“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Luc(in)da
You again, I say
As though I dreamt
We had never met.
Image by Evelyn De Morgan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Night and Sleep (c. 1878).
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Poetry Athiest
Through This
I have met wonderful words
Via verse
I have become Estranged
By thinking
This way
I have situated
and I have
sat while yours waited
Saturated myself in vocabulary
languished and lingered
here,
seeking how to mean
more,
but saying it wrong
and left you hanging
bifurcating and circumventing
all crystal-clear communication.
Through This
I have seen wonderous worlds
Making
I have molded and manipulated
matter, made grey,
so I could see both
Art and Science
poetically-particulately
condensed
essentially
and failed
to Make sense
This-
Density, I have done
I reason
and found None.
Image credit-By 'Not given' [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, c. 1920.
Nom de plume
My pen tells me All
I need to know about Me
More than thought could say
By George Shuklin (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
In the company of strangers
I thought...
Perhaps she wasn't as lonely
as she thought she was...
Perhaps she wasn't able to see
the difference between wanting
to be thought about
and thinking she was wanted...
She was perhaps mistaking
that forgotten feeling
for need...
I thought
being alone
this long, intentionally
she would see, she shows me
her life had been precisely the way
she wanted
it to be, in gratitude for solitude...
I thought wrong
she said she wanted a man
more than she could stand
since she had not planned
for the golden years
or for the gold she knew
she was due...
She was sure
after all those silver lined years
she still had insecure fears
and had forgotten all about
how much
she thinks of herself,
and what she wants.
She is all she will ever need...
A lone she
in a crowd of couples.
Image by Jurij Ĺ ubic [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Synthesis
Two saplings sprang up
simultaneously
on the top of the Eagles Eye ridge line
Each grew taller from the others gentle support
alee with privacy shade,
goading each other on
lush in envy green
It did not take long before you could see
distinct personalities budding
from these two trees
with respect for the space they shared
not thier roots, but in between
branches as arms with finger
leaves and sparsely
touching
By now, from far away some say
even today-you can see how they've grown
apart
reaching for different light.
Image by Asher Brown Durand, Nature Study Trees Newburgh, New York, 1849 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Friday, May 27, 2016
Symbolic-key
Important
This is key
not a
not an
but the
the other side
you are locked in from
I knocked-no answer.
Need
the key
a skeleton-not in the closet
to get in the closet, to get the
bag of bones,
a master
key
would work
to open
doors of Possibility or
let Schrodinger's cat out of the
locked box.
The lion awaits
the witch listens
the wardrobe wants
the naked
truth
and rings the bell.
Only truth
will tell
the password
is key.
Image By Jorge Barrios (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Electric Zen
Felt the body electric
and wasn't even charged up-
Of course I am not a Whit
of a Man
but I get static
and get static-back-
it still shocks me.
The hair stands at attention
tiny pump drum jumps up
you know the nose picks up
forged steel
and I taste my blood.
Bio-electro-dynamics-
is that instability or raw
electricity, spliced all nice
and tautly twisted
for grounding extensions
such as these appendages.
and THIS serves us,
and reminded us,
we cannot unplug.
Image of painting by Benjamin West [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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