~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September's warm glow
illuminating all life
autumn's gentle grace
A CURIOSITY THAT CLAWS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
inspiration isn’t grand~
no thunderclap or blinding light,
just a persistent drip.
it is the chipped teacup
holding the ghost of chamomile,
a forgotten kindness or a whispered word.
it is the stubborn green shoot
pushing through cracked concrete,
the resilience of dandelions in a world paved over.
it is a voice that will not be quieted,
a hunger that gnaws, a curiosity that claws
to which I surrender.
I let the words fall, unpolished and raw,
a clumsy offering to the altar of living,
to the boundless beauty of creating.
a measure
so that I am
yond my being
I weigh my essence
or I be for naught
illusions tales my guise
to elude my talents cling
lest I smother
'neath gravity's burden of them
and choose meager bones
so that I be,
amidst my glance
respires an ode
to an untamed world that polar's ... parts
once hath I chanced its form
though betrayed by romance
the apparition of my soul
the stellar being that remains in sorts
as tis casuality probes
knows I of calm,
a selfish shadow
lacking in want
as they push and shove
the aspects of nothing
nonchalant, I'm in repose
as they oblige me
with their repetitive posturing
escapes to ponder
a lakeside dive
methinks custody
of myself
as a mirror ... wavers a smile,
a knocking
at my door, "It's me!"
it's that stranger I knew
since birth
"Have you?"
it remembers
have I done
what I should have done
(as casuality engages)
yes ... no ... maybe so
Mr. Death
--well, I guess
this is the end
--naught for me
it isn't
--what do you mean
it isn't ...
stop this absurdity
for its zero hour
oh where did you put your bucket
now what are you doing
--I'm writing
--what
pray tell
--Part II ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
peace, they say, is a dove.
here, by the river, though,
peace is the heron's slow rise,
the rustle of reeds, and
a kingfisher's sudden, sapphire dive.
no grand pronouncements,
no treaties etched in stone~
just the quiet knowing
that the river flows on, alone.
the river constantly flows,
carrying the weight, the worries,
the wanting.
In its flowing is a constant reminder~
‘let go, just let go,’
it murmurs with soft sighs,
and in those sighs,
there is a stillness, a home.
peace settles by the river, a fine silt,
on the riverbank, on my soul,
a quiet knowing, I am not alone.
I’m becoming more religious
My god is a man of wit
And his people aren’t fastidious
In the prayers they commit
Everybody understands
Well aware that the trials
Cannot make a better man
From a rancor we acquire
Being tested all the time
With no promise of reward
Being told about the crimes
Of the past we must pay for
I’ve no time for moral babies
I am living for myself
And for my most precious lady
Who once told me I’m her elf
With my god we laugh aloud
Breaking loose from any cell
I have grown from tiny sprout
To dismiss the man made hell.
Antique cars with time,
A fine cheese or aged wine,
Poetry improves
When you learn that your heroes are demons
And nothing lives up to its promise
And that all this time, you were only dreaming
And there never was such a thing as ‘honest’
Disappointment
Deflation
It’s a saddening situation
So screw up the compass
Fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdy land
But don’t look to me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
When that whale of your loss outwits you
And you’re hobbled and crippled, not a leg to stand on
May your friends be there when it suddenly hits you
There's at least one post you can abandon
(Called life)
Disappointment
Deflation
It’s a maddening situation
So screw up the compass
Fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdy land
But don’t look to me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
When the sails of clarity cease to guide you
Or protect you from the swirls of Sirens,
There’s this stubborn and strange little fire inside you
With the patience of saints and the pride of lions
Set your moral compass
And fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdier land
But don’t look at me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
out of the blue, a figure appears
a relic of the past, an old drummer, worn and gray
old drummer's heart still full of fire
his hands, still nimble, find their way
the park's stillness shattered by sound
as his drums and cymbals awaken
he beats and pounds, his passion pours
the music flows from his soul
park's inhabitants gather ‘round,
a curious throng entranced by his wild, rhythmic song
the rhythm weaves a spell, a hypnotic trance
the old drummer's music, a moment’s magic
his drums transports, transforms, and transcends,
a bridge spanning his years
connecting past and present, his laughter, sorrow, and tears
in this fleeting instant, his world is set right
he finishes, his drums grow still
the park is silent, but music remains
a lingering echo, old drummer's regrets and soulful refrains
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The persistent Texas heat and sunshine have given way to several cooler, partly cloudy days. I step outside, making my way to the nearby walking trails. I gaze up, the clouds lifting my spirits heavenward; I embrace this cloudy day, for it brings subtle whites and cool silvers that accent the sky above. The passing white blossoms of the sky bring a transitory shade. Upon the sidewalk I see a lone butterfly beneath a tree canopy, passing from subdued sun to mellow hues.
partly cloudy days, soft-filtered light
soul song becomes louder, more confident
in those sweet moments
self-reflection
He hides behind only half of his name,
Never letting anyone see his light again,
As after so much, he was never the same.
He is yet to see how he shall cure his pain.
He doesn't see how he will set himself free,
As he holds onto a dimming light in his heart.
He is yet to see how he can make himself be
A guiding light of progress, to play his part.
He has always been a lamp in the dark,
But he is yet to realize his true powers.
He is promised someday a new spark,
For all of the days he despaired for hours.
He hides behind half of his lovely name,
In fear of never being able to truly shine.
Soon he will learn he can live without shame,
As his soul returns to love and light so divine.
Compassion within
reflected by each kind deed
done with loving thoughts
and good will toward strangers
without expecting reward.
We’re driving the public crazy
But you know, it’s all for fun
We’re driving the public crazy
But you see, it’s all for fun
Let’s tell ‘em that the sun is the moon
And that the moon was actually the sun
You can park your car in the driveway
Ain’t nobody gonna leave
Park your car in the driveway
Ain’t nobody gonna try to leave
The more I think about it,
More I wanna lay my head and grieve
Well we lived in chauvinism
For goin’ on ten thousand years
Living in chauvinism
For just about ten thousand years
But they been lookin’ at us from watchtowers
They got infinite records of fears
Now I dont wanna fire my weapon
Don’t wanna start no kinda duel
Don’t wanna fire this weapon
And start some kinda duel
‘Cause I know just what’s gonna happen:
Disintegration of all rules
If you talk about my mother,
Then brother, you’re gonna pay
Talk about my mother
And brother, you gonna pay
I got this receipt for a motel
And forever, that’s where we’ll stay
TOUSLED SKY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thoughts upon feathered wings glide on a wind-tousled sky bringing me to the realization that achieving tranquility is possible....
in the silence deep
a world of thoughts, a universe
expands and contracts
universe within,
a guiding force navigates
the journey inward
in tranquility
wisdom's jeweled treasures found
mind and soul entwine
OUR CLAIM TO FAME
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Line of Inquiry: “death approaches but we have no regret ~ when God questions us, we will stand erect”
Now I stand upon the precipice of my waning years,
Outwardly gazing upon landscape I created.
Releasing sobs, my burdened spirit weeps,
Exiguous wisdom upon my brow.
God's gentle guidance, my ego refused to embrace.
Redemption comes with God’s tender mercy and grace.
Eternal encore for soul forthcoming, weighs heavy upon my mind.
Thunderous voice asks, “Any regrets?”
Standing erect, I reply, “Though flawed, I lived; I learned. No regrets"
"Remorse? Yes, but no baggage. No guilt. No shame....my spirit's claim to fame."
HUMILITY FOUND
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When ego's fragile form begins to fade,
a limitless expanse of soul appears.
The boundaries that once bound and confined,
now stretch, expand, transform, and astound.
In losing the ego self, another universe is found,
a world of wonder, limitless, and esoteric.
The chains of comparison are severed;
they no longer bind, no longer suffocate either you or me.
The prison of competition is left behind,
unfettered, enlightenment grows.
In this vast and open place, humility also grows, and
a web of love and Divine interconnectedness prevail.
Specific Types of Meaningful Poems
Definition | What is Meaningful in Poetry?