Tag: Poetry

a little poem about life (and such)…

a little poem about life (and such)…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
adorable baby beautiful child
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“fertile”
with free will
to burrow in your harvest
our limbs entwined
as I enter your forest
to fertilize within
for the land shall bloom
and from that union
gift forth that womb
will emerge,
a child
hope, is renewed.

notes… sometimes I have to admit I just don’t know where the inspiration comes from (or words), which makes me ponder the nature of the universe, I mean we are this incalculable chance of billions to the billions chance of being right now, right here, right at this moment (you reading this!), it is mind boggling, that in all the universe language was created and I am here to have it germinate in my mind,  and share, as art, as life… it is utterly mind numbing, humbling, wondersome (my word!), and just… an affirmation of life as we have it right now, in our hands, hearts and minds…

musical choice of the evening… “Power of Love” – King’s X, because the greatest of these is love… I am a child of the 80’s so excuse my proclivities… or don’t, I’ll still be here…

and as always I would be remiss to not say thanks for the read, the likes, the eyeballs, the seafood lasagna recipes, and everything else, I am glad to enlighten at least anyone past my door, thanks.

and I look up to the sky…

and I look up to the sky…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
full moon illustration
Photo by Alex Andrews on Pexels.com

clouds laid out
like a flight of stairs
up the sky
onto the moon
my dreamer’s heart rise
to fly
above destiny’s bounds
to part this mortal ground
my eyes do not gaze
into the cold death of space
no stars dwell in the twilight now
the sensation of ascension
enamors my imagination
to that known twin, ancient friend
in this time of bright
when dimmed, the promise of return
might I ascend

notes: I looked up @ the sky and the clouds looked like a staircase…. and I thought… do I have the hops ? (I don’t know why this video made me laugh so much…)

minimal.

minimal.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
red and gray seesaw in the playground
Photo by Mike Anderson on Pexels.com

they
see – saw
she – saw
their – love
balanced
each – other

notes: visual and minimal was my goal, you decide if I met the mark, just one of those little poems that came to me for no reason I can ascertain… and I will leave you with that, I have some cool stuff to post this weekend, I went out of my way today to find some local beauty (find beauty wherever it may be is one of my guiding functions these days), I have some cool photos to post from a little excursion I made, oddly no words came to me, I wrote nothing although I brought my journal and got some looks…. “why is this business dressed guy holding a leather bound book/journal thing, smiling and walking out on the pier in the middle of this heat??” – yeah, I imagine I illicit that mental conversation… I stick out, but I try really to not care anymore and just do my thing… I am getting there… one day I will shake hands with myself and sigh “finally…”

perception…

perception…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
art blur close up fidget spinner
Photo by Jordan on Pexels.com

the sound of my
bathroom exhaust fan rattling
from years of revolutions,
outside
I put my ear to the ground
to listen for that very sound
but to the surface dwellers
this is imperceptible
or on a frequency
not given
this is a frequency
for which
I am not equipped.

notes… I call this observational poetry, something catches my eye (or ear) with a hook of metaphor, what for ? I don’t know, ask the muse, I just work here.

And I looked out upon the day…

And I looked out upon the day…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
desert under yellow sunset
Photo by Fabio Partenheimer on Pexels.com

(music to read this by, let it load and start, trust me on this one…)

the heat, the weight of a summer day yoke
the intense concentration to hallucinate
the air above
the asphalt groves
a belly dancer, undulating
a snake charmer, hypnotizing
the air
like a stagnant pool
shade retreats
looking for itself
the air
so damn still
a pin could drop and never hit the ground
statues sweat without pigeon feet
the silence of the wild
is the sound of retreat
as night, sweet quench-cold drink, approaches…
lies just out of reach
fierce the brave thunderstorm
would be a most welcome site
I consider melting
into a puddle
instead of the sweltering
boiling in my own skin
even a lemon ice
is a blink reprieve
how I wish and beg for
the night to draw
the earth to yaw
how I yearn for that sweet refrain
oh, the coming of the night
if only for the time
so I might close my eyes
and delve into that sleep
to gather back my rivers
for the coming day
and flow into an endless ocean
carried on a dream
on the calm cool ocean
a feathered kiss
a breeze…

notes… I wrote this out on the porch tonight, it is what I do, or have been doing for a year now, damn, it is so much better in the summer, sitting out on my perch… er, porch, just riffing with words, this is all off the cuff stuff, some slight word changes but all written in a blink tonight, in the moment, could I perfect it ? hone it? hell yeah. but that is not the point, the point is raw, deliverance, me, my thoughts, you dig it ? great? not… well I still wake up in the morning… I think…

and if you did not get fair warning, shame on you… van halen was once the king of the damn world for a time… there was something about the maelstrom, the collection of those guys at that one time and the times at hand… all I can tell you it was a thing, I imagine that is why the Stones still tour even though I think they are completely droll…

a poem, of a lyrical nature…

a poem, of a lyrical nature…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
houses near mountain
Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

“and the water runs dry“
when the water is gone
and the roots dry crack
when the rain is gone
and the wells wide gasp
when the sea is gone
bones pluck will lie
when the river runs stop
damns ditched run dry
when the last blood drop
mirrors fade paint bend
pick past last crop
we are at our end.

notes… just one of those gifted to me by the muse, I wrote it as is, from scratch, it made me think musically, lyrically.

Always the sky inspires…

Always the sky inspires…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
atmosphere blue sky clouds cloudscape
Photo by melchor gama on Pexels.com

“sky draft“
the sky is a story, right now
a beginning, and an end
the script reads left to right
I can not say what language this is
but the design, I recognize
over there is the fight scene
or the love scene
hard to tell, at times,
a dark cloud brooding
about halfway through
skip ahead
a bulb laid on blue
some pages appear blank
perhaps a spot for improvisation
weather or not
the story holds
or is being written
with an unseen pen
changing, shifting
but always a beginning,
always an end.

notes… we all look up (every version of humanity has), I wonder for many reasons, the fact that our sky is actually so thin and is all that separates us from what ancients used to call heaven, a little layer of air is all the separates us from space, and suffocation, and all that happens in that little layer is amazing, a whole system of intertwined water vapor, truly a wonder as it swirls asunder and not so much under, swirling clouds of water vapor, patterns in the sky, braille for the gods I suppose or just those that can fly above…

music… let me introduce you to another genre…electronic, more upbeat than ambient but still… chill… enjoy…

>>>Chillwave/Synthwave/Retrowave

lost. love. letters.

lost. love. letters.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
black and white black and white branches cloudy
Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

“if once more
I would hold your hand
in, with both of mine,
cradled.
as, the most precious, the most delicate
of all that was ever created,
was gifted,
was mine to have,
if only,
once more,
to feel the presence of your warmth
thaw these cradled lands
my hands would illuminate
in that moment
be overrun
overwhelmed
damns burst river flow forth
with love, of joy,
filling up my heart
saturating my bones
if only,
for once more –
my love.”

notes… the letters are in runes, all of their various meanings, I leave to you… (musical choice for the eve)

(written originally 6.12.2019, quite forgotten about in one of my journals, rewrote a few times since today, mostly just word positions and such, and by the way, thanks for the look and your time, I appreciate anything outside of mine, thanks)

a simple thought, on passing snake hill…

a simple thought, on passing snake hill…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
c m heart embossed on three
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“a profession of love
initials coupled on a rock
an ad hoc memorial
to love so temporal
or with hope
anniversaries immemorial”

written on my daily drive up the NJ Turnpike, passing Snake Hill (as it is locally known), graffiti is sometimes… sometimes… a bit more.  as you pass over snake hill on the left the entire NYC skyline is on your right… clear as a bell…

>>>musical accompaniment : Warrior Soul – The Losers and Lullaby

kind of anthems for me from back in the day… they were a rebel rock band when hair bands were dominating the scene, well, they had hair, but not that hair…

and I would be remiss, if I did not say thanks for all the reads, eyeballs and all the such… now, my american friends, do not go blowing off your fingers tomorrow, hard to do here in jersey, the only thing legal fireworks wise is basically sparklers… yech… I could tell you stories about m-80s and m-90s and pool filters… but nah, not today… did I mention I write off the cuff pretty much all the time ? yeah… pretty much…

the vacillation of hope… (a poem)

the vacillation of hope… (a poem)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
blur close up focus ground
Photo by Gelgas on Pexels.com

“my hope resides
in the chalice of the unborn
silent the heart
that has no song
for the word love
has not long passed this tongue
I count in years
as numbers less drawn,
might I gather dew
from that morning leaf
and renew my spring
from the gift of dawn,
yes, the sun rises
but no chariot awaits me there
I dwell here low
in hours drawn late,
I wonder,
how did I get here?
where can I go?
but this light of hope
grows dim, and slow
dim, and, slow
dissipates.”

notes… I would love to tell you I am a bulwark against pessimism, and generally I usually am, but I have my moments of weakness, I am human, I embrace them, I see my shortcomings, so is it OK to despair? I think it is for a time, what are the mountains without the valleys ?  the point is to see the valley, when you are in it, and gather to climb the mountain again, you never win, you always fall down, just keep up the trail, is it logical, no, but either that or just lay down and let the world run over you, you have a choice, a loss, a setback, they happen, dust yourself off and give fate the stink eye… walk the path, I am trying, and failing mostly, but I will get up and push that rock back up the hill, even with a bunion…

music…

>>> Eric Johnson – When the Sun Meets the Sky (live)

c’mon, sweet tone… a soft song, great on a summer night such as this…