vodka at 8a.m.....but eeerrr she was always hammered on vodka. after a couple of weeks she admitted i did her make up better than she did - love and peace - paul.
thanks bonita. i changed the colour of her lipstick from bright red to burnt orange. it went better with her tan. she asked me why and i said " your other lipstick made you look like a whore " and she said " but i am a whore! ". i said " yeah, but there is no need to advertise the fact " ha ha - those were eerrr difficult days - take care now - love - paul.
aaaww i can make a poem out of anything wolfie. doing an open mic night thing again tonight......dare i just make it up as i go along about people in the room. did that once and sortta got away with it - you ok? e - mail me - love - paul.
I know I'm not going to have time for a poem this week so here's an old one. In fact, one of my all time favorite old ones. Not exactly a frame, but pictures/snapshots that should be framed anyway.
SNAPSHOTS
I sat in the fourth floor window, six week old infant boy who cried with colic for days, rocked in my arms. And I with the knowledge that if my arms opened he would drop. It would be over, easy as a farmer drowns a bag of kittens who would not survive anyway.
"It's the same," she said. "I take care of my cats."
Life grew from bulges in my womb to people I cannot recognize as parts of myself except around her mouth, sometimes from her mouth, except around his eyes, a foot above mine, grown different each day, shed their yesterdays, eight thousand days, more or less, every day.
"It's battle scars," he said. "makes you different."
I picked her up from jail, barefoot, dark circles under eyes that stared resolutely past me, mute witness to distance between us. Those cold wars can sometimes outweigh the many nights she spent with her head on my lap as my hand stroked her hair and I watched my teenager sleep.
"I miss nothing," she said, "not having children."
She was three first time she went missing, wandered off to another trailer park. He was in high school last time, three hours late before we found he was missing. He came for Christmas. She moved to Texas, showed her boyfriend photos of her as she grew, took a few more snapshots and left.
Ah, painful! No wonder you took up martial arts. There is an old Hebrew saying:"If there were no grief to hollow out our hearts where would here be room for joy." I believe that compassion grows there too.
again some really good imagery and I think it's fine with the two verses unless you wanted to do a second verse that ends with the first line of the first verse... bring it full circle
this was a frantic, with seconds to spare poem. maybe why i should improvise at the open mic at bar loco? could go horribly wrong though. i like dangerous poetry though - don't shoot anybody in the head till you hear from me sssshhhhh ha ha - paul.
thanks wolfie. best i could do in five minutes. for some reason this library is full of giggly canadian women....sortta makes it hard to think about anything else ha ha - love and peace - paul.
sometimes poems have to be written immediately paul. i ran out of paper before and wrote poems on my arms and legs....yeah. i am a little obsessed ha ha - take care man - paul.
the picture frame was empty like her heart she stared with blank eyes trying hard to visualize his face now that she'd destroyed the picture like he'd torn up their marriage and tossed it in the trash the day the sun and the roses died
Stephen's grandmother collected miniature picture frames. They were tucked away in his late mother's belongings. There was quite a variety: silver, wood, gold, one I loved had tiny turquoise beads making a mosaic.
When we found them, not all had pictures in them, only a few. Most were empty of any images. A few held smiling relatives long gone. I didn't have any small pictures of my own to frame.
Treasures of another era, these frames were collected, To ornament their various enclosures, relics of another time, rich and rare as any artifacts dug from the tombs where they were laid to rest.
As a miniature collector, I sure do appreciate a collection of miniature frames. I could picture them, especially the one with the turquoise beads. I only have one that someone gave me and I have a miniature photo in it. I love your poem.
I am reading from the bottom up so I read your other poem first. I like your titles being basically the same in different order. I like some of this. Somehow I found the part about not having any small photos of your own to be jarring. I think that stanza should stay in the past.
Here's the picture, here's the frame Syncing them up is the name of the game We hope to capture the essence of action Or maybe a graduation or someone in traction
The subject matter can be very diverse From a new born baby to an old lady's purse A frame is the focal point to illustrate thought An opportunity to show what you have caught
That moment in time indelibly recorded Capture the image and you will be rewarded A lasting reminder of events gone by To punctuate the saying "time sure does fly"
To freeze in a frame the actions of life The easy comfort and continual strife So many flashes of the world in which we live We define moments in the reflections we give
I am also going to catch up on the weeks that I have missed. I have been writing them but, not posting them. I'm sorry. I guess I've been a little depressed.
we define moments in the reflections we give... wonderful line! I love it...and you are right that the frame makes the picture. one thing I learned in my photography class was how to frame a picture by the objects and scene around it and then pick the perfect frame that not only compliments the photo but brings out the focal point. good write!!! I really enjoyed this one.
Thanks Paul, for staying with it. I will go back and check when I can. Meanwhile that is a fabulous take on he promp. I needs several eads to take it all in!
He stomps down the hall
ReplyDeleterants and raves over every matter
walls and floors shake
picture frame falls and shatters
Splinters in shards like pieces
of our lives never to be whole
we can't fix the wrinkles and creases
lost like some ancient actors role
The glass is swept and tossed
now only bits of waste and trash
so much in anger lost
in words spoken harsh and rash
She sighs and puts the broom away
wishes things were like before
knows that now is here to stay
wonders should she just walk out the door
Made me uncomfortable, reminded me of listening to mom and dad fight. But of course that just means it's a good poem since it has an effect on me. Excellent write.
DeleteWow!! Very powerful poem! I love it! I can picture the whole thing...
DeleteExcellent poem. Beautifully written and such a fine and wel done interpretation of the prompt. Kudos!
DeleteSee the past, take it down, save the frame.
DeleteReminds me of childhood memories running out the door over avocado color carpet, gold chairs, Silver-foil Christmas tree, Legos I had left out along with those little green plastic army-men. Running down the hall with all those Pictures. Slow-motion, can see them all till my head hit a Frame... Blood rushed. All I could hear was hard rain outside.The pounding on a roof of hard rain. Got that door. That gold knob. went out to dark and nothing. That hard rain was parents fists upon each other. Bleeding in very stupid PJ's, I was holding the Frame that almost took me out. 4 ppl. in that pic. I don't know them. But I know the wood that carried them.
DeleteBonnie, this poem is full of imagery. I pictured the whole thing as Linda read it to me. Well written.
DeleteThis is Kevin Matthaei's poem:
Deleterunning out the door
over avocado colored carpet
gold chairs, silver foil Christmas tree
legos I had left out
along with those little green plastic army men
running down the hall
with all those pictures
slow motion
can see them all
till min head his a frame
blood rushed
all I could hear was
hard rain outside
pounding on the roof
got that door
that gold knob
went out to dark and nothing
hard rain was parents fists
upon each other
bleeding in very stupid PJ's
holding the Frame that almost took me out
four people in that picture
I don't know them
but I know the wood
that carried them
Sorry it's in the wrong place.
DeleteWOW, impactful!Takes the breath away at the end.
Deletepowerful write bonita. i punched a picture once, but that's another story - the glass always gets swept away in the end - love and peace - paul.
ReplyDeletePAINT A PRETTY PICTURE
ReplyDeleteused to do her make up for her
when she was too drunk to do it herself
i'd paint her beautiful face
while she sat pouting in silk and lace
framed by the sunlight, she looked like an elf
been painted made her tranquiller
wouldn't leave the house till her frame was perfect in the mirror
but the picture turned in to dorian grey
and all the frame rotted away
her beauty became a killer
the mona lisa fades in her place
beside that immaculately painted and framed face.
Great imagery. Have you posted this before? I seem to remember the first couple of lines anyway.
Deletewow! you found some excellent imagery that brings this poem to life. I'm sure you have used those first two lines before but since it is about the same person those lines will probably find their way into other poems as well.
DeleteVery nice! I can't believe anyone could actually make a poem from this prompt! Great job!
Deletei did use similar first two lines about doing her make up for her, cos she was hammered on vodka at 8a.m.....but eeerrr she was always hammered on vodka. after a couple of weeks she admitted i did her make up better than she did - love and peace - paul.
Deletethanks bonita. i changed the colour of her lipstick from bright red to burnt orange. it went better with her tan. she asked me why and i said " your other lipstick made you look like a whore " and she said " but i am a whore! ". i said " yeah, but there is no need to advertise the fact " ha ha - those were eerrr difficult days - take care now - love - paul.
Deleteaaaww i can make a poem out of anything wolfie. doing an open mic night thing again tonight......dare i just make it up as i go along about people in the room. did that once and sortta got away with it - you ok? e - mail me - love - paul.
DeleteWell done,good interpretation,and your favorite theme if not your favorite person...at least not now...
DeleteI like this Paul. But it hurts. I feel loss, and regret.
Delete…."framed by the sunlight, she looked like and elf"... Paul, I love this line, it is so full of imagery.
Deletethanks tash. like i always say " you'd have to have met her to understand " - love - paul.
Deletethanks kev. loss and regret are my middle names. welcome to the site - paul.
Deleteshe was more of a dark elf paul.....smelled nice though ha ha - paul.
DeleteI know I'm not going to have time for a poem this week so here's an old one. In fact, one of my all time favorite old ones. Not exactly a frame, but pictures/snapshots that should be framed anyway.
ReplyDeleteSNAPSHOTS
I sat in the fourth floor window, six week old
infant boy who cried with colic for days, rocked
in my arms. And I with the knowledge that
if my arms opened he would drop. It would be
over, easy as a farmer drowns a bag
of kittens who would not survive anyway.
"It's the same," she said. "I take care of my cats."
Life grew from bulges in my womb to people
I cannot recognize as parts of myself
except around her mouth, sometimes from her mouth,
except around his eyes, a foot above mine,
grown different each day, shed their yesterdays,
eight thousand days, more or less, every day.
"It's battle scars," he said. "makes you different."
I picked her up from jail, barefoot, dark circles
under eyes that stared resolutely past me,
mute witness to distance between us. Those
cold wars can sometimes outweigh the many nights
she spent with her head on my lap as my hand
stroked her hair and I watched my teenager sleep.
"I miss nothing," she said, "not having children."
She was three first time she went missing, wandered
off to another trailer park. He was in
high school last time, three hours late before we found
he was missing. He came for Christmas. She moved
to Texas, showed her boyfriend photos of her
as she grew, took a few more snapshots and left.
this one still makes me cry so is still powerful and poignant
DeleteWow!!! This is an unbelievably powerful poem! I actually got the chills...
Deletea framed picture of a typical family vic. no family left. but i know what you mean - love and peace - paul.
DeleteAh, painful! No wonder you took up martial arts. There is an old Hebrew saying:"If there were no grief to hollow out our hearts where would here be room for joy." I believe that compassion grows there too.
DeleteVictoria, this seemed like a very personal aching poem...I felt pain for you.
Deletehmmmmm can i write a second poem straight up on the screen with no notes or spell checks in five minutes? we'll see.
ReplyDeletePAINTED WHISPERS
i framed her in a golden cage
though a frame of glass would more reflect her age
thought i could be her sage
not the object of her constant rage
such a delicate morsal
but a shark, with a fin of dorsal
paintings live forever
where as mortals are buried in fancy framed boxes forever' and never.
it needs another verse, but the library is closing and library ladies are tutting at me - love - paul.
again some really good imagery and I think it's fine with the two verses unless you wanted to do a second verse that ends with the first line of the first verse... bring it full circle
Deleteyes! you did a really good job straight up on the screen! I loved it!
Deletethis was a frantic, with seconds to spare poem. maybe why i should improvise at the open mic at bar loco? could go horribly wrong though. i like dangerous poetry though - don't shoot anybody in the head till you hear from me sssshhhhh ha ha - paul.
Deletethanks wolfie. best i could do in five minutes. for some reason this library is full of giggly canadian women....sortta makes it hard to think about anything else ha ha - love and peace - paul.
DeleteMmmm, good one. I like the very last Line a lot.
DeleteI agree it doesn't need a 3rd stanza. Might have been a good thing you got kicked out of the library. LOL.
DeletePaul F., Good job straight up on the screen. I can't do that. I use an app on my phone for writing poetry. I save them that way, too.
Deletethanks tash. i enjoyed writing this one. love quick poems and rapping in the street - love - paul.
Deletei like being tutted at by library ladies vic. i bribe them with strawberries so i can stay on the 'puters longer ha ha - love and peace - paul.
Deletesometimes poems have to be written immediately paul. i ran out of paper before and wrote poems on my arms and legs....yeah. i am a little obsessed ha ha - take care man - paul.
Deletethe picture frame was empty
ReplyDeletelike her heart
she stared with blank eyes
trying hard to visualize
his face
now that she'd
destroyed the picture
like he'd torn up
their marriage
and tossed it in the trash
the day
the sun and the roses died
Another sad one, my goodness his prompt seems to have brought up stuff. I like it, nice job.
Deletelove the imagery. the last line is quite powerful and sad. well done.
DeleteAgree with Bonnie 100%. I like this one a lot.
DeleteHoney, This is a very sad poem. It left an empty spot in my heart. The last line is very strong.
Deletetough one wolfie. never destroyed a picture, but i did kiss one till it was mushy - stepping out of the frame - paul.
DeletePicture Frames
ReplyDeleteStephen's grandmother collected miniature picture frames.
They were tucked away in his late mother's belongings.
There was quite a variety: silver, wood, gold, one I loved
had tiny turquoise beads making a mosaic.
When we found them, not all had pictures in them,
only a few. Most were empty of any images.
A few held smiling relatives long gone. I didn't have
any small pictures of my own to frame.
Treasures of another era, these frames were collected,
To ornament their various enclosures,
relics of another time, rich and rare as any artifacts
dug from the tombs where they were laid to rest.
wow... lovely and full of emotion of an era gone by.
DeleteAs a miniature collector, I sure do appreciate a collection of miniature frames. I could picture them, especially the one with the turquoise beads. I only have one that someone gave me and I have a miniature photo in it. I love your poem.
DeleteI am reading from the bottom up so I read your other poem first. I like your titles being basically the same in different order. I like some of this. Somehow I found the part about not having any small photos of your own to be jarring. I think that stanza should stay in the past.
DeleteTasha, I enjoyed this poem very much. I loved the last line. I pictured the pyramids and tombs of the pharaohs for some reason.
Deleteoh, superb tash. reminded me of a gold locket with a tiny picture in i used to have - love and peace - paul.
DeleteFramed Pictures
ReplyDeletePictures framed in my heart
Bring back memories as I retrieve them.
Time has not dimmed their luster,
nor has dust gathered upon them.
One virtue of the heart is surely
that it gathers no dust within it.
nice take on the prompt... pictures framed in my heart... love that line! beautifully done.
Deleteyea! very sweet take on the prompt! I love it!
DeleteI love this, the solidness. It felt like a ghazal, and I think it would make a good one.
DeleteTasha, This is a very pretty poem. I loved listening to it. It read well aloud.
Deletesome memories are framed forever in the heart - love - paul.
DeleteTwo takes on the same prompt...fun!
ReplyDeleteFramed
ReplyDeleteHere's the picture, here's the frame
Syncing them up is the name of the game
We hope to capture the essence of action
Or maybe a graduation or someone in traction
The subject matter can be very diverse
From a new born baby to an old lady's purse
A frame is the focal point to illustrate thought
An opportunity to show what you have caught
That moment in time indelibly recorded
Capture the image and you will be rewarded
A lasting reminder of events gone by
To punctuate the saying "time sure does fly"
To freeze in a frame the actions of life
The easy comfort and continual strife
So many flashes of the world in which we live
We define moments in the reflections we give
I am also going to catch up on the weeks that I have missed. I have been writing them but, not posting them. I'm sorry. I guess I've been a little depressed.
DeletePaul B.
Ok I'm all caught up with last months poems if anyone feels like going back to look at them they are there for your perusal. Thanks Paul B.
DeleteLove the freeze frame image, as well as others. It's good to have you back.
Deletewe define moments in the reflections we give... wonderful line! I love it...and you are right that the frame makes the picture. one thing I learned in my photography class was how to frame a picture by the objects and scene around it and then pick the perfect frame that not only compliments the photo but brings out the focal point. good write!!! I really enjoyed this one.
DeleteThanks Paul, for staying with it. I will go back and check when I can. Meanwhile that is a fabulous take on he promp. I needs several eads to take it all in!
Deletenice stucture. i got framed one, but that's another story - paul.
DeleteNice take on the prompt! It is a little different from all the rest. Glad you decided to rejoin us.
ReplyDelete