Long Serendipitous Poems
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Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
(and felt neutral about stitching
together gainful employment)
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
Life lesson learned meant blurred line
between mendacity and truth
courtesy upbringing mommy dearest
if repeatedly drummed into me noggin
brutal honesty will bring nothing but bupkis,
or if you prefer the Yiddish spelling bobkes.
a flustered tango of Gypsy moths
drumming the porchlight; chalk artists;
the endemic disappearance of farms—silos lost
in unkempt fields; space stations; the sunlit-scent of lemon
oil on cherry wood; birth; the chasm between cultural
appropriation & cultural appreciation; the history in our dust;
loneliness & heartbreak; trivia; funky funerals;
climate change, hurricanes, earthquakes & neglected
victims; heirloom charm bracelets, homemade
wind chimes & the homing sound made by a singing bowl;
masquerade balls; cityscapes hidden in ant hills; fly
fishing; serendipitous skinny dipping; missing children,
teddy bear memorials, forensic identification, monsters
never found in sleepy towns; the horrors of zoos—
elephants gone mad, lions robbed of their pride;
book reviews; civil unrest, bad cops & good cops & young men
gunned down; brand new fire stations; cancer survivors who wear
baldness so beautifully; my favourite pair of jeans; river rocks
found by dearest hands; a letter that can never be
received; joyful celebrations; incandescent dragonfly
dreams; twenty million at risk of starving to death;
wildflowers shaking pretty little heads;
misogyny disguised as religion; forgotten veterans who die
a bit more inside every day; the rainforest, shrinking;
saintly stoners & postulant prostitutes; toxic smog;
madmen with warheads; cheese cake & ice wine;
every personalized Kama sutra move & the God-given
ecstasy of body on body language; holding hands;
why one giggle can change everything; Thanksgiving
prayers; abandoned minefields, boy soldiers & devastating
amputations; the songs of the working poor; lightning
over the lake; his timely phone calls; brotherhood & sisterhood;
love in its every form; old maps; twenty-one gun salutes;
the extinction of the Galapagos Giant Tortoise; being
five, being twenty five, being ninety-five; kites; dogs chawing
on ragged rawhide; church-like museums on a Sunday
afternoon; make-shift picnics; deja vu; thrift store
wedding dresses; long drives with comfortable silences;
fading freedoms; censorship; seamless moonlight;
introspective dalliances with self-acceptance; the power
of purpose; how to be the bigger person; how to go
in a new direction; how to rise above . . .
Yet it ended up out of our control
This was years & months & months & years ago
Right before Samhain in the weeks just prior to Yule
'Cause never have I ever fallen in love
Never my heart with false hope I'll ever bug
Its gotta be naturally & over time, you know
Never have I ever let someone see me shine or glow
I'll never let someone in that far for them to even know
I can't remember the second I felt it 'cause the emotion smacked me in my heart like a ton of bricks I can't remember falling "head over heels" or when I caught those particular "feels"
Nor can I remember that split second I decided 'yes,' but I know I Immediately felt superhumanly blessed for it to have been miraculously you
For decades & decades - it seemed we were on a mission, too
Red rose, red rose, your red rose
An overwhelming, calming sense of serendipitous desire to know ALL of you
I wanted to write another chapter within our memories•we've•created•book
I get choked-up re-living how our awkward relationship came about
But still I've never allowed myself the pain of ever falling in love
(If I'm being brutally blunt & true)
The closest I've ever began to fall in love
Was when I got the unique pleasure of getting to be with you in real life
So if there is ONE thing I want you to know
Its that I suck at securing & explaining - but I'm master at proving it with show
Actions mean more than words 'cause words are just something you heard with your ears
And showing doesn't come naturally without fears
There's lots of small things I don't believe you even took notice that I did
'Cause most of the time I just felt like it was expected
But there were so many things - after they took you away, that I really needed to say to you
But towards the end, I felt like everything I said you had somehow stopped believing were true
But that makes no sense, considering our whole life it was only you talking with me that I ever got solace, comfort, or relief
You gave me no reason to ever try and play you for a fool
Even back when we were youngins - still going to school as we grew
As kids you were my highlight many, many days
And if you weren't online, my inspiration dwindled to even wanna try & play
'Cause you were my person when we gamed, too
And nobody else felt the same way as you...
To quantify an equation,
takes more than mere calculation,
Take the sun and moon,
now consider they’re coordinations,
One 8 light minutes from earth,
other just a single light second,
Both appear the same size in the sky,
more or less it’s reckoned,
So how can it be, very simply
put, it’s an optical illusion,
Sun is 400 times further away,
and part of this cosmic collusion,
While heck the moon is 400 times
smaller, a very neat solution,
So in effect an eerie perfect
resemblance, bit like evolution.
I’m not buying random
chaos, just because all appears right,
Must take luminosity into
consideration, to bring in the light,
This is where I have problems,
accepting some natural phenomena,
Damn moon is more than a rock,
reflecting rays of minuscule quanta.
Every now and then, blocking
the whole sun in a shadow,
Albeit along strange curved paths,
sometimes very narrow,
Such a perfect arrangement,
one so complex, yet it’s known,
In geostationary observation,
light photons reveal a solid stone.
Bizarre or factual, we predict
eclipses with unfailing accuracy,
Thousands of years past and future,
are detailed miraculously,
But for me it’s too convenient,
so much I refuse to believe,
This accident of serendipitous
alignment, real purpose does deceive.
A yardstick of information,
used to prove Einsteins relativity,
During an eclipse, light from stars
behind the sun, bends in reactivity,
That moon is our starting point,
Earths next stage of devolution,
Put there by god knows what,
for humanities ultimate revolution.
I know this poem is filled, with
many cosmic contradictions,
Without any scientific limits,
my mind holds no restrictions,
Subjects always beg questions,
blind acceptance just needs faith,
But we’re more than any rock,
locked in gravitational embrace.
These steppingstones to reality,
lie strategically well placed,
All the information we need,
lies before our eyes in space,
Each one has pointers, not
buried but within plain view,
Secrets can be deciphered, it’s
human imagination solves the clue.
By
David Kavanagh
Einstein figured out relativity
through his mind experiments
using the power of imagination
The moon proved he was right.
Dragon badly wanted to visit the Snowman Convention this year.
He knew they go to the South Pole when spring begins to appear.
Dragon was resolute about this; he REALLY wanted to go there.
So he wrapped up in a blanket and rolled in the snow, so very fair.
A burly-er snowman had never been seen before, plus he had a tail!
But he quickly started to melt, our little, hot guy, of massive scale!
So the snowmen put him in an igloo, determined to save their friend.
They carried him like a pharaoh, up on their shoulders to contend…
But they were fighting a losing warm weather tide, from deep inside!
Never had they met such a melting snowman, no matter how they tried.
But snowmen never give up; they kept plying him with ice on all sides.
Finally they climbed upon a glacier, tucking him in a fissure, deep inside!
Now the fissure melted to an ice cave, as it continued to melt all around.
Before they knew it, a huge palace formed beneath his feet, quite sound.
Slowly a ballroom formed, and dragon sunk lower, as ice Melted beneath!
Yep! The Dragon exhaust was daunting, and worrisome, at the very least.
Then the moisture dripped into chandeliers, as mirrors gave them such light.
As the interloper who’d caused them such trouble, became a welcome sight.
Indeed this was the first home these poor snowmen had ever, really had.
Ballroom, bedrooms, meeting places, and halls, made everyone, so very glad.
No more, would they have to stand out in cold driving winds, for all their lives!
Dragon was a hero, honored, as they chiseled him, a statue dutifully made of ice.
Stories would be sung on the wind for eons, of Dragon’s serendipitous surprise.
And the Snowmen would have a comfy home so artfully, perfectly contrived.
And no one minded a sneeze or a fart as another room had appeared with a start.
Indeed, they actually welcomed them, for all that they could eventually impart.
But even Dragons need help to go home, as everyone pointed the way to roam.
Luckily, Dragon’s penguins had come, to help our little guy, find his way…
All the way home, and of his story…nobody believed him, except his penguins,
And us, of course… The End.
Written 12-29-2016
HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY
Her hand’s swan-like dance,
ivory shadow puppets
romance. Hungarian rhapsody.
The musician sans existence
as emotive fingers move
imaginary marionettes
with splendiferous precision.
Drama drops onto piano keys
occasionally taking a gentle stroll
then in sensuous sway, sashaying
like an exotic dancer. The musician
plucks and plinks as if
with chameleonic charm, like an
angel playing a harp.
Her fingers fast walk the keyboard
then resound tremulous keys.
(The audience swoons, spooned
by a rapturous torrent that enters
the heart, strokes and kisses
the yearning flesh, like the taste
and feel of brandy, burning and
tantalizing in breathlessness)
The musician’s slender fingers
now strum along in gaiety, like
paramours on the streets of Paris,
Springtime in the air. Palms nearly
rest upon silent keys as if two lovers
lay back upon a bed with puffs of smoke.
Dawn’s crescendo, with peaks of happiness
reside upon streets of ebony and ivory.
Life’s serendipitous monologue begins
once more with foreboding or adventure
or both. Is there loneliness upon this crest
for what has happenstance brought,
are they star-crossed? Do we see the sun
and the moon racing through their pulse —
days of birth and mourning?
(The blond marionette in concert black
seems to be mesmerized or hypnotized
by the muse of music. She’s like a dream
on a performance stage. Practiced in
illumination of flame. She releases the arrow
and the audience brightens up like a chandelier
with clinking and brilliant crystal pieces)
Happiness once again but with ferocious fervor
sends the keys to a heavenly place - to ears,
to mind, to soul...a cheer of a great parade,
and then the shivering of climatic peak,
followed by a lullaby of dreams - we imagine
a newborn wrapped up in a life well-lived.
The darling gal still doesn’t give up the ghost
but plays and plays...can you hear the needle
stuck at the vinyl’s end...spending all love gives?
Only the Creator Himself can lift the arm and
carry the musician still incubating all her charm.
3/19/2018
Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll
On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering
We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling
Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright
Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume
We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink
Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon
Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.
Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains
“I love you…I love you”
Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze
I fall upon my knees
My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free
“I love you…I love you…I love you”
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
—William Shakespeare
Cupid Knocks
War waged with red ribbons and lights of white.
The lights pure, expansive, deep and wide;
and ribbons spaced upon a stone wall.
War waged, why you wonder; the holidays thunder.
Across the street since half past October, erected,
dastardly tall; couldn’t, hardly, have been borrowed
from a laboratory scientist or graphic teacher;
unless this could be a Goliath and his found head.
Engaged in warfare - serendipitous armor of the Christian;
the stiff-necked, serpentine, who fires eyes like darts.
(oh isn’t this delicious fodder, as I pass by and bypass all.)
Oh, just send a news crew to investigate; first the cold case.
Who is enjoying this more? Sure, he must look out his pane
and see this superstructure of bones with no skin, a cane -
not candy, but bait; a Christmas bow tie to hold severed neck.
(I jest! This seamless skeleton, this unseemly demon, kept.)
War waged since half past December. The holidays thunder.
I wonder who will fold. It’s a tick past February, and Cupid’s
in a quandary. Such a state, as he aims, but which way.
(Perhaps he can get them to obey the love your neighbor rule.)
Still, will Barry Bones be given a big red heart, a box
of chocolates, stationary to bother the kind old soul
across the way? How small the man, the skeleton, all
told, there is practically no skin in the game. Father Christmas
doesn’t mind his electric bill - it razzes the intemperate, raises
the heat, further hoses down the closet where the spectacle
came from. Perhaps this neighbor ran out of room to store
his aggravations; by moon he must endure a level starry night.
I’m tickled. I can see the sparkles down the street. Still there,
every night, night after night. I wonder what brews in the homes
of despair and enlightenment. I would love to interview the two.
What would I eschew? What fodder to chew? Cupid knocks.
This is going to be fun…
HARK, whilst thee singeth melody,
gauged labyrinths midst harmony,
ransom subconscious, placed thee free,
persuade possessed, heed thy purged glee,
beg reposed heart thy beating plea.
Themes prune labor to a degree,
song finesse thine assent of thee,
music quell sorts of thine decree
tune thy hearts, minds, souls let agree,
sensed voiced symphonic guarantee.
BEHOLD, tis fortes air, breathes content,
weighed thy heartbeats, tempos augment
impressed moods, thy amour be sent
meant lovers twain souls gleam, assent
thy course treats fair, thy issue spent.
Serendipitous time errant,
thine art grand resolve thy arms bent,
caressing untouched hearts invent
distant tests and trials, relent
thine lips, intimate kiss advent.
FORSAKE thine naught our past mistakes,
indulgence sought hearts for our sakes,
soften tones merged spirits partakes,
resumed innate instinct awakes,
forming trust fusion overtakes.
Suffer our ascent, farther takes
gift deeply, frothed measure inflates
ardor ties revive, blissful fates
balanced fragile hearts insulates,
assured embraced love gravitates.
HAIL youthful thoughts in elder heads,
man tests, steads boy within, joy spreads,
astir thee dreamers from their beds,
recite poems of their misreads,
dawn assails starred twilights to shreds.
Unspool thy sunrise; rays shone threads
day, strings purpled veins thy night's steads,
pump life ballads, hymnal bloodsheds
squander blues, swapping sparkled reds,
gloom bides thy shift whilst clung gold treads.
VIEW love gifts thee thy lamps, soft coats
pure sought breeze, mild trace, handful floats,
tis thy time spreads trend, loom moon draws
waft breeding told claims, thy hour thaws,
cares borne thy primes spills yon be culled.
Crowns thy verse brushed lobes set are lulled,
rouge mouths favor Cupid's pierced aim,
Cherubs lyre naught burnt Rome, thou blame
flamed trails, lust swells lovers tender
tinged warmed hearts, goeth thee, their splendor.