James McLain

Gold Star - 41,654 Points [is It poetry] (1958 - / From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By)

James McLain Poems

641. Manpage 4/9/2009
642. Oh Italy 4/9/2009
643. Dear Italy...... 4/9/2009
644. All I Am 4/9/2009
645. You Really Are 4/9/2009
646. Pre Menstrual Dance 4/9/2009
647. Not As Rough As 4/9/2009
648. Everyone Digs 4/9/2009
649. The Buldge 4/9/2009
650. Mum Me Double Suicide Dads Packing 4/9/2009
651. Our Near Forcast 4/9/2009
652. Well I Love You So Take This 4/9/2009
653. Plus You Are Fired 4/9/2009
654. I Am Trying Are You 4/9/2009
655. Hillbilly In Orlando 4/8/2009
656. Poo Winkles 4/8/2009
657. Poo Votes 4/8/2009
658. Poo Strains 4/8/2009
659. Poo Trick 4/8/2009
660. I Hear You And I Don'T 4/8/2009
661. Once Removed 4/8/2009
662. I Have An Extra Peanut 4/9/2009
663. My Normal Is Your Xanax 4/9/2009
664. She Flies Uncorrectable 4/9/2009
665. You Are The Poet I Am Your Cheese 4/10/2009
666. If Your Name Is 4/10/2009
667. Ash Of Ash In Ash It Stays 4/10/2009
668. Grey Moldy Mind 4/10/2009
669. A Made Up Name 4/10/2009
670. Confused Inside A Chicken 4/10/2009
671. Brain Injuries Cutting Away What Is You 4/10/2009
672. My Birth Defect Was A Doctor 4/10/2009
673. Two Timein Spouse 4/10/2009
674. Well I Don'T Have That But I Have This 4/10/2009
675. Takin A Bite In Liberty 4/10/2009
676. Thimbled Grape 4/10/2009
677. Warm Oil 4/10/2009
678. Love Cut 4/10/2009
679. Royal Hand Without Holding Jewels 4/11/2009
680. Time Isles In It Flows 4/11/2009

Comments about James McLain

  • Carol Carter Carol Carter (2/4/2015 12:12:00 AM)

    Agree with your thoughts.

    28 person liked.
    24 person did not like.
  • Mary Angela Douglas Mary Angela Douglas (10/10/2014 1:05:00 PM)

    This poem is astonishingly beautiful conveying unseen worlds and with utmost delicacy.

    Forgive the intrusion but I have changed (not the words) but a few very minor spelling or typos type of mistakes.

    This poem is incredible and flows in and out of dreams so that you even forget the language, arcing beyond life to afterlife. It is remarkable.

    To The Blind Their Dreaming

    Before I was blind there were dreams.
    But seeing my dreams
    before I could see, depended
    on how much you could really see.

    Blind before birth,
    and what you have asked of me.
    Having my, our, hearing dreams-
    your perception
    is sound, sound that is seen;
    left more unsaid about me.

    I still see to see in my dreams
    as one
    where I'm still alive.

    What they must contain,
    the colors within.
    and sound, I can feel: taste
    and touch.

    To remember one dream
    that one special dream, I still dream
    when awake I can see,
    when my wife I first met
    and how she will look forever.

  • Amir Mohammad Islami Chalandar (6/6/2014 7:18:00 AM)

    excellent poems. you are great in explaining your feels. i invite you to read my poem

  • Richard Beevor (5/8/2014 4:20:00 AM)

    excellent poem, I believed I walked those woods with you

  • Kera Ann Kera Ann (11/22/2013 11:08:00 AM)

    It's an honor that you read my work thank you so much. I hope you read more and that you like it.

  • Chris Leermakers Chris Leermakers (4/22/2013 6:38:00 PM)

    Great Poems All Round. And Thankyou For Your
    Positive Feedback On My Poetry. Cheers, Chris.

  • This Is Not A Poem (9/7/2011 10:04:00 PM)

    You are amazing. I thank you for existing. I live in a glass house and am unable to write the truth as you do. One day... :)

  • Inner Whispers (9/4/2011 7:02:00 PM)

    hmn...top 49 poet....an honor i had a chance to be read by you....salute to you!

  • Alisha Lopej (4/28/2011 1:10:00 AM)

    Nice. Reactive attachment disorder, symbolizes a severe psychological syndrome that starts developing in a child during his age of the infancy.
    http: //www.disorderscentral.com/reactive-attachment-disorder.html

  • Liyo Denorte (5/13/2010 10:35:00 AM)

    now it dawns on me,
    u have the boldness and spontaneity of Kerouac

    i salute u for that

Best Poem of James McLain

She Is Afraid, He Is Tired..

She is he,
and he is She.
The two,
now lost, loves heart.
And bright,
the yellow sun.

You once we're two,
as one,
and ran around the world.
Inside both heads.

He fell inside loves fire.
And she,
his red heart pumping burned

Both fires,
burned ice cold hot.
Within Her,
light did give U.S. form.

Over shadows love,
swept out black coals.

Your smile, twin lips.
He kissed, both miss.

His face, from that.
Bright coals, still hiss.

Now alone again,
he walks into.

loving ...

Read the full of She Is Afraid, He Is Tired..

Lid To My Box *

Round beveled square to a frame
bearing hues fading of dreams
maker in such crafted long ago
for whom but a guess many
names but few for the
wearer of the seal meant for me
not for you.

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