Tag Archives: #writers

THE GREATEST SMILE

The greatest smile is DEATH.

How welcomed. The eternal embrace!

But how i belong here — beyond the

world’s end _ no longer human.

i embrace ~ with the broken!

:: 01.31.2024 ::


THE ICE OF COLD BLUE DEATH

(i went to the doctor,
… told him i was dead.)

In chambers of white, where shadows dance,
A soul approached, a spectral trance.
The doctor sat with wisdom’s stare,
Inquiring of the ailment rare.

“I come to you with heavy heart,
For life has played a cruel part.
In death’s embrace, my essence lies,
Yet here I stand before your eyes.”

The doctor, wise in healing’s art,
Raised an eyebrow, not to depart.
“A paradox, this tale you weave,
For life and death in one can’t cleave.”

The patient, with a hollow gaze,
Recounted tales of ghostly days.
“Within my veins, no pulse does beat,
Yet consciousness and self, replete.”

The doctor pondered, deep in thought,
A riddle spun, a truth unsought.
“How, then, converse we, spirit kind?
For speech requires a living mind.”

The ghostly figure raised a hand,
A spectral gesture, quite unplanned.
“Though breath may cease, my voice persists,
A wraith with tales, a soul that insists.”

The doctor sighed, his mind perplexed,
Engaged in dialogue complex.
“Tell me, then, what led to this,
A life entwined in realms amiss?”

The phantom spoke, with echoes cold,
Of destinies and stories told.
“Life’s thread unraveled, fate unspun,
In twilight’s grasp, my course was done.”

The doctor, with a measured gaze,
Considered life’s mysterious maze.
“Are you a specter, lost in gloom,
Or just a soul in living’s tomb?”

The patient, spectral and forlorn,
Revealed a truth, in shadows worn.
“I dwell betwixt both realms unseen,
A ghostly vessel, caught between.”

The doctor mused, with furrowed brow,
On realms where mortal meets the now.
In dialogue profound, they tread,
A living doctor, with the dead.

A tale of life and death entwined,
In chambers white, a dance defined.
A poet laureate’s verses soar,
On whispers of a ghostly lore.

01.30.2024


POETIC ODYSSEY

Upon the inside of my dreams
There was no wind when i took
the watch across the seas

& when the ocean withdrew breath
and waves white-capped
i saw clouds of glass

within amora my heart said
‘roll over, roll over.’
how i had awaited restlessly

Upon the opal glass finally
talking sweet /within my ear,
the sound so strange, ‘mistral,
mistral…’ \

winds_____close your eyes again
my gentle breathing giant.

:: 01.29.2024 ::


CALL ME BROKEN

Oh, speak not of my heart untrue,
Though absence seeks to temper my desire,
As readily I could bid myself adieu
As part from the soul within your fire.
In your bosom lies my dwelling of love:
If I’ve strayed, like threads unraveled, I return,
To the moment, not with time exchanged above,
Yet with my essence, a cleansing urn.
Never think, though frailties course my veins,
That they could mar this sacred trust we share,
To forsake, for naught, your myriad gains,
For you, my rose, my universe is bare.
Within its vast expanse, hear my call,
For nothing exists, save you, my all.

:: 01.26.2024 ::


LOVE IS TOO YOUNG TO KNOW WHAT CONSCIENCE IS

Is love too young to know what CONSCIENCE is
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body’s treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.

“The Little Love-God Lying.”

:: 01.26.2024 ::


THE CANVAS OF TIME

THE SKIN is prominent
within all of Life

Whose dippy hands cross rhyme
within a strange water
called Time

/ as we are all /

nothing / and memories that flow___

In the tapestry of moments, we weave
Threads of laughter and tears, perceive
The dance of shadows in the mind
A kaleidoscope of memories we find

Yet, within this vast expanse of recall
Fragments of existence, both big and small
Nothing but echoes in the grand design
Whispers of a fleeting, ephemeral sign

The hands of Time dip in the waters deep
Creating ripples where memories sleep

An intricate dance of joy and strife
Etched upon the canvas of Life

And as we navigate this transient sea
Our skin, a vessel of identity

In the tapestry, we play our part
A symphony of the soul, a work of art.

:: 01.23.2024 ::


MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

MYSTERIOUS ETYMOLOGIES

and which came first?
syllable or the sound
of pain?
what…did you say?
they ARE the same
whether uttered or
spoken or eventually
written — all the same!

must a glyph truly obtain
a sense of distinction?

it is now its own.

:: 07.14.2020 ::

Notes for the Students:

THIS POEM explores the interconnectedness of language, sound, and emotion. The poet contemplates the origin of words and the relationship between syllables and the expression of pain. The question of which came first, the syllable or the sound of pain, reflects on the primal and innate nature of language as a means of conveying human experience.

The repetition of the phrase “they ARE the same” emphasizes the unity of spoken and written language, suggesting that the essence of expression remains constant across different forms. The poem questions the necessity for a glyph (a written symbol) to have a distinct meaning, implying that language evolves organically and may not always follow rigid rules.

The final lines, “it is now its own,” suggest a sense of independence and self-contained identity for language. This could be interpreted as an acknowledgment of the power of language to shape its own meaning and significance over time.

Overall, the poem invites readers to reflect on the mysterious and evolving nature of language, emphasizing its ability to capture and convey complex emotions and experiences.


Like Flying Within Fog

He loved to walk the bank,
within gray dawn.

All the lake’s waking
riding on the morning mist.

Suggesting.

All his stories,
a lifetime to collect.

No one else could know.
Surely he was on to
something he could show.

He’d always found,
an ease, a release
drifting within the fog.

A place where ideas
could break free.

:: 01.22.2024 ::


TRANSPARENT SOCIETY

Upon the vast expanse of blank parchment,
Unspoiled slabs of molding clay,
They lay unfolded before me,
As her earthly form once did sway.

The quintet of horizons,
Whirled in orbit around her soul,
As the globe revolves in homage,
To the radiant, golden sun’s control.

Yet the air I once inhaled,
Now has veered a different course,
And all that I bestowed upon her,
Contained the essence of my life’s discourse.

Oh, what wisdom I imparted,
She adorned as her attire,
Yet now my hands, embittered,
Rub against the clouds entire.

In the realm of what was everything,
Beneath the shadows, my hands do strive,
And the images once vivid,
Now drenched in hues of somber black arrive.

A stroll amidst the world outside,
Enveloped by the sounds of children’s play,
Their laughter echoes in the air,
Yet my soul bears a searing dismay.

Twisted thoughts, they dance and twirl,
A carousel within my mind,
I’m spinning, spinning ceaselessly,
As the sun sinks, leaving me behind.

Now my hands, they gently cradle,
Fragments of shattered glass,
Of what was once my universe,
Now diminished, a fading mass.

The images, once vibrant,
Now painted in the darkest ink,
A tapestry of love gone awry,
Turned my world to shades of black, I think.

All that was, has now departed,
A canvas tattooed with despair,
Every glimpse, every aspect,
Marked with the echoes of a love that’s rare.

In the tapestry of time,
A future where you’ll shine,
A celestial being in another’s sky,
But why, oh why, can’t that sky be mine?

[“The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.” – Ezra Pound]


ALL OUR LOVE

Beneath the boughs so green,
Where love and I recline serene,
And echo a joyous song,
To the bird’s melodious throng,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No adversarial wind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,

Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

In this haven of tranquil reprieve,
Where hearts and nature interweave,
A sanctuary free from strife,
Embracing the rhythm of simple life,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No tumultuous grind,
Only winter and weather wild.

As seasons change with a gentle hand,
Through the cycles, we understand,
The beauty in moments, both calm and reviled,
Embracing the dance of winter and weather wild.”’*

*BEAT, BEATH, BEATH, BAet iA LOVE!

:: 12.25.2023 ::

Beneath the boughs so green,
Where love and I recline serene,
And echo a joyous song,
To the bird’s melodious throng,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No adversarial wind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,

Approach, approach, approach:
Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

For those who spurn ambition’s chase,
And cherish the sun’s warm embrace,
Feeding on life’s simple fare,
Content with what is granted there,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No foes unkind,
Only winter and weather wild.

In this haven of tranquil reprieve,
Where hearts and nature interweave,
A sanctuary free from strife,
Embracing the rhythm of simple life,
Approach, approach, approach:

Here shall we find,
No tumultuous grind,
Only winter and weather wild.

As seasons change with a gentle hand,
Through the cycles, we understand,
The beauty in moments, both calm and reviled,
Embracing the dance of winter and weather wild.”’*

*BEAT, BEATH, BEATH, BAet iA LOVE!

:: 12.25.2023 ::