the waning late summer sun
resting on the face
of a golden still pond
this- is- calm… (pause; inhale… hold… hold… exhale…)
“pinch me my darling,
for surely I travel in the realm of dream”
but no, a sweet captive
of the great blue marble
cast out upon the blackest sea.
Tag: life poems
palaces in plain sight.
within the salt’on sea
the sky is slates of ice
cracks ‘cross of bended light
the sun’s but a dream far night
for the warmth is the warp of gravity
deep inside the core
of that, the salt’on sea
in a frozen landscape, or a floating sea of ice, is there land, is there hope, is there life, the physics still exists in the gymnasts in such realms so let it be… imagination…
(as always your thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated, even if you think I suck, that’s cool too, I do this as a posting of art, nothing more, I do not expect everyone to get it, love it, or even care… just putting a little piece of the me out there into the ether, and hey, maybe you dig the tunes.. I have a lot of thoughts about that… and I also write media reviews, so check them out, I am funnier than you think… well, at least I tell myself that.)
in a simple mirror found…
‘the birdfeeder‘
wrought iron
ancient tower
in look
sold and bought
at a garden center
in years I might have forgot
some winters to fill you up
going bare barren
for an entire season
no good reason, just the passing
forgetting to refill the silo
forgetting t’was even there, at times
the nature of gravity and consumption
in the wind, swaying
a common winter night
not an occasion to stop-
so filled to the top
and spilt over
not a delicate affair
no, certainly not
like an old man in the park
shuffling hands in a paper bag, for company
more organized perhaps
but much the same rouse
much the same draw
and I can not control those who come
who find this rest stop
and sometimes a flurry
a gang of rooks, a jail break frenzy romp
rather than the gentle sweep and peck
the subtle moves of anxiety
the back and forth with caution
of those who might be prey
or at least garnish so
little ones bounce from limb to perch
or a big blue jay swoops in
also on the lurch
sometimes I wish-
to script upon the seed
with the breed
I wish to attract
oh, silly me
haven’t we all done
this very same act?
(in our own reality)
based on the real, just my bird feeder swinging on the tree outside my bedroom window and the implications there… life is a strange and wonderful thing. so…. what do you think ?
and for any noobs: (I promise to be gentle) I write in flash form, maybe my work is not perfect but it is a flash photo of what comes out of my mind and pen (ok, keyboard mostly)… so, just so you know how it works around here, this is all just me throwing my breath out there, so if you read all this, or any of this, thanks for your cherished time, I appreciate it.
the gamble.
guaranteed a seat at the table
however,
with this game of poker
the odds are stacked
the player never wins
the question is
who is the house?
(and who let you in)
just a quick one that popped in my head… so what do you think? about a rigged game? but the house exists so…
rebirth (perhaps)
if I could live my life over again
would I be
the only one
or given a new life
an empty page
or might I prefer
to hold the knowledge
I have gained,
to start in soil
as a sprout
without the memory
of the tree
that spawned me
and set me free upon this earth
as a plotting acorn
a cloud of dandelion seed
a coconut carried to a different shore
on an indifferent sea,
or spirit energy
transformed back to light
and reborn
from forth a celestial womb
to begin the cycle all-together
and all anew (on the universe’s cue)
where to be.
learn to dwell-
dwell in happiness
dwell in love
for let these be your valleys
to guide you to that above
look not to the road of misery
from you know where which it leads
the path of our own foolishness
am I just a gallant buffoon
or a stark raving prancing baboon
shaking my glowing red ass
under the auspice of a harvest moon
without the pride earned by rudolph
nor the purpose with which to lead
except into a tail spin speed
corkscrew map points to the ground
round ‘d’ round ‘d’ round the night
a carousel, a bumblebee in flight
for one passenger though
my bags packed with thoughts
all they might find, in a crash in the dark
compacted into
this little black box
that lies, in abject presentation
and so I will dance, which
for the diminish, succumbs
the coma of night is comfort
the comfort of numb.
sometimes we all act the fool, in jest I must accept not reject this abject part of my humanity… for at best I am my worst and my best is met beyond my expectations my pet, but I bet I do not know anything yet, with four decades under belt I have felt many things and still stumble like a child learning first steps, because there are always more first steps, there is always first steps unless you live life standing still, but then you would be a dummy, both figuratively and literally… or maybe just a man named quinn…
the source of optimism, well, at least one…
the proposal of the sun-
(now) in our time of this sacred covenant
the light does strike out from the direction of dawn
down, out upon my palm
(moments go, the light)
slides up my forearm
yes, and then I notice-
the warming;
welling up, as from within
an upward spring, flowing toward the surface
an awakened primal memory
the pure instinct of response
a trigger, intrinsic in all forms
the jubilation-
a germination-
of the elemental elixir infused
infused with the optimism
inherent in life
from the giver of-
the sun
from whence all life, derives (thrives).
notes… just the power of the sun hitting my arm, on a grey day when the breaks became a jail break of light later on, the feel, the feel is so visceral, something within us all is awakened by such days or moments, to remember, to recall… and carry on, with joy…
the N, the Z, you sea…
out upon the silky sea
a voyage be’ond discovery
for out in that unforgiving grave
a rock
an outcrop
once the roiling cauldron heap
to melt the earth herself
molten dreams roll conjured up
from the continental shelf herself
and here now cooled and tam’d these days
spared the steam ‘don cleared the haze
a seeking flock found peace and stayed
without a fang ‘r tooth long in sight
decided they were done with flight
for why bother with a pilot’s trial
on cliffs and yonder tuck’n’tail
notes… nah, I am not explaining this one… let it be mystery and fodder for imagination as this was a loose interpretation, of language and creation, on my part, in other news I finally reorganized my YouTube Channel a bit, so check it out if you please, and on Facebook I post things so, all that, if you like what I do, thank you, no, truly, I broadcast out my frequency and hope there are at least a few ears in tune, even if not, at least I am here to do it.. and that is truly enough, remember that.
the long wedding…
“Matrimony“
so-
should I?
marry you
death-
now or then
why wait?
why the rush?
inevitable-
the perfect mate;
fate-
so let the courtship begin
and never end.
unless I should begin again;
reincarnation or resurrection-
so let the lantern be lit
so I may follow
into the path of light.
Shades of My Garden 