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 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 651
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Xanadu revisitedPage 27 of 52    (12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52)
^^^very nice, Jer....
 iceaxe
Joined: 3/13/2008
Msg: 652
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History
Xanadu revisited
Posted: 8/10/2009 6:29:30 PM
cover blown
he laid splayed open
so many eyes
peering, jeering
how he spluttered
and spit
with profane laced lip
king of the heap
of lies he did keep
justice served
by baring his nerve
is it not a poking
with stick
he deserved
truth the knife
sharp and precise
a clean incision
ending a life
of betrayal, sin
reduced to big zero
stripped of the title
of self described hero
how demure how docile
how self-effacing
now at the mercy
of public disgracing
there are pieces there
could be sewn together
question not if or when
but whether
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 653
Xanadu revisited
Posted: 8/11/2009 5:21:43 AM

cover blown
he laid splayed open
so many eyes
peering, jeering
how he spluttered
and spit
with profane laced lip
king of the heap
of lies he did keep
justice served
by baring his nerve
is it not a poking
with stick
he deserved
truth the knife
sharp and precise
a clean incision
ending a life
of betrayal, sin
reduced to big zero
stripped of the title
of self described hero
how demure how docile
how self-effacing
now at the mercy
of public disgracing
there are pieces there
could be sewn together
question not if or when
but whether


Flowing and incisive. Thanks.
 intenzity
Joined: 6/8/2009
Msg: 654
Snapshots; 8/24/09
Posted: 8/24/2009 8:19:30 AM
I woke with bursitis in elbow, knee
something akin to carpel tunnel in my wrists
I lit a morning smoke and took down a morning after pill
of Gordon's chilled cold in a two ounce shot
straight
as my single serving coffee pot enlisted its charge for the day
my veranda
my splendor
my mediocre beginning of the day
something special to me though

I tuned to classics and news
took down a gulp of gatorade to invite my digestive system to come alive
as it poured through me I requested my other senses come renew
I listened intently to a 14 year old composer; his fifth since 11
when he began composing

I looked across my street
to Jack
who's been there since before time
at late 80 somethin
he toddered
and shuffled to the grass

and with great strokes in his nimble hands
he raked the grass with strong arms
that didn't know they weren't 20
and as his upper body took on the burden of the task
his shoes dug in deep and steadied to not fall over in an old mans defeat

he didn't fall
but sipped at a cup of water from a well
with a pump that he built
from a lifetime of always being there

I wonder what I have lived in those 75 years
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 655
Snapshots; 8/24/09
Posted: 8/25/2009 5:00:54 AM

and with great strokes in his nimble hands
he raked the grass with strong arms
that didn't know they weren't 20
and as his upper body took on the burden of the task
his shoes dug in deep and steadied to not fall over in an old mans defeat


I especially liked the above in this laid-back account of the beginning of your day...
 intenzity
Joined: 6/8/2009
Msg: 656
Snapshots; 8/27/09
Posted: 8/27/2009 9:49:10 AM
(thanks for your kind remarks on my last poem here)

I remembered.
I had a professor tell me to write each
day. While laughing at the reasons
each time he saw me he would ask me if I was writing
at least something each day.

The last time I saw him
he asked me if I was singing every day
I told him yes
that I was.

I saw in his eyes that he was pleased with me.
Hair dangled below his shoulders
as a radiant beam in shades of gray and maturity.
He smiled to me the look of accomplishment.

I remembered to write and sing each day.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 657
Snapshots; 8/27/09
Posted: 8/27/2009 12:00:06 PM

I remembered.
I had a professor tell me to write each
day. While laughing at the reasons
each time he saw me he would ask me if I was writing
at least something each day.

The last time I saw him
he asked me if I was singing every day
I told him yes
that I was.

I saw in his eyes that he was pleased with me.
Hair dangled below his shoulders
as a radiant beam in shades of gray and maturity.
He smiled to me the look of accomplishment.

I remembered to write and sing each day.


I enjoy the anecdotal quality of this and am intrigued by it but unable to answer why his question changes from writing to singing?

Also, there's something I doubt: that you are writing & singing to gratify this parental figure rather than because you personally get something out of it.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 658
Snapshots; 31/08/09
Posted: 8/31/2009 10:26:33 AM
An elderly woman
in a fizzy green coat
hobbles along on a cane
from breath to breath
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 659
Snapshots; Sept. 1, 2009
Posted: 9/2/2009 7:42:15 AM
A man was coming towards me,
about as strange a steed
as I had ever hoped to see:
a tall, rangy dude with a lopey stride,
rawhide Stetson and a strong, square jaw.

There wasn’t a heck of a lot
in his eyes that I could see,
maybe a bit of a wince
as if where he was going
was a bit too far away.
 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 660
view profile
History
Snapshots; Sept. 1, 2009
Posted: 9/2/2009 6:32:02 PM
^^^^hmm, sounds like my "type"
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 661
Snapshots; Sept. 1, 2009
Posted: 9/3/2009 5:06:24 AM
[quote^^^^hmm, sounds like my "type"

I dunno, Briz... there was something a bit lost about him.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 662
today..
Posted: 9/3/2009 9:17:35 AM

all my yesterdays
slipped into tomorrow
without a thought or care

i did not plan
or calculate
or predict
i simply lived

until he asked
how do you
want to spend
the rest of your life?

and
i cried


Wow! One cannot know whether the tears were because, at last, he appeared to be proposing - or because you realized you had no vision of the rest of your life. And perhaps you yourself didn't know, exactly, why you were crying - which makes that such a moving and memorable conclusion!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 663
today..
Posted: 9/5/2009 7:15:13 AM

i only have this moment
and the next
to life my life
forever


Such a wonderful epiphany! Unfortunately I suspect you might fall away from that from time to time but, hopefully, you'll always come back to it again. Personally I've always had trouble with living in the "here and now" because my here and now always includes a bit of the there and then... or should I say, the there and when?

Going to send you (if your mail restrictions permit it) a poem I wrote on this subject, which I won't post as yet because I understand that publishers won't accept poems that have been posted.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 664
Snapshots; Sept. 9, 2009
Posted: 9/9/2009 11:16:31 AM
A young woman
with a birthmark
on the calf of her right leg
pauses, as if deep in thought,
before entering the café.
When I go in to pay
she’s nowhere to be seen.
 60to70
Joined: 7/28/2008
Msg: 665
Snapshots; Sept. 9, 2009
Posted: 9/9/2009 9:42:19 PM
Hot little chickie boarding the bus
Legs curved against some praire sky
Hair resembling a cover
Lips suggestive, ready to slay you
Black eyes.
Heavy eyelashes, dynamite walk.
Frequent slashes of gazes...taking in
five minutes, maybe fifteen of ectasy
How interesting that men became furtive.
What is that? why?
 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 666
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History
Snapshots; Sept. 9, 2009
Posted: 9/10/2009 5:24:45 PM
*sigh* wish I could write like this...

sorrows

who would believe them winged
who would believe they could be

beautiful who would believe
they could fall so in love with mortals

that they would attach themselves
as scars attach and ride the skin


sometimes we hear them in our dreams
rattling their skulls clicking their bony fingers

envying our crackling hair
our spice filled flesh


they have heard me beseeching
as I whispered into my own

cupped hands enough not me again
enough but who can distinguish

one human voice
amid such choruses of desire

by Lucille Clifton
Source: Poetry (September 2007).
 Autumn Fantasy
Joined: 3/15/2009
Msg: 667
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History
Snapshots; Sept. 9, 2009
Posted: 9/11/2009 8:30:05 PM
Sorrows was gorgeous Brizo and you can write like that so don't sell yourself short.
 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 668
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History
Snapshots; Sept. 9, 2009
Posted: 9/11/2009 8:41:49 PM
Autumn, it was, wasn't it...I especially liked the part about whispering into your cupped hands, who hasn't done that? As if speaking out loud will attract the bad luck....


trulio, I really liked that last poem there, I think it might be my favorite of yours...
 pickles51
Joined: 9/22/2008
Msg: 669
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History
Snapshots; Sept. 9, 2009
Posted: 9/13/2009 7:47:45 PM

*sigh* wish I could write like this...


Actually you can and do Brizo......don't diminish your amazing talent

I am listening to some amazing music from Senegal.....I grew up in Africa and my roots still define who I am.......

Memories
a bioscope of sounds and scents
flickering images
linked to rhythms and stanzas
of childhood
my feet tap and I sway....
alone... yet part of the magic
that is Africa
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 670
Snapshots; Sept. 16, 2009
Posted: 9/16/2009 11:13:59 AM
I was sitting on a bench
outside the Mile-End Mission
hoping to bum a conversation
from some passerby.

Cars shushed or growled by
along rue St. Urbain,
metal and glass anonymous containers
of stories I would never hear.

One of the Mission habitues
brushed the debris from the sidewalk.
Things were happening. Lord, I thought,
This is a city! This is Montreal!
Things are always happening here...
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 671
Poets & madness: some preliminary notes
Posted: 9/22/2009 4:57:27 AM
For those of us who consider ourselves poets,
madness is a tame dog
that runs at the end of an easy leash.

We lope the streets together
and only the cognoscenti
recognize that we are eccentrics.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 672
Poets & madness: some preliminary notes
Posted: 9/24/2009 7:30:44 AM

there are no recognitions
which you write of

these recognitions
do not last

and if they did
whole worlds would collapse


Oh, there ARE recognitions a-plenty though some times they last no longer than the simultaneous creation of electrons + positive electrons and are as difficult to pin down otherwise than by equations.
 Perfectly me
Joined: 12/10/2006
Msg: 673
Stuff Happens
Posted: 9/24/2009 12:36:25 PM
It's been too long since I visited but the muse just stopped by this morning.
Love you Jer.

The Weight of Disenchantment

People think sorrow grows softly pliable, becoming
faint like a photograph fading on acid-washed paper.
My bittersweet moments of loss are cutting-edged
snowflake stars, so frozen they burn from within.

I see traces of you, long after you've gone.
In the morning snow, your striding step
tracks sharply away from my door, then
evaporates like my cat-eyed dreams.

Disenchanted, trailing you, I
evacuate an impression left on
the careworn foundation of my hearth.

I can still taste your dark honey
and needing to preserve inviolate
all the frozen vibrations of love,
that numb me twenty times a day;
I crave the only cure, you, you, you!

I quiver, become a ghost-town;
with tombstones canted on boot hill...
The bits of your saliva, significant
on my unwashed skin and bedding.

I bend and try to smell you, inhale
deeply all the cells you abandoned,
as I wait in the dark, to be filled.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 674
Stuff Happens
Posted: 9/24/2009 1:12:41 PM
Oh, my dear, dear friend! I'm so happy you're back, though not at the cost of what I suspect lies behind this poem...
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 675
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Posted: 10/1/2009 7:48:58 AM
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the raunchiest poet
of us all?

Here, among lovers of the politest sort
who love (if we may call it that)
with our pinkies extended,
dabbing at the corners of our lips
with linen napkins woven
by third and fourth generation virgins;

here, where agape appears
to have squeezed the spunk
out of eros, raw, naked, sweaty
lust is not to be found
and we fastidiously eschew
all mention of buttocks,
soft, silvery thighs, rounded
protrusions with their swarthy-coloured
apices, and anything (God forbid)
phallic!
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