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 |   "Scattered leaved with poetic imprints." My new collection of poetry. |
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P.(tree)Log ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Well, it's now mid- 2019 and this is still the only book I use to house part of my new poetry. I began using it years ago due to a lack of storage space in my over-700 item WDC portfolio. I really need to do some spring, summer, fall and winter cleaning. There are still lots of static items which have never received any mention by other members here. But that's part of the problem of being a writer ( musician, artist, actor ... ). I do not know how to network. Thanks for discovering this link. Please leave a comment. Bookmark it, please.... This is a writing site and not FarceBrook where it's so easy just to press the button "LIKE." (( And I am not a fan of the fact that WDC has added it. )) |
I said I would die without your love thirty years have passed I breathe to thrust myself untouched through the motions of survival I smile with a cold unbelieving heart but the light that was yours is absent from my eyes our life ignited a brief moment of eternity, now waning with unpleasant shadows the absent light [2013.16.10…b] Prompt: write a poem about the last word, something left unsaid |
locked in solitude or abandon her ancient body longs for love to be touched, gently reassured for someone to say a prayer so the pain of not dying will recede behind her memories she waits for human warmth to coax her eyes open for a reason to lose herself once more wandering in sunlight or to feel the wonder of gazing into another soul not afraid to love to gaze upon love [2013.15.10…b] Prompt: let the news inspire your poem Here's the original story from Upworthy: http://www.upworthy.com/youll-be-amazed-how-just-a-song-could-break-through-to-t... |
heart beat connected to me my soul is the universe one with eternity past, present and future telepathy no need to listen return to sensation trust starlight feel the sun's rays follow the wind gravity brings me home in one calm breath sleep floating [2013.14.10...a] Prompt: Write about silence For Debi Wharton  and her inspiration |
study books simple Italian raggazzi come sta? children of music street singers not begging joyous in doorways hidden gardens potted ferns roses on trellises tiny tortured trees a Mahler adagio poignant beauty tortoiseshell and amber gondoliers and sunset a bowl of fresh fruit nutcracker pas de deux the whitest snowfall Christmas parties ribbons on boxes tin soldiers beyond boundaries children of sadness prisoners of war aged and blind tired withered souls revenging their father's religion no final prayers where are our tears? [2013.13.10...a] Prompt: Poetry from random words |
even at midnight, a shadow follows darker than black no light penetrates its intense sway over my soul no sanctity disturbs its influence my dwelling is a clay hut with cardboard floors and roof it has no locks or unbroken windows with dirty blankets for warmth I weep daily in hunger no sleep refreshes me I am wary of other people's shadows I beg, because rich people offering honest work tell me I'm too old I have no telephone staying "in touch" is less important than a daily shower or a bowl of hot porridge my reflection no longer resembles the man my mother once knew it taunts me with my past joys shadows seep deeper into my eyes I wait for death, whose arms are certainly sweeter than the stench I will not become what I will not become [2013.12.10…a] Prompt: Write about our shadow side Here is a poem of fiction. |
i cannot hear a butterfly first unfolding its wings the sound of conception the second after the big bang a tree's roots seeking water its buds opening gently sunlight and photosynthesis there is no sound for snowfall that covers mountain paths winter's naked branches or the inebriation of a perfume bottle nor wine waiting to be uncorked sleep, like death, has no melody and even the cacophony of a dream is silent for my lover beside me I would invent soft words for moonlight and the light-years of a star for each grain of sand for each tear shed in solitude and the rainbow of stained glass illuminating my silent prayers I hear your absence the sound of my hand reaching towards emptiness I would become a rose garden rain or the wind just to hear a slight rustle remnant of my heart beating strong reminding me of the sound when you first spoke words of love untitled.... [2013.11.10…b] Prompt: write a poem about sound. Naturally, I chose its opposite. |
| Prompt: write a collage poem once more questions make a puppet of paper they ask for the ancient starlight brighter than eternity, God weeps with no quick response, words engraved upon the pain of trees they are our guides, their silent language intones prayer, mere puzzles of life abandon our souls stumble over destruction so much energy to push the marvels of humanity into paradise, where good and bad coexist in an Eden-like forest still, shards tear open our hearts abandon paradise [2013.10.19...a] Taken from the following tanka: ancient starlight brighter than eternity they guide us well when our souls stumble and shards tear our hearts [2013.8.10…c] to make paper chainsaws cut words from trees their silent language marvels all who work and live in the forest [2013.7.10…b] one more time God weeps torrents of pain abandoned prayer for man has destroyed paradise [2013.3.10…b] questions without quick response puzzles of life so much can push wrong pieces in a good place [2013.29.9…b] |
improvisation for this sad nation stuck in its depression hyped on suppression improvisation for all God's creation where is your vocation to heal this damnation improvisation and excess taxation for the poor and starvation who will pay their cremation improvisation let's talk extermination of middle class determination for survival's sensation improvisation there is no negotiation you won't hear our frustration to the streets for liberation improvisation for this dying nation political aberration our country's amputation political negation [2013.9.10…a] Prompt: Write a poem that could be set to music |
love dawns alone on the beach when the stars, moon and sun rejoice in their brief encounter, love is the whispering on the wind relaying words of humans souls chased from continent to continent, translated by the seas that unite all of us in the immense adventure called life love speaks through each grain of sand and enchants the prayers to our deceased we hear love in their wisdom that outshines our need to grieve, love allows hope to blossom in each generation where souls are born naked of hate and prejudice and intolerance tiny souls knowing only smiles and laughter for love always thrives in childlike simplicity our sons are love’s most perfect disciples they do not compete with love, nor tempt its charms, for love exists, love happens love requires no date on a calendar and survives in the promise of eternity a prayer for love [2013.8.10…a] Prompt: write a "Love Is…" poem |
| Prompt: write a narrative poem. My text here is extremely long. Thanks to those with courage enough to read to the end.... we have routines all have common denominators the seven-thirty alarm clock cat kneading the eiderdown traffic on the street below my rooms breakfast starting at eight thirty the cat eats first, I loiter like royalty sundays, laundry floats in the air a scent of clean, renewal modern decoration without a dryer shirts on hangers suspended on inside lines like the narrow streets of an Italian village tonight, monday, the leprechaun arrives on his voyages from here to there we provide a comfortable stopping point between airports his visits rarely exceed eighteen hours just the time for magic to work so rumor has it so few leprechauns exist outside of Ireland and they have banned Google and its incomplete sources for readiness, multiple chores over-ride my many to-do lists vacuuming cat hair from carpets and leather armchair covers clean sheets, food in the fridge I no longer buy wine as I do not drink alone on the days after his departure and I refuse to give people food to the cat even though he would probably sip a bit of rosé arrange table and floor space for our guest I collect readable items of every kind papers which never see any other sorting than being pushed into bigger piles for a leprechaun who travels with lots of extra baggage in case anything unexpected turns his life upside down where the view of the pot of gold is unsettling I used to believe in his richness now I am content to see him smile yes he has green eyes the weather today is clement the jaunt by foot to the grocer's arms loaded with vittles will be peaceful for my eyes except for the strain on my feet, my hands my elbows, aging has affected my joints a small disability for mobility I need a maid for the dust and a manservant to carry parcels I found a leprechaun instead to whom I tend to offer happiness or at least I try money can only buy certain comforts the cat loves the bags filled with odors I let him roam through them after having removed the nuts, cheese and whole wheat bread he goes crazy for empty milk cartons which must be thrown out immediately as they are rarely claw resistant lunch routines, except for wednesdays and saturdays when I am absent from the house take place in front of TV game shows news, and other pursuits involving staring at screens while the cat begs from his perches he is in love with my ability to resist his soft meows, it is for his own good he is not a rabbit to be turned into stew today's afternoon offerings include music homemade instead of stereo assisted watering the plants on the balconies playing with the cat who likes to fetch tin foil balls a letter to my sister one to a colleague in need of a shoulder staring at the papers needing to be moved and interpreting the return glare I read in their unspoken words to give meaning to silence is a life calling, rare are those who do so outside of monasteries and if I have the energy to strain my back for a few minutes I'll wash the kitchen floor instead of being content to sweep set out the dishes for the evening meal wash up those from the rest of the day hands in water, purifying rituals everything drip dries here the menu is fresh salmon baby potatoes and red onions I still have time to go out and purchase a half bottle of wine dessert is pear sorbet later, as darkness closes the day the cat will stand guard at the front door having heard leprechaun steps before me he will not need to ring the bell, having his own keys leprechauns prefer to come and go without constraint I tried binding him to me, it backfired like an old red fire truck unhappiness is like a burning forest it leaves the souls charred, but newness grows uninvited afterwards greetings when he returns are affectionate and aloof the cat and I exchanging roles depending on my stress levels preparing his welcome he, on the other hand is always like fair weather only asking for clear, cool water many subjects will be broached during the time we sit dining most heavily serious, the cat provides comic relief, fortunately I listen to his travels speaking rarely of my troubles leprechauns are not people to sort out these kinds of things candles will burn low and in their shadows the leprechaun will ask about the morning chimes, programmed at six night arrives quietly there are never enough hours routines govern us there also I stare at the ceiling and he watches me stare the cat settles where he will, kneading a blanket of peace between us all and eventually we will dream I always hear less noise from the street below at six activity resumes the leprechaun stretches like a cat showers like a restless child and refuses a cup of green tea thinking it best to be discreet not wishing to disrupt my solitary routines so early in the morning such is his affection he travels first class and is an airport favored client, regaled with croissants and four types of coffee international press in any language my red carpet is more earthly the cat prances for two hours before our solitary breakfast routine resumes, the leprechaun gone as quickly as he arrived tuesday routines include abandoning my haven, forcing the cat to miss me I teach at a music school that ignores organized pedagogy I am frequently frustrated life is about cement that holds our lives upright I have a cat and a leprechaun a visit [2013.7.10...a] |
in the Amazon alone, coexist thousands of different butterflies yet just as many species of birds lizards another hungry animals prey on them, they survive they, when stressed flitter with agility to escape I know only anticipation with steady footsteps I appear in the floodlight and pray that my memory will replay each rehearsal and allow me to be the lion king I do not deign to dine on tiny winged creatures albeit beautiful and fragile my hunger is for confidence and acceptance, the stage has no prelude for a monologue on a dictionary of symptoms for strange elements distracting a moment of freedom to be who I am identity [2013.6.10...a] Prompt: Butterflies (in the stomach) |
first I need to move a house, several bedrooms a master bath with a jacuzzi plenty of windows bookshelves, a room of them leather, velvet and teak furnishings rare original artwork a functional kitchen with an island a garden with fruit trees hills, roses, rocks a carp pond with a footbridge feeders for hummingbirds a statue and a fountain a wind-safe spot for the bonsais I will need creative help with flowers and harvesting vegetables I anticipate no problem for when the house is perfect I will ask you to spend the night renewal [2013.5.10…a] Prompt: Write a list poem |
first rays of sunrise soft breeze new cashmere a whiff of perfume holding hands a dove's grace in flight a single rose accepting solitude trying to say no that hardly ever uttered I'm sorry whispering other words of love reassurance growing old slow fading fall leaves rain on the beach moonbeams and wishes a single tear on your cheek prayers our last embrace will you greet me on the other side? whispering [2013.4.10...a] Prompt: gentle things, being gentle |
that first secret burned my eyes, he was beautiful that first secret shattered my young heart, before a first true rejoicing unaware of the pattern life would mold for its throbbing and that I would spend decades excavating the lost shards I wrote meandering rivers of tears and the emotions they betrayed became essential keys to my loneliness long after lights-out curfew I penned that first secret on a yellow, even-lined notepad my trials were never locked where they might be forgotten words were insufficient to describe those odd sensations I knew nothing of rhymes or initials carved on trees I was a novice in love for another boy that no prayer could ever erase first secret [2013.3.10...a] Prompt: Write a poem about the first poem. |
starlight explodes from your kiss you arms contain the waves of life your smile outlives the universe dreams peel forth from your query about the concert six years ago when you disappeared with your souvenirs did you applaud the shadows? I am still there on stage, hidden by my own waiting a rare orchid with one flower every six years, ecstatic in the glow of your green eyes release me from your apparition so that my final litany will weep for the parting worlds I remain only one man litany [2013.2.10...a] Prompt: Where does poetry hide? |
| ( that's October Poetry Write, or some such thing....) sans umbrella rays of low-horizon yellow catch this bench a grove of oaks, linden, graceful willows a pair of maples beyond, all still basically green, my imagination diligently conjures flamboyant red orange-golds and Turner-style blues above the blues are already tinted romantically painter's palette of vividness will happen slowly in the next weeks I can wait rain won't fall, not today though I won't hold the weathermen to their promises, optimism grows from this bench I was our bench from it a path with moss underfoot then carp in a pond with a red-painted bridge going nowhere the span here and there too small for adventure to wander again into my thoughts we had love once I could fall asleep until tomorrow's first rain drops infringe upon my dreams a winged flock creates an aha moment heading south in unison I never studied ornithology content only to observe their perfect dance if I were Icarus I would join them certain never to fall parachute, nonetheless sitting in a timeline [2013.1.10…b] prompt Day1: picture yourself on a park bench in the midst of a full blown Autumn day. |
| in the dying silence of night darkest of dark he heard nothing but rustling his breath? then wind a swirl or a howl untouchable branches rubbing against the window the slightest tap tap tap... tap "again" he pleaded with the silence he didn't recognize the scratch of his own voice he strained his ears to imagining a door opening somewhere briefly and a delicate refrain of a string quartet waltz so sweet movement a slight heave in his chest a final heartbreak he can not adjust his soul to this silence one last time a soundless moving of his lips "again" quietly he found himself within that door the same refrain, slower unendably melancholy the perfect adieu before silence [2013.28.9...c] After a performance of Samuel Beckett's "paroles et musique." |
on abandoned rail tracks he sits, shivering in the heat he has witnessed love so easily assassinated his falling tears mock his survival he is too young to grieve thus slight moonlight calls him a fugitive he befriends it only its small glow is safe nothing is truth amid this chaos chastising beliefs that pretend love there is no path to walk home amid this chaos [2013.22.9…c] For SummerLyn |
| The object of this exercise is to take a poem already written and erase words randomly and compose a new poem from the resulting text. eyes heavy, sandy, allergic to sleep, beach parasols, hypnotic waves cannot stop, linked with aftereffects, painkillers flashing on center stage while love falls flat -- a belly flop of ridicule -- with pounding rain comfort this heaving heart, bind me, sensuality zone you are a protagonist in other dreams in mine, you appear at infrequent intervals, always welcome at twilight I evoke imagination, umbrella's filtered light, strained words, viral conversation caught in spiral, repetition blocks the exit path from my mind's labyrinth, the stretch of its plains have built routine -- sleep, food, work, sleep -- you fading and reappearing I cannot convince myself of love's lingering potential I am that bruised lament of shadowed i love you's another bad night Morpheus' lure, turbulence, a tethered race, high blood pressure, alert fading and reappearing [2013.26.6...b] Original text [unfinished and untitled]: eyes heavy, the steamroller has stopped compressing my spine, unrequited rest remains lit with painkillers on center stage while love falls in gales with pounding rain and offers no comfort to my heaving heart that wanders thoughout the sensuality zone when at twilight I finally slump into sleep imagination lingers in daylight, stains my mind but I follow all the proper conversation in the labyrinth of costom built routine more to convince myself of love's lingering potential than a blue bruised lament of unhappiness, certainly the shadowed cause of yet another night away from Morpheus' lure when other turbulence surrounds my heart and sways it from a due course of alertness [2012.20.12...a] |
to seek moonlight its lullaby of silver beams playful clouds must dissipate and stop casting shadows on secrets or desire or hope, buffeted between obscurity and wisdom we seek simple illumination for our paths to remain clear untroubled even by darkness to seek moonlight [2013.23.6...b] |
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