Talk is words,
nothingness pushed forth,
ears hear sound,
but words not profound.
A rain so dull,
no growth it brings
from what you are saying
as I sit and start praying.
Joy I could feel,
if all remained quiet,
but droning of sound
continued as underground.
A hand pushed up,
your words to stop,
and silence ensued
as your words ran askew.
Tag: Poetry
Campfire by L. M. Montes
Pine needles gather as pines tend to scatter
when dry invades the dew,
on trails I saunter,
over and yonder,
to a campfire and a lingering you.
As an ebony sky flicks on its lights,
and fires die then smoke,
your hand touches gentle
the side of my temple,
when I lay my head just right.
The Dancing Butterfly by L. M. Montes
Wisk, swish, soar, swoon,
on pockets of air it flips,
up, down, back, forth,
‘fore shadows tap the moon.
The Storm by L. M. Montes
Shadows rise when thunders rumble,
decimating me till I crumble,
carry me, I ask,
to safety, which I lack,
so that I may not tumble.
Alas the lightning strikes,
brightening life I do not like,
at times, it’s bad,
and even, so sad,
but I remain upright.
Moody Weather by L. M. Montes
Eyes sagged in droop
when rain tapped the roof,
the sun is high up in the sky
and covered by clouds loop.
My happy mood had parted
when from the clouds rain darted,
Sun’s arms though breached as they reached
and now gray skies departed.
Dare I by L. M. Montes
Dare I say walk away,
or dare to fight with fists upright,
whate’er I do one will not like,
and come to me with verbal strike,
you I do please not,
tis my sense on the spot,
but a snare you do fix,
in hopes you’ll get your kicks,
But I have sense,
I’m not that tense,
My peace is of mind,
So to you I may be kind,
and move to walk away,
but instead fight today,
A mood that is so rare,
Fight? Do I dare?
The Face of Two by L. M. Montes
Sweet word candy speaks,
from which my heart now gains warmth,
laying on sand at sea.
I now embrace night,
a knife sings from a sweet sheath,
stabbing with a bite.
Tomorrow’s Gift by L. M. Montes
I went about my day,
then evening came to sit,
wait I did for night so say,
I’ll send your soul adrift.
Tomorrow, we’re promised naught,
just knowledge it could be,
so in limbo I am caught,
afloat with you and me.
At last the morn breaks through,
the sun reflects the dew,
all seems right,
with sun so bright,
then life quick ran askew.
Homeless by L. M. Montes
Pants, hung low,
Gray, dusty, old hair, in a frizz,
Faded drooping, sunken blue eyes,
A frown so downward cast,
Where is my home?
I do not know,
I do not care,
I am so alone.
But do I care?
I do not know,
Here in my cardboard box
I sit in drunken moan.
My tears, stain my face,
People look at me in disgrace.
Sadness, consumes me,
Surrounds me, covers me.
Slowly, I look up,
I see the riches of allies,
The food of homeless kings,
The rot of days gone by,
Dwelling close,
The stench so wry.
What do I do?
I do not know,
I do not care,
I am so alone.
But do I care?
I do not know,
Here in my card board box
My mind, it runs to go.
Growing by L. M. Montes
Winds of time—
ever flowing, ever blowing,
pushing, prodding, guiding me.
Acts of time—
ever doing, never thinking,
hurting, poking, pushing you.
Older with time—
ever learning, always regretting,
praying, meditating, apologizing to you.
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 