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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. )) |
insanity stains my reason the thrill of its game cannot tame my passions, this zest for gold and azur trinkets, tattoos painted like a permanent sunset where is the moonlight? I have bayed like a hound spayed, childless, passions swayed by human constraint I am no father, orchids and ferns do not require doting parenthood, but a solid hand with the watering can, nor do billiard balls and other marbles require daily polishing, like a child eating vegetables instead of chocolate; it is not Easter, nor Valentine’s, I need no special occasions to tempt me to let passion rule my palate champagne breakfasts, truffles at noon before bouillabaisse I have spent too many hours thinking diligently of solutions to pains only the earth can calm I was not a human statue of Vesuvius I imagine it well in another life… so I chink this passing year statues [2012.23.5…a] |
our hearts beat to the same rhythm we marvel at the same sunsets enjoy fine wines with gourmet meals our book shelves contain the classics our walls are adorned by masterpieces we share dreams that our children will lead better lives we pray to the the same god but when we love, as each of us will do some sad souls pretend that their choices are the only choices, and suddenly they become deaf and blind to devotion and they don't see themselves falter towards an ugly path of bitterness we were not born to hold crutches, every one of us has the right to dance to the rhythms of a different drummer there are many choices [2012.22.5...a] |
love? you ask with a tremor in your voice sitting on a park bench, I watch you read poems that promise moonlit kisses, silently I share your dreams to be two walking hand in hand, I know we both wait for the special moment that roses lose their thorns and not only wine makes us tipsy… because you are wary I tread along friendship's path content to listen to your sweet tales, the hope weighing in your voice, afraid of my truth still I hear no answer, so I kneel with a tiny box with a shining diamond, you tell me, with a huge smile I look at love every day you sit by my side... on the park bench [2012.21.5...a] |
we are fireflies, floating in the mists of memory caught in silence, they are smiles, slight nods of the head a tear misting the eye, lovers’ intimate knowing, and each of these short-lived wonders teach us, with sparkling glimpses of truth from their tiny golden lights, that darkness is a soft pillow to slow our souls from the overflow of sensations and wonders, to allow us deep breath between the emotions and then marvel at each vision, a winking evening star or a dew covered rose born from our dreams the real memories [2012.20.5…a] |
our devotion courts the stars luminescent evidence we believe only in beauty their immense twinkling must sew dark holes into the fabric of the depraved souls, the shadows cast towards us are a garden for lovers’ discretion night dictates romance, taking the risk to have a heart stolen from its sanctuary of purity — innocent essence… to survive we believe in this ethereal dance for beyond moonlight’s reach we would rot, blistered by the turbulent coils of sunlight in a reality too harsh and decadent — a void where hope is spun moonlight’s reach [2012.19.5…a] |
| like other men, I have no time to gaze past the stars their light is a chimera, it holds no promise it is not death we fear we have become adept at hiding pain in deep corners invented to comfort souls, the sentimental myth that the eyes mirror love and passion was born to mask that ultimate suffering we hate uncontrolled tears no one can peer at the secrets of other eyes the universe is upside down it spins and churns as time recedes there is only just so much of it we accept the new dizziness, yet three days hence, kaleidoscope visions tempt us, nothing is simple within the unending variations of truth I speak the secret language the earth yearns to share everything else is noise pain was my mentor, my lesson was to listen to the rhythm of death’s wail some say fear is the artless fading into forgetfulness when no one will remember no child or friend to select albums from our talents, loves, success these words are the trump card to battle death’s final rocky path a slow, seductive approach to taint our life with the lure of eternity we are sad to be little and invisible alone, but not always lonely we wait for our deaths until then, we strive not to wither on the inside, where the words to be shared are born from our silence when nothing matters [2012.18.5…a] |
together we lay in the shade of an old apple tree sure we could see gold around destiny’s glimmer our hands shared one warmth, four eyes lit up bright with a subtle insouciance for tomorrow despairing hate had caught us in childhood's tow wary, we taught each other trust and confidence two magic secrets that joined our hearts in peace we are stronger now, our smiles no longer clouded by pain finally comforted by love, its gentle fleece has touched our hearts with calm, the welcome providence of happiness each child has the right to know the passing years of drama are ours to borrow and life's applause retains us at this site sunset wakes our rested souls with a shimmer as we imagine a future designed to set us free to heal each other [2012.17.5...a] |
| in another kind of obscurity before the round of sleep weightless, I float away and filter the darkness while rain acclaims the clouds thus I am the ocean’s fertility and sink into the deep with turbulent parade where currents and bleakness erase the pain of life now, suspended in fate’s impurity nothing matters but sleep immune to devil’s games to weep against solace that time never offers within the dream [2012.16.5…a] |
| a sordid smattering for survival’s satisfaction a shattering of the mind, childless, hopeless she collects collectables, anything having touched her body, brushed up against her hands, her heart and soul were broken, her spirit buried years earlier before god took her first baby the house shrunk under the weight of her folly pizza cartons, dirty laundry, used paperbacks, china dolls, moldy uneaten apples, never-to-be-used diapers, the piles artistically arranged, color coded the once useful with the utterly useless she poured her life into arranging junk, feeling its moods change as decay welcomed the new anything to forget the odor of a newborn babe in a broken muffled whisper, she chattered away intoning rites and prayers at the rooms cluttered with stuff her husband too grew to love, a strange duo suffering the lost essence of tomorrow, together they spoke little, habits form easily when pain can only take more lives, happy words burst against the silence like a child’s imaginary cry in the death of night when candles have burned everything into blackness broken [2012.15.5…a] |
sunburned youth tread lightly between arid dunes and the secrets of summer waves, sunlight emboldens their spirits in the wake of love, that endless quest to strengthen their supple souls, knead them with a godly character molded and baked to brave eternity’s stain they sift through nightmares and wounds scars blossom their essence into brittle driftwood spry old men lust after the tanned curves that once excited their dreams, buxom cougars pounce, having unspun the webs of emotion, still preferring muscled insouciance— they too were ripe for the burst of wisdom, philosophy, zen koans or religious rebirth, forgetting that in the journey beyond life, all are born naked and float away clothed in ashes the journey beyond life [2012.14.5…a] |
earthbound, tied to a chair why does your need reign in my freedom? let me fly as a carrier pigeon to return every twenty days I am a dream, ever changing let me vibrate as your voice to sing the echo of love’s conquest in the shadows beyond the mountain my desire is bound in snowfall my cage a frosty window I am a dream [2012.13.5...a] |
straying far away from where I've been I’ve lost all the paths leading back you said follow the sunset but when, inebriated with life I confuse the beginning and end flickers I have always headed east instead of west you never spoke of a ceremony covered in starlight or dazzle we were content with sometimes distracted with the world I forgot to wait for your words to guide me around full moons and monsoon winds the intrigue of newness, discovery or other friendships carried me further than a summer’s breeze and I, without the weight of your suitcases, fell into piracy, so easily mislead by the gold glittering that used to come from your eyes the wrong gold [2012.12.5…a] |
swallow little blue pills with a swig of whiskey step lightly, avoid the shards and twigs to smell early dew mixed with rare odors midnight flowers will not survive in crystal vases, uprooted like homeless weeds step aside from books, artificial stories or pretty picture albums that solace overstretched fears step quickly when she screams to the night blighted by the solitude of a disease garden blossoms cannot cure step into her twilight do not fear the unbearable do not hide your tears they will fill the last river she must cross alone unbearable [2012.11.5...a] |
circus-mirror reflections distort amusement brightly painted clowns mock teary dilemmas giant sand sculptures downsize our dreams all a candy-cane spree of holiday diversion blue-sky idyll, sunglass seclusion we hide behind fantasies of peace where after-dinner drinks on a crowded terrace heighten the before-the-fireworks apotheosis we are childlike telephone applications that create punch lines and automatic laughter programmed to ring at the full moon and allow us to relive those moments when no reflection but our own looked back in the morning mirror two weeks to forget [2012.10.5…a] |
hidden deep within this labyrinth, those words never spoken to me, I have been lost an archaeologist trying discern their origins and the explosion that made them shards the Maya and Inca hold less secrets, the giant spheres of Costa Rica weigh less than these absent words, I would trade starlight, moon and sun to feel their echo on my soul I have spoken quietly of love and life, written tomes beyond imagination’s grasp, an eternal disciple of your absence, it grew like a black orchid, slowly crushing my heart I have waited beyond your death to feel a hint of your ghostly light caress on my face beyond your death [2012.9.5…a] |
hidden away in relative darkness frosted glass shelters my curiosity I love thick scarves, sweaters, mittens their wool muffles my presence I seek details behind the cracks of human facades, a sneer an upraised voice, a sudden embrace having nothing to do with grace others know their brief praise but I collect old buttons, torn lace their silence is my desperation for grimaces that cover sweet words rarely tell a true tale, and I, a by-product of their indifference, seek only the unity of love to become whole... a child in need [2012.8.5...a] |
| Here's the take from the actual fifth line, "today his gait stumbles and halts..." The first poem used another line because I needed to fit around an existing poem written earlier this morning. stumbles and halts his gait, now his heart second attack, doctors say lucky never any tobacco, booze plenty of spryness, though now humbles a waltz still dapper, still flatters maybe that clover leaf or the Indian Head nickel hidden deep in his wallet will find him a new bride… lucky [2012.7.5…c] |
| ...for a fellow poet of Twitter lovers possess the beach stunned, not by sea or sunset, but by the sting of the fall into the charismatic trap set by Cupid, the full moon, illuminating their hearts unaware [2012.7.5...a] With a bit of tweaking, taking the line from last month's poem, 7.4 "I see him at any hour of the day" Here's my final version: I see them at end-of-day hours, two lovers who seem to possess the beach stunned, not by sea or sunset, but by the sting of falling into a charismatic trap set by Cupid, the full moon, illuminating their hearts... I too, used to sing of being two unaware [2012.7.5...b] |
| I found it difficult to start with the fifth line from last month's poem, so I used the fifth line from the end instead. to mark time’s slow decline I dream before midnight’s sway recite mantras and memorize the renewing sensations of the lotus pose and brisk country walks I seize the wonder of dawn I am a master of all puzzles to excite and surprise my grey matter I journal daily to catch my soul’s first notes of blues attuned with my intimacy though these thoughts rarely glimpse the daylight beyond my writing rooms the years have tried to bend me to have survived, I walk taller I have loved, accepting passion’s dwindling leverage, I have stared down the cold grimace of death’s charm touching those eternal prisoners kept warm in my heart’s embrace I cannot withdraw into indifference though its path seems softer… to resist the years [2012.6.5…a] |
I long for this one place we never called home, simple rock gardens a fountain, a bench overlooking mountains that echo my night songs a high plateau where quiet resounds and love might be born away to kiss cloud-filled summits and pastel sunsets that reach for the elsewhere of my dreams a place where I whisper of a horizon you do not hear where we are [2012.5.5…a] |
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