James McLain

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

James McLain Poems

321. Good Dreams 2/2/2009
322. What Would You Say? 2/3/2009
323. Sniffing 2/3/2009
324. What Is In Your Mellon? 2/4/2009
325. Melody Stay Forever Please And Sing 2/10/2009
326. Noone Yet One Dared 2/10/2009
327. But For Sale 2/10/2009
328. Trade This For That 2/11/2009
329. Bars Not Sripes 2/11/2009
330. Please Steal Me Away 2/11/2009
331. I See Us As 2/11/2009
332. It Is My Head That's Halved 2/11/2009
333. Only But Through The Pain Of Others 2/17/2009
334. Would If One But Knew 2/18/2009
335. Dad~** 2/18/2009
336. You Laugh To Hard 2/18/2009
337. Simple Life I Choose 2/18/2009
338. My Little Friend 2/19/2009
339. Beneeth Your Foot I'M Me. 2/24/2009
340. Is It Rain 2/24/2009
341. Would You Know A Taste Bondage 2/27/2009
342. Drop Dead A Bed 2/27/2009
343. Is It Time That Forgives 3/7/2009
344. Catching Pause 3/8/2009
345. It Is'Nt 3/8/2009
346. Is It Milk You Utter 3/9/2009
347. Many Strings 3/12/2009
348. Laugh Through Bent Lips 3/12/2009
349. Diffinition Is A Lop 3/12/2009
350. Poets Source 3/13/2009
351. Love That Lop In Love 3/13/2009
352. Slippery Snail 3/13/2009
353. A Frozen Single Foot 3/13/2009
354. The Mouse With More Than An Ear 3/13/2009
355. Finally I Understand 3/13/2009
356. It Is Never 3/13/2009
357. It Is You 3/14/2009
358. Finding Lost Thought's 3/15/2009
359. The Sun Directing Me 3/15/2009
360. Polar Bear Train 3/15/2009

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.

Loves,
loving ...

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

Wildwood # 1

Is a secret dark place in southern Saint Petersburg.
In a dark cave weary and weak of life some are.
From the streets to here rabid like dog's the one's traumatized
Shake from the noise trapped in a dream most are.
Wildwood like an ant hill those at the top want out, we are sausage's
In the hands of a cook slaving day in and day out.
Some time's the noise comes, like a plane crash where like cord wood
The weak succumb to their weakness.
Drug's and alcohol from the mirror the seas are not

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