James Walter Orr

Rookie (02, June,1930 / Amarillo, Texas, U.S.A.)

James Walter Orr Poems

1. Accepted Offering 8/31/2009
2. Dissembling Regrets 8/31/2009
3. Magical Window 8/31/2009
4. Dream At A Gypsy Dance 8/31/2009
5. Forbidden Glimpse 8/31/2009
6. Seduced 8/30/2009
7. Alone In My Garden 8/31/2009
8. Unattained 9/1/2009
9. Drinking Wine 9/1/2009
10. First Dance 9/1/2009
11. Most Passionate Embrace 9/1/2009
12. Pleasure And Pain 9/1/2009
13. Gilding The Lily 9/1/2009
14. Celestial Flower Garden 9/1/2009
15. Angel's Departure 9/1/2009
16. Black Hole 9/1/2009
17. Apt Altars 9/1/2009
18. Chenoa 9/1/2009
19. Chenoa's Riddle 9/1/2009
20. Be Happy For One 9/1/2009
21. Daybreak 9/1/2009
22. Fishermaid's Death 9/1/2009
23. Easy Shall Return 9/1/2009
24. Elvira 9/1/2009
25. Write This, Oh Poet! 9/1/2009
26. Fading Echoes 9/1/2009
27. Fortune Teller 9/1/2009
28. Comes The Autumn 9/1/2009
29. Gypsy Bee 9/1/2009
30. I Cry In The Night 9/1/2009
31. It Was Simple For Me 9/1/2009
32. Where Were You? 9/1/2009
33. When Joy-Gods Frown 9/1/2009
34. Without Answers 9/1/2009
35. Accursed 9/1/2009
36. One Man's Meat 9/1/2009
37. A Bag Of Fairy Dust 9/1/2009
38. Farewell 9/1/2009
39. Happy Birthday 9/1/2009
40. My History At A Glance 9/1/2009

Comments about James Walter Orr

  • Jenna Thomas Jenna Thomas (3/8/2010 12:03:00 AM)

    I've been in a weird place. Had to delet all my writings. But going through all of my emails. I wanted to thank you for all your kind words, and wisdom. You truly were a blessing to me :) Thank you.
    Jenna

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Best Poem of James Walter Orr

Right Love, Wrong Time

You come to me because you say you need me.
I come because I cannot stay away.
You weep with me because our love was thwarted.
I weep with you because you cannot stay.

You say with me you can escape reality.
For me what's real is I die more each day.
Our thoughts are deep and life has so much meaning:
A life of pain that grows more so each day.

Sometimes we laugh because it seems so crazy.
Sometimes we cry because we know it's true.
The time was right, the place was wrong, but darling,
There'll never be another, only you.

Our dreams of love ...

Read the full of Right Love, Wrong Time

The Seamstress

Her gray head bows, and in the lamps dim glow,
with steady hand she sticks the end of thread
toward needles eye, but bushy, raveled end
declines to go. She makes another try
after she has moistened with her mouth,
And twisted down the raveling gossamers
that tend to wander from the mother-strand.
So now again, she takes with steady hand
the thread toward needles eye: the thread goes through.

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