7 Million poets will review your poems
The Master Badge represents the total amount of points that you have earned from participating in the poetry.com community
I began writing Lyrics, short stories, and poetry some 43-years-ago. When I was in high school, during the 60s, I met the great Robert Frost. He spoke to me about my real elementary attempts at writing and poetry. He took some time with me, after assembly hall and told me to not stop writing. Now, that I have been around the world as a USMarine, and have lived through 2-years of the Vietnam War, I still am writing. Now at 63-years-old, I am enjoying being on Poetry.com with you all. I was born 12/21/1948, in Worcester, MA. There I began trying to write lyrics at 5-years-old, on my Grandmother's piano -- this has been a life-time ambition/Hobby for me. I live now in Gallatin, TN, and I am disabled/retired from the vietnam war. This is how I move around and, hopefully, meet others of like mind/spirit. I am mostly American Indian and 4th Generation Irish in the USA. My poetry are moments, which I've seen, and lived during my life. I believe all poetry are photos, or glimpses into moments of life. Styles have changed over the years, and it is in reading/listening to others' poems that give poets ideas and imaginations to build their own style. This is who I am, as a man, who simply loves the written arts/preforming arts. Keep on writing! Lucian Tower.
.JPG?1348103967)
.jpg?1358880198)
In the abyss of ourselves
where we find conscience
... continued
scribbling lines on paper that amount to naught.
Not having any clue as to what has flew...
... continued
telling stories so that you'll look good,
spouting-off made-up satires,
... continued
in a beautiful, white, one piece dress,
just before I opened my eyes.
... continued
Playing guitar and singing
To see them dancing
... continued
who hid beneath his blankets afraid of the dark.
Who as a child always asked to leave the door open,
... continued
holding on as I sweep her off her feet.
Beautiful light brown face, pure white doe-skin dress...
... continued
This time as he was picking berries he heard a loud growl. When he looked up he saw a silver point Grizzly shaking a tree, trying to dislodge a bees nest...He was getting angrier by the minute. The warrior was getting worried that the bear would get crazy-angry destroying all, as he watched a frightened owl take wing. He began looking around for a long dead-fall branch or small tree...took him a while but he found one. He picked the long branch up and walked right up to the tree that the bear was shaking. Once there he took the branch and knocked the hive to the ground. The bear looked at him and began getting out the honey, leaving the warrior alone, as he ran away from the bees swarming around the bear. He finished picking blackberries, filling his bucket he went back to his horse, who was fidgety because of the grizzly nearby. He filled the basket, packed everything away and mounted his horse and rode a ways and stopped. He had to admit it was plenty exciting helping an old silver point hunt for his honey. This was the experience that stories came from. He'd relate this next time there was a story-telling gathering. He wondered if anyone would believe him...surely they must, it was the truth.
... continued
Who would be younger than me
She should have beauty
... continued
not telling me why of a course...I still haven't a clue about her peeve.
... continued