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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 4/19/2007 11:06:39 PM | Influxes…
Adrifting me through portals
Taking me carefully into cultic realms
Where the answers enrage me soulfully.
I forthwith return with vengeance upon the spirit’s mind.
For the choir of the heart
It awakens that beast at times,
Then I hear within that hidden ear:
IMMORTAL HOLY SWORD!
This lingers in a last longing echo…
Then my thoughts are filched…
And something otherwordly enters me…
I delve so far in…
I lose track of that carnal world.
Thus, opalescent utterances in tongues rang forth…
Spiritual injuries crack bone bereft of mercy
& Surging storms of the human’s core forges capriciously…
I am left but dizzy
Ensconced in an achromatic mist
Gravid with emetic agonies
That splinter the ends of the rainbow | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 4/20/2007 12:40:07 AM | FREEDOM.
In an empty time, a black world
Was life so enclosed
Compressed, with no expression
Fossilised within a rock of ages
And life was still
The Sunlight, a sifting hand
Enlightened fingers
Hammered out the words of a song
Which entered the heart of the rock
And burst it open
There; impressed was the rose
In excellent re-birth
Drawing up to the heat of the Sun’s heart
And leaving in a trail of inspired glory
Freedom is the white rose. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 4/20/2007 5:34:05 AM | when you have held the bud
marvelled at its pristine perfection
watched the gradual opening
the turning to the light where
petals framing potential regeneration
wither and fall, wither and fall
until stem, hip and thorn
cannot contain the memories
and nothing more to lose becomes
the strangest freedom of all | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival -everybody welcome
Posted: 4/20/2007 7:59:20 AM | remember when my grandpa fell, the fear in his eyes at his own frailness
and the resignation of shame
that I should see him broken on the road.
And his pride, when I calmly cleaned and
helped him up.
Keeping his intact.
Even though the sight of so much
blood from a tiny trip
scared the hell outta me.
I remember their shock
when I proved a child of virtue
and stood up against the crowd
and how when they pushed me
there was no fear in my eyes.
I had the strength of a power
thay had yet to grasp.
I remember deep breaths in early morning,
before the cars and people
When I lived at the lake and how I never wanted my day to
take me away from there.
I remember waking up, ears straining for
the sound of the leaves and the wind....
Writing on the shore for hours.
No one anywhere
And being able to tell time
by the sun and which birds were singing.
And in the city, waiting for the bus.
And the school bus...
How one boy punched me in the face
for touching his gum.
And how it didn't hurt
but ..... I cried out of shock.
Andanother time,
hiding different tears
behind my school bag
hurt by friends betrayals
and little womens games.
I remember fantasies of prince charming
coming to rescue me from my dark tower.
I remember dreams of secret rooms
and child eating trolls
and talking sharks.
How none of it was real
and how no one was ever really there.
I remember singing
in the Jimmy as we bounced through the fields
in the dead dark of night.
As loud as we could...trying to beat the music.
Sliding and slipping on the wet straw.
Both hands on the wheel!
And Janice's first car, which we ruined in one night of drunken
debauchery, driving through fences, baseball diamonds, and pretty much anything else
until it ended up in a swamp of a ditch.
Where we had the presence of mind to clean it out and RUN!!!!!
The cops had been looking for us from town to town for hours....
And how Jo had to sit on our binders, just to see and reach the peddles.
I remember the smell of horses.
and the the never ending depth in the eyes of mine.
I remember Bear the Bouvier, and
how I was the only one he ever listened to.
And then I moved, and they put him down.
I remember.....I didn't speak to my dad for months.
And Storm the Siamese, and how he hated my ex and left us both.
I feel the betrayal to him, lol, to this day.
I remember having a child,
someone saying "open your eyes"
and looking.
And deciding there was nothing I needed to see yet,
That I wasn't quite ready...so hold on!
and I remember,
holding on.....
I remember, baby fingers stronger then I ever imagined.
First smiles
And eyes melting into eyes suckling
and rocking.
The quiet gentle rythme of love
in so many miniscule moments.
That I hope
never to forget. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --praise
Posted: 4/20/2007 3:28:21 PM | Son, down south, we call that being "slain in the spirit/ filled with the Holy Ghost"
Familiar with that experience , I call it "falling into God" and its like a peachy-golden cloud.
Niave, I love how you write about spirituality, the active heartbeat driven kind.
you always know just where to put that word"opalescent." I salute you
My favorite passages in case the other readers missed them-----
Influxes…
Adrifting me through portals
Taking me carefully into cultic realms
Where the answers enrage me soulfully. ..
And something otherwordly enters me…....
Thus, opalescent utterances in tongues rang forth…
Spiritual injuries crack bone bereft of mercy[/qoute]
AMEN! Mama loves you. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --praise& welcome
Posted: 4/20/2007 3:40:34 PM | Welcome back to Starpoet and Hortense and thank you for bring such lovely verses with you. Hortense especially liked the last line "the strangest freedom of all."
Welcome to Free Verse Poetry Festival, Adament Eve....make yourself at home.
Read, write and if you like somebody else's stuff, let them know! 
Everybody needs a little positive reinforcement now and then.
Red Earth Mother | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --praise& welcome
Posted: 4/22/2007 11:42:16 PM | This is a fun thread. Lots of good stuff to read. (getting caught up)
Quickening, she wore her talisman
On a chain of braided lion silk
Passed down from the elders
When they entrusted her
With wordspeak
Organized martial’s did nothing for the outflow
The undertow
That pulled them
Back into themselves
Back then.
Lost in rock formations
Entrapped within the crystals that bound them
She went searching for her fragments
And delighted them
Back into being
Free. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --praise& welcome
Posted: 4/23/2007 7:23:50 AM | Morning Raven
"talisman on a chain of braided lion silk" --your imagination captures suchmagical images.
loved theses lines
The undertow
That pulled them
Back into themselves
Glad you are here, keep writing! | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/24/2007 1:23:29 PM | To Krishna with Love as Always
The first time Krishna saw Renee
Was at an outdoor concert at college.
With the sun behind her wild red hair,
She appeared to be a woman crowned in flame,
A temperamental earth goddess
That it was best not to offend.
The first time they met, they talked for 5 hours.
He asked doubtfully “You know where is Malaysia?”
And she surprised him by answering
“Go to Vietnam and turn left towards the sea.”
He asked her to marry him right then.
She laughed thinking he was joking.
He told her of his life as a guerilla in the Malaysia jungles,
Of his imprisonment, of the land he loved and hated.
Eager to impress her, he embellished the tale
And she nodded gravely as though she believed every word.
Renee was a campus activist, never without a petition in hand
And Krishna shook inside each time she went to the capital
Afraid she would disappear, be pulled into a car and taken away.
He was amazed that this country returned its rebel to his arms.
He said she smelled like a Hindu temple
For she put sandalwood oil in her bath and patchouli in her hair.
When he held her he thought of dark places
Filled with candles and flowers
And when her hair fell upon his face
He said he felt like a god covered in garlands.
Each embrace was holy.
She said he smelled of a cozy kitchen in a happy home
The spices he had eaten since childhood had been absorbed into his lips.
When she kissed him, she thought of warm sunny places and
Women in bright clothes selling peppers.
Each kiss was a subliminal feast.
The second time he asked her to marry him,
He was adjusting his watch, which he claimed was slow.
He said casually, “Neither of us is getting any younger
And the time is limited in which you can bear children safely.”
When she did not respond, he put it plainer,
“I’ve got to marry somebody sometime. You interested?”
The simple pragmatism enchanted her
And there was nothing to do but say, “Yes.”
In memory of a strange courtship.
Thank you for being my soul-mate in spite of hostile families, separations, threats of disownment, deportations, denied passports, house arrest and other challenges.
Krishnasami Papanaikam, wait for me. I promise to be stronger in the next life. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/25/2007 9:23:27 AM | Beware of ****
“****” you called me
When you phoned drunk
Though I was agreeing obediently
With every word you slurred.
“****” I chew on the word
Like a bone.
It is hard; leaves splinters,
But I can’t let it go
Can’t bury it in the backyard like before.
Even pitbulls start out as puppies
Their warm, floppy tongues minister
Unwelcome ablutions to hands that stroke
Or strike or train to kill.
Somewhere along the way
The softness hardens into tense muscle.
It will no longer roll over, showing its belly
Because it no longer trusts you or anyone
Enough to expose its vital organs.
It’s hard to make a dog runaway,
To overcome the loyalty in its blood
But it can be done.
One kick too many, a hundred pats too few.
The feral dogs howl during the night
Mourning for the days when all they wanted from life
Was to be a lapdog.
“****” I am all out of puppy love.
And while I may never go for your throat
The puppy in me is growing up fast,
Growing tough, growing fangs,
Growing tired of commands and kicks.
So you’d best heed the warning sign “Beware of…”
And know that I will no longer come when called
Especially if the best name
You have for me is
“****.” | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/25/2007 10:25:09 AM | Play
Follow me
There's a place in my backyard we should play in
Give me your hand, it's this way
Down the stone stairs in the garden
Grandpa collected these stones from the Lake
Watch out for that branch
Hurry, hurry
I found it yesterday
She starts to run...
Her hair blowing in the wind
Her cheeks flushed and streaked with sweat
Her teeth biting down on her lip
It's in here
She pushes the cedar bushes with her arms
And squeezes
Then disappears inside the cedar hedge
He follows...
They crouch down by a small wooden headstone
What does it say asks the little boy
"Rest in peace little blue, we loved you" | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/25/2007 7:10:44 PM | THE MIRROR
I stand in the darkness, unmoving,
absorbing shadows that pass before me.
Cold and lifeless till something fills the void which is my soul,
smooth on the surface, yet so deep in its dimensions.
When the light comes on, I come alive with its brilliant intensity.
But its not the light that makes me what I am,
the light is but what gives me strength of vision.
It is you, standing before me that fills me with life.
I reflect upon the beauty that is you.
I see myself reflected back in your eyes,
and the lifelessness that is me, dissipates with your smile.
I watch as you undress before me,
and although I long too, I cannot reach out to touch you,
such are my limitations.
Darkness comes again, and my world becomes a cascade of odd shadows.
Images are hazily refracted upon that which is me.
I watch as you sleep, your gentle tossing and turning
make me feel alive, though I know I am not.
Hours pass in delicious silence, and though empty inside,
I await that which the morning brings to me.
Dawn comes and you rise.
Your radiance fills me once again, giving me purpose.
As I watch you dress, I rejoice in the glory that is you.
You replenish me, and I am no longer barren.
Then you smile and leave, though your smile lingers,
trapped deep within me.
Night returns, and then again, the dawn.
but you no longer come and stand before me,
and I am vacant, devoid of meaning.
All that was me, was but a reflection of you,
and you are gone to me.
The loss of you shakes me, at my very foundation,
and like a house of cards in the breeze,
I teeter and fall.
All that is me shatters, broken into a million tiny shards,
reflecting everything and yet nothing of consquence.
Without you, my light, I can see nothing at all,
nor am I want to do so without you. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/27/2007 7:18:14 PM | The Chair
The chair,
That mother of wood,
On toy horse rockers.
The chair,
An antique that stood,
Through an American past.
This chair,
In whose lap I bounced,
In who’s lap I played,
In who’s lap my happiness,
Was never delayed.
Our chair,
In who’s lap I watched,
As the whole world grew,
In who’s lap I changed,
Of this much I knew.
My chair,
In who’s lap I saw,
As the world moved past.
In who’s lap I hoped,
That the good things would last.
That chair,
That mother of wood,
On toy horse rockers,
An antique that stood,
Through an American’s life.
Oh chair,
Oh chair
Rock on, rock on,
Oh chair, rock on,
As I fade into the past. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/28/2007 7:21:55 PM | Dear Mother Earth
My Mother is 84 years old
And I love her dearly
But I can only take so much negativity
in small doses
She has been sick for most of the winter
With colds and flu and loneliness
And I have no answers
I am a kind and understanding person
I offer suggestions
I offer love
We had her over for a bbq
But her focus is on herself
And her tale of woe
I just don’t know
How to bring her spirits up
She so would like a gentleman friend
Who would bring back the spark of youth
There a so few men at that age left
She use to be so fun
But her glass has always been half empty
And mine half full
What on earth can I do
What more can I do?
I am out of answers. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/28/2007 11:34:15 PM | Rambling Madness of a Would be Pious Mind
I once had a beautiful garden,
But now it is no more.
For now it has been overrun,
By the snakes, the vermin,
and other unpleasant beasts.
To my knowledge the birds no longer sing there,
A damned eve vacated so long ago,
And geez yes, Chris to no longer visits,
to tend to the forgotten flock.
All that remains is a stunted tree,
that was once the apple of my mind,
Did I say mind? I meant eye.
So oft confusing, is it not?
No matter, for it shall soon mark my grave,
For I have been poisoned by it's emptiness,
Will you join me in a cup?
I apologize for being such a bad host,
Will you take some bread?
It is my body, not really though.
It's but a game I play,
Like a child playing doctor,
I just like playing God.
I must thank you heartily though,
For indulging my own eccentricities.
The day of judgement is at hand they say
If not today then when, is no ones guess.
But worry not,
There is still tomorrow.
That was my gift to you.
All I ever asked was that you believe. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/29/2007 10:11:40 PM | Dear Autumn Fantasy
what more can you do?
Keep your glass full
be yourself
be yourself
be yourself
Carry the negativity
only a few steps
shake it off
bury it
drown it
it is not yours to keep.
Take your full glass
share it
and
be yourself. | |
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| Free Verse Poetry Festival --New Poem
Posted: 4/29/2007 10:47:12 PM | Music is the answer
for spiritual lift
instrumental so often
just washes and drifts
in ways of seduction
for lonely old souls
music can be what ignites the coals
Its hard to imagine being so old
everything feels bad and looks hard and cold
tasteless consumption has no appeal
spokes feel broken in the cartwheel
Try to remember that they live their life
you live yours only once not twice
keep to your confident self all you can
don't let downers spoil a good plan
Some people just have to make their life hard
its like they can't believe having good cards
old can make obstinate and a bit rude
old can make wise with the right attitude
Its never easy trying to change someone’s mind
while trying to be gentle, loving and kind
then again even when the facts come out blunt
some attitudes make for nothing but grunts
I hope when I get to be old and stale
they don't just sit me over a pail
or lock me away like as if I'm in jail
though that's better than tar, feathers and rail
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| Life with Mum
Posted: 4/30/2007 8:13:09 AM | Autumn...seems like you've got good advise already.
I am in a similar situation except my mom has been living with me most of the time for the last 4 years. Call and check on her often, ask her to share a happy memory with you, "Tell me about a day when you felt like you were the happiest girl on earth?"
All old women, and middle aged women forthat matter are still little girls inside. We want to twirl around and say "look at me, look at me."
I am on disability. When a person has been sick for a long time,their body does become the focus of conversation because the discomfort/pain/weakness is constant and leaches out the joy from life. Underlying any ongoing illness is the fear of death or more accurately the fear of the process of dying.
Address the illness and pain with sympathyand love. Eventually, our parent sbecome our children - kiss the boo-boo. Tell her a good memory you have of her and build her up as you can. She'sscared.
Love her, breath deeply and a prescription for valium (for you) does wonders! Thats howI handle it! | |
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| New Poem -- optional theme-desire
Posted: 4/30/2007 8:25:32 AM | The Voyeur
Though the vice squad will never find me
Lurking in a dark house of pornography,
Drinking in the light shows that flash
Desire across an empty wall;
Though I will never be discovered
Squatting outside the bordello window,
Binoculars in hand,
Feeding, parasitic, off another’s fulfillment;
I think it only fair to warn you
That I am a voyeur.
This strange passion of mine is not a crime,
Because it is perpetrated by a lack of violation,
By discretion, repression, and a fear of actualization.
You need never comprehend that I am anything
More than an observant mind if I notice
That your hair is parted differently, or your shirt, new.
Or if I remember small things you have said in passing,
Or recognize your footsteps in the hallway,
Or even the form of your approaching shadow as you pass
Through the night walking home over paths
that I, too, know and walk.
But did you ever suspect that I am a voyeur
And that I’m watching you?
Did you ever think it odd that our paths are often crossed,
Or that I always offer an excuse for being where I am,
That I never seem surprised, merely pleased,
When you finally look up and see me seeing you?
Did you know that when I chance to visit,
Claiming I saw your light burning as I strolled
Through the night streets (alone) for my health,
That it has been preceded by a dozen abortive midnight marches
But retreated before the bell could be sounded?
These securely bound insecurities
bind the hands that would inquire
If I have any other option besides silent forfeiture.
I never wanted to sexually deviate
Away from the release found in a lover’s grasp.
But I have never been able to stand
In the threat of empty space,
And fling my arms wildly open
Without taking flight in the process.
This obsession is perverse, but it cannot become obscene,
So you need not be alarmed.
Voyeurs only gaze at what they fear to touch. | |
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| optional theme-desire - Come on - play with me!
Posted: 5/2/2007 12:21:36 PM | Thorn, Throb,Hortense, Autumn so good to see you all again - a joy as always.
Getting tired of reading my own stuff - come on in free verse fanciers.
The theme is optional
DESIRE | |
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| poet's table
Posted: 5/2/2007 1:49:16 PM | Round table gathered,
They examin my verse,
Finding edges too sharp,
Corners Untrue.
I am here voluntarily?
What is it I hope to find
From this collection of life,
Experiences refined,
Intellects in tune,
Emotions untapped?
Can my words be uncovered,
Their meaning found true,
By others not inside,
Emersed in this soul, heart and mind,
Or this body deteriorating with time?
Is it possible that here we sit,
More to commune as spirits entwined
In an embrace that transcends
Heated words about choice of rhyme and verse
At a round table filled with soulful food?
This chair, tilted back falls forward
My hands outstretch, join the table top
Are noticed & touched by others round.
The sense of my words and thoughts now clear
Not in meaning, but understanding of spirits true.
BR 17/04/07 | |
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| poet's table
Posted: 5/2/2007 6:09:21 PM | destiny lies upon a place that I have never been
If I wake up with you...please, turn your back to me
it's not a breath thing
I just love my hard morning sparrow singing a song about my hand cradling your breast....
And I love to wake up with my nose stuffed in succulent hair
feather pillow powdering the sensitivity of your paranoia
cautiously including myself into your delusion
that you could ever not think about the time that you loved me...
you still do...
it's your duty | |
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| desire
Posted: 5/2/2007 6:17:22 PM | wow, everyone brought such nice gifts! Consider me the little drummer boy.....
desire is a dance
I've forgotten the steps to
I watch the other dancers
twice removed
idly, distantly
I wonder
will I ever want
to dance again?
oh, I will dance
...eventually
but,
will I want to?
and so,
I desire...
to desire | |
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| evolution
Posted: 5/2/2007 6:21:08 PM | to desire
this
is fire is
do not
put me out
and
do not
blow | |
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