James McLain

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

James McLain Poems

3201. Beth's Closet 4/26/2011
3202. Lips Open Kissing 4/26/2011
3203. Mark Twain I Like 4/26/2011
3204. About Town 4/26/2011
3205. My Emo Razor 4/26/2011
3206. Open Red Lips 4/26/2011
3207. Your Ring Is, Around My Finger 4/26/2011
3208. Loved Little By Little 4/26/2011
3209. Our Little Flopping 4/27/2011
3210. Premeditated, Adult Ignorance 4/27/2011
3211. Bloody Cuts 4/28/2011
3212. Concerning The Martini 4/28/2011
3213. Cowards Did It To You 4/28/2011
3214. The Waves 4/28/2011
3215. Out Of Jail On Bond 4/28/2011
3216. The Hanging Gardens 4/29/2011
3217. Independent The Woman 4/29/2011
3218. Hiding, My Stones 4/29/2011
3219. When, I Am Loved 4/29/2011
3220. Why, People Stare At You 4/29/2011
3221. When Love, Is Abandoned 4/29/2011
3222. Come Shake Us 4/29/2011
3223. Self Denial 4/29/2011
3224. Life Is It's Wealth 4/29/2011
3225. Judge Of Discernment 4/30/2011
3226. Inside Drifting Clouds 4/18/2011
3227. Just More Of The Same 4/19/2011
3228. Apart Open Still 4/19/2011
3229. Judge, When Driven Too It 11/16/2010
3230. The Beach 11/16/2010
3231. To The Gulf 4/27/2011
3232. Rock Me Off 4/27/2011
3233. Recusal 4/27/2011
3234. The Rooster 4/27/2011
3235. Is It Your Moon 4/30/2011
3236. Weak Knees 4/30/2011
3237. Today, I Saw A Thunderstorm 4/30/2011
3238. Good Gardener 4/30/2011
3239. My Prison Cell 5/1/2011
3240. Our Round Ball 5/1/2011

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..

Face Of The Poor *

Of all our children.
Dirt scuffed face America has some.
Late night Sally Struthers infomercial.
Compassion of the old in their time of need.
Helping in the wide open homeless shelter.
Bread from their mouths for the young.
Picture the views.
You helped to make.
Words stir the pot of no news.

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