Your Favorite Poems

[Strappie]

I need and want to talk
You don't see anything to talk about.

I long to touch you, caress you
You don't need my touch

I ache to hold you, feel your heat
You don't need my arms

I have a desire that burns
You don't have the desire

I wish to speak to your soul
You don't need my wishes

I dream of your passion
You don't need my dreams

I would love all of you
You don't need my love

I want to be your lover
You want to be my friend

Can you feel my passion
You can't feel me

I can see your heart and soul
You don't want to see mine

But I will forever see her's

[Semantics]

Tragic Rabbit


Tragic rabbit, a painting.
The caked ears green like rolled corn.
The black forehead pointing at the stars.
A painting on my wall, alone

as rabbits are
and aren’t. Fat red cheek,
all Art, trembling nose,
a habit hard to break as not.

You too can be a tragic rabbit; green and red
your back, blue your manly little chest.
But if you’re ever goaded into being one
beware the True Flesh, it

will knock you off your tragic horse
and break your tragic colors like a ghost
breaks marble; your wounds will heal
so quickly water

will be jealous.
Rabbits on white paper painted
outgrow all charms against their breeding wild;
and their rolled corn ears become horns.

So watch out if the tragic life feels fine –
caught in that rabbit trap
all colors look like sunlight’s swords,
and scissors like The Living Lord.


Stan Rice
Some Lamb