Jolly,
large inflation
of cheer, rolling smile
rumbles and bellies soaked in humor,
shaking.
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Jolly,
large inflation
of cheer, rolling smile
rumbles and bellies soaked in humor,
shaking.
shaking
and shivering
syrinx the reed remembers
her tale her sisters the pan plays
the song
The song
Of the oppressed
is the sonorous ground
beneath high trebles of carefree
singers
Singers
Ululating
As the coffins lower
Their voices rise to silence birds
Like guns
like guns
words can kill you—
all depends upon whom
carelessly handles “unloaded
weapons”
http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1.../black_eye.gif
weapons
mass destruction
true or false regardless
in the name of security
what now
what now
the young girl asks
staring out
across the sky of blue
she stops
she stops
on point of toe
paused like a portrait—
“Swan Lake” or “Nutcracker Suite?”
decisions…
decisions,
listen close as
my wishes sing summer,
but your winter, half-formed heart chills
deeply
Deeply,
my soul searches
for meaning in my life.
The search appears unending, yet
worthwhile.
worthwhile
expenditures,
lost blooms and ballooning
canvas, passions afloat in books,
hot air.
hot air—
speeches, promises,
tell any lie to make one
believe in their cause. blowing stem.
no go…
no go
dead end turn back
different path start anew
take a risk something never seen
venture
venture
softly among
the busy streets sick walk—
The Plague came without remorse—
Black Death…
Black Death
A mixed blessing
Pus and pain and buboes,
But a breakdown, liberation,
New life.
New life
New beginning
Let us all embrace change
For better or for worse, march on,
march on ...
March on!
Left, right, left, right!
Count off! One two three four!
You are in the Army, Mr. Jones!
Left face!
left face?
that's the right side
said the perfect model
to the skillful photographer
complete
complete
uncompromised
abstraction cylinders,
trashcans containing our lost tracts,
buried.
buried
the treasure hid
from all who dreamed to find
amongst the endless sands of time
hidden
Hm, interesting format!
hidden
from light, from sight
from everything that might
hurt, corrupt my soul, and frustrate
my goal
My goal . . .
To strike a blow
Shattering a mad world
Into fragmenting shards of bliss
Bright Jewel!
Bright gem,
Shining above
Giver of warmth, light--
God saw that it was good, blessed it
The Sun
(jewel had too many syllables, last and first line can only have two...;) )
The sun,
The star to shun.
Away from it I run
And take solace in the vile shades
Of Hades.
Pendragon,Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
Where I'm from "Jewel" is pronounced with one-syllable, "Julel" (like Cool). Some in the southern part of the country probably say "Jew-ell" (like Coo-ell).
At least that's my excuse for the extra syllable. :blush:
Later
Hades can't be pronounced with one syllable, can it? Correct me if I'm wrong.
Hades,
tinkering shades
build of shallow Hell caves,
dark inlets spreading human waves
deeper.
deeper
we go down now
much farther then before
to find meaning in this life
we live
We live
a preamble,
decorated start song,
musical shuffle to the end,
no fade.
No fade
Upon the coin
That fell neath the cushion
On which he sat, undiscovered
For ever
For ever
Flip-side of mind.
shut him out; how unkind.
For rediscovery, he begs,
Denied.
Denied.
Frail dignity
yet her steps remain firm.
Gloves of mesh; velvet might appall
the touch
the touch
of your hand is
like a balm Gilead—
soothes the sorrow eases agony—
brings peace…
("balm", "sorrow", "Gilead"... reminds me of Poe's "The Raven" :))
Brings peace,
The blinding fog.
For if one cannot see
One's sworn enemy, there will be
No war.
High compliments, kandaurov! Comparison to Poe and The Raven!
no war,
ever fought settled
anything in a win-win way—
someone won, someone lost, people died—
ask why…
Why, thanks, Pen :)
Ask why;
do not expect
a ready answer for it.
The wise man takes his time, and then
says naught.
ask why
question all things
what is known to your heart
challenging even the unseen
believe
belive,
in blithe and mirth,
brazenness in want,
stirred to obtain man's freedom rights,
in race,
In race
a mountain moves
each jutting cuticle
to the sky, surly in its grasp,
scraping.
scraping
the open, clogged ram,
where bullet balls won't fit,
and the wide, iron catch just jams,
until
until
sunset’s glory
touches purple mountains,
far-off places, half-remembered—
I dream…