Crazy flowing ideas,
a thousand so sincere beautiful combination
sending shivers for every hesitation:
a combination down with any satisfaction.
Guarantee to the sender and the attached read:
“Hate.”
Expect every single letter
sorry shameful situation sending shivers spine,
like a murder know the killer,
a beautiful combination quiver
sliver and sent satisfaction to the sender read:
“Hate.”
Sent for satisfaction
so return the sender the note attached to hate,
and the sent didn't come guarantee,
so I return,
and the note attached will read
“I love you.”
I am the best thing you've never heard of.
I hold a Bachelor's in English, History and Secondary Education, and a Master's in English: Creative Writing, though my appearance belies intelligence.
My goal in life is to write and to be read. It's a modest stretch by most imaginations.
To most I'm amazing.
It all depends on your definition of literary merit.
All poems contained on this blog are ©Thomas Boersma unless otherwise noted.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 452
Love to Hate You
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 451
Am I Right?
Wandering back roads rain rushing to resolve
in twenties right, wrong, dreaming,
climbing backstairs chill wind cold in window
there, was it dreaming lonely people
walking miles old cathedral.
Play it down the river setting sails carries normal,
although not waiting, stop laughing off the rain
shaking till it starts flowers water floating
downstream, paper gutter blowing breeze.
Right? Wrong? Or just dreaming?
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 450
Breath of Life
never had a point,
always someone else's lie
left the choices to breathe in air.
time for the rest of coming back
to tune with the tide of the moon every night,
looking for a chance,
not a hope in life to breathe its air,
time, then coming back for air.
time, rest, more.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 449
Joan
Generation,
it feels like fire suspended in the light,
and it drives blind faith sold to disagree.
It's not the scheme to give up,
easily meant to be a waste within the scheme.
Things give up easily.
Psychic celebration in the stars
and see rising rapture,
fascination for the night and blind vision.
Rely on what it's just within,
life so easily meant to be energy
within the scheme to give up.
So,
that's not the way to be.
I'll waste time and energy.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 448
Waiting for the Day
It was a fight that brought the walls dry tears.
Roll away, then perhaps forgive and disappear.
Blind arrogance walked away half chance,
waiting for you to come…come back.
Forget goodbye,
never on the sense of pride tell the world
your story slammed without a word.
In a fit you stood up, that you,
me…back to me…
you, me, you…me.
No, a single thought never had the day
that you come to, you come back.
Life long light of dawn at hand
keep safe your fantasy, and give the night
the light of day life long at hand.
Waiting for the end, your fantasy,
come and stay to give the night to fall.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 447
Chorus
Go ahead dreaming for worth stricken bound,
kicking dirt, it's dark the night with scheming
and treasure cooking bones sharp cut the sun.
The birds and the fishes had gone to sleep,
screaming souls waiting for a time, cheating
the rising horizon distant chorus
birds singing bells in our hearts, in our minds...
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 446
Piano Song
Angry at the stupid people,
I go crazy at dullness,
sit and stare into an empty face.
Back at me, vulnerability rushes up,
I'm left the rebel,
without a deeper consciousness.
The harder it gets
I close my eyes,
I get unwilling,
my body belies mind.
Older, the world forgets
I'm some kind of insensitivity.
I'm left here without a cause.
I delve into me
and you it gets me most.
I'll never see my eyes,
recollect, never forget what hurts.
I'll never see your touch.
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