“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Saturday, January 31, 2015
The Silent Tree-ment
With our thunderous steps upon ground
perishing hallow
Let us linger for a quiet moment
over limb
Listen for its silent snap
muffled honeyed sap
Blankets of moss penetrate porous barks
patching poultice
This very today falls
branches in the woods
Seeds are sown
ideas gurgle and churn
The creatures take notice of our
sharp curiosity
In shadows and secrets
of fallen forests
The conductor waves his wand
all sounds obey.
Composed 1/31/15.
Image By Miaow Miaow (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Partly Moony
Do you ever notice the moon
still up
when the sun is out?
It's almost as if
we jumped ship
or planets rather...
Did you know that the planets are all considered to Be
“Heavenly Bodies"
-despite being Full and Round: Misshapen and Edgy?
Do you think la Luna is ever jealous
of our mesmerization and infatuation
in sunrises and sunsets: the ominous, important, Solar Eclipse?
(forgot to foretell) I wonder why don't we start at night
(dark abuzz) I wonder why not, awake from dark till dawn?
(too much fun) ‘cuz we'd all burn sleeping in the sun.
We seem to only care, predict, and talk small in our weathered way,
observing her minute phases, all around Helio's plans for the day,
our mandatory compliance-participation-with his lackadaisical display...
Where, O’ where are all the star-crossed
lovers of night, blind with delight
when the moon shines her loveglow, set on spotlight?
“Calling All Attention”
To those not paying attention
when comets wink and fall.
By now, you're waning in care
from obscure sliced crescent ideas
shadowy slivers of shy: you’ve watched these Anonymous nights go by…
Harvest or Blue: Blood or King,
Christened by a haloed ring.
Named the “Lunar Province of Mankind"
as recorded in old Hermetic nocturnal notes.
I noticed the moon in the afternoon stalling
like me, afraid of the dark, of Time,
rapt by the pull of the moon.
Incredible image of the full moon By Jon Sullivan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Friday, January 23, 2015
Incubus
Resembling the unwakeness of a Dream
blurred outlines
crisp sounds that echo hollow
sleep standing, meandering adaze
muffling the view
obscured by heavy air
pushing on pores
licking your eyelashes
in salty sentiments
sealed and enveloping
brilliant opaque light
shadows perceptions of depth
an oceans deep breath
fractals that float
bonded in obstinate anti-gravity
careless of time
synchronized now
grey matter of mass
drapes close on the sky
sinking in silky soliloquy
rolling softer than thunder
momentary miasma
of soggy bliss
soup was ordered as a starter
to wet ones appetite
for a serving full of
mist
delayed
by fog.
Image from Wikimedia Commons "Fog" (Public Domain)
A letter does not blush...
Haiku I
Bruised paper marked words
black and blue swollen intent
sharp-edged stabbing truth.
Image by Giacomo Galli c. 1620-1640, "The Penitent Mary Magdalene" (Public domain), via Wikimedia Commons
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Warm & Fuzzy Inside
Here We Are
Together again!
before- Have I told you
How glad I am you came
Back again, possibly again...
I think you think (like me)
any moment in time
when we read a rhyme
that carries a certain chime
it is truly sublime...
I hope you might also see
all that matters are these moments
a piece of bliss unknown
about you, about me, about We
I think we mutually agree
on perhaps a little poetry
I am so pleased you
got away with
a stolen moment
to just look at ME, and smile
your happiness is mine
(even though it's better to share)
Your time is my treasure
Your eyes are my precious gems-
they are beautiful you know
but you've heard that before
still...you should know
I'm dancing on air
when I've seen
you There
curious
about me too
I'm right here
waiting for You
You make me feel so special
I glow inside, I'm sitting in the sun
a bird just mentioned you
just passing by
carried on the wind
echoes the sky
It reminded me
I should return
and show my gratitude
for You on this cloudless
poetic, grateful Winters day
So, thank You for You
in every wordless way.
Image By Jan Portielje, "Love Letter" (Arts & Humor de Mulher) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Friday, January 16, 2015
After all
After doing some research
in Philosophy and Being-
I came to conceptualize,
thinking is pro-verbial.
After looking closer into,
and reflecting upon what is Beauty-
I came to see,
I bear no resemblance.
After debating what is Truth,
the subjective and absolute,
I came to understand-
people don't like its sound.
After feeling lost-
from seeking and pursuing Happiness,
I came to find-
it's a place that cannot be found.
After digging deeper into History,
beneath the surface, between the lines-
I came to discover
the past is exactly where it was supposed to Be.
After searching for the meaning
of art, music, and goosebumps-
I knew,
no definition was required.
After pondering all these
baffling banalities and easily explained enigmas-
I realized,
the art that is poetry is unexplainably the most beautiful music after all.
Image by Antonio de Pereda, (c.1636) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. "allegory of Vanity".
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