I was transcribing some more stuff from my notes today.. and boy does my handwriting suck… I really ought to be more careful but sometimes these things are written spur of the moment wherever I may be (many times in my car driving!). So for what it is worth here are some more…

 

 

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“untitled” 6/2017

rain on the lake
a common trope
draws the eye –
inspires…
romantic hope

smoky fog
hugs the mountain far
a road corralled by trees
all hands waving leaves
all say the same
all turn to bask in the coming rain

a voice on the wind
of a bird I know not who
the rain loses pace
almost a pause
nearly completely still
drop by drop
stopped.

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“untitled” 6/2017

this dying body can provide
to other passengers by

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“Traffic”  6/2017

grasping for a metaphor,
a gnarled tree?
yet nature has purpose.

traffic is perverse
traffic is a curse – spoken in rage
traffic is a treason on the soul

created in a compilation, consternation, confirmation
in a faulty foundation of political underpinnings
in other words : frustration!

DMK Note: The above poem is meant to be a bit humorous…especially those of us who commute daily here in the tri-state (NY, NJ, CT) area.

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“untitled”  6/2017

fallow fields
fallow minds
poison seeds
to commit the crime

Trying to catch up to current stuff!  I do like some of the ideas here even if sort of simplistic.. not everything has to be word geometry I guess.  But if that is your thing…cool. Comments/Thoughts are always appreciated.

 

 

 

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“untitled”  5/2017
sweet tide to kiss my brow
for me to sail
into the never ending sea

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“buried”  5/2017
Broken –
Mason –
Jar –
half buried, half sane
peering through patterns
spindle of sunlight crowning
what remains above ground

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“to not know the rain”  5/2017
to not know the rain
in the forest
or the plains
on the desert mars
light years span as far,
unless your vessel is a lens
to see space and back again

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“you” 5/2017
is it a mood
is it blue
is it a tone
is it a hue
is it the true feeling
of who you are – ?
emerge.

Oops.. a little out of order but does that matter…  probably not.  I’m sure I will find plenty of material lying around these parts to post here and there.

 

 

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“untitled” 5/2011

listening to the immutable hum of blue orchids
(crossing)
time gone by
time goes by

watching the breeze bend
over the shrub like darting wings
leaves turn to their partners
sunlight illuminates open paths
shade underneath hiding

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“untitled”  late 8/2012

the wind is a whisper
the moon is a rumor
this late summer hour
masks amongst the choir
of insect chatter

and I take a breath.

Lots of archiving I have to do… I wonder if it will show progress? hmm?   Feedback is appreciated if ya’ feel like it.  And please if you re-post give me credit… otherwise aliens will come down. abduct you and do things to your bum… (and you won’t like it).

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“untitled” 2011

in the quiet of my mind

ambient music numbing trance

parkway lanes parting

past my sides

late nights drive, 1 am

(eastern time)

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“untitled” (2) 2011

diffused cloth umbrella

rocking back and forth like on a ship

but on a breeze,

wind placing ladies at the tables

cats and carps begging for scraps

the thoughts of travel

back to the cloud climb

in mere hours,

the constant rollick of the breeze

the click clank of metal tubing, swinging , hypnotic moving

 

the carbonation of flies amongst the gaze

the sheen of sun upon the pond

at last the honey suckle scent penetrates

birds, peripheral, call out their sounds,

in orderly fashion as not to arouse,

ripples die and softly rage

as stillness impregnates both birth and long age

so once again wind does rise

click, clack, click, clack

nature is a metronome devised

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“untitled” (3) 2011

Ah…where is that beam of light to illuminate this darkest of landscapes?

If I might only find what my mind half spent in searching,

and divide the time in lines to seek out the answer…

Where has she gone?

Has she gone at all?

or is she standing right where I left her,

like a tree passed a thousand times before,

existing as the same as memory,

and close inspection

a flower by the trunk,

always there-

but sometimes (as is the case) the passers-bye forget to look

upon that majestic face

with eyes lost in the reflection of blue sky,

lost in the familiar intersection

Sometimes these are just snippets or ideas.. what makes a complete poem anyway ? who is to say.  Maybe just an idea or thought has weight, a beginning or an ending… or somewhere in between.

 

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“untitled” 3/18/2005

spring tease is a summer dress

bolstered by a Tuesday grace

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“untitled” 5/30/2015

do I see the artistry in architecture

the notes upon the arcs

the inherent colors of laid stone

might I follow the symphony of design

as Davinci in sly strokes of her smile

and ‘Angelo in broad strokes on a ceiling

 

This is some older work I have had laying around.  I figure I might as well post it… some is dated, some are not but I archived them so they should be in rough chronological order based on the poems around them…

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“untitled”  in the florida keys (islamorada)

Palm Shadows
like tiger stripes
docking poles

waves of wind
slide over gulf to east
sense of peace

lap of waves
against the dock
not so subtle a reminder

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“Analisa”

your eyes follow me ‘cross the room
on truth? ’tis mine that follow you

Oh how I wish upon,
embrace within my arms
all these evenings long
shivering from the storm

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“untitled”

for long of age this season
on my heart had not met
test the feeling not forget
to breathe again
and spring to life
old sprout to turn new leaf
above decay
robs back from the thief who hid
such love in places barely lit

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“untitled” 1.6.2005

I am the lone canadian
distinctive honk
racing against the grayish tide of winter rain
a dawn
a mile the same

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“Day 1711”

by all accounts-
a threat of cloud,
haze and murk clamors
to shield the sun-
but I am yet beaming!

the verrazano bends across the narrows,
the morning doves busy with their dancing prowls,
amongst the wash of tiny helicopter blades-
the offspring of trees cast out to fate.
busy men with umbrellas unload from a bus-
they all have a specific somewhere destinations,
empty park benches wink to keep each other company-
and all this in a scene, postcards are for airports.

the wind carouses through the hairs of leaves
undulating rhythmically,
I imagine tracing fingers across lips in the manner
tracing her design
into all my senses
I might imagine
this is just a dream of future thought,
and reassurance whispers
“don’t wake up”

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“untitled”

single – solitary
a fallen tree in the creek
unknowingly washing away
a snake roams and winds above
all the while disguised as road.

Well, welcome aboard somewhere in the middle of the ride (I hope…)

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton