William Saint George Poetry

a poem I wrote about some folks I know

Thu, 22 Nov 2012 07:36:14 -0500

a poem I wrote about some folks I know

"Periwigs and Petticoats fell out of favour for ipads and twitter feeds. No one pens them..."

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 12:17:54 -0500

“

Periwigs and Petticoats
fell out of favour
for ipads and twitter feeds.

No one pens them anymore.
They instead say them,
with the freedom
of the spirit,
without care
of consequence.

I fail without the comfy chains,
I cannot defy the sun’s hot stare.

So I hide under a shell,
with a sheet and a quill,
an aging muse
and a bottle of thoughts.

And in solidarity
with the old, toothless hag,
I write and I care not.

”

nothingelseis: 1965… computers take over! This illustrates how...

Thu, 20 Sep 2012 12:52:37 -0400

nothingelseis:

1965… computers take over!

This illustrates how we relate to computers. Even today.

"Escaping boredom, I take the road to freedom, and find myself tangled in a net of thoughts of..."

Sat, 15 Sep 2012 18:16:00 -0400

“Escaping boredom,
I take the road to freedom,
and find myself tangled
in a net of thoughts of you,
that lead me to where
I chose to flee from.
You win again.”

- http://williamsaintgeorge.blogspot.com/2012/09/entangled.html

"The stupidest component of the computer system is the end user”. Truth hurts."

Wed, 12 Sep 2012 18:58:09 -0400

““The stupidest component of the computer system is the end user”. Truth hurts.”

- Seen on a CNET comment stream

And So I Discovered Haiku

Fri, 31 Aug 2012 06:33:01 -0400

And So I Discovered Haiku:

Read!

My First Published Flash Story

Wed, 22 Aug 2012 05:36:53 -0400

My First Published Flash Story:

It happens to be funny, especially if you’re Ghanaian, but it’s a universal theme everyone can get. Do read :)

Rhapsody on a Windy Afternoon by Madhumita Ghosh: A Critical Look

Fri, 17 Aug 2012 09:04:17 -0400

Rhapsody on a Windy Afternoon by Madhumita Ghosh: A Critical Look

Hearts and Unicorns

Thu, 16 Aug 2012 18:56:20 -0400

Of hearts and unicorns,

and fancy clad ladies.

It’s for a game of “Pick and Play”,

Under a canopy of crows and rainbows.

Little bells beat in the storm,

and chime like reversed death-knells

calling you from the grave of living,

to the endless promenade,

hand in hand,

under the scrutiny of friends and family.

Of tear drops and split throats,

or worse, of broken hearts and limbs,

your kisses taste like chloroquine,

they’re very hard to swallow.

My head is full of vanities,

I hear the pornographic chorus sing:

Life’s like an uncut obscenity,

and Church is where we go to pretend.

Of Iron Hells and cloudy Heavens,

and distant dreams that remain distant.

We’re like a march of damned bride and groom,

the blood red curtain falls too soon,

and roses fall at our little feet.

We take the stairs to the casket cruise,

and lunch the barge to the simmering West.

The sun will set on our happy days,

the moon will rise, the wind will blow.

Uncaring time will take no heed,

to when our history finally ends.

But it’s alright, dear love of mine,

We did it for the story’s worth.

Black Woman, Wake Up: A Critical Look

Tue, 14 Aug 2012 01:50:45 -0400

Black Woman, Wake Up: A Critical Look:

An essay on a poem.

Photo

Sat, 04 Aug 2012 14:56:15 -0400

Shoes in the sun

Fri, 27 Jul 2012 06:02:00 -0400

Shoes in the sun

"Creativity does not just require free thought, it requires there be a struggle for freer expression."

Sun, 17 Jun 2012 18:12:41 -0400

““Creativity does not just require free thought, it requires there be a struggle for freer expression.””

"The first step in winning the war, is acknowledging that there is a war. Goodnight, and dream well."

Sat, 16 Jun 2012 17:58:41 -0400

““The first step in winning the war, is acknowledging that there is a war. Goodnight, and dream well.””

"It might not have been the devil. It might have been us all along."

Fri, 15 Jun 2012 08:31:00 -0400

““It might not have been the devil. It might have been us all along.””

- Where’s the Fridge

Mental Prostitute, A Sonnet

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 09:38:34 -0400

Try so hard to be someone

then you forget what you’ve become.

Your day job is a constant frown,

your diadem, a leaded crown.

You strut the streets with oppulence,

yet are not paid your recompense;

you lie, you cheat just to get by.

alone, you’re broken, and you cry.

The world’s a stage, but not for you.

You cannot ignore what is true:

You’re a filthy, broken destitute,

at best, a mental prostitute.

Why wither, when you can regain

the treasure that you still disdain?

Photo

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 05:52:34 -0400

Choo Choo

Green fan

I’m thinking about opening a photoblog on wordpress.com...

Fri, 01 Jun 2012 14:07:47 -0400

I’m thinking about opening a photoblog on wordpress.com soon.

I should change this site from a poetry site to a general...

Fri, 25 May 2012 14:30:04 -0400

Drummer-slave

Tech Junction, when it's about to rain.

Chains. Lovely Chains.

I should change this site from a poetry site to a general tumblog.

New blog!

Thu, 24 May 2012 17:37:46 -0400

So I started this new blog, I call Where’s The Fridge.

It’s been great so far. The response has been positive. A quick primer:

The blog is where I place all those thoughts I can’t communicate well in verse, or photos. Most of them are candid comments on issues the world over.

I’ll be exploring a wide range of subjects.

Will keep you posted. Here’s the link:

Where’s The Fridge