Long Orchestrate Poems
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Day Sounds
On one recorded morning in June of ‘08, my ears tuned in to the sound of the mild banging of a hammer from somewhere close by. I heard the leaves in the trees, as they swayed just a little from the flow of the soft and gentle wind. I knew that I was not in heaven, when I heard the sound of traffic from a major street. Moments later, there was the sound of an airplane in the distant sky.
There is a train rail line near our home, and there was a time when they would blow their horn both night and day. I do not recall that there was any particular time, but I rather think there was. What ever the time of day or night, it was never a pleasant sound. Moreover, the sound of trains blowing their horn at night was both ridiculous and disturbing. To our delight, the night blows discontinued.
After the horn blows of the day trains, we can count on the sound of automobiles racing to work. Of course these are people due at work earlier than the rest of us.
Make no mistake about it, we all have our wake up calls, whether by birds, clocks, phones, planes, or trains. Fortunately, life does bring to us an amazing sense of balance, like the beautiful and soothing sounds of singing birds. I am often entertained by a happy bird or two, whistling like they usually do. I must say, that the things they speak about, whistle about, chirp about, and sing about, are most beautiful to my ears. However, let none be misled; bird sounds are not wake up calls. At best, they could pass as snooze buttons.
Some days we are startled by flashes of lighting and rolling thunder.
Furthermore, there are wind storms; the likes of which can knock down fences and trees. Occasionally, we are blessed to be rained upon,
sometimes in the form of a drenching shower, and other times, a pleasing melodious slow and intermittent rain. Either way, the sound is a thing of beauty and peace. In addition, there are those inviting whispering winds that join the chimes and orchestrate music of their own.
06182016 PS Contest, Sounds of The Day by Nayda Ivette Negron
My untamed heart,
ruled by unruly wants
Sometimes in tatters,
but flatters and taunts
I played at life...
but life played me harder,
Lived bet to debt...
in life's Russian roulette
Chorus
I'm like a ghost ship,
stranded on breakers
searching for life, without any light
I rummage through...
my Psyches ruins
Dreams duel disasters,
but give up the fight
I place a wager...
speed into danger
My foolish whims,
scatter in mistral winds
Now tossed by waves,
by blind forces of fate
How they orchestrate,
time, distance and place
Bridge
Now all that's left...
lies fallow,
in fields of regret
Hopes of a new day...
are shattered
by a doomed sunset
Chorus
I'm like a ghost ship,
stranded on breakers
searching for life, without any light
I rummage through...
my Psyches ruins
Dreams duel disasters,
but give up the fight
Outro
Dreams duel disasters,
but give up the fight
Dreams duel disasters,
but give up the fight
repeat and fade
John Derek Hamilton and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
composed November 26, 2021
(revised Nov. 29, 2021 – posted Nov. 30, 2021)
~ Poem Of The Day ~
December 1, 2021
*Celebrated on John Hamilton's page*
Poet’s note: my dear friend, John, it was both a pleasure, and indeed, a great honor to collaborate with you on this special and emotionally expressive song of an untamed heart. Thank you for your gracious invitation for my pen to join yours in lyrical artistry. Your song writing skills are ever impressive! I love what we’ve done here and it fills me with gratitude to share the creative page with you.
John’s poet note: This is a collaboration with Susan Ashley, excerpts taken from her Amberina Ballerina poem. One of the best writes I've ever read, check it out!
Thanks Susan for your awesome work, I loved this and have high hopes for this song!
sharing in God's grace, and love, and mercy,
even in sharing in the midst of our hurting,
places us open to love deeper to see you,
watching your love move in everything we do,
breaking free can seem uncomfortable when so conformed in our ways,
in the balance of our own protection we sometimes move farther away,
trusting more in his protection moves us,
through the dangers that try to illude us,
sometimes too much is enough to see,
at times God pulls us away in prayer to intercede,
strongholds can stand right up in your face,
to surround its atmosphere with no breathing space,
to block your concentration of loves true cause,
the distance must be to leave until it is gone,
parts of the body working the visible eye cannot see,
the internal makeup of his purpose to be,
the beat of the heart, the sound in its call,
that make up and orchestrate the sound of its song.
Her hair was luminous in the dawn,
Waving in a breeze it seemed to orchestrate.
And the day surrounded her magnetically
As she stood there, entwined with nature-
Nature herself, posed in elemental frame.
And her gown flowed from the ground,
As if tailored by the very grace of God.
And she, in turn, seemed molded likewise,
Formed, in no way lacking-
By sublimity, beguiling to the stolen eye.
“Come with me”, I spoke as if to her,
“And we can together magnify
What perceived, as one, we each
Fall short of understanding in whole”-
Compelled I was, in full rapture.
And then she moved toward me,
Interrupting a moment’s pause for eternity,
As needing to turn such lovely gaze
In direction not posed, but drawn by epiphany-
Stepping out from painting into my world.
Her newfound touch electrified my dreams.
Her smile was a beacon in the haze.
And nature’s green was in her eyes,
Those portals to grand portraiture-
Evolved I was, no looking back.
I paused to contemplate a dream
And found quintessence in my sight.
A vision shaped by artist’s brush
Reached out to take my heart in hand-
Forever taught, am I, the view of life as art.
Cyberspace was full of visitors
the TV droned through the room.
The sun streamed in the windows
the day was full of doom.
From the corner of my eye
and the surface of my mind
Sci-fi showed action scenes
of the catastrophic kind.
Reporters shrieked a breaking story
the picture screen showed flames
my mind saw Cong or Mighty Joe
swatting down two planes.
Fearful voices filled my home
cyberspace stood still
the dogs of war had set their sites
twin towers marked their kills.
Over 20 million have died
all mothers, daughters, fathers, sons;
American interventions
causing everyone.
All were collateral damage
so the story goes
and the military minds
still orchestrate the show.
The chickens came home to roost
on that fateful fall day
our mothers, daughters, fathers, sons
with precious life did pay.
If only, if only, ALL would realize;
DEATH HAS NO BORDERS
ALL MOTHERS CRY………….
She was welcomed into my house
where she entered and said…
what is that quite romantic music playing?
Oh, it is Glenn Hughes on my vinyl record player
and I showed her how it spins and plays the tunes
she was amazed
And then she asked me…
may I have this dance
to which I held her in my arms
Glenn sang and we danced
bowed and swayed, scooted and hopped
all the maneuvers of lovers
And then I looked in her eyes
and she was crying
“What is it my love”, I asked
“It is that I wish to dance with you to Glenn’s music
For all eternity, forever and a day
I don’t ever want to stop”
“But my love”, I said…
“Glenn has over 50 years of songs
We can dance through the night to all his albums”
Her tears began to dry
As she let me hold her dear tight
and she moved in rhythm and twirled in my arms
“Would you like to see Glenn in concert”, I asked
“Oh would I” she exclaimed
“Then a trip to the venue it will be”
But tonight will be with Glenn on vinyl
singing his romantic songs to us
as we so deeply embrace
an embrace that tastes of vanilla, with scents of dewy rainfall and lavender, with sounds of chaos and ultraviolence, you orchestrate my mind, with touches of silk and warmth, and such a sunshine, in views of dark mahongany, and rough tree bark, I seen others, other humans, of melanin and magic, humans filled with laughter and bouncy conversation.. an experience.. in your Safe Room.. where your vulnerabilities protect me, where such desire combats my inner pain, longing for my inner peace, save room for my Safe Room, for your Safe Room, for an embrace, for a fire that will set ablaze, and a passion that will obliterate, a moment i should confiscate for later, but I choose to pour deep into you, be it for forever, be it for just a single day, be it as it may,
I can no longer play it "safe".. not even with my own five senses
oft times ('specially
these latter un-sainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession, could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand) do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable mood aye e quate
with pitching into a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium gluti Nate
which ingredient doth BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exter minate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread, cuz but better late
than never, the apothegm, credo, ethos...Kate
(the caterer maintains an open exit from life,
and cares only that each soul doth feel elan,
joi de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming dont jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat, but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances twill use as bait
let underground missionary be my advocate.
Form:
Of thee virtual netherland...
courtesy one spellbound wordsmith
within apartment b44
nestled within a manor
(and manner of writing)
atop nondescript Schwenksville highland.
All gibbets zing aside
I got noose for you,
yours truly enjoys harmless chide
ding even kibitizing about,
when cessation of consciousness occurs
leaving terrestrial plane
frequently incorporates divine spirit as guide
absolute zero escape
regarding death to override.
Oft times ('specially
these latter unsainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession,
deadline could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand)
do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable
mood aye equate
with pitching into
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast
the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium glutamate
which ingredient doth
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread,
cuz tis better late
than never, the apothegm,
credo, ethos...foreign ha Kate
the caterer maintains
an open exit from life,
and cares only
that each soul doth feel elan,
joie de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming don't jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat,
but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate,
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances
twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.
I steer and skid into the frozen,
for I am one so drunk on poison.
If I had lived, I would have chosen,
not to trust and drown in oceans.
For people breathe all the same,
this world surely is not for sane.
Yes, the cruel they live to orchestrate,
and the fall of grace, so hard to take.
The numb they’re blind to the hearts that break,
and the brave they dared to live on fate.
To dedicate each moment to faith,
we loved so loud, and fell too faint.
For not all souls will see your face,
as some will live and thrill through chase
and as you search there’s not one trace,
of honesty, dignity, it’s been misplaced.
Now, we can pour ink on paper,
we can fade in pain and anger,
we can lose ourselves, for answers,
all for those who passed us.
Though their loss, a heavy burden,
and we still not wish to hurt them;
the ink in time, will dry I’m certain.
A question asked, in time will burn and
the ash that’s left, with no more purpose.
Then they kneel to past.