Long Chronicling Poems

What fills your goals, son?

I told you!
Need to get my car rolling [life rolling, love rolling]
yesterday,
if not today...

If I may interrupt
to process mindful resilience
for a bit...

Let me ask again:
Noticing you are concerned about long-winded
and -winding
and...

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Doomsday Clock minute hand...

hovers over 100 seconds to midnight 
as of January 2022, 
which apocalyptic prognostication
established by the Bulletin 
of Atomic Scientists
maintained since 1947, 
the clock quantifies a metaphor 
for threats to humanity 
from unchecked...

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(Apropos of Black Poetic Griots)

We may not be deemed apostolic recorders
But we poets, guided with divine wisdom, are
The lay scribes thereof in the chronicling of
Our life’s sojourn in the shadowing times
we spend here on this...

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Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn (the former ex lady friend
of my late father corresponded with me
some years back)
wrote (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically...

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Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn write (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically colorful
epigrammatic ghostly hint emblematic

of former exuberance toward English
Language..., perhaps other once
vibrantly familiar...

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Once upon a stranger
A girl A well intentioned woman
With open and adorned soul
Askance behind silvered eyes and sighs,

Revealing her concealed seraphic smiles
In an unending sequence.
Yielded in gleams in day dreams,
With folklores and odes chronicling her...

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Fresh home from therapy,
     and resonate with zeal
tush air cerebral cogs a turn'n
     analogous to and pinion wheel

hence attempt made to bare soul,
    ...

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22 June 2010

A Breakaway

 
For mankind has the power to think big
History puts them on the pedestal of their career
Aimless drifting until fatally engaged into a drilling rig
Raised a surface at the heart of the...

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It’s the study of our past, 
the entirety of events that made us who we’ve come to be…
but I’ve come to think we made a mistake by calling it ‘History’.

History is not only the good…but...

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Passing a cemetery gate I walked in I could see all the epitaphs chronicling deaths,
The dates were all times and seasons and there were little graves for little babies,
Daisies mark children's resting places their small...

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Passing a cemetery gate I walked in I could see all the epitaphs chronicling deaths,
The dates were all times and seasons and there were little graves for little babies,
Daisies mark children's resting places their small...

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These poems I've been chronicling
Are for my children's sake
If I  die tomorrow
I want them to have the skills
to watch out for false love
That through my journey of healing
from the sociopath that is their father
They...

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As we touch...in the dark,
Our hands read...braille poetry,
Written by ardent goose bumps
...in great romantic sessions.

Chronicling our love,
In stanza after stanza.. 
...of passionate body poems,
filled with indefinite...

............
      .
   ...

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I remember every poem
Mental pencils scribble
Out in your honour as if they’re
Written on real not mental
Paper like the marks your 
Eyes leave on my soul
Moments spent lost
In thought writing endless
Lines caging in words to 
Mask...

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The charisma of his car eclipsed ambition,
By a margin that defined his wife's contempt,
It became a precursor to superstition,
That he'd lose some race from which he was exempt.

As his ego baulked at masculine pretentions,
While his...

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Where does one find humour?

Everywhere one looks... at least I do

Others may not see it like me

But maybe I'm just built differently

I was blessed with an oversized giggle gene

It's certainly not a bad thing I...

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Where does one find humour?
Everywhere one looks... at least I do
Others may not see it like me
But maybe I'm just built differently
I was blessed with an oversized giggle gene
It's certainly not a bad thing I...

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Surrounded by heavy tomes 
Chronicling the history of 
   countless generations 
One can only feel a sense of 
    awe that the weight of 
the past has upon the living...

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An outdoor scholar,
Chronicling nature’s truths.
Once rebelled against authority,
Way back in his youth.

With a love for soil,
He relocated to Tuscany.
Over by the mountains,
Of Lunigiana Italy.

A photographer at heart,
With a knack to disperse.
In retail I mean but
Gives...

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