Carrying the criticism
Like a wet camel hair
Evident to all
Might as well have been bare
Words only meant
To point out a small flaw
Should have kept it to myself
Only my pride was my fall
Proving I was right
It was only I that cared
Now that I’m naked
It’s something we both share
© 2011 Michael Yost
Depth in my center now dropping forever
Stones fall off the cliff, into clouds
Stopping in the end? Never
And never screaming aloud
Small things always turn into bigger
Tear triggered emotions off the wall
Billowing parachute; bless the rigger
Then the airplane finally stalls
© 2011 Michael Yost
Posted in Poetry
Tagged "men"opausal symptoms, Emotions Exploding, TV Terror and Tears
Jade with speckled gold eyes
White ivory silken skin
Black opal imbued heart
© 2011 Michael Yost
Rejecting your own selfish strife
Not giving a dam about your wife
Leaving your children out of your life
Only your addiction in your sight
An expert at hiding your symptoms
Not able to handle your problems
Holding your family up for ransom
No responsibility for their outcome
© 2011 Michael Yost
*In progress
Are you whining again?
My sad old friend
You’re hard to defend
With your whining again
Surely you must have
Something that’s glad
That’s made you mad
No? Forever sad
Just how you write?
It limits your sight
Try with your might
Don’t give up, fight
Nothing I say
Leads you to sway
This sadness today
Means whining to stay
© 2011 Michael Yost
There’s only one in my memory
That’s part of all my reveries
All the others once tied, drifted by
All the other’s words have lied
In my reveries I slowly sigh
In my memories I slowly die
In my waiting I comply
In my acceptance I occupy
There’s only one in my memory
Who comes to me da il ly
She’s part of all my reveries
Knowing she’ll never come back to me
© 2011 Michael Yost
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/12/poetry-pantry-is-now-open-81.html#comment-form
Lagging memories just over the rise
Pictures blotted out right before my eyes
Words of love at the end of the echo
Feelings circling in the river’s shallow
Going with the flow interrupted for sure
Watching and wondering how long the detour
Hours of waiting, I see no reason to delay
Lagging memories came back and took them away
© 2011 Michael Yost
Golden leaves shimmer
The black river summons you
Flowing towards full moon
© 2011 Michael Yost
The keyboard laying flat between my hands
Little fingers raising the lower edge
Tactile dots under my index finger tips
ESC and CTRL are within my fingers reach
© 2011 Michael Yost
You took away trusting of others,
What faith we had in all our brothers
Now we’re locking doors, within our home
And killing lice from a fine toothed comb
© 2011 Michael Yost
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Broken Trust, Child Leadership, Coaches, Extremism, Hurt, Then There was One
Didn’t give you much of a chance
Nor did you hold up much of a stance
Being a single mother since I was less than one
And I being the only and youngest son
My salvation was your greatest concern
At eleven I gave my heart so I wouldn’t burn
Decades later I still know I’m saved
But you wouldn’t know it in how I behaved
You would suggest behavior in all that I did
Very few things did you ever forbid
Out of respect I followed most of the time
Never really caught when I did the crime
Next milestone was at the age of thirteen
The year I was no longer green
Lost innocence under the green porch light
She was twenty five and my mother was mostly right
Changed my life’s path for good and for sure
Some would say I was no longer pure
Could or would, knowing I couldn’t change a thing
Even going from a tenor to baritone when I sing
© 2011 Michael Yost
http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/
Jingle Poetry At The Gooseberry Garden, A Place for Poets To Share and Get Inspired!
http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2011/11/04/free-write-friday-hindsight-is-2020/#comment-4062
Numbers on a blank paper
People mulling in the crowds
Enjoined with different goals
Wondering what to do now
Words broken on our backs
The speeches dispersing vapors
Monkeys clap the cymbals
Who runs the news papers?
Weather may break the spirit
Unresponsive politicos too
Fragile lines of their union
Ninety nine percent, too few
© 2011 Michael Yost
No finger can touch the feelings not met
Casting holds them from further breaking
Pain and shame should have cleared my foolhardy debt
Oh but to find a stick, to scratch the itch,
By twisting and snaking
© 2011 Michael Yost
Michael's Lair 