who is there that does not believe
who is there that shall believe
for in that belief
resides hope eternal
and all shall be
all shall come
from –
within.
source.
Tag: Poems
‘that’s swell, clamshell’
the casual calamity of the common clamshell;
back in the day
an ashtray
an art project
finger-painted
adornments to elevate the rock garden
once whole with life
two halves are just a shell
of the former self
notes… sometimes I am whimsical but still philosophical …this would be one of those times, don’t deny your inner loki if you have one, care to indulge, just don’t extend to hurt, that’s all
a prayer for the time of my dying…
for into the arms of god go I
divine guided path
with a fulfilled heart
and calm mind,
for into the bosom of god am I
for my ego shall fade
to rest
as I have arrived home
for all time.
notes… am I not dying anytime soon (I hope) but if I do I hope for more, I am not religious, I do not prescribe to any particular belief, and I do not have any angst against those that do, I have to believe something else is out there, our life on this world is truly a miracle, it could all be random and what not, I accept that, but I hope for more, I yearn for more, and if I am wrong ? I will never know anyway, so I plant my flag in the camp of hope on that end, and may I see those I love once again… somewhere, someway, maybe in a dream that is a parallel reality…
the manor… [“_“]
the manor
in the house of the dying sun,
a knock on the door
an uncle a cousin a brother
and I forgot to remember-
that he is gone
for father has traveled on
into the land beyond (our senses).
the wife, a sister, my mother
left with the charge
for every crack and nook
imbued with the marriage of years
strolling through photobooks
slow motion silent cinema tales
snapshots of a life no longer in motion
told and closed,
the deacon of my being struggles
struggles for reason
for faith to believe in our fates
for a reason, for a meaning,
I yearn for the voice of dominion
for guidance, for wisdom
for the power to accept
as we must, and accept
there is no choice
no choice in the matter
for soon enough I will join you father
and once more
be of your manor.
notes… been mired in the weather so not posting too much, I have been writing however, just not posting, sometimes life gets in the way, you know ? Thanks for all the looks and comments, I appreciate your time and stopping by.
lost.love.letters.
my beautiful flower
for what have I done
poisoned my garden
’till kingdom come
notes… since my father passed I have been posting photos on my facebook page daily, and of course I wound up running across photos of her, my true love, the major screw up I can never mend, well, I hope but that was many years ago, time is supposed to mend or heal, not so much here, I try not dwell but honestly it is always there, somewhere, some days just rise and it is all I can think about, just happened to coincide with V-day, I used to make her special meals, with red themes, heart shaped veg or the like, always something ambitious, I miss those days, but I am still here and there are days ahead, so that has to be my focus, but seeing those old photos, the closeness, her holding me and me her, in addition to my old dog, Chestnut, whom I loved so very much, and made mistakes like any first time parent, memories, of all the animals we had, practically a zoo, birds (amazon yellow front, parakeet, parotlet, monk parakeet), a degu, pacus, turtles (mississippi mud and soft shell), a mexican tarantula, a sugar glider and a texas ground squirrel… yeah it was pretty nuts, and I leaving out the scorpions and betas… retrospect always breeds romanticism, but who am I to argue with my own feelings? but accept them.
phrase… (or phase) a moon enchantment…
under the glance of the wax for I
sentinel of grace, in this- frozen- field,
a garden they say,
whispers of the fruit- hang
all this from the gate that did pour out
filling the mother burst with life
and all that adorns,
“choose, choose the light”
whispers on shade flight in the ancient tongue
woven,
in dna, in instinct, into cells as pathway ancestral lines
even on this cold stark barren plain
a sign, a scion of the daystar stands
for generations of man
for the furthermore
a fellow that travels, bags unpacked
a beacon, the only celestial within our reach
I pray,
give me warmth on this coldest of the nights of this life
make my hearth dance in joy and with fire’s delight,
whirling smoke swirls, a tribute
in chimney speak, rise up- spiral into the night,
let my dreams ride such a caravan
and visit with you- for but a moment
to press your shoulder- in a tender embrace
bask in the presence of long far and such past
eyes that have seen countless spin
a night, and day again, over
I wish to listen to your chorus
and lay
ear to, listen to, your chorus
as I become a phrase.
note…to those who don’t know, and a nod to those who do… most of my work is off the cuff, meaning instant, and so I do, I am experimenting lately with form and type, just feeling out the world with words, that is my hands molding the clay of the world around me… so, that’s it… and I thank you for the visit, all comments are appreciated, and I do mean all…
lost.love.letters.
as I might
contemplate
that last moment
before I leave this plane
and wonder
my last thought
will I see you
oh lord
will I see my love
once more
on a beam of light
so singular in this life
left bereft of completion
longing to be whole again
the separation
and we pray to write, unite
a fabled ending
and I must confess
my faith wavers
doubt simmers
for I am just a man
but I look to the sky
to the sun
to the stars
to you
oh lord
will I see my love
once more.
notes... been awhile since I opined for my love (her), other things, life going on, I suppose, but it is always there, isn’t it? just under the surface, always there like a shadow beat to my heartbeat, like an echo to my every thought reverb, my love I hope you are well and content, wherever you are these days… (from a poem perspective this was me being deliberate and staccato, something I do sometimes to hear the timing in my mind)
window musings (part 2)…
“for if this is all I have
’tis more than some will ever know”
a window into the world
defined by frames
defined by shape
much like our own
words try to clarify a picture
quantify a fraction
symbols drawn together
and agreed upon among others
language –
like an ancient tree
the high branches so far removed from root
reaching up
as if to escape
or grasp the stars – themselves
for we know to well
not bound to this earth
for we know not long – enough
as the spirit thrives to live on
pause, to take a look…
the sky unfolded above me
out toward the horizon
‘I have had dreams like this’
-thought crossed;
unfurled cotton waves
extended into the burnt orange
just an ordinary man
in an ordinary lot
the world transformed
into living art
notes… even on a rough day, I felt ground down to a stump, back was barking a bit, I was no where special, no where besides this miracle marble, more locally New Jersey south, in an asphalt parking lot, outside a supermarket in a semi-beach town in winter, something inside me said “pause”, the cosmos? god? an ancient ancestor giving a nod? maybe all those… for like our ancient past, I looked to the sky… and was amazed (that photo is what I saw above the usual fray I was mired in)… so, like I always say, take a pause, take it in, you might be dazzled every now and again when the norm is hanging over your head…
the reclamation… ;;;
into the dying sun
for there will go I
even the sun must, all sons will die
I turn to hope, to retain
the well is running dry
for mother is recalling her precious resource
reclamation to imbue the cosmic womb
with the life of another
death and incubation are stages, gemini
the well runs deep now
the well is running dry
so I will dig deeper
the work is harder, but familiar
hands harden like wood, with age
nails rotten with dirt – under, itches
as long as there is the energy
the breath to drift in
a beating heart within this chest
a raven stands over a puddle
and for a moment
catches a reflection
Shades of My Garden 