Wooden faces

Hide all expression

Showing no emotion

But you cannot fool me

With your false impressions

Your decorated masks

Aren’t clever inventions

 

Crooked smiles

Only visible every

So once and a while

Broken frowns

Reflect a broken heart

Strolling lonely

Thru this old town

A wooden face tells all

Too much pain

Too much to show

That should not

Ever be shown

Emotional overflow

No stitches can be sown

To tie these wounds

 

Wooden faces

Hide the expression

But not the emotion

You cannot fool me

With false attempts

Your silly masks

Are unoriginal inventions



Copyright (C) Richard Rowell 2005

11-26-14

I wonder
If I write
A poem
In this way
Will it be
Something new
Original 
And creative
Or will 
The exercise
Itself be
A poem 
All its own


Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2014

Time takes its toll

On a withered dream

The love couldn't hold

Another failure tale told

 

It is a page

Full of regrets

Untested tests

Knees buckled

Eyes couldn't stop crying

 

No method of apology

Just reflections in an anthology

Turned my back on the past

Solemnly, it is no longer welcome

 

Expression of depression

Lacked in certain direction

Stricken by unusual infection

Not allowed to feel such affection

 

Found the deepest hole

Burying my dream

No time for lies untold

Nothing more is to unfold

 

The truth's unfeeling and cold

No room to show emotion

No formula for the magic love potion

Can no longer maintain this backward motion

 

Withering away

This love is depleted

Withering dream

Horribly misled

Withering love

Rapidly retreated

 

Time takes its toll

On a withered dream

The love wasn't meant to hold

Another sad story told





Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2004

Watch ticking through the hours

Spent idling in an old classroom

Looking down from your sky tower

Down at the little people of the world

 

Finish reading from cover to cover

Read words from a musty old book

Lost in a reverie of an imaginary lover

Lived in the simple mind of a child's

 

Trying making conversation with another

Made your lips barely form a word

Unable to talk to even your own mother

Caught up in all your own muddled thoughts

 

And so is the life of a tower dweller

So far above the rest of reality

His imaginary girl, don't tell her

That existence really isn't that far!


Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2003-04

Should I wait and stare
Ponder your image for awhile
Is it simply impolite or
Are you art to be admired?

You have the ingredients
That make a perfect woman
But is that really possible
Without a perfect man?

Is there such a thing
As perfection as we'd like
Not in this reality, no
It is more than unlikely

Some would be bored
With the thought of perfection
Each day too alike
But believe me, there is 
Always more to wonder

You are the proof that there's
Depth that doesn't meet the eye
To know you is to love you
You fill me up with such
Happiness that I cry

There are thoughts up here
In my mind that words are 
Inadequate to relay, it's true
In my mind, your beauty so
Infinite beyond the skin
In my mind’s eye so consistently appears

The verse seems out of rhythm
Sometimes, but you can blend the tune
Just when everything seems out of place
You walk in and liven up the room

The eye is so stupid and dumb
There is so much more to see
Just an outer shell is so admired
But for the whole, most don't see
This beauty infinite inside I most desire

This is a fire you've lit inside of me
Once upon a time, I thought one like you
Could only exist as my own fantasy
But it's true, it is, that you are true

You are here, among us,
And I will seem to do any thing
To make you notice me

As awkward and clumsy
As I come off to be
I hope that there is something
That you can love in me


Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2003-2004

Babel has been so cruel
The words my brother’s
Trying to say to me                                         
Are falling on mine own
Confused ears that cannot
Understand the words
That he uses in speech.


A growing vocabulary
The language of others
Their minds think in
Different patterns
Yet the same thoughts
Tend to come through
Peace, hope, love


These things all stay
Good and wondrous
Greed and hatred
Remain equally seeded
In the depths of the
Human souls in this day
Easily cultivated
 

It is lost on me
How we all speak
Different words
Yet somehow in
So many ways
Say the same things
In different ways


And when there
Comes true genius
How do we know?
If the language of
His or her mind
Will be known
By the rest of us?


Copyright (c) Richard Rowell 2003-2004