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Blog Description:

A poetry blog featuring works that will move you, entice you, and stimulate your creative fancy.
Blog Tags: poem - poetry - writing - writer - bard - life - poems
Blog Added: December 01, 2017 10:30:45 AM
Audience Rating: General Audience
Blog Platform: WordPress
Blog Country: United-States   United-States
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Total Visits: 591
Blog Rating: 4.00
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Made Holy by the Night

I remember dancing To the beat of a wild drum, Remember the war cry, But I forget – Was that your hand in mine? Your heart, pressed tremulous and beating Against my breast? Your breath billowing up In the chill of autumn’s final evening?   Perhaps it was another’s hand, A stranger’s breath made holy … Continue reading Made Holy by the...

I remember dancing

To the beat of a wild drum,

Remember the war cry,

But I forget –

Was that your hand in mine?

Your heart, pressed tremulous and beating

Against my breast?

Your breath billowing up

In the chill of autumn’s final evening?

 

Perhaps it was another’s hand,

A stranger’s breath made holy by the night.

Perchance my broken heart beat double-time for two.

The stars were out last night,

But where were you?



Some Great and Lasting Truth

I am still searching for the words to speak unto you Some great and lasting truth, One that’ll outlive us all; One that captures the moment, Holds it golden and glittering in one hand, And rides it all the way back to the shores of our youth With the...

I am still searching for the words to speak unto you

Some great and lasting truth,

One that’ll outlive us all;

One that captures the moment,

Holds it golden and glittering in one hand,

And rides it all the way back to the shores of our youth

With the other.



Underneath

In the silence, I keep remembering a great fall As if from underwater; In the stillness, I keep forgetting The strike of thunder, The sound of lightning, The quiet sizzle of still-burning ash Hitting the water; I am still underneath the surface, Underneath your skin, Which will never be quite thick enough, Unlike the fog, … Continue reading...

In the silence,

I keep remembering a great fall

As if from underwater;

In the stillness,

I keep forgetting

The strike of thunder,

The sound of lightning,

The quiet sizzle of still-burning ash

Hitting the water;

I am still underneath the surface,

Underneath your skin,

Which will never be quite thick enough,

Unlike the fog, which is dense enough

To catch us as we fall,

Irrevocably, in and out of love.



Twenty Little Poetry Projects Exercise

Done in response to Jim Simmerman’s ‘Twenty Little Poetry Projects’ exercise, which you’ll find pasted below. Scroll down to go straight to the poem.   Begin the poem with a metaphor. Say something specific but utterly preposterous. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout … Continue reading Twenty Little Poetry Projects...

Done in response to Jim Simmerman’s ‘Twenty Little Poetry Projects’ exercise, which you’ll find pasted below. Scroll down to go straight to the poem.

 

  1. Begin the poem with a metaphor.
  2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
  3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
  4. Use one example of synaesthesia (mixing the senses).
  5. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
  6. Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
  7. Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
  8. Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
  9. Use a piece of false cause-and-effect logic.
  10. Use a piece of “talk” you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
  11. Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun)…”
  12. Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
  13. Make the persona or character in the poem do something he/she could not do in “real life.”
  14. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
  15. Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
  16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
  17. Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but finally makes no sense.
  18. Use a phrase from a language other than English.
  19. Make a nonhuman object say or do something human (personification).
  20. Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.

 

The sky was the white

Of a blank sheet of paper.

A Rain God was writing clouds all over it,

Wet, dark, rumbling clouds that smelt like ash

And tasted of fire.

The sea looked rocky,

Just like Janice’s plane ride to Paris.

 

To be honest,

The sky was truly more of a pallid gray than anything,

But it was the king of grays,

The kind that goes around begging Rain Gods

                  To scribble all over it,

But I digress;

It is the clouds we should be concerning ourselves with.

 

They

Were looking rather like they’d fucked their way

Up to the top of the sky;

Which is, of course, why most of them

Were congregating around the shore.

 

The great sorrow in joy

Is that one never knows when it’ll end.

Icarus knew this;

He was martyred by the sea

For the simple crime of wanting, and failing, to fly.

 

The clouds are now discussing the Fall of Man;

Not the first one, of course,

But the one they’ll be plotting

Once they’ve gathered enough strength in numbers.

 

The artist knows that,

Knows that soon,

The world will end,

Blisteringly soon.

 

We all know,

As well,

That all of this can be attributed

To temporal eddies in the timestreams

Of the clouds.

 

C’est la vie,

Or so I’ve heard it said.

 

C’est la vie.



The Savage Red Dawn

I was on top of the world, That last day of peace-time, When the silence and the stillness Gave way to strife, As a thousand doomed souls Found themselves at the Gates of Heaven Well before their time.   I was young; I did not know.   The silence of peace was shattering all around … Continue reading The Savage Red...

I was on top of the world,

That last day of peace-time,

When the silence and the stillness

Gave way to strife,

As a thousand doomed souls

Found themselves at the Gates of Heaven
Well before their time.

 

I was young;

I did not know.

 

The silence of peace was shattering all around me,

Yet I did not hear the war-cry,

Did not take notice of the distant braying of the dogs of war.

 

That is the blessing of youth –

To be able to exist in a world of one’s own,

Until that world, too, comes toppling down,

Until the silence of the separate peace forged in our mother’s womb

Collapses under its own weight,

And we are plunged,

Once more,

Out of darkness,

And into the savage red dawn.



the sea tastes the way you did when you last kissed me

The razor-bladed edge of a cloud Slices through the sky, A seabird struggles its way shoreward.   Purple pales At Periwinkle’s blush, While Saffron Delights in the pleasure Of Sapphire’s company.   The sea tastes the way you did When you last kissed me; As though some great sorrow Had come to settle itself, raven-like, … Continue reading the sea tastes the way you did when you last kissed...

The razor-bladed edge of a cloud

Slices through the sky,

A seabird struggles its way shoreward.

 

Purple pales

At Periwinkle’s blush,

While Saffron

Delights in the pleasure

Of Sapphire’s company.

 

The sea tastes the way you did

When you last kissed me;

As though some great sorrow

Had come to settle itself, raven-like,

Upon your shoulders.

As if it, too, had been weeping for the world.



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