James McLain

Gold Star - 41,653 Points [is It poetry] (1958 - / From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By)

James McLain Poems

6721. Traveling Into Solitude 10/13/2017
6722. When Rose Kissed A Lily 8/16/2009
6723. Please Forgive Me! 2/22/2010
6724. Upon Your Shore 7/18/2010
6725. She Is 5/25/2009
6726. Hidden In A Smile The You The Why.. 6/20/2009
6727. Alone 7/12/2009
6728. .......................Thus Is Why My World Must Be 10/14/2009
6729. Is It Wicked Of Me If I 10/7/2009
6730. A 'Girl' And Now 11/28/2009
6731. filling Station 8/29/2011
6732. ................'Black Robed The Bench And Power' 10/28/2009
6733. day By Day 9/5/2011
6734. She Is Afraid, It Is Tired. 7/14/2009
6735. I Want 'Too Die' A Simple Death 11/17/2009
6736. ' My Heart Is Heavy' 1/5/2012
6737. through The Old Oak Tree 9/10/2011
6738. ...............My Enigma 10/29/2009
6739. It Is Hard Being Smart 12/12/2008
6740. She Is Afraid, He Is Tired.. 5/16/2009

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.

Loves,
loving ...

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

Heart In Oak *

Such as does repose
fine grain.

Polished surface gained
thus by feel.

Soul of a giant
lays within.

Bowing Gently
in the breeze.

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