The stream (all workshops)
So beautifully penned
Of memories
I once wrote somewhere here
but one I shall now compose...
do not to the garbage bin of time dispose
memories are a joy forever I suppose
we live by the memory of time
long buried since
but memories are all reverie
in moments of existence
and
these returns to us
those loved ones sometimes
we call were mine..
such memories come back again
oft to our gain
but alas memories never fail in vain
they are the fruits of love
we had tasted once.
Some sickie took the clickity-clack
out of the new railroad tracks
It was bad enough they took away
the red caboose
Why can't they leave well enough alone?
I liked things the way they were
Clickity-clack, clickity-clack
coming down the railroad track
blowing that lonesome, wailing whistle
that I love to hear sing out to all
Telling us "hello", "goodbye
as it passes by in the night
Mr. Engineer, blow that whistle
one more time
Back then when everything was in one place
not spread out through this great expanse of time-space
I wrote upon a star my history
then placed it in your eyes, to keep for me
Existing in that grey - a million stars
and when you smiled they all became quasars
illuminating deepest depths of soul
and my sun was the brightest of them all
From one creative source all ashes came
a multitude of difference from the same
devolving simpler rhythms, simpler rhymes
to form a long goodbye from shorter times
it was there
when you changed colour
and between sleep and awake
I loved every word
you would ride out and pick bumblebees
your dreaming dizziness
like a mad happy
slot machine
we had a coffee party behind your closed eyelids
to just hear
and caress the edge of your imagination
to feel you as happiness
I am a free bird
Just that I shot down from the sky
By a hunter’s game and left to die
Upon this rubble of insanity
I survived but a free bird in captivity
Now I rove the grim borders of this world
Looking out for a good grasp of wind
To fly high again, a free bird
But if the wind does not blow
And life is still grey without a glow
It’s okay; I am still a free bird, a sparrow
With liberty voice singing from my pain
The hunter’s heart will hear of my hurt
When with all of my might
I begin walk and walk
I imagined like always you would
come,
Whistling that moronic tune,with
your breath soaked with rum.
Asking like always,if I have eaten,
before dressing my palm with
bills -spoils of a gambler's
war,taxed from those you had at
the table beaten. Though drink
was cascade-ing ur voice
sore,with a lil lime,you gulped
the gin more.
Today as always I waited
with pitched bliss,
Ignorant of what life had fated.
I imagined your coming,more
than your leaving, I imagined
The full moon is shining bright tonight.
Brighter than any other time of the year.
In the Carolinas, a Carolina Girl sits quietly in her car; kindle fire in hand surfing the internet at McDonald.
A peak at the fullmoon; she covets its beauty as she reads in God's word how life will be one day. Trees too far to see, grabble at the light with its fingers.
The rainy dark clouds obstructs her view. Impedes her peaceful coexistence with the unifying of her spirit with nature.
This has been a description of my avatar
Once -being blue- I flew to the garden seeking pleasure
Isn't that what we usually get when we walk among flowers?
At the far back corner I could sight
a rare beauty that caught my heart.
But as I stepped closer I heard a sigh,
and found a diamond-tear in her eye.
Eagerly I asked about the matter,
but quite hesitantly that beauty muttered :
“Not only humans feel and fear,"
"even flowers might have a tear.”
Poetry comes to me at night
When the whole world turns quiet
I have with me a pen...
A blank paper
My thoughts...
My heart...
And some cheap wafer
I start to cry;
I hear my mind
Yes,
I weep because mostly I can’t seem to find
A way to make things better
To make my pains lesser
Then my tears begin to fill that plain white sheet
I'll blame it on tectonic plates
the kind which push the mountains higher
they move like rusty swinging gates.
In blaming them I am a liar.
Those cussed things also cause rifts
spreading valleys ever wider
as they go about their drifts
like some kind of great divider.
And all this motion's going faster
especially in these last few years
leading to personal disaster
and to vague unspoken fears.
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