James McLain

Gold Star - 40,958 Points [is It poetry] (1958 - / From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By)

James McLain Poems

161. Rock Hard Walls 12/17/2008
162. Like Ah Child 12/17/2008
163. Amongst All Of These 12/18/2008
164. Blowing Sand 12/18/2008
165. Laying Down 12/18/2008
166. Bling Your Dead 12/16/2008
167. Pictures Of Words 12/18/2008
168. She Rolls Over 12/18/2008
169. Mummy At My Side 12/18/2008
170. She Sits Up 12/18/2008
171. Jibber Some Jabber 12/18/2008
172. From Her Hand) It(Dripped 12/18/2008
173. Wake Me Not Again 12/18/2008
174. Strange Box 12/18/2008
175. You Want Me To Save You 12/18/2008
176. Short Love Poem 12/18/2008
177. Womanly Things 12/18/2008
178. I Love You, I Hate You 12/18/2008
179. Pleasure Boat 12/18/2008
180. I Talk In My Head, So You Wont Hear Me 12/18/2008
181. Only On Paper 12/18/2008
182. Standing 12/18/2008
183. Lucky I Am Not A Fly 12/18/2008
184. Tricked Again 12/18/2008
185. Digging In My Trash 12/18/2008
186. She Sits Back Down 12/19/2008
187. Save The Drag 12/19/2008
188. Last Taste Of Innocence 12/19/2008
189. Plantation Moss 12/19/2008
190. Running 12/19/2008
191. I Paint Your Lips 12/19/2008
192. All You Hold Dear 12/19/2008
193. Christmas Trees 12/19/2008
194. Passion Rules Reason Sucks (I'M In Luck) 12/19/2008
195. She Rolls Over Looking At You 12/19/2008
196. Looking 12/19/2008
197. Apoli 12/19/2008
198. Aunder The Tree A While 12/19/2008
199. Usweet Of Honey 12/20/2008
200. Struck This Coin 12/20/2008

Comments about James McLain

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

    Agree with your thoughts.

    26 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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