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James Ranahan Poem
words can feel
then find
somewhere in
the mind
a bang and bolt
a jolt then a
squeeze
with an ease like a gentle breeze
and then still
even so
with a will to know
an insatiable flow
when the thaw
lets it go
to wherever the past
is gone
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2014
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James Ranahan Poem
Today there is rain outside
as I begin to meditate....
I settle down more deeply,
more still than usual,
even until....
all thoughts were still...
my feelings faded away,
I was left
in deep peace.
in the quiet...
no boundaries existed,
no where
no why
no what
no who.
I'm aware of unlimited awareness,
nothing else...
no time
no changing
no content
no other.
I remained with
One.
Is..
Eventually,
the universe came
and my mind flooded with imperfections
all around me,
sensations,
all around me
surrounding me
cries from humanity
of shame, humiliation, elimination,
of guilt and evil and blame,
of hopelessness and despair,
of fear and hate
the rain outside had stopped
adding to the noise.
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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James Ranahan Poem
What am I but an ironic turning
of this mind, now frosted,
from a short walk around the edge,
of the corner,
promising to never promise,
even as I do?
And even, as I do
then; within the spin,
of what I've seen,
passing shadows and looks,
along here and there,
past where fragments of dreams,
cool under their own clouds,
time, and stars.
Ah yes, my dreams, let us
ransom other people, the other people
outside the door.
We have a way to go. Didn't you feel how much was missed,
just waiting,
to let it go?
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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James Ranahan Poem
a lovely shrine on a cliff
surprising secrets
remember me forever
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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James Ranahan Poem
A stranger passing by
in an instant,
doors open and closing
people come and go un-noticed
moving in ways so customary
ignored by the very people coming and going.
how many times has a stranger passed unnoticed?
how many times has a stranger passed consumed by fear?
how many times has a stranger passed without language to speak?
how many times has a stranger passed unconscious of sounds?
how many times has a stranger passed suffering and alone?
how many times has a stranger passed people who were coming and going?
passing, un-noticing, consumed with fears
without language to speak,
unconscious to sound,
suffering,
alone
and the stranger they passed….
was you?
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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James Ranahan Poem
Why should the mimic apologize?
Where are the cupboards?
Where are the wages?
Where is the tailor? I had
no use for algebra, I knew it-
in as much incognito on a prefabricated track,
in order that....
free thinking then supposing,
til warning for dreamless help provided,
a typewritten treat from this meditative cell on
a bi-directional night, just as incensing this layer, once
shouting, against kaleidoscoped winds...
Will the dubious cartoon walk on top of the comparison?
or will the prevailing keystroke provoke a smashing debt?
Their marriage possessed an alcoholic copyright.
just as the about face twists the rear....
A wizard paces..... surveying the blackboard
just when a scholar stands,
and rocks across a page, so that unless
Some author squeezes, a western dialect,
lest now his leisure violates,
a once welcomed, road of gold on the critical side, in as much until
and even faster still, a projecting spontaneous cricket,
now in a graveyard embarrassed by his wasteful song,
messy thoughts, broken prized belief,
sweeping away the cheat,
disregarding the window from the top,
so that a porter yawns,
outside the offending captor, who wears a wolf pendant,
underneath the inside havoc, if only
the technology collapses before
the funerals, thick attack, talk on top,
of frozen outlines, and a leather sofa cracked,
from opinions changing, as correspondence leaked,
so behind smoke, a fire of desire lurking near the conflicting repertoire,
next to the guilty bystander, raining like a thief, now interferes, who
stirs the sticks... across the crossroads,
Can the music spin the guilty onto a bandwagon until the other staggering strangers advancing,
to the next fizzy, dizzy, bog...
while guides await in order to assault corrupted fantasies,
beside crystal strips, where rusty knights in armor, sitting on a park bench
trying every half measure,
disturbing breezes,
in the haze of memories. Stir these random thoughts and let their impressions talk to you and one another.
Who knows how the mind really works?
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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James Ranahan Poem
He refers to himself in the third person,
knows life with no margins or banks,
nor tides, or mention of the day he departed.
it was a day like no other.
They waited a long time and thought about Venice,
and the quiet stars,
welcoming the will and words.
Find a place to go, like a garden or some amazing place beyond any dispute, beyond confusion embraced,
then look what we got,
a black blot,
screaming uncertainty.
That point of departure; abandoning, squandering all the days and nights of drenched lost meaning.
He hadn't belonged for decades, and still no one believed or understood, even the plain spoken, who could?
That's what we're talking about.
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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James Ranahan Poem
Sunday in February
a pigskin
deflates on the one yard line.
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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James Ranahan Poem
I am alive
awake
and aware.
I look around
intent
and watchful.
I am with it
conscious
and sensitive.
I am thinking
turning
and feeling.
I am in and out
moving
and with it so far!
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2014
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James Ranahan Poem
Got lost in a beautiful day
one of those days just
glad to be alive
to feel the warmth of the sun filled sky
the sunny breeze buzzing by
sparkling cloudless blues
bursting above and beyond
glint of greens
up-and-coming
energized by an infinite universe
a sense of airy amazement with nature
chirping and changing
crystal clear
fresh and free
picture perfect
hope
where nothing will ever be the same.
Copyright © James Ranahan | Year Posted 2015
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