Lugged the box for the Y-Teens' canned food drive out
Of my classroom last night
To the storage room where they'll be collected
Some in my homeroom brought cans, not many
More need the cans
The Y-Teens will distribute them
Every little bit helps

This morning I was angry
Getting dressed in front of a news story on TV
Citizens and shelter managers and reporters
Disrespecting panhandlers, saying

Let me guess your reverie

Is it of a sweet sigh of a baby

The morning dews your fingers touch

The light that shines at the break of dawn

Or the warmest touch in a cold night?

Let me guess your reverie

Is it of short walks along the shoreline

The moments of silence that pass by

The fragrance of flowers sent

Or the beautiful forward days?

Your reverie is mine

For we share one dream

She was the goddess in the night
Her silhuette shone along the silver gray
Her eyes that danced among the stars
The lips that kissed the sweet air

She had the beauty that behold me
Putting me in my sweet deep slumber
Her hands that lingered long with mine
The face that captured my heart and soul

How I long to touch her
How I long to hold her
How I long to kiss her

In my dreams, she lives

I.
past the croatian catholic church
and into the never ending lincoln tunnel
new jersey, where i swore i'd never go
and the gap in the skyline still hits me like a brick.
like a ghost haunting me.
i can't look away. i watch
the spire of the empire state building
it keeps my eys
clings tight
while i slowly slip into this nothing
nowhere land.
wonder if the seaside in will be perched on concrete too

Two of my poems have recenly been published. "In a Tree" can be seen in the anthology, Cosmic Brownies. http://www.sun-rising-poetry.com/cosmic.htm

And "Morning Accolade" will appear in, Whispers of Inspiration
http://www.whispersofinspiration.com/

Just wanted to share the news!

Veronica

How's your string puppet?
Does she follow your lead?
Does she dance all the steps,
at the right time and speed?

Does she follow with grace,
the move of your hand?
Does she twist and she twirl,
as fast as she can?

Are the moves that she makes,
as you wrote in your play?
When she's done for the day,
does she go on the shelf,
to be out of the way?

Nothing more then a cold wooden toy,

I have never been into writing poetry much, I am more into short stories. So I'm sure this screams "amateur" but I just wanted to share it. The last part is a bit cheesy,i think. any suggestions?

1. I have a candy necklace
And Grape popsicle stained cheeks
Skinned knee
Stringy bangs, wisps falling in my eyes,
Pushing them away
.

You broke my necklace
I watched from the swingset,

Here are some poems that I need feedback on. Comment on any or all. Positive or Constructive criticism is welcome. I'm a weathered soul on the poetry criticism front...so hack away.

1) "My Boob, My Tit"
(This is not a super serious poem)

I don’t have a set.
I have a boob and a tit:
a lazy, loping, stoner
and a straight-laced A-student.

My chest reflects my personality.
On the one hand, I’m laid back.

Tracing the lines from the inside out
have I broken yet?
my eyes closed
bones beneath my hands
skin beneath my hands
woman beneath my hands
being
just being
as you find me
movement beneath my skin
movement of another woman
this one unborn
why do I pause?
to pull you into me more
to push you out
to have everything inside of me
all of life
all of sex
all of what I am being offered

We push past metropolis,
Speeding north—and away from the crowds
And cars
Of the city.

Along the highway, fathers and sons maneuver
Radio-controlled airplanes
Which soar and dip in the yawning gulf of air below them.
They pay no attention to the blue of the water below,
Nor to the houses floating like lily pads
Far from shore.

We watch the people
And the planes
For only a few minutes,