Dear manipulative muse,
I have watched you calligraph your craftsmanship into oblivion.
I must say, your concoction is a wild enterprise,
Dreaming in the darkness, you have sketched me an aura of rose
From an oasis that sings a broken lullaby,
Playing chemistry with macabre metaphors.
Such a shame…
Did the bittersweet sun in your sky teach you only black and white?
Must a woman almost always be the mosaic mind?
Spare me the brain-blistering sad songs on the 1900 radio.
Now witness! Observe!
See what it means to be the dawn of pain in familiar torment,
Time stolen and a heart far beyond broken,
Dust lost beneath the hidden October embers.
Why wait for a volatile vortex?
When your indigo moonstone stirs up like a furious faucet,
Impatiently waiting to explode into the aftermath of a war?
Are you done keeping score?
Or does your pride need to see how I can walk out that door?
You are barely a quest,
You pathetic flamingo!
So get your head out of my backyard
And bury it in a forgotten graveyard.
Categories:
calligraph, allusion, writing,
Form: Free verse
The cud I rechewed // in the riverside // was from a sett of dreadful hemlock // that struck the aquifers of my soul.
Blight glue my night // as mournful as the grave-in my streets // silence defeats me.
I weep formaldehyde // I would go mad —naked // struggling for precision.
Until I bite through the pages of poesy // that charges the sapless pulse in my arteries: hope has feathers and many more.
In those poems I chew away murderer's hand // lurking around my shadows & ravaging it beyond repair.
In a short while // I would calligraph about God // for crafting out poets // who are small "god" in his image // I envied // yet, I'm a poet.
Damn me if I ever doubt that poetry isn't a panacea for poets.
Categories:
calligraph, muse, mystery,
Form: Free verse
you release my quill from dried out surrender
spell from a fountain of compassion and hope
poet tree in motion when blanks fill my space
book end of beginnings you balance my words
weave reason and feelings into joined script
calligraph meaning kindness caring and love
when my ink seems spent you release the flow
skin onto skin like a full moon and a spoon
canvas and tapestry with passion and trust
once I was empty mere parchment and void
agonizingly close to oblivion of mute emotion
smudged charcoal from a cartridge of nothing
scribbles turned into librettos of craving
engraved my lost note pads with crayons
coloured my shadows with indigo dreams
without you my worlds held no promise
was shredded by life’s cynical silence
now the pencil swirls once ever more
28 th May 2020
Categories:
calligraph, anniversary,
Form: Free verse
Fold me in half
I’ve lost my backbone
In this old photograph
I’m carved in stone
A drop in the ocean
Black ink broke the surf
To write a poetry potion
A rippled calligraph
Categories:
calligraph, how i feel,
Form: Lyric
His logos, oh, God had photographed
and made young Jesus his negative!
That, for us to see, to paragraph
it in life, so our souls, be received.
But what’s faith does to my biograph
that my blooming illusions believed?
His logos, oh, God had photographed
and made young Jesus his negative!
Faith is like snowflake, a calligraph,
on fingertips of my thoughts that give
a paragon of virtue to live,
a subjective plot upon a graph;
His logos, oh, God had photographed
and made young Jesus his negative!
Categories:
calligraph, faith, introspectiongod, god, jesus,
Form: Sonnet