Best Plumb Line Poems
Our neighbour is plumbing Mum's drain
As some drips were causing her pain
But mum is no fool
And his "special" tool
Like Dad's, will just make yellow rain
Blue Leviathan
Sounding the bathymetric deep
Lazuline green to waters risen
Of sonic dark sung Cetacea poetry
With ever knowing smiles
The gargantuan glides
Graceful on angel winged flukes
Slow easy speed
Of winded massive lungs
Hits the surfacing
Blown by fountainhead spouts
Breaching upon the waves
Two hundred tones of aquamarine
Poised and ready
Driven to fly the salt-water medium
Lifting from the brine light domain
Performs a pirouette
Crashing leviathan
In a centuries ballet
Antediluvian epitome of natures
Balanced perfection
Sings a song haunted melody
Traversing oceans
Beyond the deepest knowing of land
The plummet and plumb line
Of fathoms
Still skirts a coral reef
And basks in shallows
Quiet phantom
Of the giant blue
Dot to Dot
. 2 . Point to point
Painting life by the numbers
A moving chorus line of choice
Random patterns spurned
Unbroken pointillism paints a soul’s portrait
In shades of shadows and sunlight
. 2 . Day to day
In a sanctuary of measured stillness
Sunset and sunrise on a calculated thread
Sun and moon follow precise lines of gavotte
Like a moving celestial stairway
The pilgrimage of each morning and each night
. 2 . Mile by mile
Plumb line for restless steps
Stepping stones of revelation
Crossing over potholes of quick sand
Passing detours of indiscretion
Wisdom’s oasis marks each passage
. 2 . Note by note
Winsome, plaintive, joyful melody line
Rises from the deep eternal’s depths
That reads each note as written
One voicing after the other
The song of each life stitched together
. 2 . Line by line
Stars joined with silk filaments
Sweet ambrosia of constellations
Fiery guardians in strings of astral confetti
When north stars and southern crosses
Make paths through our tangled valleys
12-20-22
Contest: Dot to Dot
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Gender is a line that is not level
A plumb line swinging bearing fruit
2/7/2020
this and that and thus and such
hearing, seeing, smell, taste, touch
which will old age steal? not much
just this and that and thus and such
will I know beloved ones...
lifelong sweetheart? daughter? sons?
thanking those with whom I've dined
not sure why they've been so kind
in this home but not sure why
who will hold me when I die?
i'm imprisoned by my fear
who will let me out of here?
i have seen it far too much
once sharp minds now losing touch
no more plumb line left to clutch
just this and that and thus and such
Earth, builder of beauty;
her plumb line: a still point,
precious center, damp
minerals.
What I’m composing are
my words: a swathe of heat,
painted deserts, morning musk,
saguaro green.
Upon my lips, misted whispers:
a fog’s low roots, moist glaze,
dawn’s red vine, dappled light,
cypress, corn silk.
I shake my pen
and from its throat spills
night’s ink sac: salt,
stones, spicy stars.
I shake it more: it empties
the imagery; my feelings;
black sand, spears of pine,
a river’s idle yawn.
Earth pushes us from her womb
where an underground gurgle, like a god
blowing into a straw, creates star bubbles,
first breath, birth cry.
Like birds, we build nests, lay eggs,
feel earth buzz in our bones:
a jug of dreams, seasons, necessities.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
From my fourth book: 'The Translator'
Transcendent Zero Press, 2015
This poem was first published in 'Eunoia Review (China)'
Editor: Ian Chung
Search Amazon: "the translator/dah"
On The Tail Winds of Dreams…
(Apropos Strong Men…)
The day stops. Night begins.
The cocooned dream hangs lazily
On the leaf to time. The veiled goddess
Justice remains oblivious; her skewed scales mimicking
A faked balance. The dream dreams back at us
a Mona Lisa smile teasing the realities of our beings:
zip-lining through winds of change:
Blowing over cob webbed roads we once marched down.
Old warriors sing silent songs (a mute chorus)
Pondering the deed yet undone; the children wander
But can not remember Zion; and we can not teach experience:
(Neither defeat nor victory.)
Though the tree of hope sheds her falling leaves,
In the spring tide of resurrection, they shall overcome;
And the cocooned womb shall birth forth a new freedom
No longer veiled in allegory; a plumb line shall be in our midst.
(Shall we question the Word? Who dares?)
The dream beacons. If memory could speak, I would cry;
Stone sheds no tears. Let Lincoln sit in his motionless chair;
As for me, I shall rise and cross many more meandering rivers:
The spirit of Martin and Malcolm being the wind in my sail.
(“And The Strong Men Just Keep Coming On…”)
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
who whiz now stricken supine
adept dull livery sub par excellence
his gold standard worse
thus, another day
to slog thru arduous process
crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed sniper
dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.
N'er easy chore to fashion
acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
accursed cursor doth blank stare visit
flash flooding warning saturated
gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
barging signals transmit
urgent army corps of engineers
to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
doth double duty
as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
affects consummation
strong temptation quit
ditch ching progress made,
thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
stream of consciousness
submerges concentration
entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
disequilibrium doth outwit
venerably beaded trademark
Scottish matted flair
abandoned unfinished poem
left forever stranded orbit
zero escape velocity
zinging, unsprung,
pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
Lord teach me to count wisely,
And to number my days.
Help me to redeem the time,
And serve you gladly, always.
Life is short, and death is sure.
I must work while it is day.
For soon the night will come,
And my soul shall fly away.
Lord, my days here are set.
Let me measure carefully my time.
May I give honor to Your name,
And always walk by your plumb line.
To whom has the hand of the Lord been revealed?
From where does He come? His movement is beyond
Known speed.) Also If you travel to the height of the sky.!
You will not discern His face, yet He will observe you
The plumb line is in his hand, by his breath the sea is parted
He is full of true light, yet He passes without human notice
He is full of energy, His way of travel known only to a few.'
To those He has chosen to reveal Himself before.!
Who know also they are but unworthy servants.'
Rest from studying Him now.. for He comes and goes
Yet never leaves those He has purchased bereft
His character is one of mercy, yet His decision is swift..'
Finality Is His perrogative, all life springs from Him.!
To whom has the hand of the Lord been revealed?
From where does He come? His movement is beyond
Known speed.) Also If you travel to the height of the sky.!
You will not discern His face, yet He will observe you
The plumb line is in his hand, by his breath the sea is parted
He is full of true light, yet He passes without human notice
He is full of energy, His way of travel known only to a few.'
To those He has chosen to reveal Himself before
Rest from studying Him now.. for He comes and goes
Yet never leaves those He has purchased bereft
His character is one of mercy, yet His decision is swift..'
Finality Is His perrogative, all life springs from Him.!
All my life broke up, like some great river's ice at touch of spring.
The world lay stretched before me like the open palm of my hand.
Alone, like a storm-tossed wreck, on this night of the glad New Year.
An anxiety hung like a dark impenetrable cloud on me.
An envious wind crept by like an unwelcome thought.
Dissatisfaction had settled on my mind like a shadow
My thoughts are buzzing like a swarm of bees
And my mind is like a lonely wild.
Life stretched before me alluring
And various as the open road.
Loneliness struck me like a blow as
I sit there motionless as a plumb line.
My thoughts ran leaping through
The green ways of my mind like fawns at play,
And every nerve in my body seemed like
A strained harp-string ready to snap at a touch.
My memory and emotion surged in my soul like a tempest.
Talking and thinking became to me like the open page of a monthly magazine and days have trampled me like armed men.
The Milky Way lay like diamond-dust upon the robe of some great king.
Sharp hail rattles against the panes
And melts on my cheeks like tears.
Theories sprouted in my mind like mushrooms.
Walking somewhat unsteadily like a blind man feeling my way
Weak and frail like the vapour of a vale
And trembling like an aspen-leaf.
It was one of those times you feel a sense of loss,
Even though you didn't have something in the first place.
Betrayed and wronged in everything,
I’ll flee this bitter world where vice is royal,
and seek some spot unpeopled and apart
where I’ll be free to have an honest heart.
What counts as old? Columbus paddling ashore
on Cuba? Winchester Cathedral knocks
the Genoese out of his sodden socks,
for it was born four centuries before.
The longest nave in Europe. Slender threads
of Gothic columns spring like strands of frost
and soar, as if to heaven, till they cross
and mesh to form the vault, high overhead.
Cathedrals! What a glorious invention!
A skeleton as delicate as a wren’s,
with multi-coloured, fragile stained-glass skins,
and all poised like a spring, in graceful tension!
Men made it with a plumb-line and a hod,
and genuine desire to honour God.
Taking into account; the Poeter's quip
Shant it be unfurled to reveal thine
Penned and newly coined path of authorship
Paying out the Poeter’s plumb line
Veering from the course
Plotting new wave points
Carting the next rhyme before the horse
Beginning each line with the next conjoint
Taking time to proceed; and dote
Forsaking time tested ways
Remaking each verse concave and connote
Breaking the norm; within this phrase
Plucking the strings of a mental violin
That one trains to adroit and therein
Making each intellectual a rational linchpin.
I always thought
That when it came to God
He'd get something done
Using someone
So I stood aside
In this passing life
And watched all the action
With self satisfaction
Then came the day
I stood up to say
Lord if not them
Who then...
Who will carry the banner
In what really matters
Spreading the word
To a nation unheard
The battle cry
Of the Lord Jesus Christ
The mighty call
Given to all
Before the lights went out
I again thought about
Lord if not them
Who then...
That's when God said to me
Just plant the seed
I'll do the rest
With all that is left
They surely will come
One by faithful one
At this moment in time
To pick up the plumb line
So if not you
And my chosen few
God said with a grin
Who then...