Alone in a crowd, together
with you, can be awfully good.
I am a cheerful pessimist
and so clearly misunderstood.
Eloquent silence, no dull roar
and some festive tranquility;
you are my magic realism-
my comfortable misery.
stepping towards you
for the first time
everything around seeming blurry blues
except for us in red taking the spotlight
with pale skies and cold weather outside
you were like the sunshine
shining its parade on me
you taking my hand, running ahead straight into your fantasy
nothing less..nothing more… perfect it was
pretending to be kids in love like older couple
pulling me closer to you
soft touches & stolen kisses
my world crashing with each moment
carrying my feelings away
slipping slowly into the crowd together
head resting onto your shoulder
striking view along the sidewalks
wondering if it’s unreal for the umpteenth time
two different tunes diffusing into one soulful music
blaming it on the universe for its dramatic play
tryin’ na stop endless times
before it keeps bringing me back to you again and again
SIMPLIFICATION
misted
moments
thoughts
crowd together
tantalises
to
contemplate
their fragility
where
thinking deep
&at
a
distance
in
the
rain
&
tumble
of everyday
bower of feeings
conception
in
the plethora
of detail
materiality
&erupt
in
a passion
for
the
intense
&
tactile
process
of shaping
light
Stormy night on a haunted street
All night, the sun and the rain compete
When dawn breaks, the people crowd together
To observe all the terrors
Committed by nightfall
The horror and disgust
On the children's faces
Kicking through all the dust
To see the obscure places
The people go home
The streets becomes tranquil, calm
The gray sky sets in
A Combination of Forms of Poetry
Emile Pinet
AFTER SNOW MELT
Their burden shed, trees now svelte -
Hidden beauties in luxuriant fir mantles
Stripped, sunning in balm light.
Grass, spruce, stream,
Once blank and touchless,
Crowd together, tactile, seamless.
Tall knolls the Leveller had smoothed
Shallow hollows had smothered ;
Landscape has fresh verticality.
Waking birds fill the sleepy silence.
Skyful white replaced by blue vault.
God has lost his achromacy.
A Winter's Sonnet
From a heavenly atmosphere,
Feathery ice sculptures appear.
Mingling snowflakes crowd together,
With each flake unique in character.
Speckling fluffs in rhythmic cadence
Float down in luxurious silence.
On top of each, they accumulate,
Bending tree branches with their weight.
Softly fall the snowflakes around,
Lightly alighting on the ground.
From clouds above to Earth below,
Continually falls the snow.
Airs an impresario’s show,
Absolved of braggadocio.
While waiting for warmer days to arrive
We coddle our seedlings to keep them alive
And make sure they're watered and sheltered and fed
For a draft of cold air could strike them dead
And right outside, when the snow is gone
In every meadow and field and lawn
Like pagan hordes that worship the sun
The invasion of dandelions has begun.
Blithely ignoring the weatherman's warnings
Of frosty nights and frigid mornings
They crowd together but always find room
To put down their roots to grow and to bloom.
So we mow off their heads and think, "well that's that."
But the next time we try it they're all laying flat.
To the passing breeze they offer their seeds,
A haphazard method that always succeeds.
We don't know who plants them, but I'm sure you'll agree
It's a much better gardener than you or me.
A fecund and well-tended plot of ground,
the sonnet is a stage, a sacred place
where thought and things aesthetic interlace,
where all that charms the senses may be found.
Delights of sight, propinquity and sound
can crowd together in a tiny space,
a parcel primed with sapience and grace,
where nothing strays beyond the bower's bounds.
The sonnet is an orchard, tightly trimmed,
whose regularity belies its treasure.
The pleasure we derive from supple-limbed
and fragrant trees is matched in equal measure
by fruits so beautiful and weighty, they
enchant us with their erudite display.
Houses creep closer together
Inch by foot by yard by mile
Until you see your neighbor smile.
Cities spread their urban sprawl
Hour after month after week
If earth cannot breath, she will speak.
People schooled to grow apart
Given time will graduate
Into a class of greed and hate.
Clouds that crowd together
Suffocate the blue away
Until the wind blows back the day.
19th May 2016
LAST NIGHT I DREAMT
Today it is stormy outside
thunder, lightning even cold hail preside
cozy and warm against tempestuous weather
once again my thoughts crowd together
I choose to acknowledge vivid dreams
a lady ‘Leilani’ has gleamed her beams
the same vision four nights in a row
either an angel, a spirit ,or both
she does not walk—she floats
Her pale face and blue eyes are all I see
we are always together--art house overlooking sea
I write, she illustrates with beautiful painting
sharing our creativity, accurately attaining
Intuitive insight into the words I have penned
she knows how I feel, understands—comprehends
an Angel God has sent to confirm my written prose?
she smiles handing over graphic beauty—bestowsI dreamt this dream not knowing a ‘Leilani’— I have since discovered the name means “Royal child of heaven"<><>
Skies gray and rains blow;
Trees sway and creak like old stairs.
Thunder rolls and booms.
The den lights go out.
On the brown faux leather couch
Kids crowd together.
Whites of their eyes show.
"Shush! God is doing his work,"
Grandparents tell them.
Lightning bolt flashes,
Illuminates the front yard
And freezes the scene
Framed by porch windows;
He snaps candids from the storm,
Outside looking in.
The dead are rising from the cold wet earth
The sticking clods to them gives birth
Hands reach up to the black night sky
The hoard arises and with out a cry
Row on row of corpulent flesh
Coming together this undead mesh
Form a circle of un-living mess
Crowd together and inward press
On melting features on a slipping face
A hint of compassion I can trace
Even the hoards decay cannot erase
The look of sadness and of disgrace
Decaying flesh and moldy bone
Pull me down into the unknown
Under cool wet soil and solid stone
My heart beat slows as I lie prone
Their slimy fingers grip on my sleeve
And their cold embrace I will receive
Now for my love and life I softly grieve
This putrid host will not let me leave
Here I slumber far from the sky
In the cold wet earth I calmly lie
I wait here for the anguished cry
Of a lovers soul that wants to die.
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