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Michael A Gibbs

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Member Since: Oct, 2002

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Popular Poetry (Poetry)
  1.  Wolf at the Door
  2.  morning gesture
  3.  A women's day poem
  4.  past encounter
  5.  I Sprung
  6.  The Garden of Death
  7.  Watch What You Say
  8.  imaginable possibility
  9.  Ahhh . . . Thinking About Things
  10.  Mankind
  11.  The Fighter
  12.  His Life
  13.  My Failings
  14.  synchronized
  15.  Afterglow
  16.  I'll Be Doing It Until I Die
  17.  Drowning....but making it.
  18.  Bedlam in Thibodaux
  19.  A Woman
  20.  Casualties



Pages
by Michael A Gibbs

Thursday, July 10, 2003

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Recent poems by Michael A Gibbs
•  Untitled
•  Sunset Rendezvous
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           >> View all 73

Each one when new was gleaming white,
Unstained and fresh for what I'd write.
And so I wrote, as if I might
Inspire the world in Heaven's sight.


But Heaven noticed not at all
And not a soul did I enthrall,
So I remained alone and small
Until I heard another call.


A poet's dream, she seemed to me,
And I could write unceasingly
With methaphor and simile
That she would hear as melody.


The pages bright I would adorn
Were blackened by my lover's scorn.
My pen became a rose's thorn
That pricked my pride and left it torn.


And so, I lost my self-esteem
And wasted paper by the ream,
Awake and in my every dream,
Just searching for that perfect theme.


The answer came one summer day
As I passed by a child at play.
Her rhymes were wrong, her words astray,
And so I paused upon my way.


"Sweet mercy, child, your rhyme's askew,
And you've messy lines I can't construe ."
"Perhaps," she said with words so few,
"I strive to please myself, not you."


 

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