Accumulations Poems

A Minor Act of Weather

Now and then, quietly without notice,
Time adjusts its spectacles—
Peers through a fogged pane of recall
Where particulars, once urgent, dissolve.

If now and then you find rain in your heart,
be assured it is scheduled—
a punctual drizzle of consequence,
not passion, but the persistence of memory
in its bureaucratic overcoat.

It’s all because of you,
the file states plainly:
signed in duplicate, sealed in dust.
No redress required—
only the courteous nod to causality.

The aged—those quaint accumulations—
become, in the end, detours.
Not disliked, precisely,
but excessive to the route:
a bench beneath ivy, seldom occupied.

So live out your days with decorum.
Attend the rituals of silence.
Polish your small routines.
Let time, that sly curator,
catalogue your exit in amber.

Taste Again

("The Cave of Unknowing", original oil on canvas, 2012)

Taste Again

In the cave of unknowing
all my accumulations are gathered
accoutrements and sign posts
along the way I have chosen.

The path though never leaves the cave.
What awaits outside is pathless
immediate and direct.

In the cave of unknowing I sit
and see all my troubles
have always been the ripple I send out
from being me.

No matter how they go out and come back
eventually they settle
and I taste again
what it means to be free.

(8/9/23)

Broken Time In Pieces

Time passed away in the dark,
the bedside clock fell silent
it was never much of a talker.

Below the curtained window
snow had numbed the night,
ill at ease my body stretched
as if seeking a way out of its mind
a place it inhabits
when there is only one room,
to turn around in.

Did the clock
die on the tic or the toc?
These are the sort of questions
to struggle with when it's too early
to actually struggle.

Switched on the lamp -
the one in my head.
Accumulations of amputated dreams
wriggled back into the shadows.
I shake the clock
some residual moments
slipped limply through cold fingers.

When the light freezes,
when dawn breaks its brittle shell,
snow humps (so far unseen),
will resemble the many recumbent hours,
but of course there's no way
to measure those hours now.

It could be days
before the snow melts
or until eyes unstick themselves
from all this rumpled mess
of being.

Sleep and Slumber

I slumber, wee hours mostly
I sleep, wee hours always
No other places to visit
When undressed, past
Present, future
Dreams are Real, 
Dreams are fantasies
Dreams are of other places
Glue binds 
The brain stores
Desires, at times
What you have, all
Is what you get, some
Temporarily hidden resurfaced
Youthful sugarplums, few
Adult accumulations, many
Will flowers and sweetness
Be my dreams as I age
Hopefully
Accumulations surface
Memories
Pleasant 
and not so

Copyright © Wilbert Webb

Of Trash and Treasure

 trash
                putrid, unwanted
         wasting, littering, disposing, 
 pickups, accumulations, wealth, coffers
        admiring, cherishing, adoring
                valuable, precious
                       treasure



Date written: 11/06/2022

From Birkenhead Bridge

Memory still walks
along the river
on a summer's evening 
when a soft wind
lingers over the mangroves 
and lifts the smell of mud
rimmed along the river's edge
into the warm air. 

I imagine mulloway 
prowling the deep channels 
dug out by the tides,
the shiny backs of dolphins
arching through the dark,
sewing together 
the torn dreams
of old men.

I can feel the thick flow
of its history and cough
the accumulations 
of a century's waste.
From Birkenhead Bridge
I look out over the river's 
wide reach, its distances 
and into the vanishing point 
of a waiting silence.

We Wait Upon the Rains

We wait upon the rains to come our way,
and if I read the signs, it seems they might.
The sky is dark; the clouds have much to say.
The sun, it seems, has given up the fight.

Accumulations for the year are light;
my backup tanks are coming into play.
Predictions have been wrong more oft than right;
we wait upon the rains to come our way.

The clouds just might cooperate today;
A sprinkling would be a true delight
To keep the need for watering at bay,
and if I read the signs, it seems they might.

The chance for heavy rain is rather slight:
From black to white, a lighter shade of gray.
Although for me, the prospects are quite bright,
The sky is dark; the clouds have much to say.

The squirrels in trees have tucked themselves away;
The birds, aware, have taken off in flight.
The fawn and doe have gone inside to play;
The sun, it seems, has given up the fight.

I know that it all sounds a bit cliche, 
though if the storms should pass by, it’s alright, 
for He has met our needs through all our days.
Because we live by faith and not by sight,
        we wait upon the rains…

Accumulations

Accumulations 

Consistent American Divine 
Trusting time 
Count one two three 
Theres a dream that speaks differently 
Four five six 
And we get too used to this 
How we put in trust 
In funds our home is not so secure 
But things are gonna work I know
There’s no looking back
For walks the same circles 
And the drives feel all too familiar 
Our own journey to all the same 
One common theory 
Trust in us 
Trust in accumulation

Prana

Prana

Cloudy blue stretches itself with grey yellow beams
the faint moon in observation as it seems
salty fragrance by captured firmament
ocean of Prana in living breath of decadent
realms of light by conscious vision
timeless dreams condition
keeper of wishing surreal
affirmation towards joyous appeal 
scoping from the holy nectar in advance
penetrating the subtle immune by dance
unchangeable seasons in eternal bound
testament of loving virtue found
significant in identification
precious model of relation
existence all beyond
invisible correspond
frequencies in tune
entities of soul in body to prune
particles of the divine all
personality so small
chained by fears of needs
accumulations of poor deeds
dharma prana karma
happenstance by reasons drama
melodies by heart solution
celestial light conclusion
blessings of evolution

Eyes Don'T Lie

Gaze into one's eyes..
You shall see one's truth
You shall feel one's truth..

The eyes contain depth..
There lies no deep dark secrets..
Secrets reside deep within..
Swims beneath one's ocean..
An ocean of which is inside all of us..

Inside one's ocean is years of pain..
Blades of a knife..
Cutting and taring away..
Accumulations are within your ocean.
At times they remain stagnant..
At times they arise..
Exposure occurs..
Realization of one's ocean within..
Had been submerged in dark murky waters
Had been swimming beneath your ocean ..
Inside..
Shark infested waters ..


Inside your ocean there is all of you..
Not only your pain..
There is your joy..
Your loving moments..
Memories creating nostalgic moments..
They swim along inside of you..
Within your ocean..


All had reached the top..
The surface of the ocean..
It shall always be your own truth..

Your beautiful eyes..
Is the surface of your ocean..

Gaze into one's eyes..
You shall see..
The surface of the ocean..
Connected to the window of the soul..


Your beautiful eyes don't lie..

Snow Fall

It came in on a gray sky
 snow flakes on the fly,
then as the night progressed
 it found no ease or rest.

Cold winds blew in
 to silence the traffic din
and then in its giving
 the snow fell like oblivion.

A white out
 in silent shout
of winter's entry
 amidst children's assembly.

Hanging heavy on the branch
 the flurry held me entranced
and in the passing night
 accumulations filled a child's delight.

Shoveling Out

I dressed myself this winter’s night
In coat with hood, and gloves and scarf,
Winter boots and sweater warm
And safety glasses too.

Snowflakes were falling, piling up
In snow drifts high in my driveway,
Around my apartment door 
And in my walkway too.

The forecast called for fifteen or,
In centimeters, maybe more 
Of snow accumulations
To fall throughout this night.

I'd dressed myself for battle and 
Into the night I pushed myself
Out my door into the snow
With shovel in my hands

Half to my knees snow drifts had piled;
Thank God it was a light snow though.
In an hour I‘d conquered it
And cleared my driveway out.

In half that time my walkway I
Had shoveled free of snow also-
And stood back admiring what
I and my shovel did.

W.C.Hull © 2017-Jan 15-953-E

Selfie Society

Materialism
          Narrows
                  One's
                         Perspective
                                  Quantitatively
                                          Reflecting
                                                  Selfish
                                                    Tyrannical
                                                              Unhinged
                              Actions, Ambitions & Accumulations

Reality

Reality bites if we let it.
Each sould try to forfit
Always trying to avoid 
Limitations on accumulations.
Instead live realistically.
Treat the world holistically.
You will benefit immensely.

Mining Their Misery

Shattered are the dreams of the wanting, as they live in their broken homes 
Bodies wracked with pain, spirits crushed as they live out those wasted lives

Accumulations of sorrow, all these and more, in the tailing pond of society 
as we mine the misery of our most vulnerable and sorely damaged brethren

Yet, how we can avert our cold and flinty eyes so easily from these souls 
as we grub in their pockets for the meagre pennies they bring to spend in hopes for a quick flight to their personal, but inevitably unreachable, heavens

And as they fall back to earth from another failed attempt to reach the stars
that live only in their eyes, we coldly collect the toll and add it to the coffers
to be disbursed for the public good. Sleep well, fellow citizens, sleep well.

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