 | Last login: 3 weeks agoPlaying bongos is a 80 year old person from Congo. Still ocasionally thumbing, but not posting. There are 365 poems here posted from the time before. Hope you like them. |
- Mar 9, 2007 5:15am
- Some readings...
Some music...
- Dec 4, 2005 4:15am
Start at the begining >>> e-mail>>> What's stone doing now?>>>
- Nov 6, 2005 2:13pm
- # 365
R I P
Have you heard?
The poet is dead.
Silenced in descent
Of crouching night.
Forgotten now
By mortal winds
And things that speak
To breathless souls
Or hearts entwined,
Out amongst
The nebulae.
But don't be sad
For errant voice,
No longer felt
And whisper still.
Thoughts, are such
Temporary things.
When you hear
This poet is dead -
Carve some words
In stone.
- Oct 28, 2005 3:55pm
- # 364
T h e W o r d s D o n ' t W o r k .
Words
are a waste of time -
they've certainly occupied
too much of mine.
Shouting like pushy folk in line
from A to Z, demanding attention
in fray with clatterered heels
and sullied cries,
bold suggestions -
like Jazz sax strayed
too far from melody.
But it's not I don't enjoy
their crowded company.
No, far from it, I do -
I truly do and always will.
Where would I be
without our dialogue?
And beauty, and wonder
and other joys?
It's just ... I begrudge
the mechanics of these things -
these *words*.
They just can't resist
trying to sneak their influence
beyond what I really want to say.
Words come with baggage you see.
What I think, what I write,
and what I speak -
it all gets ransomed by
dragging needs to express
and be understood,
to offer degrees of meaning.
In reality though,
not, the real me.
- Oct 27, 2005 3:53pm
- # 363
G e o l o g y .
It was
always you.
Blue quartz seamed,
and running through
this solid stone of I.
And so behest was knock'd fate
with moon-tugged nights
and stullied appetite for winds
that never blew.
Time-tumbled,
on the greystone shore,
laid down the sighing churn -
locked me in with eon's hold
of elemental bores.
And so I yearned,
and so I yielded.
And so I found.
And then I knew.
It was always,
you.
- Oct 19, 2005 2:30pm
- # 362
F a t h e r .
Every day I kick myself.
Is this laughter really mine?
Loud like bad played notes
on a cheap plastic horn.
But I am so proud.
And the stories they tell,
and the pictures they show -
ah, such wonder!
How did this occur?
There is no weariness now.
Suddenly I am, Superman -
jumping and giggling into life,
clamouring too with love.
- Oct 17, 2005 12:34pm
- # 361
T h o s e W h o W a i t .
Stilled am I in lull of night
No ocean's move save salted spite
And where go I in loose-rigged winds?
No bounding heave, no push and cleave,
No rising line or white-mane minds.
All quietened like the muted damned,
Horizon-fixed with tar glued stares
Through eyes that blaspheme stars,
And with curses for a speechless sea
And the stolen shore yet far way.
I lie silent, waiting and becalmed.
Just these thoughts for company.
Oh take me home to those,
that wait for me.
- Oct 11, 2005 4:00pm
- # 360
S u c c o u r P u n c h .
When
you were born
I didn't cry.
I was struck dumb -
could not describe
the feelings felt
for you.
Immediate,
like electricity
running through
my restless back
and flooding in
my empty head,
my vacuum heart.
Something,
switching on
deep inside
and bewitching
with delight,
and sparks
of life -
lightening
my soul.
But not,
like raptured
passion's flame
or glowing ember's
warm embrace,
nor kinship
of years
or kindly smiles
from journeys
shared.
No,
this feeling ...
It was Instant.
It was Persistent.
It was Beautiful.
And I'll never forget,
and I cannot escape,
and still cannot describe
beyond mere love
and loving
you.
- Oct 10, 2005 3:37pm
- # 359
W i s h e s.
May whatever you do, be better than what you've done,
Reclaimed from hard-drudged hours, like distilled time.
Where dreams are hoist with steadfast will and laughter peels
Against the hollow cry of pitied fate that follows all but you.
May you dare to run with winds, then leap the shadowed ground
To whisper calls at stirring night, not feared of worried days.
And you, who triumphs in the light will be joyous in the dew
Beguiled and surprised to tell of truths, to likes of you and I.
May you always stay temperate in the sluice of unkind rains,
Bite parched tongues that rise to taste the bracken pall,
Find blue opals in the darkest well of circumstance,
And stretching, go beyond our normal mortal reach.
And long may you embrace all things that you will learn
And speak of such to those you know, and don't.
May your breath be strong and full, and your songs be sung
And leave a smile in mind for those you aim to teach.
Oh may you hear amongst the shouts, the murmuring of souls -
Seek wonders found in chance and call of happenstance,
And understand the understandings you shall heed
And then, may you recall these wishes left by me.
- Oct 6, 2005 12:05pm
- # 358
T h a n k y o u .
You had a glow about you
amongst the harvest souls.
Pin sharpened in the blur,
like a gilded lion you spoke to me.
Smiling, serene and standing proud -
the one to notice in the crowd.
No need to seek you out -
you had a glow about you.
And I heard (but did not hear)
and I saw (but did not see)
and then I knew.
You, are
mine.
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