Bob Carlson
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Monday, April 21, 2014. Within every crevice, every crack,. Through every tight pocket hole,. Your thick, rich smoke encapsulates me. My ears gasp for one more syllable to complete my thoughts. And so I breathe you in. You fill my lungs and awaken my mind. Your cunning eyes and your devilish grin;. Each synapse alive with your touch. I flush and I fever wanting more, always more;. You enter in to me.
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Tuesday, February 12, 2013. Heres a haiku i wrote for poetry class in about 1971. The great storm rages. Battering the mighty trees. The ellipsis serves as the final syllable for you purists. Written by Bob Carlson. While trying to consist. Of something which should. I try to personify. The movement known as Occupy. Just let me have that last French fry. Afore i cease and desist. Occupy, shmockipy, pumpkin pie. what the hell, i already live here. Written by Bob Carlson. He left in a tizzy.CONTENT
This web page bobcarlsonpoetry.blogspot.com states the following, "Tuesday, February 12, 2013." We saw that the webpage said " Heres a haiku i wrote for poetry class in about 1971." It also said " The ellipsis serves as the final syllable for you purists. The movement known as Occupy. Just let me have that last French fry. Afore i cease and desist. Occupy, shmockipy, pumpkin pie. what the hell, i already live here. He left in a tizzy."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
Tuesday, August 14, 2012. Miles apart, yet bonded together tight as a. Separated by prohibitions, the need. Every day apart means another spent together in. The odds are against us, but to whom does it matter? Side is for it. All try to sever this bond. You could almost say it. Written By Brianna Danielle Parrish.
Thursday, April 4, 2013. In loving memory of my beautiful mother! In loving memory of my beautiful mother! Do not stand at my grave and weep,. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow,. I am the gentle showers of rain,. I am in the morning hush,. I am in the drums loud and grand,. The thunderous hooves across Nagrand. I am the stars warmly gleaming,.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012. Light bends from outside the church through the stained glass Jesus. The black haired girl sits on her knees and does not notice it. She prays, it is a part of the game. 8220;Dear God, Forgive me for my sins. She leaves to an evil world of temptation. She walks the streets, dangling her body in front of strangers. The priest found her body in the dumpster, on trick too many. 8220;Dear God please forgive her for her sins. Saturday, August 18, 2012.
Thursday, August 1, 2013. On the warm electric wires. Old women lining up guitars. Quiet Navahos with razor gift sets and heavy grey blankets. The pre-dawn fever and clicking off. While flowers wilt and sink. The rolling hulks of Americana. Cause the redbirds to take flight. Taken from my 2008 book CONFESSIONS OF A CONCRETE CUTOUT.
Monday, April 21, 2014. What do you wish it to be? Sorry about the dark . Let me show you around the place we call home. To your left is our memory room. Off to your right is the playroom. My roommates love to play their games there. Why are you shaking? .