Best On Writing And Wordslight Poems
Thoughts casting shadows,
hiding truth beneath its wings.
Searching for answers,
blinded by darkness.
lost in forgotten ideas,
Blurry images.
Faint light develops,
breaking darkness’ talons.
Grasping for the light,
defending its life.
Shielding it as darkness fades,
light grows strong and high.
Merging with poet,
moving through and into hands.
Pen clutched tight writing,
soul begins to flow.
Empowering light evolves,
birthing new ideas.
Thoughts become more clear,
poet feeds off lights warm glow,
touching hearts and lives.
Light begins to fade,
shadows return to attack,
search begins again.
Nathan Bane Leccese
© All Rights Reserved 06/30/09
sometimes they appear effusively ebullient
need curtailing, pruning
succinctness of clarity demands simple concepts
a fresh way to express tired vernacular
see contrasts that light and dark embody
simile is like a bridge, connecting this to that
ideas behind envisioned conditions
what is seen, what is known
cupid's arrow finding its mark
carefully selected properly place alliterations age
as fine wine, appreciating moments of the tongue
if cramped, forced to salute like a new recruit
become ill fitting as a six fingured glove
noticeable as a red light on easy street
onomatopoea telegraphs transparent thought
Ohhh, moment of culmination cry the lovers
adjust concepts, fit themes, clarify voice
say meaningful words of intuitive insight
gamble fearlessly, search for elusive quarries
loadstones of vocaulary
prized like adamantine crystals in kinberlite
you can have it all, heart's desire
etched tablets that tell of word's meaning
chisled till they're Rosetta stones
Raindrops race down my window,
like tears from a sky with no reason to smile.
Lightning dances across a blackened dance floor
whilst the air claps it's hands in thunderous applause.
An old wooden desk sits sulking in the corner,
scarred with echoes of journals past.
A dimmed light is staring in to my mind,
a blank piece of paper mocking my every thought.
Sometimes I'll sit for hour upon hour
searching through a tangled web of broken ideas.
My pen is eager to spill it's blood on to the page
yet my mind sits in shadows too afraid of the light.
A police car hurls past on the street below,
the anthem of the night is hitting it's chorus.
Sirens ring out to signal another hunt in the shadows
as the scent of blood sends the chasing pack in to a blue lit frenzy.
Yet still I sit with nothing to say
whilst a cold beer has slithered it's way in to my hand.
I feel the icy chill tumble down my throat,
maybe it will be fuel for a thousand thoughts.
Music...
Good evening Mr Miles Davis and welcome to my blank page.
My mind begins to relax now
as a light shines in to the darkened void of my thoughts.
My pen begins to flow,
finally unleashed from it's wordless shackles.
My thoughts pour on to the page
like the rain that falls from the tearful Heavens.
Finally now my mind can rest,
as I slowly enter a peaceful slumber.
A myriad of thoughts for a new day
and if not?
Well there's always Miles Davis.
Trapped in the essence of time’s significance buried under rocky grounds
a flickering light eternity’s gaze ordained defined
her senses heighten into the blue flash above ahead streaking to her destinations end
the bitter truth diverges
emotions surging dramatic
reflex speedy in accuracy
as she emerges with her feet set solid on the rock
her arms swinging diverging as sharp knives ignite with spikes glittering in the dark
our guiding angel sent from above, from GOD has come
our watch girl ascribing a human form, reborn
there she approaches in heavenly form as angels descend willing to conform
for her sake darkness is done, the story is already on,in a while victory shall be one
pain, suffering, tears will be no more
the lamp of light beside her illuminating bright signaling the inscription that an
antidote of liberation has been formed
the war between good and evil has already begun
she glances at the castle in the darkness ready to run swerve slay dance sing
the beauty of sorrow, a lesson learnt
in the end the victory earned
in her fashionably cryptic overall-like gown of a mixture of black and blue
the people thankfully bow
as the sounds of the earth rumble at the light of victory that our hero indeed
Amy has returned and found
...for Hart Crane
From dark to light transfusing in a flash,
your silver-sequined mystery
that breathes new electricity,
it shines where none has shone before,
this trembling luminescence,
through waves refracted with your sheen
yet show no movement readily,
no broken sea reveals your rippled hand.
Layer upon layer endlessly,
the waves preclude all semblance of your face,
and roll, so indeterminate their swell,
that light cannot quite penetrate the gloom;
and sun and stars no energy can gather
to clarify your loveliness for me.
Yet in the dusk your light still lingers,
bright and undeniable, the mystery
still haunts my dreams and will for evermore.
Permit me to be by your side once more.