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Beau Regard Poem
Quiet, pensive, waiting, from out of nothing, a flash, dancing!
Back and fourth, faster, bolder, more beautiful, more radiant…
The sound envelops, and the beauty firmly wraps its hands around my ears…
Relevance and resounding, growing, pulsing, whipped into a fever!
And then easing back just a bit, like a rest to enjoy some perfect nectar of echoes.
Then back again to churn, not with blades, but with brushstrokes.
The pulsing art grabs my soul and I sway to the rhythm, the life, the light…
All around me, so necessary is this, something so pure and powerful.
Flex and twirl in the rays of sunshine, on coming the clouds and thunder!
Pounding out the feeling, the pace is relentless, but in my arms, pushing, harder!
Squeezing ever ounce of love from the air, the earth, the fire and then easing again.
Dripping with sweat, a deep breath, another, still moving but slower now.
More deliberate, but still full and open, slowly, gently, slightly and then quiet.
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2010
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Beau Regard Poem
Lay his name in the dark
and let your mouth speak of others
so that you might live once again
and hearing of him no longer bothers
Lay his blind eyes to rest
and let your smiling beauty be seen
so all of us in the rest of the world
might have a chance to dream
Lay his cold hands away
and let your soul be whole again
so in the night when you’re alone
you’ll be safe from his forceful sin
Lay his angry words aside
and let your troubled mind be still
so that when you again hear his voice
you will hold with iron will
Lay his forgotten love to sleep
and let yours breath once more
so that you know deep in your heart
he can never again take away, what's yours
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2009
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Beau Regard Poem
Drip. . .drip does the rain, falling to the ground from the weary gray clouds
Leaving in the air a lonely pain, as the people scurry off in cursing crowds
The sky speaks to us all, in muffled whispers and words from the gentle lips of God
“Do not let your spirits fall, take the wet with the good and nurse your hardened sod”
And the rumbles to remind, those who forget and forgot why their hearts still beat
That we are all intertwined, in friendship and love, and march to the pace of God’s mighty
feet
They splash all around me, on my shoulders and on my face
His words to thee, “Keep your souls open to divine and subtle grace”
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2009
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Beau Regard Poem
Dearest sand dollar, bring me piece
Bring me tomorrow and an ocean rose
Bring the wind that I might hear you
That I might know your wisdom
Dearest sand dollar, hold together
Give me hope and a friend on the beach
Give leave to shadows and jade
So I can smile at the hot sunshine
Dearest sand dollar, last forever
Leave me with nothing more to need
Leave me warm in the night
For I wish to grow fruit in my garden
Dearest sand dollar, break in the waves
Show me a fragment of perfection
Show me that the sun will always set
I want to be more than just another sand dollar in the sand
Inspiration:
Written when I was in search of my wife. I knew she was here somewhere; I was just
having trouble figuring out where exactly.
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2010
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Beau Regard Poem
To the proud parents, Anna and Theo
A serious lad, silent and thorough
A clan of preachers
And dealers of art
From the southern Netherlands came Van Gogh
When sent to school, he did not want to go
The separation led to much sorrow
But he learned to draw
Whatever he saw
Sent off to sell art in Paris, Van Gogh
His happiest time, and now in love, oh
Till the landlady’s daughter told him no
Now a broken heart
Surly to sell art
Fired from his job in Paris, Van Gogh
Vincent sought out a coal miners’ burrow
A priest of sorts, but a squalid fellow
The church was appalled
And cursed his resolve
To the asylum for crazy Van Gogh?
His father baffled, on the verge of foe
Art interest, once again, began to grow
Back to school again
This time, in His name
To paint in the service of God, Van Gogh
School’s out, back to his parents he would go
Using neighbors as subjects to ditto
Proposed to his cousin
Which she found disgustin’
Burning his hand to see her, holy Van Gogh!?!
Now off to The Hague, a family furlough
To live with Sien, a boozing bimbo
A man to see ya…
Caught gonorrhea
Three weeks in the hospital for Van Gogh
The pain of loneliness drove him back home
Once again, a failed love with fair Margot
Then Vincent’s father died
He grieved deeply inside
The tragedy further refined Van Gogh
Finally, Vincent’s work was in the know
“The Potato Eaters” made an art show
Just add more color
Said his dear brother
Rubens brightened the dark gloom of Van Gogh
Vincent’s diet: coffee and tobacco
Mixed with absinthe began to take its toll
Though he kept on painting
Then Paris, more training
The end was getting closer for Van Gogh
The masters: Monet, Degas, Pissarro
Cezanne, and Seurat in his studio
Influenced his style
Learning all the while
That time was running out for Mr. Van Gogh
Then he moved to Arles, bad health in tow
Completing great works the whole world would know
“Sunflowers” (in vase)
“The Café Terrace”
Minus one ear, the frail, ailing Van Gogh
With his tattered mind, and mournful woe
Committed to the asylum, Mausole
With his final works
“The Church at Auvers”
“Starry Night” was painted in pain, Van Gogh
“At Eternity’s Gate”, he was sorrow
Wandered into a field, farmer’s fallow
Put a bullet in his chest
In hopes of peaceful rest
“The sadness will last forever”, Van Gogh
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2011
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Beau Regard Poem
Go away Jack Frost, take your chill and leave.
I’m tired of wiping my runny nose on my layered sleeve.
Damn the ice and damn the snow!
Unless its pretty, with a purple glow.
Go back up North, where you belong, take your chill and leave!
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2010
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Beau Regard Poem
Marley’s Warning
Much to do with shadow and ghastly renown,
Showing us all where we end up in the ground.
Rusty hinges, let swing old cemetery gates.
Their screeching is all you offer our debates
about how we will change, how we’ll do better
but attrition clouts not, the eternal bedder.
Ebenezer’s Volta
Show not the casket, show not the carriage.
I have not the time for dreams to disparage.
But you knell all the same, in your dingy cloak
Damn you, I am terrified, I’m starting to choke
Wake me from this horror, wake me from this dream
He got the better of me, “I’ll Change!” I scream
On the ground I wake, all is quiet, all is calm
I’m safe from that devil, my “humbug”, my alms
I’ve renounced my ingratitude, saved from the noose
On to make right, and buy old Cratchit a prize goose
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2009
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Beau Regard Poem
(A hermit crab has just realized that he can barely fit into his shell and the only other
creature in earshot to hear his cries is a sea anemone who lives on the hermit crab's shell and has been the hermit crab's close friend for many years.)
Lament dear shell! For we stayed in the sun too long and you have shrunk!
How shall I survive with out you to protect me and house me from the sea?
Shrunk!?! A sea-shell? How is it that a shell could shrink, I ask you Mr. Crab?
How could something hard grow small? Maybe something that is soft grew large?
Mr. Anemone, what exactly do you mean? Something that is soft???
My shell is hard and my claws are harder. I can crack coconuts and coquinas alike.
No doubt, Mr. Crab, your claws are hard indeed, as hard as the shell on your head.
But what about your tail? Could it be that your tail has grown too big for your house?
Mr. Anemone, don’t be foolish. I am as fit as a fish and sleek as a snake.
I highly doubt that my tail could be at fault, to be honest; I’m a bit insulted you would say so.
Dear Mr. Crab, my intent is not to insult but to illuminate OUR current predicament.
The shell on which I sit and in which you live is no longer big enough for YOUR tail -- are
you listening?
Oh, excuse me Mr. Anemone, this blue-green algae is wonderful today.
Would you care for a snack? It really is quite delicious and you are looking a bit thin.
Mr. Crab, case and point! You have already eaten breakfast twice today, this is your third.
I believe we have narrowed in on the reason your shell has “shrunk”. Are you paying
attention!?!
Mmmmm, delicious algae; its so sweet when its fresh. Oh yes, I heard you.
The sun has shrunk my shell and we must now say goodbye to our old home.
Mr. Crab, a moment ago you were crying about the lack of room and potential eviction
from our home,
Now you munch away, ever expanding your tail and threatening our protection and even
our lives!
(something floats down from the surface and comes to rest on the sand a few feet from Mr.
Crab and Mr. Anemone)
Hello, what’s this Mr. Anemone? Round opening, hard outer surface and very shiny,
And writing on the side, hmmm, “bud-weis-er”. Budweiser! Sounds like a great name for a
new home.
Yes indeed Mr. Crab. When all hope seems lost and the end seems near, Mother Sea
provides.
And it would seem she has provided something big enough even for YOUR tail.
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2010
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Beau Regard Poem
No more money, no more quarters.
Only nickels, dimes and pennies
Left at the bottom of our jar.
But not to worry my dear…
Tomorrow is another day.
No more fresh bread, no more butter.
Only millet, crumbs and scraps
Left at the bottom of our cupboard.
But not to worry my dear…
Tomorrow is another day.
No more books, no more tables.
Only wall tacks, dust and the floor
Left at the bottom of our property list.
But not to worry my dear…
Tomorrow is another day.
No more free time, no more pleasure.
Only worry, woe and concern
Left at the bottom of our hearts.
But not to worry my dear…
Tomorrow is another day.
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2010
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Beau Regard Poem
wind in the trees, snow
the wolf and rabbit at peace
night winter forest
Inspired by the contest “Poetry of the Noun” sponsored by Brian Strand.
Copyright © Slight Buckling | Year Posted 2010
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