Tag: Poetry

Watching the death of a generation…

Watching the death of a generation…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
adult affection baby child
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“generations”

so, the wave has begun
the first domino has fallen
a generation to come –
to an end.
I have seen the wave coming
for some time
off on the horizon
off in that inevitable ocean
but so soon crashing upon the shore
this is the way of things
for we are mere pillars
of rock hewn of sand
drawn down and back into the surf
from which we once rose
in and out the flow
of this life,
we pretend
to have some modicum of control
ever looking at that horizon
and the coming waves
as they come for me
surely, some day

notes:  for a while now I know a certain portion of my family is at the cliff, at the precipice of that final step, it is a generational thing, I have been admittedly lucky that death has not visited my doorstep too often, my grandfathers both died before I was two, my grandmothers died at advanced ages not suddenly, that is pretty much it, but now… it is only a matter of time where I fear (know) they will be dropping like flies, I can not imagine what it is like for my parents who have lost friend after friend over the past couple of years, death is not a fickle beast, you can do all you want but she still comes for you whenever she wants, my folks are not in great shape, or of particularly long DNA stock but they are around to witness the deaths of all their friends, it is a strange thing, one we all do not want to imagine or even live in, but it is always there,the horizon seems far but is always approaching.  So this poem is about that, my uncle who is gone now, some months, he was an intellectual in such a way that he ordered no funeral or even memorial, I understand that from a logical/scientific perspective, but maybe those things are more for the living than the dead… a moment in time to bring together a family to remember they are indeed family, maybe even if just for a moment, and perhaps bonds can be reborn, or remade, or started anew as the younger ones in the family are transitioning into the elders and having their own children, the conveyor belt runs better with connectivity, and that requires time set aside to be together… just a thought or thoughts…

analysis blackboard board bubble
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I know, not my usual Saturday lighter musings, and the weekends are where posts go to die, I don’t care, I post what is on my mind, maybe it is because I had to wake up @ 5:30am today to go to work, Sam (the dog) gave me that look like “really dude? you are never up this early”, and of course she’s right, starbucks lasted until about 6pm then I passed out, back up again and writing this, so maybe my mind isn’t quite the same as usual, that’s ok, sometimes you gotta’ shake the tree and see what happens.

Music????  sure… not that you asked but damn I am a persistent mofo pushing what I love…

Shot of Love (acoustic) – King’s X

silhouette photography of man and woman
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Simple and sweet, the vocals are just so friggin good, if you like 3 part harmonies and the Beatles.. well, this should be up your alley (except Doug has a better voice than any of the Beatles individually, I know blasphemy…).  My cousin Renee worked in the city @ the time and sent me the CD with this track on it along with a signed poster, that had to be 1994, it made my year (thanks cuz!), and later I got to meet them many many times over the years, great peeps.

a poem about war glory…

a poem about war glory…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
man wearing gray and red armour standing on the streets
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“battle”

upon glorious victory!
let my men
take me from this field
hoisted up
on heralded shield
a procession commence
to great fanfare
the songs of this day
for long they share
let the choirs rise high
from those survived
chapters now written
in the tales of scribes,
further look back
in peaceful times
the fallen are gone
and shall have no lies

Notes: not to glorify war, but, war happens (one of those inevitable things), there have been many commemorations and such in literature, for some reason the topic hit me and I wrote this from the perspective of a dying commander in the wake of victory, maybe I was listening to this… (hey, I am an old school metal head after all), all comments and such are always appreciated, well, unless they aren’t well thought out, I am a busy guy…

doors of perception, or just doors.

doors of perception, or just doors.

by David Koblentz ♥ 1 Comment
choices decision doors doorway
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“perception”

Doors,

which ones are open

which are closed

which are no more

might I have the skill

a locksmith

a lockpick

might I steal

a quick look, a long peek,

through cracks

and peer

into rooms

before I commit

to entering

cheating

gaming the system

keyholes are for fools

I break and enter

at my will

ignoring the rules

in this maze

I must navigate

compass to north

and find the one door

that opens

all.

notes… written back in August of last year (altered slightly tonight), August, a month I am generally fond of, for some reason…

humanmeshdance (taylor dupree, or taylor121 or a genius imo) – music of the spheres

daily meditation #2…

daily meditation #2…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
light landscape nature sky
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Tune for this… Sounds from the Ground “Wicked Flow”

I sat there, in too much obviousness, sometimes when you are trying to meditate, or clear your mind, you try to hard, in fact you try, that is the problem, there is the confine of time, I get it, I am the same, I have this confined space to get into my right mind during my lunch break, I like to think of music as a trigger, to allow my mind to linger and then fade into the background, I did not do a good job of it today, I was thinking about an upcoming wedding, a young cousin, the same age when I fell madly in love without the groundwork I have now to understand and worship the ground, I thought I might dedicate a poem to them, some wisdom, from me, the fool, but certainly weathered and known, of course I will cut a check to them as is custom but I would rather do something memorable outside of candelabras and the usual like… I wrote this, perhaps a start, it was my thought at the moment, in the moment, so, why not…

love is
two stones in a brook
where over
the water
perfectly flows
shared experience
coincided time
fate in a window
of all that could have ever been
in billions of ever gone and since
two stones in a brook
side by side

notes…. I hope it makes sense to them, or maybe the ramblings of an older man who may understand or may be reaching for once what was, and perhaps what will be, once again, I hope

today’s meditation…

today’s meditation…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
backlit balance beach cloud
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I am no guru or practitioner of any particular faith, belief system or anything of the sort (but I not one to dismiss those things as I once certainly was), today was one of those days at work where everything just seemed LOUD ! (sorry, about the volume, that is), ever have one of those days where every little sound in your office or work environ was more like a jack hammer for your personal amusement, almost a cacophony produced just for your benefit (or to spite specifically you), the phone, the tapping, the door slamming, the laughing, the phone, terrible personal ring tones, the tapping. the door slamming, the phone – will someone get that! all this escalating in a spiral of audio vertigo… ugh, I think you get my drift, so I had to escape to find some good head space, I sneaked off to my car, popped in some tunes (in this case (“Carbon Life Forms – Mos 6581”), FLAC format – I am a nerd, I know, I guess this is meditation, I close my eyes and try to open my mind to whatever will come, sometimes some gnarly psychedelics, but often I think of water (the ocean), as I am trying to clear my mind, not necessarily get to a “happy place” but more or less let my mind wander and empty and see what fills the space, today it had words…

endless waves
stretched out to the horizon
why is it always these times
when the light has not long,
rises in sines
waves formed in perfect lines
motion in curves
amber orange crests to cover,
endless waves
on shore break
I can feel each one, penetrate
as they dissipate into my feet
bottom sand, blanket sense
I wish to lie here forever
for all time
in this
endless waves, this lullaby,
rise risen riding fading
one by one looped film
as one becomes at once billions
and one becomes one with all
the calm
the heartbeat
drawn pace by phases
dampen the path of mortal ambitions
this celestial shore
endless waves
into the forever more.

notes… as usual this is a first draft, I’d love to say I will get back to it… but I probably won’t. this was a moment, and there it is, or was, or something like that.

observations from the porch…

observations from the porch…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

(my series is over a year old now, I’m so proud, well, I was glad to survive the winter, and still write through it, to be fair it was an easy winter by all standards)

beautiful beauty blue bright
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I must readily admit that the visuals this evening, are… well… not particularly inspiring, my neighbor must have guests as cars line the street announcing there is a party at that location, there is no raucous sounds, and this is not some holiday I know of, perhaps a birthday or anniversary I suppose, what dominates my eyes is the lines, the data and power lines running perpendicular and parallel held up with power poles planted, the human string section of technology, like sign posts of humanity, at least the buds on trees have begun to poke, so easy to spot upon what seems fruitless spines for ages now, but not much else is stirring, so I decide to concentrate on what is.
I close my eyes and this does provide, a requiem of sound…

in this meeting place, where certainly man has dominion, but forever, nature waits, quite benevolent in a sense but still base elemental, waiting for the slip of one little finger, holding back from the dam, through that crack will purge the world of man again, for the dam is forever cracking, we just take solace in our dominance no matter how ultimately precarious.
robins engaged in an endless twitter battle, at times I think I can distill some meaning, perhaps glean a sentiment or two, but I am a reaching fool, for there is no rosetta stone for these fellows, the distant train horn sounds distant but I actually know exactly where the crossing is, the horn does not recall the slick silver boxes of now, it is bathed in nostalgia, or perhaps the filter of my mind, the sound is more of dreams, or movies, an eruption of steam bellows rise, and that gutteral scream of a great whistle, the veritable choo choo, the supreme romance in that, of leaving the station,
either being left behind or now onward to your destination.

simple thoughts on a saturday…

simple thoughts on a saturday…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
beach dawn dusk ocean
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the weekend, or for those of us who work 6 days, the one day (sunday) is the weekend, it is for relaxation, the old recharge of the batteries as they say, I like to post some simpler thoughts, usually I go back and look through my notes, but this one literally wrote itself as I pulled into my driveway tonight, I scribbled these lines, I must say I liked them immediately, but I am assuredly biased, no lines that change the world, or even the most clever of sprites, just purity of thought for you to consider (your eyes on this post are appreciated)…

“in the sunrise
I see hope
in the sunset
I see dawn

in the light
I see the way
in the night
I see the dream”

*All thoughts, comments, likes, re-posts, crock pot recipes, vitriolic diatribes and pats on the back are all appreciated.  so what do you really think of this life?

moon poem (as I am known to do…)

moon poem (as I am known to do…)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
galaxy stars illustration
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“on darkest night, the delight“

new moon, no shadows
empathy tips, emptied gallows
dance in to the light
when there is none
rejoice in revelries
within this darkest night
and a fool’s cap let luminary rent
a jester’s smile, rapt with content
or even captured, guile of ill intent,
tip the toe on a razor’s blade
the slightest touch, the nimble cut
on the turn, bloody serenade
all in this performed in taste,
all the players a macabre play
in these, these hours
between and hidden, from the very saint of day,
a lover’s glance, brush of cheeks
sneak a kiss or steeling grief,
embraced, entwined
vines wrapped in blooms like braids
silken hair so fine and frayed
across strands lays to the shore
in tides, moor to the harbor
for the night is yet young
and the dance macabre, under new moon
has just begun, to spin
to spin a yarn, to thread the needle
seduction the seamstress
weave connect, bring two people
as sirens out on the open seas
for better a lure to trap a heart
dashing, upon these hidden rocks
shall wreck upon and apart
gladly takes upon the dance
in this land without a moon
sinking ships blithely find their doom.

notes… I might revisit this one, I write off the cuff but I think I can smooth out some of the rhythm here…. but overall I was happy with the way it spat out of my big dumb maw so I posted it anyway as is.  I don’t torture myself over my work, it ‘happens’ and maybe it isn’t sparkling perfection, I’m just not that guy and have not been for some time now, there are some double meanings in there and about, catch them all ?

and as always, thoughts, prayers, comments, likes, diatribes, and pot pie recipes are always appreciated…

Music ? to go with this… yeah, I got that (scrambles to the back of the shop, you hear rustling, pots and pans crashing, screaming in some foreign language, some TV or Radio blaring)… and then shuffling hurried feet back toward the front…

Trees of Eternity – Sinking Ships

Thinking again… perched on my porch

Thinking again… perched on my porch

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

(a continuing series I call the “porch project”)

animal avian beak beautiful
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I sit out upon my porch, my usual place, do I wish to write about the birds, the coming spring, the buds on trees? I’m simply not in the mood, while all of those things are certainly true, instead, I close my eyes and imagine everything is slowly fading into nothing – revealing, phasing back to the way the world was, before this land was torn about and put upon, all to meet our needs as a species,  assigning and asserting our assumptions upon the landscape, but now, in this dream, I am sitting on a rock, viewing out upon a chain-o-never ending hills, golden grasses swaying in unison in the breeze, local fauna in all manners of splendor, maples and oaks left to roost in their own glory, a world certainly alive with the madness of squirrels and chipmunks, tides of birds flowing in and out of frame, deer in packs like herds roaming in thousands, lynx on the prowl in the shadows, and bears the kings of all they may see emerging from their winter burrows.

creek brook stream nature
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I was digging once as a child, in the backyard, as children do, well, at least before smart phones, and came across what now I realize was clearly a river bed, perhaps river is a bit strong, but surely this was the work of water, perfectly smoothed rocks aligned in a basin, a sorted bed, harsh rock edges worn away by the constant water flowing over time, I even found a fossilized fish inside one of these rocks, so perhaps my (this) projection will not be historically accurate but no matter, this is a mental exercise not science or archaeology, I can put them away for today and dream, such as this, so I imagine this brook running through what was once (or now) my fence line, how the water must be clean and clear like the finest crystal in liquid form gleaming in the warming sun, yet ever cool fed by a natural spring, and this dream, there are no sounds here, for whatever reason I can only hear the visuals, the calming water, hypnotizing me, in this dream…
and with that, shatters, in comes actual sound to break this meditation, the gravely churn of a big wheel approaching, a car screaming down the street at speed for no reason, and the quibbling of the robin who was patrolling my lawn but had to run off across the way to avoid human interaction, sigh, at least for a moment, at least for a time, I lived in a dream of what once was, not that I mind the now but I certainly didn’t mind the escape. so I withdraw back inside and bid you a good night, my world, thank you.