Your Sign August 11, 2008
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , add a comment
I see your election sign
flat in the dirt
overgrown with weeds
I don’t remember who you are
maybe you are still paying
whatever debt you incurred
chasing your shattered dream
maybe you make little laws
that affect my daily life
and I don’t even know it.
The Moon Dancer February 28, 2008
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , add a commentThis is the last of that “lost” bunch of poems from 2000 that I found on my hard drive, except I didn’t write this one. It was written by one of my friends, Brent Halstead. We both used to do public poetry readings in the same night clubs in Richmond, Virginia before I moved to Atlanta to work for White Wolf Publishing. The werewolf references are pretty clear.
The Moon Dancer
As the moon reaches its zenith
Creatures awaken out of myth
I see your passionate soul begin to stir
And a change comes over you in a blur
Now it becomes clear
Why you have problems keeping women near
You are the lunatic moon dancer
When you call passion answers
A creature swelling with carnal lust
Tempered by a sense of what’s just
Romantic shadows cross the moon
Formers loves making vision swoon
Howl the dirges of lover’s past
Growl at injustice and stand steadfast
Bark the hope of future love
Shake your claws at the powers up above
Born to the galliard sky
On wings of dragons your wishes lie
Fierce tongued your bark is bite
Never quarter or give in a fight
Chaos, disorder has no greater foe
When the raging gibbous is all aglow
In you the whole earth can trust
Your appetite for honesty ever robust
If you catch them when they’ve lied
A thousand deaths they’ll wished they died
Careful the zeal of your devotion
Lunar eclipse of mind by emotion
Following your dreams the path you walk
You’ll find your prey on the path you stalk
Never there was a stronger creature with whom to contend
But never there was a better friend
Written by Brent Halstead. Published here with permission.
She Stands February 27, 2008
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , add a commentAnother one of the poems from that year 2000 “lost” collection. I was driving home from work and saw something which prompted this really short piece.
She Stands
She stands across the street
from the prison
using a pair of binoculars
to look in
I don’t know what he did
but I feel for them.
Find more of my poetry in my scrapbook and under the blog category.
What We Want What We Do February 26, 2008
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , add a commentAnother one of the poems from that year 2000 “lost” collection.
What We Want What We Do
You tell me your dream
is to be able to paint and buy milk
I stumble around on my words
because I have an answer for you
I tell you my dream
is as close as I can hope
and I meant my writing
but looking back maybe I was right
The only brush I can wield
yields hues drawn from my heart
and every picture I draw
is but the words I feel
I am painting for you now
but my hand shakes
as I wonder if I am artist enough
to depict you as a model
and I abandon rhyme
like a borrowed style cast off
and I abandon reason
because I am a fool
and I wonder what we want
and I ponder what we do
and I remember these days
I have spent with you
This is not what we do
we told each other when we met
all of this is something new
something we’ve never done yet
a symptom of an event
but no this is different
this is significant
and rhyme returns its pigment
to the mixture that is you and me
though reason remains absentee
you tell me your dream
and I stumble a bit
inside I can hear the words scream
but I can barely mumble it
This is what I want
now this is what I do
because I know I won’t forget
the beauty I found in you
from the moment that we met
but all of this is something new
and we don’t know us yet
so you paint your dreams
and dream of paint
and those dreams spatter
all over me
because if you wanted to paint with me
I would buy the milk
because I told you my dream was close
and I meant my writing
but you sat next to me…
Find more of my poetry in my scrapbook and under the blog category.
A Beggar On Your Street February 25, 2008
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , add a commentAnother one of the poems from that year 2000 “lost” collection.
A Beggar On Your Street
The love I feel
is a beggar on your street
with eyes full of hope
and heavy feet
will work for the feeling
from when your eyes meet
can you spare some change
to make my world complete
can you spare a time
for us to repeat
The love I feel
is a beggar on your street
with a heart that is hungry
for your matching beat
tired without solace
and your smile is so sweet
homeless cast out
from your arms in defeat
holding up signs
for next time we meet
the love I feel
is a beggar on your street.
Find more of my poetry in my scrapbook and under the blog category.
A Serenade of Truth February 24, 2008
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , add a commentI found a small collection of poems on my hard drive, all written for one beautiful person in the year 2000. As far as I can recall, nobody else except her has ever had a chance to read them. I haven’t seen her in many years, but I figured I would finally post the poems that came of that time.
A Serenade of Truth
Your glittering green eyes
have enchanted me
beyond any recovery
my helpless soul cries
for the touch of your fingers
and dances for joy as it lingers
your smile stirs my heart
with an irresistible might
that quickens my breath
and sharpens my sight
okay wait I’m sure
you have heard this before…
so…
oh, no, a serenade you said
and my spirit fell to the floor
you called me gentle the other day
and to that I can only say
there is a beast that rages in me
driven mad and made hungry
by the energy
you inspire in me
but it is soothed by the music
of your beautiful being
this gentleness you are seeing
is a measure of the awe you inspire
and conceals a raging fire
that consumes me like gasoline
but I didn’t want seen
because the effect you have on me
is too strong not to be scary
and despite your jokes of medication for this
you bring me bliss
and there is really no cure
for happiness
so my serenade
is not just some poem I made
but the gentleness you see
covering the beast
you inspire in me.
Find more of my poetry in my scrapbook and under the blog category.
Closeup and pieces of poetry February 4, 2008
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , add a commentI used to occasionally post fragments of poetry stuff online, even if I didn’t yet consider it finished, or know if I would ever finish it. For some reason I find myself less willing to do so with a blog. Maybe it is because I feel more comfortable putting pieces like that amid the works that make me proud to have written. Anyway, I think I want to try to change that, so, here:
Closeup
The closer you get to me
the more pretty I can see
so if we were close enough to kiss
I just might open my eyes a bit.
Find more of my poetry in my scrapbook and under the blog category.
I Can Hear You Talking December 29, 2007
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , 6 commentsI wake up in the dark
And open my eyes
I can hear you talking
To those other guys
Looking for the clock
It’s 3 A.M. again
I stumble out of bed
And into the den
Will you come to bed now?
I ask with a sigh
You look up from the phone
But don’t say goodbye
I’ll come to bed soon
Let me finish with this
And you send me back
With a quick little kiss
I wake up in the dark
And open my eyes
I can hear you talking
To those other guys
Looking for the clock
It’s 4 A.M. again
I stumble out of bed
You’re not in the den
I hear you upstairs
Your voice muffled and low
My heart is breaking
And I climb the stairs slow
Will you come to bed now?
I ask with a sigh
I am not ready yet
Have you come to spy?
I lay there in the dark
With wide opened eyes
I can hear you talking
To those other guys
Looking for the clock
It’s 5 A.M. again
I stumble out of bed
And into the den
I can’t sleep honey
Will you please come to bed?
Try some sleeping pills
I can’t believe what you said
My heart is breaking
I fall asleep denied
The alarm is beeping
You’re asleep at my side
I wake to morning light
And open my eyes
At least you aren’t talking
To those other guys
Looking for the clock
It’s off to work I go
I steal a goodbye kiss
You don’t even know
I come home for lunch
But you are still in bed
The phone sitting there
By the side of your head
Will you wake for me now?
I slip into bed
You say you are tired
I can hold you instead
The phone rings like clockwork
I open my eyes
Will you be too tired?
Will you talk to those guys?
Back to work I go
To finish up my day
Hoping to come home
And steal your heart away
You’re already busy
Talking on the phone
I am so tired now
I go to bed alone
I wake up in the dark
And open my eyes
I can hear you talking
To those other guys
Looking for the clock
It’s 3 A.M. again
I stumble out of bed
And into the den
Will you come to bed now?
I ask with a sigh
You look up from the phone
But don’t say goodbye
*To read other poems that I have written, please check out the poetry section of my blog and the collection posted in my poetry scrapbook.
Across the Blankets October 26, 2007
Posted by Conrad Hubbard in : Pathos Poetry , 1 comment so farIn the morning, when I wake up,
I want to look across the blankets
of our bed and see the girl I love,
and I want to say “I love you”
and I want to hear it back,
but I want to hear it
come back to me
in a way that makes me know
that she loves me the same way
that I love her.
Coming back to me,
across the blankets.
*Pathos is my poetry scrapbook. For lots more poetry scrapbook type stuff, go to my Pathos page.