| The Golden Age
Posted: 11/24/2006 1:21:28 PM | It was always a "brave new world"
(though not in the Aldous Huxley way)
for those who dared to love
who dared to truly love
not to grasp or to possess
another or to buy his or her
enslavement to us, but to love
the way the birds love sky
the way you turn your hand
palm upward to refreshing rain
and then let it run off | |
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| The Golden Age
Posted: 11/24/2006 7:33:36 PM | Have you not dared to love?
run naked through the rain
cleansing your soul
and truly lived
why be a slave
as we enter
the golden age
have we not learned
from our footsteps
trodding upon new paths
have we not shed our skins
and left them lying
crumpled up behind
"Brave New World"
I'm not sure
I don't remember walking
through the wilderness
when it was untouched
I don't remember when
the land was pure
and running naked
I still dream though
and hope
that the best is yet to come. | |
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| You can’t get there from here
Posted: 11/27/2006 7:03:38 AM | You can’t get there
from here. All of the maps
were written in the urine
of an endangered species
and can only be read
in the dark. By the side of the road
(if you could find it) lie
torn and bleeding Hummers
mewling piteously. All of the pilgrims
have gone to the Brothel
of Logical Mysticism
and are waiting to have their turn
with Sadie. No, you can’t
get there from here.
You can’t even get here
from here.
J. Newman © 27Nov06 | |
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| A poem
Posted: 11/27/2006 11:58:12 AM | | hilarious ...you guys are just great.... I have yet to get brave enuf to share my lines but i do enjoy reading the poems...i guess i am not as quik witted as a lot of you seem to be...for you see I have yet to learn to channel my energys to words I have always had a physical outlet....I have been to several of the poetry forums and see some of the same ones in them and I do enjoy you all.......TUK | |
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| I, like a practiced adulterer
Posted: 11/27/2006 2:29:46 PM | Between a chuckle and a sigh
Three birds high
The lowest I didn't see
But for its flitting shadow
Across pebbles being inspected.
I too was searching for grains.
Mood shifted step
Squishing a hundred flat stones.
Gaze up, behold them to the horizon.
Then, later, evergreen wood
Ferns like silent musicians
Moss laughing, declining a price.
Stones like noses. Suppressed grins.
Crow rips ambiance majestically, disdainfully.
Pause for more breath.
Wood silently sighs, then moans.
Step ahead, humbled, no longer brazen.
Forest breaks, wind is chill.
Peaks above, shrouded mist.
Lone bird coasts
Almost as far
As the eye
Can see.
For Alyosha.
Thanks for the thread good Sir.
ss | |
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| I, like a practiced adulterer
Posted: 11/28/2006 4:47:34 AM |
Lone bird coasts
Almost as far
As the eye
Can see.
Lovely poem, ss. I admire in particular - no, am envious of - the richness of your visual imagery. Too many of my own conceits are often abstractions. I hope this isn’t egotistical of me but I wondered if the above lines might not have been an intentional or unconscious reference to something in that poem of mine we recently discussed? | |
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| I, like a practiced adulterer
Posted: 11/28/2006 5:22:48 AM | Thank you for your words, Aloysha. Yes, the poem was partly in response to that line of questioning--where you gently reminded me of juxtaposed themes, or concepts quite removed but metaphorically tied. I felt the fool for not seeing what you were talking about on my first reading of your other poem. With this I hoped to make a crude, direct link between phases (3) and your, or a guiding elders presence, in each. Obviously, the birds--the shadow crossing myopic concentration, the crow strong enough to shatter almost selfish reverie, and finally your entity far above on a mountain signifying age, wisdom, knowledge, distance and perspective for humbleness.
Thanks for the help :)
ss
ps... that 'her breasts arrived 30 seconds before her' got a great laugh from me last night. | |
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| I, like a practiced adulterer
Posted: 11/28/2006 2:03:30 PM | We could of course keep this going images off each other, as your birds reminded me of this one of mine:
When the World Has Had its Fill of Song
When the world has had its fill of song
and all the oceans thirst no more,
and a lazy eagle loops across an incendiary sun,
that which once upon a time was begun
by unknowing protozoans can begin,
at last, again...
Also, had fun with the 1/2 or 1/4 rhymes of begun/begin/again... Apropos the early arriving breasts, come around to Montreal one day and hopefully Sophie will be on duty at Le Paltoquet, proudly cleaving the air with her figurehead.
Somewhere I think I've posted "April Inventory" by W.D. Snodgrass, a brilliant lesson in the use of rhyme. If you can't find it here or by Googling I'd be glad to email it to you. | |
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| I, like a practiced adulterer
Posted: 11/28/2006 10:01:56 PM | "'Sophie will be on duty at Le Paltoquet, proudly cleaving the air with her figurehead.'"
That was a great line. And cost me several seconds of dabbing coffee-spray off my moniter.
Auch, I can see your eyes gleaming like a mischievous racoon writing that one.
I've never been fond of the almost-rhymes. Very tricky to pull it off properly. I should say in truth I am fond of it, but just find the device exhaustively hard to splice smoothly. And until you pointed it out, I hadn't noticed it--just that I felt a vague uncomfortableness at the conclusionary air of the poem. Phonetics is a fascinating field; I spent many a day walking around shaping sounds due to classes in that. I must have looked quite odd to those 'not in the know'.
I'd forgotten about Snodgrass--I shall be pleased to receive anything you have that you'd like to pass on. Not sure if he's in my library anywhere.
On with the show:
Sprawled akimbo under duvee,
Hugging a gorgeous woman
Entwined in dance we've risen
To lie on furs by hearth
..by earth
..hath heth..heaTHER
..htth...
Chitter chatter chitter chatter
'cling-CLANG-bing-BING-CLANG'
I open an eye. The siege has begun.
Out the window, not far enough away,
The squirrels raid the bird feeder
A mistake, in retrospect,
To tie the large chimes
To a branch, their favoured highway
Over the feeder.
Chirpety CHIRp chirp CHIRP chirPETY CHI--
I open the other eye.
The sparrows have fled the crime scene.
They berate the infidels
Safely
From the tree outside my other window.
Which too is not far enough away.
A mistake not to saw it's branches off.
The gorgeous woman has slipped away
Replaced by a pillow
Under which is pinned a limb
Belonging to someone else.
I heave it up:
Frankenstein awakes.
ss | |
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| I HAVE SEEN THE LITTLE FOXES
Posted: 11/29/2006 3:32:15 AM | Snodgrass will be enroute to you in a minute or so, which by the way reminds me of the wonderful self-mocking line with which he punctuates some other poem of his:
Snodgrass is striding through the universe!
I heave it up:
Frankenstein awakes.
I’ve always been a sucker for such cursory, throw-away last lines.
Auch, I can see your eyes gleaming like a mischievous racoon writing that one.
Apropos my proposed project of boucing off of images from each other’s poems, another early one of mine:
I HAVE SEEN THE LITTLE FOXES
I have seen the little foxes'
eyes
gleam beside the path, signals
of a world collapsed on ours,
and I know I've taken that path
too far, when terror,
like a fist, thuds against my heart. Behind
is a wall as near as in front.
The night pours down, sudden
as a bath in a world
overturned, where gravity
holds nothing in its place.
Lovers, and jagged rocks,
and the familiar smell of the world,
all tumble together.
I whisper into unknown ears, "Love me!
I've kept everything for you--"
--and draw back
to see fang-distended lips, eyes
filled with eager incomprehension.
Love waits in the dark.
The world that has collapsed
upon ours, its lung-walls
sighing hoarsely across each other,
random eye-gleams in the night, these
are suddenly all.
The stars doubt everything
you and I have begun. * | |
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MiTURN
|
Joined: 10/22/2006
Msg: 111 | |
| I HAVE SEEN THE LITTLE FOXES
Posted: 11/29/2006 10:42:02 AM | "i love you' and 'please pass the salt'
it may help me move from this
incorragable fault
of finding my gloves
that protect my feelings
the polished leather of
someones stealings
another time to put away
may take a while
to find the play
behind the curtain
of yesterday
i think i'll go meet
some incomplete
just like me
to frolic free
to dance the trance
of come to be
a new moon gone
snows on the lawn
time for me
to be movin on
with cheer now that the snow has dumped
i'll be ok after the salt is unclumped | |
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| I HAVE SEEN THE LITTLE FOXES
Posted: 11/29/2006 10:58:27 AM | A couple of grains of rice in the shaker
(did your mother teach you nothing?)
will keep the salt pouring free...
But if it's love you're after,
take a number, get in line,
we're currently serving 237,433.... | |
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MiTURN
|
Joined: 10/22/2006
Msg: 113 | |
| I HAVE SEEN THE LITTLE FOXES
Posted: 11/29/2006 11:05:28 AM | currently that number is a random
so shake the salt
free the plug
you are so sure
and sit so smug
love is my teacher
not my mother
though she loves
she's not my
other
your heart is cold
because you choose
for whom you shake the
salt for blues
Aloysha | |
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| It Is the Heart We Seek
Posted: 12/1/2006 12:41:28 PM | The rhythm is wrong
the rhyme’s unsprung
but it is the heart we seek.
The words are less than eloquent
the syntax is broken or bent,
but it is the heart we seek.
The clothes you wear
are unfashionable,
but it is the heart we seek.
We reach for each other’s bodies
for another hour another day another week,
but over and over and over again
it is the heart we seek.
J. Newman © 01Dec06 | |
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| It Is the Heart We Seek
Posted: 12/1/2006 5:09:45 PM | [q] The rhythm is wrong
the rhyme’s unsprung
[/q]
Liked that Alyosha. Nice work with the alliteration and delivery. Ooooo... my first use of the quotes option. Wonder if it will work.
[q] for another hour another day another week,
but over and over and over again
[/q]
And liked the rythem of that.
hrrrm... apparently my use of quotes is incorrect. *sigh*
ss | |
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| It played itself out badly
Posted: 12/1/2006 10:54:47 PM | You can’t imagine
How long I held on
Although you gave
me nothing to hold on to
No instant photo
No ink on a crumpled napkin
With the words smeared
I love you
No phone number
No address
We never even had
a lover’s quarrel
Waiting for you to come back
It was all I could do
To trade
the memory of your kiss
the soothing tonic of your voice
the piercing of your
steel grey eyes
For just one more distant glimpse
And in my mind
I saw you walk away
So when you called me
on that fateful day
All I could think to say was
Well, it was nice knowing you | |
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| I Want to Let You Know
Posted: 12/1/2006 11:13:22 PM |
I want to let you know
that I am here.
If you should want me
I am here.
If you should need me
I am here.
If you wake up in the middle of the night,
trembling, and cannot remember
the time before you were alone,
I am here.
I am always here.
 This one is awesome Alyosha......
Buttrfly kisses | |
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| It played itself out badly
Posted: 12/2/2006 12:31:27 AM |
So when you called me
on that fateful day
All I could think to say was
Well, it was nice knowing you
Interestingly, msg 117 above would seem to be the desired response to your 116, albeit from me rather than from........him! | |
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| I Want to Let You Know
Posted: 12/2/2006 1:14:12 AM | I promised to love you
to be with you in need
to drag you to the shore
find blanekts in the freeze
But words, they're empty things
the jump and dribble from me
it is the action of love that matters
something we share freely
So I have told you of adorment
years to come and love grown strong
but, darling, its the actions that matter
if you ever doubt think long
Of the kiss I gave last night
the sweeping motion of my hand
when I look at you and it leaves
my little crinkle of stress
Think of roadside trips
of mornings spent in that glorious haze
when I turn to you and say
lets spend the day in bed
I love you
do you doubt? | |
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| I Want to Let You Know
Posted: 12/2/2006 1:37:27 AM |
I love you
do you doubt?
How could he, after that lovely poem? | |
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| Hearts, like hockey pucks
Posted: 12/6/2006 7:05:41 AM | Hearts, like hockey pucks,
get stick-handled across
the frozen glassy surface of the rink.
A deke at times will get the puck past
even the most vigilant goalie
but the he-men at centre prefer
the slap-shot every time. | |
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| hockey stick has mood swings
Posted: 12/6/2006 8:44:56 AM | She's bent in the net-
frozen in a clumsy lunge.
Her hockey stick has mood swings.
A little while before,
she let in the hero:
the high-sticking
shin splitting
rib cracking
soul tripping
hotshot.
The good man sits on the bench,
hardening his heart. | |
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| Sometimes when you smile at a stranger
Posted: 12/14/2006 2:15:02 PM | Sometimes when you smile at a stranger
you get a look back like one of those
spring-loaded blades and an autobiography
as bitter as it is brief, sort of a
how dare you smile at me
as if this world were all right
and I had ever got anything
of what I deserve? As if my father
did not prefer my younger brother
no matter how hard I tried to please him
and my mother didn’t disappear
for days into her bottle of gin and her tears...
As if anything in my life
had ever made the least bit of sense?
And you understand that the kinder thing
would have been to avoid his or her eyes. | |
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| Bottom-line hearts on a flat-line street
Posted: 12/17/2006 4:10:37 AM | There are those who give and those who take,
There are those who give but it’s only a trade
watching to see that they get as much
or more in return.
They are capitalists of the heart:
“Buy cheap, sell dear...”
Bottom-line hearts on a flat-line street.
J. Newman © 27Oct06 | |
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