Daily Archives: February 24, 2023

Love’s Eternal Flame

who’s most afraid of death? though
                   art of him
utterly afraid, I love of thee
(beloved) this
       and truly i would be
near when his scythe takes crisply the whim
of thy smoothness.  and marke the fainting
murdered petals.

Who is afraid of love?  That words and
whispers cut the Soul in belief _ her voice and breathe softly against me
i see adventurous life and love.
To be brave is to love unconditionally
without expecting anything in return.

That you pierce my soul I am half agony,
half hope.  Against promise, peace, against
hope, happiness, against discouragement that could
be.  In light, I learn to love.  In this beauty,
how I make poetry.  That you dance within my
heart where no one sees — but at times
centuries do.  How your love becomes Art.

:: 02.24.2023  ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – XCIX – FEATHERS & PENNIES

I followed a
f
a
l
l
i
n
g

feather
to the ground,

As it twirled and spun along a dizzying path,
Until it settled, without a single sound,
A delicate thing in nature’s aftermath.

And there I found a penny, dull and plain,
With no thoughts to share or secrets to hold,
But I picked it up all the same,
As the feather’s story began to unfold.

For as the feather and copper came to rest,
They fell upon an anvil’s hardened steel,
And with each strike, the hammer’s fierce behest,
Their beauty and strength were revealed.

So let us remember, as we journey on,
That even the smallest things can bear great weight,
And by falling, we may yet rise to dawn,
Transformed by the anvil of fate.

revised: 08-05-2014 | 02.23.2023 ::


My Poetry

My poetry fractured, like shattered glass,
Each piece a reflection of a different past,
A kaleidoscope of memories and dreams,
A mosaic of emotions and silent screams.

I am not whole, and nor is my verse,
A broken mirror with a thousand hurts,
Reflecting back the shards of my soul,
A shattered image that will never be whole.

But in each fragment, there lies a truth,
A piece of me that I cannot refute,
And though my poetry may be incomplete,
It is a portrait of who I am, bittersweet.

So let me embrace my fractured art,
And wear my scars like a work of art,
For in each broken piece, there lies a story,
A journey of pain, but also of glory.::


Heavy Moon

When midnight falls, a dreamlike world unfolds,
Where fairies flit and dance with sprightly glee,
And mortal hearts, by love’s sweet spell, are hold,
Entranced by all the wond’rous sights they see.

The moon, a glowing orb in starry skies,
Illuminates the woodland’s dappled glades,
As lovers’ sighs and whispered lullabies
Are carried on the breeze like serenades.

In this enchanted realm of make-believe,
Reality dissolves like morning dew,
And all the cares of day begin to leave,
As hearts are healed by love’s enchanting brew.

Oh, midnight summer’s dream, so sweet and fair,
Thou art a realm beyond compare.

:: 02.23.2023 ::


EVERYTHING

EVERY WORD CAN you can YOU
spEAK (come into my ear)
can you can y o u — speak /
E V E R Y T H I N G
E V E R try to make love
work? \ everyday the skies
press against that romantic heart…
i woke up dreaming i had a new day
hiding the sight of an empty bed
made tea and sucked upon my thumb
and prayed 2 Gawd and the universe
: i cried i cried and then fell to
sleep weeping i was not human….
tried to say i tried to say_____
what the creator choked upon.
human mind
human mind
human mind
greater than all things
everything
everything
everything
sleeping as human
i destroyed gawd
destroyed and rebuilt
love. rebuilt everything..
i cried i cried and then feel to
wakefulness weeping : for all LOVE.


My Lover

Something in the effervescent veins floats my body
A surreal landscape of screaming death defying understanding
Fields of gold bursting forth into fullest flowers
A consciousness that barely touches the art of essences

Something in the radiance of your smile illuminates my being
Shimmering lips and curves like a vision bright as the moon
To hear the song of your quiet tongue, taste the tone of your beating heart
Is to be wreathed by the blossoms of your tender breasts

Something in the way we meet, away from life’s busy sounds
Our minds merge into one, fathoming mysteries together
No words, no song, no thoughts can capture our connection
Veiled eyes and unwritten poetry sent, in a passion of growing fields held by hands and fingers bent inward

Something, our love, is a high candelabrum shining bright
Guiding us on this journey, where surrealism and abstract tones unite
Something in the way we move, something in the way we feel
Something in the way we explore this realm beyond comprehension


Camille Antoinette Clifford

You were my heart
in many ways
i measured
i took the numbers
and died a physical heaven
so sorry but men love the curve of time
Camille Clifford: i give a moment
in summer and i Smile fan and dress
goose and mother and time with all
she said she wanted
(it’s all she needed)
just a kiss upon
the cheek of Time

:: 01-24-2015 ::


CALAMUS SCRIBAE VELOCITER SCRIBENTIS(ode of Forgotten Tears)

Asking what love is, wait a beat
How it feels, in this moment sweet
I love you, and then…

The truth of breath and body, the rush and the wait
A face-tilt to feel the softest embrace, like ocean life on my lungs I ache

Stay here, let your heart hum, over and over
A dream of sun-filled blooms, never fully uncovered
But come each day, to touch my eyes
Each time they close, to wishful sleep they rise

What sweet life, my soul can dream
Earth’s soil so wet, like dew it seems
Tears and feelings, my mind does doubt
But release the budding light, let love sprout

Skip the treacle, the grail, let passion fuel your vessel
A tickle within, let truth in heart bleed red, this moment is special

Now, breathe and push, you rhythmic lover
You gave me the reason, this moment, in Spring’s cover

Lips ask what’s love, wait a beat
Love is here, now and complete
I love you.


Cadavre Exquis

WHERE are my poets? I yearn to play
an exquisite game of “Corpse Reviver.”
It’s known in French as “Cadavre exquis.”
Let’s come together, and with words so vivid,
paint pictures of beauty and delight.
My parlour’s set, the wine is poured,
Let our hearts and minds take flight!

:: 02.23.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

This poem has a playful tone and expresses the speaker’s desire to engage in a creative activity with other poets. The use of the phrase “Corpse Reviver” instead of “Exquisite Corpse” adds an element of intrigue and mystery to the poem.

The mention of the French name “Cadavre exquis” highlights the international and cross-cultural nature of the game and the creative process. The speaker’s invitation to “come together” and “paint pictures of beauty and delight” emphasizes the collaborative and communal nature of the activity, as well as the goal of creating something beautiful and inspiring.

The last two lines, “My parlour’s set, the wine is poured, / Let our hearts and minds take flight!” add a sense of excitement and anticipation, suggesting that the speaker and the other poets are ready to let their creativity soar and see where it takes them. Overall, the poem celebrates the joy of artistic expression and the power of collaboration and community in the creative process.


Cadavre Exqis

WHERE are my poets? I yearn to play
an exquisite game of “Corpse Reviver.”
It’s known in French as “Cadavre exquis.”
Let’s come together, and with words so vivid,
paint pictures of beauty and delight.
My parlour’s set, the wine is poured,
Let our hearts and minds take flight!

:: 02.23.2023 ::

Poet’s words:

This poem has a playful tone and expresses the speaker’s desire to engage in a creative activity with other poets. The use of the phrase “Corpse Reviver” instead of “Exquisite Corpse” adds an element of intrigue and mystery to the poem.

The mention of the French name “Cadavre exquis” highlights the international and cross-cultural nature of the game and the creative process. The speaker’s invitation to “come together” and “paint pictures of beauty and delight” emphasizes the collaborative and communal nature of the activity, as well as the goal of creating something beautiful and inspiring.

The last two lines, “My parlour’s set, the wine is poured, / Let our hearts and minds take flight!” add a sense of excitement and anticipation, suggesting that the speaker and the other poets are ready to let their creativity soar and see where it takes them. Overall, the poem celebrates the joy of artistic expression and the power of collaboration and community in the creative process.