DennisP1's profile

DennisP1 avatar
AGE: 57
LOC: Norton, MA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: July 12

Dennis, a Vietnam Vet and product of a turbulent past, has a passion for writing poetry as broad as life, love, fantasy, child abuse and the indifferences of man. The uniqueness of his work comes from his very visual story like style as he draws the reader into a reenactment of a specific event.

A victim of child abuse himself he writes heart breaking poems about his childhood. Yet, intermingles them with the love and hope he has for his and all our children.

His greatest influence was his mother, who’s had her poetry in news paper articles across the country as far back as the Second World War. Often as a child he would sit at the kitchen table in their, too small, country cottage and write happy-go-lucky style poems with her.
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Items
Poetry / The Gold Star
Version 1
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There's a gold star in the heavens tonight That shines for a mother's son. Though he'll not return In her heart he lives on A memory time can't erase In the darkness of the night it glows brightly Like a beacon shining down from above. And a tear stained face in a window pane Gazes upward and silently preys... "Oh God be kind to us mothers Whose boys are far over seas. Though I know some won't return For a halo they've earned, Please protect the others from harm" In each home tonight someone ...
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Poetry / The Room
Version 1
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Long hath I sat in silence withering A dark domain of walls and ceiling Windows lit on mornings rising Fade to dark on evening setting No dream echos nor laughter sing no flower on the mantel brightens the bareness of that which is. A forlorn existance so one might think. Untill one who enters, quick of wit Changes it all with just a click. Now dreams unfold with pen and brush and what once was does not exist.
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 Plus-button Clarity
Version 1
2 Reviews   3 Comments
A Mother's Scream I turned five just last month And just got over having the mumps I’m in the yard having some fun Shootin' injuns with my gun When, from high in a tree, I fall Braking my arm when I hit a wall From the constant pain I try to hide But I can’t, so I lay there alone and cry. My father finds me lying on the grass And thinks I’m some kind of stupid ass I hold my arm with my other hand And try to act like I’m a man. But the pain overcomes my fears And again my eyes flood with tear...
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Version 1
2 Reviews   0 Comments
Through war’s corridors On a skeleton I ride Using living flesh To create my disguise Learning the lessons From which men hide Their sorrow and grief From uncaring eyes. While bullets fly an uncertain path Their destruction caused By a dragons wrath.
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Version 1
2 Reviews   1 Comment
To make two little ladies and three young lads Start with some sweetness then add some sass Mix a lot of kindness with a bit of compassion adding a touch of empathy and await the reaction Moonbeams and hugs sunshine and laughter Candy and kisses Should be added thereafter With lots of politeness And a good parents flair You mix it all up With tenderness and care. Sing a song each morning give them a hug each night Let their spirits soar free and watch them take flight If you've done it correc...
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Reviews
I like the repetition.. It works well and intensifies your meaning. I think many fear love, (including me) and except comfort and security in its place. Yet are left with the wonder.. If i had risked a little more, taken a little more time, been a little more confident, would I have found my soul mate and true love?
Poetry / Christopher-wise
I didn't understand the comparison between cause and a red head so lost perhaps the most important stanza.. But i have met guys and gals like that. Callus, thoughtless and oh so sure of themselves. Though I believe in self confidence and rarely date those with out it, I also believe in the theory that a door swings both ways.. i still believe in love with out reservation and don't expect anything in return.. Unless I was 24 i certainly would not think a girl of 41 is over the hill, 60-70...pe...
Poetry / Destiny
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Poetry / Mandarin
Locked
Laughing, well that is one way to look at it.. Another would be An Artist paints a picture But a poet with his pen Gives a true impression Of the story there with As he delves benieth the surface For stories yet untold His pen creates an image From deep within his soul Have fun and keep lying if that is what you do.
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