| | RibbitPage 17 of 22 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22) |
So softly has my affection crept
you surprised the day.
I will never again wonder
where all comes from.
We are the legion
who march laughing/crying to a sky...
surrendering.
My God! You seem to compose these as easily as others breathe. Indeed, they often seem like a breath, a gentle, full-hearted breath. | |
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| Ambient Energy
Posted: 5/15/2010 6:48:54 AM | Suppose a woman were affected
by the heat of a man’s eyes
on any particular part of her body?
At times her breasts would light up
like neon mini-Kilimanjaros, her buttocks
would sear the cloth that barely
covered them.
Could this exchange
of ambient energy
be harnessed to light our way
to love or truth? | |
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| Ambient Energy
Posted: 5/16/2010 12:35:18 AM | I know I was guilty in my twenties of trying to fvck my way to truth.... | |
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| Ambient Energy
Posted: 5/16/2010 11:51:46 AM | you know, I got there too. The truth was, I was stoopid.  | |
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| Ambient Energy
Posted: 5/16/2010 12:09:30 PM |
you know, I got there too. The truth was, I was stoopid.
Well, that may be how it looks to you in retrospect, but I would rather say you may have been less wise than you are now. | |
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| Ambient Energy
Posted: 5/19/2010 9:06:54 PM | Come my personhood
exercise your reasoning
which never replaced feeling
but had much to do with knowing.
Come my friend.
At a crucial moment
earth replaced your night.
Come...just come...
God almighty, I saw a smile.
I never forgot.
Were you six? | |
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| Ambient Energy
Posted: 5/20/2010 4:38:25 AM |
Come my personhood
exercise your reasoning
which never replaced feeling
but had much to do with knowing.
Come my friend.
At a crucial moment
earth replaced your night.
Come...just come...
God almighty, I saw a smile.
I never forgot.
Were you six?
I especially liked
"At a crucial moment
earth replaced your night."
Was I six? Yes, I can only suppose so, and 16 and 26 and... | |
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| AKA Cain & Abel
Posted: 5/29/2010 6:28:19 AM | The world of unreason
lives, not beside, but within
the world of reason.
As if, that is to say, Abel
hosted Cain
until the latter murdered him.
Born of the same seed, they
- reason and unreason - are as different
as only brothers can be. | |
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| My Shadow
Posted: 5/29/2010 10:43:41 AM | My shadow is fury
My shadow is like me in every way
My shadow scares me
When she pulls away
Do I really act that way?
Do I really do those things?
Do I really Scratch and Claw?
Do I really snap and bite?
Yes I do
Yes I do
Yes I do
Yes I do
She is my mirror
She is my duplicate
She is my reminder
Of what i need to change
She is my cat ffs!  | |
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| My Shadow
Posted: 5/30/2010 5:06:02 AM | | Ogorgo: Thank you... | |
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| My Shadow
Posted: 5/31/2010 12:00:04 AM | My shadow is my sister
is your brother
and never can it be spoken
how much I loved you.
Nevertheless empires fall
rise, lives are lived.
Pronto...here is my particular
message..one fine, silent thread.
On one fine afternoon
I saw a coyote with your
emblem..your face.
Heralding some very bad news.
Should I care?
Aaah...will not so.
Nothing fools a fool
more than just their face. | |
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| My Shadow
Posted: 5/31/2010 9:57:33 AM |
My shadow is my sister
is your brother
and never can it be spoken
how much I loved you.
Nevertheless empires fall
rise, lives are lived.
Pronto...here is my particular
message..one fine, silent thread.
On one fine afternoon
I saw a coyote with your
emblem..your face.
Heralding some very bad news.
Should I care?
Aaah...will not so.
Nothing fools a fool
more than just their face.
What brilliant opening lines, that lead to the rest of this wonderful poem! (Speaking of coyotes, however... another reason for you to read "Prodigal Summer" by Barbara Kingsolver). | |
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| The Minister and the apostate
Posted: 6/9/2010 4:26:33 AM | Who could measure the depth
of their disagreement
or of their love for each other?
“The trouble with you,”
one had been saying over and over
for ‘God’ knew how many years,
“is that you can’t see that ‘soul’
etcetera are just metaphors.”
To which the other had long ago
and often replied, “The trouble with you
is that you cannot see!”
But each rejoiced in the other’s
momentary, mortal triumph
over him. Each victory
(temporary, of course) was chalked up
to their friendship.
The one worshipped
the blatant evidence of God’s goodness
in the other; the other thought
that to love his friend was enough:
his gullibility, his childlike desire
to fit every square peg in a waiting
round hole. God, if I may presume,
never offered to settle the quarrel between them
(if quarrel it was). | |
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| The Minister and the apostate
Posted: 6/9/2010 9:40:09 PM | Ahem Jerry...wonderful. I read it over a few times.
Not one even, not even one weak line. One thing
is indeed the thing that leads to the other. Cheers. | |
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| The Minister and the apostate
Posted: 6/10/2010 4:22:11 AM |
Ahem Jerry...wonderful. I read it over a few times.
Not one even, not even one weak line. One thing
is indeed the thing that leads to the other. Cheers.
Thank you, my faithful friend. I was especially proud to end that poem in the parenthetical phrase, delighting in the guile of treating it as a casual afterthought when it was, of course, the moral of the story. | |
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| Radio silence
Posted: 6/11/2010 12:57:56 PM | The radio went dead.
The salmon, in their up-current progress,
faltered. “God is vibration,”
a woman at our table pronounced.
The world was still. Then
everything began again. | |
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| Radio silence
Posted: 6/12/2010 12:57:20 AM | radio silence. Then.
__________________
"The world was still. Then
everything began again."
How very ...true. | |
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| Radio silence
Posted: 6/13/2010 8:24:12 AM | | Thank you, 60. I'm guessing you have something of the same experience I do, of poems that seem to write themselves, that surprise you with truths or events you didn't know you knew about. | |
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| Radio silence
Posted: 6/13/2010 7:50:00 PM | I agree that you are right.
And by the way...you are
almost always right. What
would be the "almost"?
I am not petty, usually, and I
love what signals my radar. Lol. | |
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| Radio silence
Posted: 6/14/2010 6:42:46 AM |
I agree that you are right.
And by the way...you are
almost always right. What
would be the "almost"?
I am not petty, usually, and I
love what signals my radar. Lol.
Interesting, and a temptation to my ego! I too often prefer to be "right" or at least to be perceived to be that way, rather than being 'merely' true to myself... my fallible self. | |
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| Radio silence
Posted: 6/16/2010 11:17:53 PM | Could we just get playful?
Other than that..right is
might...might is not right.
Onto the stage, a refugee
knowing something...singing
Lets share a popsicle...
then if we can't
how about I just love you?
hee , hee, and smile. | |
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| Radio silence
Posted: 6/17/2010 6:43:04 AM |
Could we just get playful?
Other than that..right is
might...might is not right.
Onto the stage, a refugee
knowing something...singing
Lets share a popsicle...
then if we can't
how about I just love you?
Right on, sister! | |
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| Existential Crisis
Posted: 6/19/2010 6:16:39 AM | I was so discouraged
I thought of running over to Beanie’s house,
flinging open the windows
and jumping out of all of them
until I remembered:
Beanie lives in a basement. | |
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| Crisis of Existential Proportions
Posted: 6/19/2010 12:41:17 PM | Do Not Disturb
Don't disturb my darkness
With rays of verbal sunshine.
The upbeat tone of your voice
Plays like nails on a chalk board
In my soul.
Don't disturb my darkness
As I hide under the cover of busy-ness
Scarcely avoiding new conflict
When you stroll in my mind
Uninvited.
Don't disturb my darkness
While I play devil's advocate
With the pretense of love,
Imagined when you touched me
In the heart.
Don't disturb my darkness
So I may wallow in the misery
Of forgotten promises and plans
For future hopes
Now deconstructed.
Don't disturb my darkness
I'll lie here in the gloaming
Awaiting resurrection
When the embers die and ashes
Become a part of my being.
V
14 June 2010 | |
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| Crisis of Existential Proportions
Posted: 6/20/2010 12:09:31 PM |
Do Not Disturb
Don't disturb my darkness
With rays of verbal sunshine.
The upbeat tone of your voice
Plays like nails on a chalk board
In my soul.
Don't disturb my darkness
As I hide under the cover of busy-ness
Scarcely avoiding new conflict
When you stroll in my mind
Uninvited.
Don't disturb my darkness
While I play devil's advocate
With the pretense of love,
Imagined when you touched me
In the heart.
Don't disturb my darkness
So I may wallow in the misery
Of forgotten promises and plans
For future hopes
Now deconstructed.
Don't disturb my darkness
I'll lie here in the gloaming
Awaiting resurrection
When the embers die and ashes
Become a part of my being.
This is MAGNIFICENT, my dear friend! If only it weren't do disheartened? But no doubt that's the price you had to pay to write such an extraordinary poem. | |
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