Short Transcribe Poems

Words are birds
flying against the sun,
fly and come from heaven
to the ground...
words acquire ink
with the rain and the air,
 ending in poetry
that I transcribe them here...
stoically!...

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In this very moment 
Time stand still
It hits me every time
Faith refills.

I shake off the emotion
try not to think
but waves of the past
keep me in sync. 

Mystery of pleasure
that can not be described 
Why it matters I don't know
Words never transcribe....

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The modern mind when it hears “tablets”
thinks of pills by force of habit.
Not exactly what Moses was inspired
by the God of Israel to transcribe
on stony tablets, a set of rules and laws
to improve human morals and flaws –
bitter pills then as now to follow
and harder still to swallow....

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from the world around us,
&
translate, transcribe, appropriate &
reinterpret---
making something new.

we produce work when confronted
and while some get beat,
jailed,
sued,
censored,
& more often than anything---
simply ignored or 
disregarded---
some of us
get away with it all.

we have committed the perfect crime, 
you and i....

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Came looking for a verse to transcribe
Couldn’t think of anything to inscribe
Mind wasn’t directing any orderly lyrics
Composedly accepting everything as is
No ripples of thoughts, no dilemmas,
No judgements, no opinions,
No portrayals of any sorts 
“Why does anything need description?” was its question
“Just be” was its proposition
Decided to ruminate on that
A feeling of freedom came just like that.


Smita Kulkarni
02/11/2021...

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If I were a poet
it wouldn't even be content
not sad...
I could live just passing by...
floating in the air,
flying in the feathers of the breeze...
but since I'm normal,
not even a bridge
nor way...
I feel what I feel...
wishes,
longing,
jealousy...!
But how can I not be a poet?
I deny everything... and I suffer...
But I don't transmit anything, nor transcribe...
I'm not a poet... I'm not satisfied
in this life without you...!...

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Long nights
transcribe me into a clacking music.

Harpsichord bones and broken keys,
nailed to an out of time tune.

A somnambulant self-winding
pipe-organ, whistles
as it pushes moments around
as if time could be saved
for later use.

A mind-locked keyboard
is stuck in the middle
of a revolving thought.

I lay down in the back row
of a horn belching bedlam;

wave weary hands at the ceiling
conducting curse words
in the dark....

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I MET DARLENE TODAY

I met Darlene today
and read a descriptive work,
expressed from her spirit being,
the heart of this great wordsmith
was beholden to my soul,
great inspirational words indeed to behold,
a love of passion to transcribe, 
and to narrate and a great desire to put down
what is felt from her heart,
I met Darlene today;
and was totally blessed by the experience.

Thank you Darlene for our meeting online.

Francis Cooper – Mac © 09-Jul-20...

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Please copy this poem.
Post it on your office wall,
next to your bed,
or the toilet paper roll.

Memorize each word.
Recite it to your teacher.
Spin it into a song
and preach it like a preacher.

Use sign language.
Transcribe it into Braille,
Aramaic, Chinese and
Spanish. Let the world

know that this poem
and any other poem
that you or I write
is worth the daylight.

So, please copy this poem.
Post it on your office wall,
next to your bed,
or the toilet paper roll....

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