The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Revelstoke, BC, CA
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This could be dangerous poetry; some things may get said.
I could re-shape you with each and ever verse.
My words are my knife,
my story_ the honored loaf of bread.
I know how miniscule a poem can be:
A grain of sand in outer space.
How silent is it here in this poem?
Words stand frozen, as if to offer meaning
would break this spell.
You are glass In my hands:
A crystal clear image of self.
Today I live here, but only with my words
will I be able to launch my thoughts
into the distance.
Time is the fruit that we long for:
It lays here ripening upon this page.
These words fit you like a second skin:
Like a frame around your window.
The glass can be shattered.
This poem could be dangerous.
Are you less wretched now,
than you were with your foolish thoughts.
Death will come and claim its earthly soul.
Here with me, this poem suffuses the day,
keeps everything in sight.
You cannot chase these words away,
for they cling to me day and night.
There is little time to contemplate.
Your roving mind may stay,
until all the syllables retreat to silence.
I offer you this paltry feast of profound necessity;
toil in silence,
until at the last of it you may heal your wounds.
At the end of it all I am left here to contemplate what has been and what will be
Here it is then the first day of retirement I find my self in front of this typewriter
Should I give in to this tedious boredom what lays ahead that I should know
Where has time gone that I so did once need I do not fear for I know not what will be
What lies ahead can most assuredly wait for me I have no timetable so let cruel time stand still I think Iíll make time to have lunch with Van Gogh I will learn by going
for the past is slowly fading away Iím here at last to this magical aging I shall stay up all night talking to the Moon I am a bird free to fly over somber fields and spread my wings to the devouring sun I will embrace this new beginning for another choice I have not Here it is then the first day of retirement So I guess I might as well get on with the rest of my life.
It may all be coming to an end soon My last diagnosis turned out rather badly I donít feel like the condemned man that I am Why should this have to be My chances have been slipping for some time now seems time is slowing down Too what great seer do I owe my dearest gratitude that I have known sweet life
Last night I sat alone waiting for the moon to burst in and shine itís light for my thoughts were not quite done my memories still not begun My faith in life is my bench in the park that sags under the weight of my thoughts I feel the unvarnished structure about me and am sheltered with the might of the protection it offers It is my seclusion from the perils of reality that oftentimes envelope me like a sleeve of sorrow
The thought of life is a bed for my tomorrows
I am who this slow dying is making I am this shy monster beginning to understand
that in life one must release the roar must surrender to the nameless moments This creation of destiny waiting for the clattered clouds of spring to turn the seasons No tomorrow no yesterday just this naked awakening I have dressed myself with this veil of my commitment Drawn it about me like the calmer clouds of June and it Itís everywhere inside of me I am this silent joy like summer clouds crumbling to the vague voice of august sun Poet poem poetry drifting freely like the lonely clouds of autumn not yet possessed by that harsher reality I am whom this fading light has made and all it has done is meaningless
What dissolution will now pursue me sky that I should wrinkle to lifeless form I have
seen the red red roses growing beneath heavenís great gowned canopy I felt summerís warm breath blowing but now thereís only this quiet agony I now give up my many expressions that I too often see downward falling I can so easily hear winterís voice beckoning me to her
Life it is said is a crap shoot the luck of the draw a little root-a-toot-toot and a bit of hip hip hurrah Itís a slap in the face itís a kick in the nuts Itís a can of mace itís bruises and cuts Lifeís a delight a basket of red and white roses Itís a sore sight looking down long noses Itís an experience for the soul to revel in It makes no sense How does a person win Life is a Pilgrimage a race against father time Itís a one way bridge to somewhere Itís all rock and roll and women and love Itís deathís toll, collected for the guy up above Lifeís a dream where when you wake up you die Itís clotted cream itís all just pie in the sky Life it is said is a crap shoot
Time has been moving Oh where is that hero that once moved among us he that let no one be troubled Where is that brave soul that knew us all so well he that kept us all in his heart and for each of us fought like hell Where is our beloved hero which time has stolen away Heís still fresh in my memory and will be forever after today Oh where is that being that nurtured heart and soul Heís gone to that special place where we all go to pay our toll
Is this your epitaph
What noble courage you must have summoned to achieve all this What high expectations were imposed on your sensibilities and such Have you felt the stare of neglect and the disappointment in others eyes Do you know the main reason for living what makes the center of life That mellow moon of midnight hour through your window will creep Itís there perched upon your bower watching you while you dream in sleep It silhouettes the red red rose from its great yellow eye.
In the brooks and streams it flows making all of heaven sigh Heaven would not dare to postpone something so opulently grand Itís the coy night-time mistress of fascination and infatuation. It makes you think and guess and gives you pause for hesitation You sit upon your brooding perch of woe jealously peering from saddened eyes
The steal blue sky of early dawn transforms the dying embers of night Morning mist through the roses creeps as they waken from nightís encumber The sun sprays through the boughs seeps free this day from steadfast slumber Clouds float by like drifting dreams urging everything from repose
I have seen the Twin faces of withered seasons how they both dangle feeble from the long exposure to the uselessness of my unused life This fruit that from the tree have seen too many seasons too many reasons to accept the fact that the sustenance and spice of their necessity has been taken by time Their resistance to the yearning still irritates me when I sleep and touches my heart when I awaken I sense the vagrants at my door I hear their stiff knocking.
The last of it has come the shimmering silver the quivering green The spirit of summer is turning numb time to contemplate all Iíve seen I have gathered the flowerís simple grace into my dreams with wild intent My eyes have crossed a million years of space yet all of this to me was only lent I vigilantly try to keep my stability between the fading horizon and this reality but only this sensation of futility instills in me this harsh conclusion I belong here to sit upon the shores of night and stare upwards to Heavenís distant balcony Tearful visions possess my irresolute sight for now there is only all of this and me All too soon death will waltz in and throw itself upon this place Stars will still glimmer from their lofty bin to witness deathís triumphant face
All my thoughts are safe and sound and deep I only gather them in my dreaming
Tomorrow they will swallow me whole pull me under I belong here to ponder the dark simplicity of life and to find the secret of its somber bliss Even as the Humming bird with its ingenious perfection is sipping daylight from the flowers through the trees the sun carves its golden scars every tree goes unwounded
A scream came and went a hint of death Out here death is red and bloody This is my future
If you think I am embarking I am not embarking I am merely pretending that I have departed Even the wind pulls me along pulls me out of this tangled space through
the eye of my windowpane Nothing moves below the edges of the universe The night sky burps forth glimmering stars where decorations of light explode with remarkable
brilliance I go out when the moon is new carry the stars on my shoulders When the wind is high I hang on to the robes of the graceful moon I am an embarking stranger in these new fields of golden light that flourish above my darkness I am afraid to relax as I look down I cannot conquer this fear that I have avoided for too long. The ground is covered in a patchwork of silent surprises I fear my shadow will be stolen I simply cannot give up my shadow to the turning moon I am a sequence of thoughts leading away from home I never expected to be a captive voyager pirouetting through space yet I am this silent audience expected to applaud this procession of time I am here I am breathing I am.
Last night I dreamed that I was dead I spared you the anguish of leaving I saw your soul laying beside my bed The moon sunk and drowned in my sorrow I laid there staring into that obscure hour Something in me has forgotten tomorrow Never more than now I know that my best years are far behind Unless new blood in me should flow
I pass these idle slow turning hours watching time beat itís whirring wings
What does the black Raven know from his perch upon the quivering branch frowning in his cloak of black He wakens with the rising sun to plunge through the void of crimson skies He has that lurkerís way to watch as he swoops and dips in heavenís wild array All his pleasures meet upon the breeze and gather in the meadows of his eyes
All he sees and all he knows thatís natureís sweet reward From evening skies and storms he flies to hide in his peaceful boughs Black shadows close his eyes as darkest night fulfills her vows Rose and orange clouds bloom in the western sky The last gift of day this coupling of sunlight to moonlight that seeps slowly into the rhythm of
Dimmer skies A western sky sinking curiously Into the realm of darkness dragging the last suggestions of day under
Crimson grows the eastern sky blushing fires streak the morning high where cloudy heaven shakes free from night This dappled ceiling marks this infant hour with colors of peach and rose Oh lanterned landscape of spacious heaven how you pamper the clouds
upon the mantle of fading night What dainty stubbornness holds you from the destiny of day How did you escape the asylum of nightís Weariness and leave behind eveningís calmer rest
I rise up and go Look I am free of that entanglement of my other self I take my golden rising to the brink of days anticipation The sun lives in me Allows that soft authority where my awakening unfolds like the tender buds of spring I take my fragile impressions to the whole blue day me out catching opportunities with my necessary persistence I am like the Butterfly and just as homeless
Tomorrow always comes comes and waits at my door I do not answer for today is more than I can bear What good will come of another day when this one sits beside me
lonely and sad like me I watch the Sun slide into the west watch it groan upward from the east I live in this room of memory yesterday never leaves Will tomorrow teach me not to hope tomorrow is unreachable
I stand on tiptoe trying to grasp everything I hold time on my fingertips Midday bursts out of me I am thick with blossom I am too tangled up in this magnificent place I daily renew my wonder I am too wrapped up in her splendor Oh how I love it when night tucks me under A black drenched Raven called the thunder from the sky taunted all of heavenís vulgar unrest I sit here watching days last light recede as my bubbling lake is effervesced The howling voice of high heaven spits and sputters uncontrollably These windswept trees and frothy shore shimmer and shake along with me I am half swallowed by this brilliant darkness I sit alone like a ghost caught in this moment
She teases me with her mysteries I donít give in or surrender These could be dangerous times some things may get said My words are my knife and my tale the privileged loaf of bread I know how miniscule time can be A grain of sand in outer space time stands frozen as if to offer meaning would break this spell Time is the fruit that we long for It lays here ripening upon this page These words fit you like a second skin Like a frame around your window The glass can be shattered Here with me this poem suffuses the day keeps everything in sight I cannot chase time away for it clings to me day and night There is little time to contemplate my roving mind must stay until all the syllables retreat to silence toil in silence until at the last of it I may heal my wounds
By yonder tree there grows a flower that only blooms at midnight hour Sadly silent it sits beneath the dark sky watching a slow turning Moon passing by black are the petals
Of this abandoned rose where in darkness it nurses its woes when it rains at midnight each petal will weep soaking the ground where my love lays in her soundest sleep the tears I shed nightly flow from a river of pain for gone is the love I shall never embrace again By yonder tree there grows a flower that only blooms at midnight hour
My name is Tomorrow I am a mile wide and mountain thick today I know not what my heart will allow what a pleasant surprise_dawn yawning in my coffee here there is no true time Moon after light Sun after night I stare at everything I am too pleased to grin I watch as one who is dissolving into tomorrow my thoughts give me courage
Tomorrow will be my victory Iíve washed today from my hands Iíve sucked all the sorrow from the clouds until I damn near drown I must rise Fall into reality I am hinged to this moment both destination and arrival time flows through me moments become eternities I am all suddenly old my mind addled with remembrances that do tease me so I must now take my jealousy and make it my happiness whenever I recall
It is not easy being the stranger that welcomes you like some dumb creature and invites you to feast upon me You alone must peel my patience in order to turn the whole world upside down surrender to my hard labor for it is the hammering anvil of my heartís greatest refusals only you will know when I am enough when the fullness of me no longer taunts your appetite I am a monster devouring everything I have swallowed all your seasons left you in the boundaries between shadow and light I am an unclosed wound opened to the rhythm that hangs from the cold white moon
What invisible breeze blows me out whispers my flesh to this moment I do not want to drown in all this tranquility I summon all the strength I own proclaim my innocence
I am so not an oxymoron my boat is not a boat itís an empty sadness sitting on the shore I am Deer-eyed keen quieter thane stone I plunge into darkness see the big- dipper wedged between two mountains Stars with their high excesses glitter in heaven I am a freedom led on by this moment I see no more than my mind can handle
I shall never all this earth survey nor acquire the leisure that I seek but if I take it day by day and keep the breeze upon my cheek who knows I just may I shall never all my friendships fulfill upon this great and gracious earth but if I was strong of will and toiled at it from birth who knows maybe I will If I traverse with utmost care and live the fullness of each hour and of sweet nature stay aware through sunshine and noonday shower who knows I may journey everywhere If the tallest mountain I should pursue
or tread some valley woven with streams there is a chance before Iím through that Iíll fulfill my worldly dreams who knows it could come true If I discover just one pleasant place that to others has gone unseen would not the joy that I would trace urge me on and make me keen who knows I may win the race If I should ramble far and wide and embrace the plain and simple things If I did all this before I died with gladdened heart and spirited wings Whoís to say I never tried
I wish I were a bird with cool high wings at my ease I would sweep over the whispering leaves in winged victory All adrift floating high higher a breathless dazzle of airy flight A soothing labor of such high desire gracefully flying through blue and white
We who ponder the intent of time that our course would steal and flee this moment now is the only thing to relish in my suspended destiny I feel the sharp pain of timeís intrusion. this hour now that I trespass through is only timeís strange illusion All Heaven and Earth yet unfolding I sense timeís ceaseless unalterable date this day now that I have borrowed will abandon me to my unwavering fate We who ponder all timeís intent wasting both brain and breath while it is the free fuel of life it is also the perfect silence of death
There are poems in this new life herds of words flocking into urgent sentences spilling from doorways and doubtful hearts This veritable river of thoughts trickles through me
I am what this moment is making am this shy monster waiting to release the roar
Those who would wreck my thoughts I hold at a distance their truths as a poet I have no hope It is hard to swallow oneís own tenderness or subject it to the harsher reality
I am now giving notice of my intentions They do not know the significance of what sustains my hunger Thereís no comfort in their breath I wish not for instant success
Iíve paid my dues I think now theyíll let me in
I now dance and move to some strange rhythm I have my heartís greatest denials
and tribulations to sort out I am tethered to this silent voice I am essential when the spark for life in me is gone and time ceases in delight then please just leave me alone to fade away into the darkest night when my eyes gives way to death and into watching I am thrust then be still my laboring breath and turn me into dust
I surrender to time Iím just a man who has lived I am not a star pinned to this universe
I once was a necessity like a candle in the night Please donít blow me out I am a voice with moaning speech Please help me breathe I cannot change where Iím going
I do not want to try I must surrender to time
What helpless nightmare will escape from deathís fetid summoning what horrifying landscape of death waits what cruel climax will cause the bell to toll that will forever ring in the darkness of despair The black Prince of gloom shall darken the flame will I stare long and hard into his putrid carcass Will the black Angel of mercy aid in my journey will the remains of darkness envelope me whereupon I will succumb to this final misery Iím going to close my eyes now
I sit here
I sit her inhaling the chilled bouquet of autumn breezes,
such a crisp evening air.
The quilt of sunset slips off my knees;
strange how this longing keeps me silent.
I listen for the voice of winter to come crying across the lake.
There are moments when I am not here,
like when Iím sitting on the shore at twilight
unable to tear my eyes away from the sky.
It is changing into the color of tomorrow.
I feel I am an artist who has captured this obscure moment.
The rhythm of summer sleeps in my heart.
I am at the edge of this season, all I have to sacrifice are my offerings of gratitude.
All I need is here.
I am at a loss for further explanation.