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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/14/2008 7:23:40 PM | Jer, If I'd stumbled years ago I'd have figured they stuck their foot out...unfortunately I had to learn to trust men, they were the bad guys when I was growing up. But I did learn....
Celestial, you lost me on the fork reference....my wheels of thought are pulled by mules...
Autumn, I think I might go camping for my sanity....it usually works, and I'm beginning to go nuts....
silverswan, hugs to you....I can't imagine how hard it must be....if nothing in the universe is ever lost, and loving is an action, then love is a force saved somewhere....
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when you kiss upon a star
embracing the cosmic kiss
my human face turned up
in bliss
a swooning maiden
in a Klimt painting
fill me with the lust
of knowing
consciousness growing
wistful wish
upon a star
I cast my heart and mind
beyond the sandbar
of the planet earth
I long to know
my inner worth
LS 6/21/08
first, last and Reversing the Spell | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/17/2008 4:32:45 PM | the significance of insignificance
inside our burning fountains of time
we take our turn upon the stage
the fool, the lover, parent, sage
doctor, lawyer, indian chief
the universe is witness
to our joy and grief
obsessed with self obsession
suffering in our misdirection
our flame
it flutters, flares and glows
flickers, gutters out
witnessed
by the cold light of stars
our prophets
and our wars
the captive audience
fixed within our consciousness
silent sentinels in inconstant space
keeping pace
as we unfold the knowledge
embedded in the human race
to discern our destined place
LS 6/22/08 | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/17/2008 5:10:46 PM | | Brizo, your poem so elegantly expresses how there is no such thing as insignificance. Butterfly wings in Japan or a split second in time changes everything. Great job! | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/17/2008 5:50:09 PM | I agree. Really nice one Brizo  | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/17/2008 6:18:10 PM | i third that motion hon.... | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/17/2008 10:55:33 PM | fine work
inspiring this..
we look thru a scope and watch the single cell
make its merry way along..consuming,growing
til it swells and splits .. a process neverending
unless.. a greater force disrupts everything
or the slide breaks | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/19/2008 11:43:19 PM | the cell is begetting, Transcend...
that reminds me of a boy I used to take care of, an MRDD teenager confined to a wheelchair. He would often ask me to read from the Bible he had on his laptray, and invariably it was the begats....pages and pages of who begat who, and who was from the tribe of Dan...I would plead with him for any other part of the Bible, but I think his book was worn open in that spot... 
I think I must have always liked poetry, because I was partial to Song of Solomon, Psalms and Proverbs...I would love to read the lost books of the Bible, I hear they are beautiful....
I learned a lesson today about wearing pants when you weed whack. A hickory nut projectiled right into my shin, and my legs look awful, covered with little nicks and welts....*doh* But, I have a weed whacker now. I went around all eighteen trees too.... Slowly but surely I 'm trimming my land back from white trash looking weedy overgrowth...and I found three more plants, two poison oak and one poison ivy...
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and the greatest of these
we are the thoughts
that life has yet to birth.
our boundless minds
could touch infinity
students of life
upon this planet earth
until we plainly see
that what we sow
we too shall come to reap
at some point we have caused
the tears we weep
we harm ourselves
when we would hurt another
hasn't every prophet sent
revealed
we share a common mother
LS 6/17/08
First, Last and Patchworking for the Mother | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 7/20/2008 1:52:56 AM | ^^nice one Briz
And re weed whackers? Oh yeah! And if you live on sand it gets even more interesting
Little tiny pin prick red dots all over your legs
Whacker measles
Winter decides at last to open itself to me
Offering me its gentle charms
Short crispy days and long cold cold nights
Had kept me in
Hiding from the chill I found
When once I turned for home
Seldom out the door I moved
Less seldom did I roam
Deprived of all the magic
That has happened in this place
No wonder that I shrank from this
Dear season full of grace
Sometimes we need to grasp the thorns
Before we can taste the rose
My neighbours away and their dog to tend
It's off to the waters we go
My c0ckatoos came to greet us
Generations have nested here
And raised their babes above my door
In a tree that I hold dear
A towering Tassie Blue Gum
A monument seen for miles
A tiny house in comparison
Beneath its decades of trials
For many have come to take it down
And many a time I have fought
And though convincing their arguments
A little more time has been bought
And the blue grey leaves of the daffodils
Have suddenly sprung from the ground
I havent seen them a few years now
So its nice to now see them around
And the thickening grasses of winter time
And the wet feet that signal it rained
And the muted greens, been so absent
And the mist on the hills again
While naked trees slowly withdraw for a while
The reed birds so seldom e'er seen
Come alive with their song in this season of grace
As the world takes on...a gentler pace
And humans so rarely are seen
[gorgeous out there] | |
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| There is a photo that sits on my desk
Posted: 7/20/2008 3:33:10 PM | There is a photo
that sits on my desk: a mother, Maggie,
in profile, looks down
in arrested patience
at the child resting lightly
but securely
in the crook of her left arm. The child,
who will later become
my beloved thirteen-year old grand-daughter,
Lucy, looks up at her
in mild and trusting fascination. | |
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| There is a photo that sits on my desk
Posted: 7/22/2008 6:28:20 AM | *champrins*...It always amazes me to talk with people from Australia and realize their weather is the complete opposite of ours. I mean, you read about it in your science books but to see the posts of winter while we are in the middle of summer makes it much more real on a daily level...
When I moved away from Ohio I missed the four seasons, especially the autumn leaves dropping. Many more temperate climates have evergreens, which are beautiful and scent the air with a clean tang, but they're not going to drop their leaves after turning a brilliant color....
Jer, I have a picture of Melanie staring up at her grandpa Bob on her dad's side with one baby hand reaching up. It's one of my favorite pictures...the affection between the two is moving...
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pisces
I swim upstream
in buoyant water
currents swiftly glide
past my body like a liquid glove
turning on my side
slow crawl
my hand is clutching water
like a claw
reveling in the strength
that surges
when I kick my thighs
I close my eyes
and dive below
sweeping arms before me
I glide in leisure
taking pleasure
in instinctual memory
set free
from all that weights me down
appreciative of the moment
that I own
LS 6/22/08 | |
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| There is a photo that sits on my desk
Posted: 7/22/2008 7:14:51 AM | Jer, I have a picture of Melanie staring up at her grandpa Bob on her dad's side with one baby hand reaching up. It's one of my favorite pictures...the affection between the two is moving...
Alas that neither of us apparently knows how to show these favourite photos here. Wait! I'm going to go and see if I can upload the one I wrote about to my profile...
Edit: Nah, it wouldn't load. If anyone knows of some way I can add it here, please let me know. | |
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| There is a photo that sits on my desk
Posted: 7/23/2008 3:02:08 AM | The day I left
The mist of the mountains lifted
And it rained all day
Every time I looked in the review mirror
Dawn to dusk it never wavered
I saw my old face
It was never a dream
I was travelling
Towards home
Spirit made me hurry
Across borders
I’ll never pay a speeding fine
This State declares I never
Committed a crime
…give me time…lol  | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/23/2008 8:14:06 AM | homecoming is always such a revelation.....somehow I get the sense you are welcoming a self you felt you had lost over the border.....forgive me if I am being too personal.....
Jer, they might remove it anyhow, since it is not of you....would hate to see you get "in trouble" over something so close to your heart.....
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this would be for some of the "two month stands" I wasted time on, thinking there might be something there when they never stopped fishing behind my back.....
the odd thing is, had they been up front I might have accepted a relationship in which I were not the only one. But to risk my health, that I will not forgive.....
pulled the shades and slammed the door!
no more will I be your whore
find yourself another fool
to lie to when you're feeling cruel
I watch you while you run your lines
I can't believe I missed the signs
the scales have fallen off my eyes
for I can see right through your lies
first, last | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/25/2008 9:14:55 AM |
this would be for some of the "two month stands" I wasted time on, thinking there might be something there when they never stopped fishing behind my back.....
If I were with you, Brizo, my dear
I’d never stop fishing
to see more of you
your back, your front,
your summer thoughts
and winter dreams,
the way your thoughts
seem to fold naturally
across line-breaks
the way you choose your rhymes
like a child picking out
her favourite flavours
from a jar filled with bright-coloured ju-jubes! | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/28/2008 4:22:03 PM | Hi folks, internet's been down for several days, my pardon to you for lack of response Jer....I like rhymes, though they're somewhat of a has been in modern poetry, it seems...I also like prose. It just depends on where my mind takes me, I guess....
Eire and Alba
What makes the island poets sing?
Is it the heather green that waits?
my soul is winging
mind is ringing,
with Burns and Yeats
intelligence and consciousness
surrounding,
astounding in this modern age no less
they write of life and loyalty and love
though held by iron rule in grasping glove
ideas in a time perhaps too risky
steeped in tea and whiskey,
love of nation and compassion for humanity
crafting soul outside of vanity
morality, mortality
felt through different centuries
the same
irregardless politics or fame
Visiting what they have taught
through purity of voice and thought
so very glad I came
keeping alive inside my heart
the island flame
remembrance in their name
LS 7/27/08 | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/28/2008 4:34:30 PM | ^Very Nice , brizo! Love the content and rhythm in that!
I just happen to have this revised one handy. Could apply to your keeping an island flame alive, also...:)
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Sun Woman
To see you there
Walking on a beach
In your island sundress
I see the heat surrounds you
Like the history of the world
You appear through light
Confident and alone
How does your silhouette walk through time
In such silver
With a land behind you
And tides at your feet?
Perhaps the oceans are your sidewalks
And the light you step out from
Are the dreams of others
To see you there
Walking through time | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/28/2008 5:43:40 PM | we carry in us the ancient craft
the fire in us truly born and bred
deeply entwined in our dna
this passion tying our all seeing eye
to the fires of our expanding souls
we are the poet-seers who bring light to the world
and this illumination incarnate in our words
is no less an ecstatic sacrament
holiest of all the grails | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/28/2008 6:01:13 PM | | ah,^^ another silversmith I admire..:) | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/29/2008 4:54:55 AM | Drivingacloud:
How does your silhouette walk through time
In such silver
With a land behind you
And tides at your feet?
is especially lovely! | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/29/2008 6:30:06 AM | I liked those lines too, Jer. Great poem! These lines stood out for me also.....so lyrical.....
Perhaps the oceans are your sidewalks
And the light you step out from
Are the dreams of others
silverswan, I've fallen in love all over again with Yeats.....
The Cat and The Moon
The cat went here and there
and the moon spun round like a top,
and the nearest kin of the moon,
the creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
for, wander and wail as he would,
the pure cold light in the sky
troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet,
what better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
tired of that courtly fashion,
a new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
from moonlit place to place,
the sacred moon overhead
has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
will pass from change to change,
and that from round to crescent,
from crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
alone, important and wise,
and lifts to the changing moon
his changing eyes.
William Butler Yeats | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/29/2008 6:53:42 AM | gosh, i don't remember that one!!!! what a great name for a cat.... minnaloushe!!!! thanks Brizo...if we hurry we can still hop a plane to Sligo and make the most of the rest of the Yeats festival running until August 8th!!!!!
THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE
W B Yeats
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart. | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/29/2008 1:05:02 PM | | Wow! Thank you for that SilverS! | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 7/30/2008 10:27:53 AM | silver, find me a millionaire boyfriend and I'm there..... I've always wanted to visit Ireland. Have you seen P.S I Love You? Great scenes of the Irish countryside, and a kicking love story too....reminds me what I'm holding out for, someone I'm passionate about and not just settling for.
I've been trying to spend time with the kids to give them alone time out here and their moms a break in the family dynamics. I love them dearly but I'm not sure my ego can survive their bluntness....
Jacob: "Grandma, can we play that cardgame, Old Grandma?" After I stopped laughing I informed him the card game was Old Maid.....
Brandon: "Grandma, what did you used to do?" I told him about Tonka trucks when they used to be metal, sand driveways a mile long, walking on stilts, tamed raccoons and squirrels, grandmas garden that even had potatoes, the old swingset that was cemented so we could swing high........"Well, I guess you were there in the colonial days...." :/
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bringing it home
black hats
We have met the enemy, and he is us
there's no serenity
preemptive strike, carnivorous
he defiles our constitution with impunity
we long again to put the white hat on
show brotherhood and community
perhaps new leadership will spawn
an opportunity for global unity
LS 6/29/08
first, last & Om's palms | |
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| brizo's poems
Posted: 8/1/2008 5:10:19 PM | mean kids
When you want a little respite from reality
duplicity, duality
come sit on my swing
and pass time with me
have a drink with me
have a rhyme with me
you'll forget the mean kids
who made fun of you
how you think
what you do
and pretty soon
you'll have fun with me
and you'll feel good
'fore you're done with me
LS 6/28/08 | |
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