Shooting stars for luck
Tiny fire braille heralds truth
Yet always: falling.
Shooting stars for luck
Tiny fire braille heralds truth
Yet always: falling.
There is a light beyond this tunnel
Sifting reason
Inner treason
Of worlds, unimaginable, I drink
And dip into the rush of thought
At peace, the body lie,
In state the mind, a child
In a gunslinger spaceman drifting through the stars
The cavalcade of imagination
Stokes the fires of the waking.
* This week’s submission to the Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita!
Starting off the week right, with a little haiku for you all. Hope you enjoy:
Raking out the death
bares green, reaching light of life–
Zen repetition.
This is also being put out there for the Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita!
A poem for the wonderful Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by Jingle Poetry, and those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita! This week’s theme: Magic & Miracles, Wonder & Wizardry. The poem you see below, dubbed “The Phoenix,” was written in my Freshman year of High School, but it certainly seemed to fit this week’s theme – so I hope you enjoy.
Mournful cry
From flickering flame,
The smoke is rising nigh.
Such wondrous radiance -
Its time had come to pass.
The flames wind up its fading form,
As noble creatures hum
A lonely lullaby.
Tick tock-
The moments tick on by-
Ashes lay where fire burned,
The beast is now long gone.
Yet gaze into the ashes-
A surprise is soon at hand-
A beak pokes from desolate dust,
The flames burn bright again!
A bird rises from the ashes of its father-
The cycle begins again.
* If you’re looking for an additional bit of reading, I also encourage you to check out my nod to the Thanksgiving season on One Stop Poetry: A Poetic Monday! I wrote a poem for it called “Of Turkeys and Bounty,” a work I will be re-posting here a little later in the week, for Thanksgiving holiday. A bit of a history lesson on the holiday is also provided, for our more international audience, who may or may not know of what Thanksgiving is. Enjoy!
Windows on the world
Of this eternal light, this city brimming
With memory of massacre and masochistic
Delight, windows on a soul of fire
Brimming in the depths of those saluted,
Stirring in the sweat of the backs stretched forth in greeting,
These limbs, outstretched beneath your crumbling walls,
Drew cloth and steel against the flesh, your stone
Prison and theater, the spotlighted cell,
All eyes alive with the flames of your passion,
Round and round they circled, and still you writhe
With the congress of madness given yet delight
In all those souls who looked within and without
Your shudderless windows.
* Another poem for the wonderful Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by Jingle Poetry, and those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita! This week’s theme: Buildings, Landmarks and Monuments–for which I obviously chose the Roman Colosseum.
And here it is,
this lonely longing,
for time and place unseen,
unheard, mayhaps unknown,
a future or a past that neverwere,
in Ghouls and Goblins fair,
these Ghosts of Pasts our blood
have never seen,
this laughter, in a sweet
wrapping up the joys of childhood
into a chocolate wrapper, knowing
the eyes, not the face
its monstrous mask a momentary
Madness answered in a thousand faces,
the spirits channeled through the joy
of laughter in the chill,
these golden lives pirouetting to
the Pumpkin Song, all hail
Imagination,
Master and Commander
of mind’s most curious Desires.
* Another poem for the wonderful Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by Jingle Poetry, and those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita!
Midnight ring
nightingale screech of metal grind
vestiges of slumber—
in silent Chaos writhe
the World all sheltered black,
this Veil, it doth descend
betwixt the Heavens and the Earth
no more Fire, no more Song
yet Dappled Emeralds gleam
throughout the Haze of Waking
this World rise, Higher and Higher
tilting back, breathing in
the clouds, circling pull
Dream yet from Reality
and Everything of this Canvas,
rides Higher still into the Night
Destination: World
set it all below, and looking down
bask within the Golden River Shadow
of History shaped and cast
into the Towers of Majesty
Beyond Imagination—
the Stars and the Sea,
no King might ever rise
* Another poem for the wonderful Monday Poetry Potluck, as hosted by Jingle Poetry, and those lovely poets Amanda and Kavita! The theme this week was mountains and beaches, and I couldn’t help but think back to my most recent venture in Colorado. This one was inspired by my time there in the summer–I hope you enjoy! Hope you don’t mind that I also took the opportunity to throw in some more of my pictures from that trip, even if they don’t match up quite specifically with the poem itself.
Bear me up
Rustling cavalcade of coalescing
Music rush, on tempo speed
These breaths across my skin.
The harmony
Of your exultation
Gives me strength
Beneath my wings.
-
Crystal flow
Caress and coax
The resolution of my being,
Dive down into the deep.
Crash upon
The shores of apathy
And stir upon us yet the storms
That break inequity.
-
Quick-step
Quivering motions elate
To find the kiss, the touch of motion
In the sensuous sway of your dance.
No hands
Could ever hold thy hips
This beat, thunder of thy solitary
Moment, unbidden.
-
Bastion
Rampart revelry of life
Shield yet the passions of hope,
A dream of majesty.
Resolute
Mother-being enfold
The world in thy being:
Ground this flighty soul.
* For the latest Monday Poetry Potluck!
What is a man but
Flesh and bone gave breath;
Such mortal beast
To buck beneath
The reins of my imagination.
Cry out for me, ye bloodied hands
I am the stones arise on emerald hills
My flesh the graven gold
Of toiling back and grinding axe.
My blood be thee and thine
All rivers flow to mine
Call me God, for all I see is all I am
A fire in the earth
Tempered in the sea of sable madness
Yet to swim, yet to circumnavigate
My ambition, this thing of steel
No land might ever satisfy
The hunger of my soul.
All songs, they sing for me
Each note a dirge unto my memory.
Each breath, praise, for it is mine divine
Providence, they say, a god-in-man
Whoso could ever hope to say
I could not turn the tides.
I am the horse that rides,
I am the bolt that flies,
I am the child that cries,
He whom only fate defies.
Behold my majesty and yet despair
Of he who masters everyone
And nothing, and no one, still.
For the latest Monday Poetry Potluck!