Long Wellsprings Poems
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Paulo was Brazil’s most popular journalist, but the left did pursue
He told an American interviewer that the left there "hates you"
I found this a puzzle, I asked why, what did we do?
But hate has odd wellsprings, and I still have no clue.
Brigitte Gabriel lived in a pretty Lebanon town with a hilltop breeze
There were school plays, and churches, gardens and fruit trees
It was Christian then, Moslems next, Holy war came as fate
She wrote a book about what she learned, called "Because They Hate"
You might wonder why the title isn't WHY they hate?
But hate has its own logic, and the reasoning isn't straight
I learned some of this logic too, it has its own rules
You don't learn them in Hollywood, or in the schools.
The first rule is that weakness invites attack
You get friends in odd places, others stab your back
Second, the more baddies hurt you, they want to hurt you more
If you've already hit bottom you might ask what for?
Third if you end up acting the way they force
They even punish you for that, though they were the source
The victim argument of "what did I do to you"
Doesn't work at all, even when its true.
All this seems irrational, but some people produce hate
The way waterfalls turn turbines, and power generate
I read of one U.S. woman kidnapped, led in chains by evil men
She asked why, was told "because we hate you", same puzzle again.
I do believe there's a reason for everything
In some people a distorted brain is the bubbling spring
In others perhaps an ideology some fool did start
Maybe a moral divide in every heart.
The Dance of... Dance of Dances 6-13-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dance of Dances
Silk ribbons of ice melt into wellsprings
The dance conundrum breaths in fresh sunlight
On the breath of new buds flies crumpled wings
Widowed autumn shape shifts to starry nights.
Wearing fancies of each day’s longer light,
In waterfalls of fragrant floral veils,
Crimson partners with pale blooms in delight
Autumnal rumbas two step with green vales.
Adversary days of heat on cold plains
Sway into the rhythmic cycle’s dances,
Dreamy pas de deux of wax and wane
Unbroken circle. Eternal romance.
The season’s dance of dances swells with life.
Leaves the lyrics for new dawns and nightlife.
Ancient
~*~*~*~*~*Beliefs
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Cultivate
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Distinguishable
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Entities
~*~*~*~*~*Fortify
Genuine
~*~*~*~*~*Harmonic
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Ideas
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Justifying
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Kindredship
~*~*~*~*~*Mentoring
Nurturing
~*~*~*~*~*Obliging
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Perseverance
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Qualifies
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Respect
~*~*~*~*~*Strengthening
Transcends
~*~*~*~*~*Ultimate
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Victory
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Wellsprings
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Xenial
~*~*~*~*~*Yonder
Zeal
I strive to write deeply, from the wellsprings of my life.
To share with others, how awesome life truly is, even during
times of personal strife.
.
How humanity has survived for centuries, though...
The poison of hate that has pitted, bro' against bro'!
.
The prism of love, must be brought back in all it's glory.
Only then can we create and write a glorious history.
.
Don't think we can't...think "We Can"!
Stop talking divisely,harshly... about your fellow man.
.
Cease thinking, "Ain't nothing I can do!"
Think instead, "What can't I do?"
Now..Go for it!
****
January 15, 2020
Lipogram Sonnet 4-12-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spring Sonnet
Spring bursts out from winter’s silent cocoon,
Fluttering luminescence on new wings,
Freed up from the midnight’s monochrome womb
Silk ribbons of ice melt into wellsprings.
Thin borderlines edged in dull grey on white,
Feeling the tickle of divine kisses,
Explode in hues borrowed from the first light,
Colors flit over icy snow with bliss.
Gliding on the virgin winds’ new story
Neon wings trickle colors on flowers
In purple tendrils of yellow glory,
From solstice sleep life returns in showers.
Young springtime emerges, from restive sleep,
Rising with morning - promises to keep.
The first thing to unhinge is its lower jaw,
the skull now (sometime in your future),
gnaws the recollection of its bygone face.
It must use the roaming poems of restless winds
as its surrogate voice.
When you are no longer its hands, pick it up,
kiss that sad dome, where its forehead
once pondered upon the meaning of meaning.
Your own eyes are now the very wellsprings
of a hidden depth, which was always the
unsolved mystery of you.
Now here in your illumined hands,
you cradle the foolishly grinning remains
of what you once called God,
yet you were not wrong
for even God moves on.
Ten Lines from Ten Poems 12/26/24
Poems used 1)Most Beautiful Christmas Poem 2)Who Am I?; 3)Keeper of the Flame; 4)Dreams within Dreams; 5)Love's Sonnet; 6)Moonlight on Meadows; 7)Yellow; 8)Gracious Grace; 9)Summer Quatrains; 10)At One With
Inspiration
Through the breathless comma of anticipation
I search for words that yearn to walk
A smokeless incense of inspiration arises
Pulled back from fleshless graveyards of bleak
Pale dawn stumbles from midnight to forget,
Splashing auroras of platinum mist
Breathing fireflies into tombs of musky indigos -
Endless effervescence of grace.
Silk ribbons of ice melt into wellsprings
Present tense of the divine dawn.
Summer Quatrains – Swap Quatrains 6-19-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer Quatrains
Silk ribbons of ice melt into wellsprings
With jubilant serenades, heartfelt,
Frozen heartbeats freed from rime flow on wings
Into wellsprings silk ribbons of ice melt.
The brooding nimbus bows to solstice’ clouds
Dandelion days doze in clover now
As the Dayspring moon chants reveries out loud
To solstice’ clouds the brooding nimbus bows.
The rumpled season rides on wings of change,
Dancing in the ether where dreams abide,
Somersaults o’re a wishing star’s exchange
On wings of change the rumpled season rides.
In summer’s sunlight winter’s rose arises
Past the melancholy veils of dark starlight
Opens silky buds, rapture’s surprises,
Winter’s rose arises in summer sunlight.
Away on a Cloud Ship…
Away on a cloud ship
Not a care have I
I play with the breezes
Way up in the sky
I ride on the rainbows
As cloudy storms cry
Then sail with the eagles
And soar on their sighs.
The cool air floats past me
Like gossamer wings
I float on the air streams
That rise like wellsprings
And join with the nimbus,
As cloud songs we sing -
To somersault, hopscotch,
In airy handsprings.
I high five with thunder –
See glory ablaze –
Then gather up sunbeams
For dark rainy days
And make chains of moonbeams
From soft, moonlit rays
To raise up to God’s ears
A new psalm of praise.
They called him the dosser.
A blessed man with a crooked,
bent and wobbly wishbone of wire,
held tight in clenched fist.
He fossicks spellbound
for water hiding deep below
in the groundwater.
His fingers compel the water
sleeping fifty feet down
to hear his call,
and echo a reply forthwith,
with a signal on the wire tap.
On some hot dry afternoon,
dumb with drought.
If he lets you watch him,
you'll see the wire tremble
ever so slightly,
and swing to one side.
Often he'll backtrack,
reset the grip,
cover the same ground,
to see if the quiver,
and swing repeats.
Then, 'X' marks the spot
for the farmer to dig.
The water diviner knows not why
he has this insight to feel
the presence of water beneath his feet.
It was pure happenstance that
he learned he had the gift when
a true believer gave him a try.
Perchance, you too
may have the diviner's gift.
To conger the wellsprings
of water deep within.
To reveal its
secret whereabouts,
with a wiggle of wire,
held tight in a believer's fist.