Long Dizzying Poems
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In dizzying rounds rain goes up and down;
see the heat of the day steamroll the lawn.
Mist ascends; then back again, dew rebounds;
to bathe the leaves, kiss the breeze, rain fawns.
A lawn moss green down by the stream at dawn
is frosted with a sprite haze of frail fog.
Born of goosebump nights are damp morns,
where water falls translucent in the bog.
With a sizzling sound the rain dropped adorns
the lilies in the bog on rheumy morns.
On mountains high the rain falls white disguised
as snow; sun turns snow to ice, down it goes.
In dizzy rounds rain pounds, the sun complies
and all this a high power has composed.
Water disguised is a gift that God's composed.
Just say no to sunshine
Trying to penetrate your dark doom
Wrap your black cloud around its fire
Smoother it in your tears, in your grief
In your past trauma
Feel it struggle in your stranglehold
Feel its energy released, drained,
Spent in your grasp
As happiness gasps dying
Drooping, whithering away
Should it rise again to sear your darkness
Murder it
You're so good at feeling hopeless
Why try to feel anything but
Slay it again and again
Every time it swells up in you
Tempts you to believe that it will last
It will stay, it will dwell deep in your heart
Forever
Convincing you with slippery slick sly serpent tongue
To let the big lie slide inside you (again)
Where you tend it, hydrate it, and grow it
Until its even bigger than before
(Really)
Yeah... and you let it fill you up
Lift you
Thrust you gravity free
Ride that rocket to dizzying, breathtaking
Earth shattering heights
From which you know you'll be
Shot down like a rainbow
Stretched over the sky
In a spectacular, sparkling, dizzying
Exploding array of glittering joy
Spritzing the heavens, drizzling down
Coating your heart with sweet, warm
Delicious love
Only to have that scorching light
That blasted you full
Retreat from the depths of your darkness
And leave you emptier than before
Sighing with despair
F___ sunshine
`
I collected the kinetic swirls
of differing shades
in the dizzying reflections
of how you made me feel
Whirling affects
blurred in calliope sonnets
and brass ring reachings
while riding a paisley tiger
My pockets filled
with these mesmerizing emotions
sculpted of Ferris Wheel desires
and carousel dreams of you
Until suddenly colored lights flickered,
the music slipped a gear
and the ride came to a screeching halt,
with me holding on for dear life
Flung to the floor between sneaker prints
and paper cotton candy tubes
I watched you walk away with the stuffed
giraffe in your arms, it waved goodbye
While a checkerboard monkey giggled
as he emptied my pockets
leaving me with nothing
but a broken heart and a long walk home
Since gales do by Nature’s arm blow
In dizzying storms far from the shore,
So even choiceless boats must move,
As unyielding gusts so restless prove.
Not every motioning vessel afloat
High waters as ship or small boat
Chose to tease furious ocean tide,
Or test mild sharks' waspish pride.
Some swift sea-faring boats would
Anon stop if winds in unison stood,
And relish a sober long-wanted rest
From hard sails by another pressed.
The wavy sail isn’t necessarily sweet
Just because that fast-voyaging fleet
Seems to glide over bubbly bounds
In unwillingly smooth gleeful rounds.
Remember gusts by Nature’s arm roll;
And mortals' temporal boats must fall,
Or rise along sternly unyielding trails
Left by glum oceans' unresting gales.
The world below is a tangle of green and gray,
Where the two rivers meet in a braided, liquid knot,
Their voices a low, distant hum that fades away
As I leave the soft earth for the wild, forgotten plot.
There is no path here, no boot-worn ribbon of dust,
Only the moss-heavy logs that I step across,
Sinking into the damp, decaying crust,
Where time is measured in layers of velvet moss.
Higher now, where the timber begins to thin,
And the alpine line draws a boundary of bone,
Where the breath grows shallow and cold begins to win,
And the world is composed of nothing but wind and stone.
The granite peaks, they carry the weight of ages,
Weathered into faces, etched by the frost and the glare—
Old, silent watchers, turning their stony pages,
Staring into the void of the thinning air.
A Clark’s nutcracker spirals, a flash of white and black,
Its harsh, raspy kree-aaaa echoing off the wall,
While a mountain chickadee, fearless on its track,
Sings a thin, sweet dee-dee-dee that seems so small.
The wind is a ghost that whistles through the scree,
A sharp, biting breath that smells of the coming snow;
It carries the secrets of places that never were free,
And the silence that only the highest summits know.
My lungs are a furnace, my legs are heavy as lead,
But the summit beckons, a crown of jagged light,
Where the clouds are snagged on the peaks like cotton thread,
And the world drops away in a dizzying, beautiful flight.
I scramble the final ridge, a desperate, reaching hand,
Until the ground levels out—the pinnacle, the goal—
The vast, sprawling ache of the wild and ancient land,
Reflecting the quiet, final truth of a searching soul.
This was the climb that defined the map of my days,
The summit I whispered to in the dark of a younger night;
Now I stand in the stillness, lost in the sun’s gold haze,
Caught in the reach of the peak, and the blinding white.
Clover superlative lovers, sprung via same stem
Umbrella immunity protects sprites supple
Filter purity lacy leaf shade kindly dapples them
Desiree samples pitchfork debauch, spicy morsel
Charcoal meats mesh ashes as a couple
Ambidextrous temptress directs a dirty rehearsal
Slides snakelike under bellies of cavernous crime
Noir nymph' s naughty retorts immortal
Eclipses mens' deception with suspense sublime
Renee seeps charisma, dripped dagger stalactites
Fever lucid rouge cog spins fire's scorch
Sword slung blood hungry royalty raunchily ignites
Challenges zealous volunteers alter ideal rhythm
Their arteries' iron absorbed easily by hers
Victims slump lethargic in archer's hearty system
Daisy cartwheels through clouds of chaste cherubs
Recklessly devours disappearing desserts
Meringue marries her tongue to immaculate merit
Sunrise serene promise of peace glides with dove
Subtle touch petal's glitter silken sensual
Agitates a fragile ego to dream unconditional love
Virgin indulges a glutton with wedding splendour
Impulsive maid skips in fields plentiful
Expressive poses pollinate their dramatic detour
Reunited trio resplendent, red black white card
Dervish of dizzying seductive curses
Climb dandelion conducted, an angel on guard
26th April
Tantalising Apparitions!
WHERE WERE YOU IN THE SEVENTIES
i was between a tween and adult, in the house of the hudson valley,
and music was my main man,
i would hear whispered in my ear
me and mrs. jones...we got a thing goin’ on
and i would rock to sleep
don’t rock the boat...don’t knock the boat over
dress in a low cut purple dress, and look for mr. goodbar
or what i meant to say mr. travolta
in the dizzying display of disco, having a ball.
really i was just a shy nerd in a dress
you say i was a dancing queen...only seventeen...oh yeah
and i did have saturday night fever
and with the death of several classmates, not in shootings, but illness
and the usual car accidents...radio groans all we are is dust in the wind
after heartbreak of loss via death and puppy love
i did not sign the loan to return to college, went on to,
as i used to say “swab the seven corners of the room”
as the village people and my dad directed me to
in the navy...you will sail the seven seas...in the navy…
you will put your life at ease...bootcamp saw the end of 1979
2/27/2018
Line Gauthier’s Poetry Contest
*Lyrics may be slightly changed
Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul
Rock The Boat by The Hues Corporation
Movie: Looking For Mr. Goodbar
Dancing Queen by Abba
Movie: Saturday Night Fever
Dust in the Wind by Kansas
Puppy Love by Donny Osmond (still swooning over
this song from the sixties)
In The Navy by Village People
Methinks resurgence of wakefulness
after bewitching hour i.e. midnight
quickly dissipating before dawn
quasi baptism regarding
preternatural soulful immersion
amidst spiritus mundi
foretaste awaiting expiration
regarding corporeal being
yours truly approaching mortality,
despite atheistic predilections
mine consciousness anointed
amist pantheon renown authors
analogous to dead poet society
ephemerally, fleetingly, gloriously
rejuvenated injecting inspiration
channeling, kindling, tindering
divine ethereal effervescence
allowing, enabling, proffering
exquisite jubilant outlook,
albeit phenomenal, quintessential, surreal
flash dancing unbelievable arabesque
spellbinding one garden variety
no name brand mortal
with dizzying evocative
silent springing summer
re: August gifted wordsmiths
avast swath of diverse
literary creative minds
amalgamation spanning
representative creeds, ethnicities,
genders, nationalities, religions...
disembodied spirits
peacefully commingling
immortal legendary outsize resplendent
universally vaunted writers
inaccessible to communicate
become linkedin while
this body (me) electrified
with sensory awareness
merely sneak preview
after life coming attractions,
nonetheless spark zealousness
to hone poetic craftsmanship
never approaching supreme
talent these masters endowed
yet also aspiring
to tamp down intimidation
beholding gold standard
benchmarked excellence
no matter mine deft
flourishes with English language
never earns raves
still enjoyment arises
enamored with kickstarting
indulging reverence expressing
emotions, thoughts, yearnings...
thru milieu courtesy
twenty six symbols,
where dictionary equals Bible
said tome in tandem with thesaurus
treasure trove of untold delight
and affinity since boyhood
until...corporeal flesh
attains posthumous summons.
GENIUS
ingenuity in genius,
the genie generously
gifted the flume —
the unusual plummet
from the ultimate
to the grand duchy splash.
cascading waterfall of bliss
in continuous harrowing twist
of rainbow fish. golden scales
sprout perennially like the thrust
of a fountain top —
nude skin kisses the purple sky,
dives into the rich deep torrent
in search of secret treasure —
where some swallow bubbles
in fear of sharks and whale-size
caverns — wisdom sought,
taught as a spark amidst the dark.
true genius never evil,
not a mad scientist,
but a joyous soul
in dizzying baptismal vortex,
hand in hand with the Everlasting Light
who has everything, under control.
11/26/2018
bagpipes started singing
of her Amazing Grace,
flowers started dancing
the twinkle on her face
feeble are some steps
but with unflinching pride
she picks up her head
and the lift in her stride
sweeping past her subjects
the moriahs drift her wake,
the beauty in her heart
breaks my breast to ache
with a kaleidoscope for eyes
she sees through to other worlds,
to the mosses of the leaves
and the shells within their pearls
rocks and anicent relics
hyroglif this scrolling mind,
in the letters from her heart
a life's mystery is defined
my Angel from the north
plays on the northern lights,
and I can always smile
as she reaches dizzying heights
shining in the stars
when they turn to light my sky,
is message to my spirit
to always remember I can fly
for Ann a true inspiration ...on the occasion of her 70th Birthday ... lol sorry for the confusion