James McLain

Gold Star - 41,305 Points [is It poetry] (1958 - / From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By)

James McLain Poems

1201. You Women You 6/10/2009
1202. When You Rush Out 6/10/2009
1203. Dropp Of Honey 6/11/2009
1204. Ildeth 6/11/2009
1205. Buffs Puffed Rushed Rice 6/11/2009
1206. Ageless Plotters 6/11/2009
1207. Why I Drink Milk 6/11/2009
1208. Fall Leaves 6/11/2009
1209. A Low Dissonant Rumble 6/11/2009
1210. Green Grass 6/11/2009
1211. The Professional 6/11/2009
1212. Fire Is To Touch 6/11/2009
1213. Getting Past Daddy 6/12/2009
1214. Dear Daughter Caroline 6/12/2009
1215. Would I Have ? 6/12/2009
1216. Last Death Forever Private 6/12/2009
1217. Last Dropp 6/12/2009
1218. A Professional Woman 6/12/2009
1219. Two Tias 6/12/2009
1220. A Cricket And A Rock Bath 6/13/2009
1221. As Oceans Tire 6/13/2009
1222. Write) S( Well A Crusty Bottom 6/13/2009
1223. A Mothers Glove 6/13/2009
1224. Caroline Is Six 6/13/2009
1225. Her Window In My Head 6/13/2009
1226. Camel Cheese 6/13/2009
1227. Wind Lifts Nights Varanasi Silk Saree 6/13/2009
1228. Thats Just The Way It Is 6/13/2009
1229. Sleepy Stream 6/13/2009
1230. Rose Clingy 6/13/2009
1231. When Mice Sleep 6/13/2009
1232. Moon Note Is Night 6/14/2009
1233. Three Days 6/14/2009
1234. Ant Has A Crumb For You 6/14/2009
1235. It Rolls In Flavor 6/14/2009
1236. It Is On The Run 6/14/2009
1237. Women And Milk 6/14/2009
1238. For The Bashful So It Is Shy 6/14/2009
1239. It You 6/14/2009
1240. Butterfly 6/14/2009

Comments about James McLain

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

    Agree with your thoughts.

    27 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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