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Son of Jim• Show poetry

My style is anything I can put on paper at the time, but I rarely rhyme in my work and rarely do forms like cinquain or haiku or any of the other thousand types. I love nature and metaphors. I don't write to convey personal messages or release deep set emotions, I do write to release tension. I also write, not for me, but for as many people as possible to read and make an association with, so that THEY may feel these emotions, not try to understand mine. My poetry is not intended to be a vacation, it should make the reader think. I would like the reader to decide what it means to them, try and figure out what it means to the writer(me), and also see farther, into other possible interpretations.

I have a few people on my favorites now, but the ones I would recommend the most RIGHT NOW would be Nicolette, monimac, Paperparadox and oridnary days but depending on my mood that is subject to change.

  • Last seen on Dec 6 5:27 AM 2007. Member since June 29, 2006.
  • I'm a lyric diamond poet for 2634 comments.
  • My mood is , and quote is It's all in how you treat people.
  • I am a guy (United States)
  • When I'm not writing, I'm someone you may pass on your way to work, or whatever it is you do..
  • I have 2634 comments, 6 contests

My Poetry

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  • The river bed
    A weather worn row boat / half tilted; one oar missing, / sits stuck in the crackled mud / of the river bed / The children’s tears have drought / and the headwaters run dry. / She gets back what she gav
    17 lines, 6 comments, May 24, 2007. In Sad, death
  • Bed clothes and pillow talk
    Anchored in ripples of linen ‘til dawn, / those pillow-padded words / tumble from their case / onto ears that feign sleep; / tufts of down punctuate. / A mist of sprayed freesia / harbors the scents of t
    12 lines, 8 comments, May 20, 2007. In Love, Personal
  • Shame and Sharing
    Red-face Sioux off the reservation; / and drunk, / seven dollars to leave the reception / was the only invitation given. / Their relationsh
    36 lines, 23 comments, May 16, 2007
  • Blood hardened tears
    The sheared thumb skin bled, / lost to the auger / and brown-red clay packed the wound. / Dumb ass he said / as I shook bloodied dirt back
    18 lines, 26 comments, May 15, 2007

Visitor Book

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