By Poet.... "Haven hide me safe and sound. Far away from this cruel world. Give me peace of mind and body."
The story of my haven,
as I ran from the huge raven.
Was I living in a cave-in?
Life's pictures have been hung with a cloth pin.
The huge raven represents life,
the cave-in represents midlife.
Where did life go?
Time had no flow,
no more glow.
All the time I was low,
I just wanted to live and to grow.
Hiding in my safe haven covered with snow,
I now watch TV and a new game show.
"That's it! I'm going back to my cave!"
I scream like a 3 year old child,
Asked again to go dark and private,
How miserable.
Nights of the soul are an ominous place.
Necessary and beautiful yet unfashionable ,
Combustion and deflation shortly after,
How beautiful.
Exhaustion before radiance again,
So repetitive yet unpredictable,
Magic glimmering through the chaos,
How cyclical.
Cogs stopping before speeding,
Wave after wave our lives flow,
Roller-coaster in walking shoes,
How Human.
man's divine pleasure
to be free from hounding wife
he lives in man-cave
Rumple Stein opens his great
book of old,
Under the blanket, a tale will
unfold,
Magic and monsters and
heroes so brave,
Pointing his finger to a deep
hidden cave,
Leaving you dreaming of
secrets he gave.
We sat in Plato's cave,
with our backs to the door,
the fireplace behind us,
unable to see the world beyond
in the daylight.
We played with shadow puppets on the wall—
Punch and Judy, Tragedy and Comedy.
Then, one shadow learned to speak:
"Where does the light
that casts these shadows
come from?" it asked.
"It wasn't there when you stacked the logs."
"It wasn't there when you struck the match
to kindle a tiny flame."
"Yet the light sprang from the wood."
"Was it was already there,
waiting for the flame
to show it how to shine?"
For light is not passed
from hand to hand.
It sleeps within the within, of all things,
awaiting its moment to spring.
The fire did not create the light;
it revealed only what was already there.
And in that moment, the shadow wondered
whether it too had its own light source,
hidden deep within, the within of its things.
best kept secret in China
I am laughing now
because all the secrets there are best kept
none of them ever get told
the Chinese people I know keep everything a secret
they are not loose-lipped like my relatives
best kept secret in China
Longyou Caves
twenty-four hundred chambers
chiseled out under a large waterway
with steps and pillars
intricate, detailed, amazing workmanship
who made them? Who lived there? No one will ever know.
let’s go to the haunted cave
I can dress up and be a knave
we must take the underground wagon ride
just fifteen dollars gets me inside
I will stay here and fan myself said Grandma Wrench
She rushed over to plunk down on a tiny bench.
There are thirty-thousand bats in there she yelled to her man.
He rolled his eyes, and fished his money from the can.
The haunted cave is in Ohio, Lewisburg, and it is long.
You can walk or ride, it’s fun; you cannot go wrong.
But after seeing the bats, I decided to stay outside with Gram.
While you post Dracula kind of pix on InstaGram.
crystal cave in Springfield Missouri
full of underground rooms and a jail
ghost room where spirits whisper and scurry
enormous concert hall, hearty and hale
Rainbow Falls and witches bathtub too
domed ceiling chimes room which can sing
helicite room with walls shadowing blue
excited tourists many busses bring
In caverns deep, where shadows play,
An Earth Dragon sleeps, away from day.
No wings it boasts, to soar and glide,
But six strong legs, where power does reside.
Its scales, a shimmer, dark and grand,
Like oil spilled on frosted land.
A mystic sheen of blues and gold,
A story of ancient earth, untold.
From hollowed rock, it views the sky,
Where stars ignite, as ages fly.
A gentle giant, strong and wise,
With slumbering, ancient, heavy eyes.
Oh, to see this creature, grand and vast,
A living jewel, built to last.
A whispered wish, a dream I hold,
An Earth Dragon, brave and bold.
I am an elder and I am a dragon.
Therefore I am an elder dragon.
You may bow, kneel or plead before me.
And I will respect you if you will respect me.
I fell to this planet from the far further space.
And have been witness to all-time in this space.
Unfortunately I have not written any books.
But my words carry more weight than books.
Ask me a SIMPLE question.
And I will get you many answers to your question.
Humans will still reason and request a simple answer.
Answers from bottom left, to top, to bottom right.to left, to right are all answers.
You will then ask what is wisdom.
Combining lessons of past, experiences of current and imaginations of future is wisdom.
You feel off kilter when visiting me.
But I am in my element when shrouded by my winged me.
You should not let your child play with fire.
Yet your child asks me where is my fire.
Come inside my cave to view the stag leg might.
But you might end up feeling my might.
If you are content, step back into the light.
But I will not join you as I am afraid of the light.
On a racing abseil down a scarred, breathless face,
I surprise stalled, smelling the waxy comb
before hearing the anthem-buzz of stinging sirens.
To a zipping stop, there deep,
back in the dark out-of-sight
lay flashlight hidden, shadowed away,
a secluded cave of stone sweetness.
From out the needle-sharp, eye-biting karoo light,
the bees rocket dive like shining embers bright,
fire-honed, humming into their honey cave home,
swallowed into the dense sweetness.
As Life extrudes with centrifugal spin,
each to fingernail climb her
chosen rockface of cold hardness,
or
to flurry, fret and fly a million flights
from high forest or low scrubland,
all seeking the warm softness
of our own honey cave,
safe on an untroubled cliff.
You ask me why I live in cave
Caveman not want to be a slave
I take a chance and look around
I see that people act like clown
Your little ones you not take care
You always running here and there
You drop them off at crazy school
No discipline when they break rule
They spend their time in front of screen
You wonder why they act so mean
They don’t know sex or what is real
By age of ten know how to kill
Government tells you what to do
You give up trying to be you
Purpose of life, make more money
Hate is growing it not funny
I choose a life here in my cave
Not make a choice to be a slave
I took the chance to look around
No way I’d choose to live in town
Don’t raise the white flag
when sly boots ennui sneaks in
stoic mould is key
life is that intriguing quest
a conjugated footpath
the meat cave
...be...
the tribal den
...of...
their unspoken
...oars...
len
I watched as silence danced with shadows,
Playing the melody sung by my mind.
Its blanket covered the darkness—
broken only by a ray of light through a crack in the cave wall.
I groped through the dark toward the stone,
but the gale was too thick for my arms to swim.
I imagined a ghost whispering—
yet only silence listened.
Echoes, like thunder in a deep ocean,
ricocheted fear like a trap set to spring.
Ghosts rushed out from the corners they lurked—
only for me to hear silence whisper: “Come out of there.”
Its voice flowed like a river of serenity through a forest.
I begged silence to stop its torment,
but it had ears that could not hear.
I tried to run, but a boulder blocked my path.
Then I screamed.
It was then I knew—
the light coming through the crack was my father’s flashlight.
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