Speaking In TonguesIt's true that the poet must ever struggleSpeaking In Tongues4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the dead weight of words, must shape
the beginnings of meaning from all the contingencies,
the accidents that blur the smooth edges of spirit's form.
It's true that every beginning will falter
long before the moment is discovered
clothed in simple perfection. Though I must fail,
I still can glory in a wealth of harmonics
that a greater soul might one day resolve.
UrbanThe broken paving stones provide a niche within an unforgiving world,Urban2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tenacious weeds have multiplied around these narrow opportunities
these stringy plants are fitted for survival against the odds, each one
pitching its separate claim to life. Beneath the ruptured slabs, spindle
filaments of roots seek sustenance in gritty soil, dark and moist. in pockets
Too shallow for the ornate costumes of the pampered rose.
No horticultural art is practiced here, in this harsh universe
resources must be hoarded, so close to the void of the lifeless these survivors
grow. For them the season of flowering is brief:
a short lived flash of vermillion
ArachnidDeath sunbathesArachnid3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the afternoon,
Its web of shiny
filaments spread wide
to entrap the unwary
Suspended in its trance
of desire, it's fixed
in motionless anticipation.
It awaits the moment
when a careless hope
will enter into oblivion.
ChantryListen, child, listenChantry3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
to the love that the bird sings
mellifluous, monotonous, it chants
the changeless song of its being
that love, that ancient syncopation,
that emptiness of the overflowing heart.
A City Augustine Never Dreamed OfSuch strangeness stalks these dream haunted alleys and lanes.A City Augustine Never Dreamed Of3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At noon the city's byways still remain submerged in subterranean shadow,
sunk in a motionless reverie. No creature stirs, Within enclosing walls
murmurs, even cries might be heard, were there any curiously listening.
The sun vanishes abruptly. The day ends, precipitating all the activity of night,
the sensual argument of the drum, flares providing erratic, dancing light,
and shadows whirling suddenly like dervishes, across the crumbling plaster
of close packed walls. The alleys seethe with the flesh of strangers,
lives that pass too close to each other, remaining unrecognised.
The city's passionate nightlife huddles beneath the moon's baleful enquiry.
RecitativeYou're right. I have chosen the uniform of mourning,Recitative4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
At first it seemed that I had made my choice pragmatically.
I thought the dark mode would enhance my performing,
nothing in my appearance would distract from my words.
Then I realised that I was mourning indeed. Each poem
experience once lived avidly, now but a wordy husk.
Need To KnowAcross the landscape of my dreamsNeed To Know2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I see an empty sky remote and glowing.
All that I might be is shrouded,
swallowed in a cloud of unknowing
Too often I have tried, only to fail
exhausted by a passionate need to know
Anguish is the only crop for me to reap,
the only crop that I could ever sow.
ExpeditionaryAs we travel across it, we get the impression that this vast, naked landscape is comatose. It has been lying here in stunned inactivity for who knows how many millions of years. The turbulences of the air assault it, water and ice work to refashion the giant as it sleeps. We are too minuscule to be registered in this empty vastness, in spite of which our banners flutter, bravely as it seems to us, in the keening breeze. It remains our ambition to travel beyond this emptiness, into verdant, friendlier regions. That is why a part of our caravan is loaded with the essentials for trade. We must be ever vigilant for the health of our pack animals, lest their illnesses and injuries should injure us.Expeditionary2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
All of us, men as well as beasts, will be in need of water. So we have secured guides, taciturn men who grew up as animal herders on these arid plains. They alone can read the messages that emptiness conveys, yet at night, around the embers of our cooking fires, there is muttering among us. How d
SpiderSpider.Spider3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
within the void.
a tiny intelligence
extinguished in a moment.
Air Force Revisited.Air Force Revisited.3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
dense enough to deflect light
Water drops suspended in
the high, thin air, wind sculpted.
solid enough to impede light
yet made of nothing.
Water drops suspended in
the high, thin air, wind sculpted.)
SynthesisSynthesis5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
creates appearance, divides
where spirit unites.
Surfaces that seem solid,
softened by love, melt away.
BlindfoldedBlindfolded4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The seen, the unseen
so close together. Only
makes them all invisible.
We prefer not to see them.
BewareIt takes a calm earBeware5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
to hear a fortune teller
without self deceit.
About A LetterWriting to you,About A Letter3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
discovering what I need to say, my words building blocks.
I craft them to shape an offering to you.
Years have passed since we lived our bonded everyday,
since the anguish of our disentangling, the lifetime, as it seems,
that followed of convalescence and recovery.
I hope that we can meet now in a space dappled with darks and lights.
the tapestry of experience we shared. I see its patterns stirred constantly
as the peaks and troughs of feelings we once shared eddy in my mind.
My words can only bear witness. Even after so much of cooling,
of erosion, as other passions have reshaped the mindscapes
we created in our distant past. I write to you from a place become
a place of solitude, a place where fresh words might grow from
those all feelings that we once declared,
offered to you now, ripened fruit ready to be shared.
LossAfter we parted,Loss2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
phantom pleasure, phantom pain.
OceanicOceanic3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The sun and the moon
excite the ceaseless, surging
Silent trickle ingesting
the shore, or stormy roar.
CellularA prisoner withinCellular4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
his locked heart, no one
allowed to enter. Practice
the lock picker's art
as you will, the blocked
heart is unyielding.
So much involuntary
shielding, yet the prisoner
longs to recover
his forfeited liberty.
Seeing NothingHe watches carefully, observes.Seeing Nothing2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Chance has led him to this quiet place, where insect drone and birdsong weigh further down air heavy already with the season’s heat. He wears a broad brimmed hat against the sun’s blinding glare.
For him this is a day of inactivity. He has escaped the attentions of his tutor,
who had himself succumbed to the drowsing weight of midday.
Before him, appearing to cling to a crumbling façade of ancient, weathered stone, he has spotted the object of his attention. It’s a rectangular tablet, partly bisected by an ornate blade that casts a sharp edged shadow. The tablet is set around its periphery with antique numerals. Upon a single one of these the blade-like shadow falls.
He knows how once this device had measured the progress of the hours, when the old estate bustled with the activities that kept it thriving and prosperous.
The boy watches. Does he see the shadow move?
This is his conundrum: what can he see?
He sees where no sunlight
Emancipation Day1Emancipation Day3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am here, not dreaming I know, yet feeling apart
from all my surroundings, as though an actor who waits his cue,
ready, when the word is spoken, to plunge into the world
spun by the playwright's web of images.
We all have parts, it seems, in what could have been an antique movie.
Soon each of us will recite our contribution to the day's script.
(The townscape surrounding us, these unfamiliar buildings,
all glow, made unsubstantial by a convalescent sun.)
He is beside me, trailing reminders of our often celebrated love.
He too is touched by the strangeness of the day, yet we, he and I,
are the day's single reality.
We wear the uniform, collar, tie and suit.
A few close friends swell our number. They too await
their ceremonial cues. They are our witnesses,
ready to vouch publicly for that reality that fate
seems to have woven around our shared intimacy.
(Will memory burnish it, making
it glow in recollection,
this liberating day when my sluggish life was tugged
UnreachableUnreachable3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
We return only
when we dream, yet we live
Here in the present, the rush
of time crushes us too close.
Aboriginal Elegy1Aboriginal Elegy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They fought, my brave, implacable forefathers,
outnumbered and outgunned, swept aside
as the lethal tide of conquest overwhelmed them.
Those who survived were crushed, humiliated,
driven to the infertile margins of their former domain.
My people were driven from the Great Plains,
condemned to bitter memories, to the company of ghosts.
Their shame oozed from
their spirits’ festering wounds.
Each returning day I must mourn
for a world lost long before I was born,
I weep for those who died, I feel their spirits
as they sleep, tormented by an anguish of dreams.
Red Indians, redskins, native Americans,
-these names are but curses, denying what we used to be.
Our Nations never lived in America! The invaders brought America
with them, unrolling it across our plains, burying our people,
extinguishing our names.
My people imprisoned on reservations, long before I was born
my childhood languished among them, the tribe a remnant,
the lost progeny of beaten braves, dispirited
DovesAlone, just sorrow,Doves3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
paired, see unalloyed joy.
Birds that bond for life.