Thanks for the kick start of getting me to try my hand at the stuff that you guys are so good at. I moved my stuff away so that I can work on it without getting in your way.JiminyC wrote:The D.J.
Jack
Legacy for Leonard
Re: Rust
Jack
Past Attempts
Went through an old collection of writing and retrieved a few pieces.
Blank page
Blank page
It is just a blank page
It just sits there
You cannot say it is staring at me
It does not have eyes
It is just a blank page
You cannot say it is a sea of white
Nor a mountain of snow
It has no depth
It is just a blank page
You might consider the ticking of the clock
On the wall
That and the blank page
Might be construed
By someone quite fancy
To symbolise something
But it is only an irritating ticking sound
Tick
Tick
Tick
I took the battery out
It sits at 2:24 now
Forever
Someone frivolous might find something in that too
I don’t know
The blank page
The stopped clock
Both are still here
What to do
What to do.
Gilded Lillie
Gilded Lillie stands out of a frozen pond
The dawning sun throws light upon it
And they speak to one another
Of time once gone
And things yet to come
A pale soft beauty that none could miss
Apart from herself
Lost in abyss
Words to the sun
Laughter on the run
Beauty for everyone
Dawn shows chilled bone white petals
Yet gradually the sun delivers her to settle
In a better place
Golden hue
Touched with warmth
The nights frost lost to a deliverance of a sombre winters day
The pond might thaw
The light might draw
A magic that upon this day will feed beauty to an artists nib
But if not today
Tomorrow.
Jennifer
Heart song calls
A single cry left to echo over a lush tropical valley
Leaving any witness
Somnambulated
To dream of beauty, of the creature that created it
How she wails in succinct benevolence
Ignorant of all but her charge
Reality
Hers, then mine
Piercing wail, a call within the call
The heart in the song note
That finds those she loves
So desperate to protect
Holding them with her reminder
She born so natural to nurture
How well she has born it
The jungle above its canopy
A dense silent bearer of below
That which she crowns and thorns
Life’s long battle of survival
The constant struggle of love
To pull to
To let go
Familiar
I doctored myself mute by the fate of guilty circumstance
Piled history to short not to notice,
All to short
Everything I did, we did
Deprives me of a tongue
Yet in silent contemplation
It is revealed
Of the presentiment being overlooked
It appears that this gap of light
Presenting itself between us all
An electrified field defused by
The obligations of each norm
Has momentarily dispelled some bond that pervades our countenance
Remaining are these moments now that we must view
Love and personality
Seemingly a tempest
And us
Still weathering this storm
No possibility not to sink
Whilst we walk in mute accord
What is left to this conglomeration?
Of individual pursuits
Run ragged
Tied by the bond or the tare?
It is left to say
So we must assume it is time to say it
I love each and every one of you
And everyday I am reborn
To do the same
Slide
When I slide my left hand through my wet hair and my little finger reaches the last few curls at the top of my neck, it curls itself instinctively around the locks; I notice the sensation from that one finger as though it is a hand of its own and has all the impulses of a much greater grasp. I think whilst this is happening that I never directed my little finger to act in such a way, its as though its showing a tenderness for my hair that I am not privy to; as though I am merely a conduit for another source of affection that shines upon me, controls me in a way, yet escapes almost unobserved.
Think Again
40 Degrees of red sandy earth
Hissing like a flat
Almost thought it was eternal
Until just after midnight last
When the trees began to stir
Whispering in elation
Of what they knew approached
Then the whispers turn audacious
Whilst all else sit in darkness
Wide-eyed, apprehensive, pensive, silent silent
As the trees are wild now
We can feel their limbs reaching out for necks
Oblivious, without menace, in their flurry
They shed their dead limbs, reckless
That cacophony, those screaming trees
Epiphany with that massive body of the wind
It strikes harder, with apparent perpetuity
And we think, this howl shall not relent
You ask yourself
What price shall be paid?
For the wildness of this party
This natural holocaust
Cocooned now all those uninvited
Locked hidden in closet six
There is nothing left
But the stroke of death
That might aide the mind, help forget
This tempest
But blown are thoughts prematurely
By the arrival of a new guest
The wind moves into the ensemble cast
As torrents of rivers are banished from the sky
Mute tribute left
By wind, trees, and staring eyes
To the atmospheres new host
And again it is eternal
Until it thinks again
Blank page
Blank page
It is just a blank page
It just sits there
You cannot say it is staring at me
It does not have eyes
It is just a blank page
You cannot say it is a sea of white
Nor a mountain of snow
It has no depth
It is just a blank page
You might consider the ticking of the clock
On the wall
That and the blank page
Might be construed
By someone quite fancy
To symbolise something
But it is only an irritating ticking sound
Tick
Tick
Tick
I took the battery out
It sits at 2:24 now
Forever
Someone frivolous might find something in that too
I don’t know
The blank page
The stopped clock
Both are still here
What to do
What to do.
Gilded Lillie
Gilded Lillie stands out of a frozen pond
The dawning sun throws light upon it
And they speak to one another
Of time once gone
And things yet to come
A pale soft beauty that none could miss
Apart from herself
Lost in abyss
Words to the sun
Laughter on the run
Beauty for everyone
Dawn shows chilled bone white petals
Yet gradually the sun delivers her to settle
In a better place
Golden hue
Touched with warmth
The nights frost lost to a deliverance of a sombre winters day
The pond might thaw
The light might draw
A magic that upon this day will feed beauty to an artists nib
But if not today
Tomorrow.
Jennifer
Heart song calls
A single cry left to echo over a lush tropical valley
Leaving any witness
Somnambulated
To dream of beauty, of the creature that created it
How she wails in succinct benevolence
Ignorant of all but her charge
Reality
Hers, then mine
Piercing wail, a call within the call
The heart in the song note
That finds those she loves
So desperate to protect
Holding them with her reminder
She born so natural to nurture
How well she has born it
The jungle above its canopy
A dense silent bearer of below
That which she crowns and thorns
Life’s long battle of survival
The constant struggle of love
To pull to
To let go
Familiar
I doctored myself mute by the fate of guilty circumstance
Piled history to short not to notice,
All to short
Everything I did, we did
Deprives me of a tongue
Yet in silent contemplation
It is revealed
Of the presentiment being overlooked
It appears that this gap of light
Presenting itself between us all
An electrified field defused by
The obligations of each norm
Has momentarily dispelled some bond that pervades our countenance
Remaining are these moments now that we must view
Love and personality
Seemingly a tempest
And us
Still weathering this storm
No possibility not to sink
Whilst we walk in mute accord
What is left to this conglomeration?
Of individual pursuits
Run ragged
Tied by the bond or the tare?
It is left to say
So we must assume it is time to say it
I love each and every one of you
And everyday I am reborn
To do the same
Slide
When I slide my left hand through my wet hair and my little finger reaches the last few curls at the top of my neck, it curls itself instinctively around the locks; I notice the sensation from that one finger as though it is a hand of its own and has all the impulses of a much greater grasp. I think whilst this is happening that I never directed my little finger to act in such a way, its as though its showing a tenderness for my hair that I am not privy to; as though I am merely a conduit for another source of affection that shines upon me, controls me in a way, yet escapes almost unobserved.
Think Again
40 Degrees of red sandy earth
Hissing like a flat
Almost thought it was eternal
Until just after midnight last
When the trees began to stir
Whispering in elation
Of what they knew approached
Then the whispers turn audacious
Whilst all else sit in darkness
Wide-eyed, apprehensive, pensive, silent silent
As the trees are wild now
We can feel their limbs reaching out for necks
Oblivious, without menace, in their flurry
They shed their dead limbs, reckless
That cacophony, those screaming trees
Epiphany with that massive body of the wind
It strikes harder, with apparent perpetuity
And we think, this howl shall not relent
You ask yourself
What price shall be paid?
For the wildness of this party
This natural holocaust
Cocooned now all those uninvited
Locked hidden in closet six
There is nothing left
But the stroke of death
That might aide the mind, help forget
This tempest
But blown are thoughts prematurely
By the arrival of a new guest
The wind moves into the ensemble cast
As torrents of rivers are banished from the sky
Mute tribute left
By wind, trees, and staring eyes
To the atmospheres new host
And again it is eternal
Until it thinks again
Jiminy~
I really enjoyed this. There is a quick, breathlessness to it that caters to my innate impatience. And the sentiments are accessible and interesting. Very relate-able to me. And I think it is overall well done, putting my 'selfish' reasons aside.
Thanks for sharing, Laurie
I really enjoyed this. There is a quick, breathlessness to it that caters to my innate impatience. And the sentiments are accessible and interesting. Very relate-able to me. And I think it is overall well done, putting my 'selfish' reasons aside.
Thanks for sharing, LaurieFamiliar
I doctored myself mute by the fate of guilty circumstance
Piled history to short not to notice,
All to short
Everything I did, we did
Deprives me of a tongue
Yet in silent contemplation
It is revealed
Of the presentiment being overlooked
It appears that this gap of light
Presenting itself between us all
An electrified field defused by
The obligations of each norm
Has momentarily dispelled some bond that pervades our countenance
Remaining are these moments now that we must view
Love and personality
Seemingly a tempest
And us
Still weathering this storm
No possibility not to sink
Whilst we walk in mute accord
What is left to this conglomeration?
Of individual pursuits
Run ragged
Tied by the bond or the tare?
It is left to say
So we must assume it is time to say it
I love each and every one of you
And everyday I am reborn
To do the same
Mind and no mind
Tantra Trance Of Selfulation
Beating back the iron cast oppression of gormless sociology,
I wander alone
Asleep before I,
The self made monolith that eats lightness being consumed,
My succubus and I;
Working shift of chromosomes that enables disabled passions rift,
Heart felt allusion of diffusion,
Speaker dictates a march towards an oafish lactation of scripture,
This speaker was my compadre.
Walls beyond measure cannot exist in reality,
Incapacity to your magno-manity with butchers knife in pristine teeth
As you swing along the monkey bars,
Hercules deprived of ancient realms.
Swash buckling I run from the honking hangover of our harboured hate fuelled beings into the gutter where open prostate scenes slurry over me,
A fawn, a chick, a pup;
The flock, geese in arrogant disdain watch without repentance;
Know ye not sin?
I gather all my thoughts around me in rugged collusion against the starlit night,
Orb reflection of reflections daylight sober musings sings unromantically,
Where is the joy of self?
I experience joy and in the instantaneous exoneration I know self and extend its being beyond the beat up burial of lost time,
Shakti
Shakti
The word is nothing without innate life, with love and acceptance of all the Tao and all God is,
The glorious now, tantric joy exponentially de-toyed by western bed sits, now deployed upon the mass, dare they open themselves to it?
Then I’d go to Church and pay for my ride
Then I'd demand the loafs be split
To redefine the long lost isolation of the crowd
That worship their broken hearts,
The ire and the mind.
Beating back the iron cast oppression of gormless sociology,
I wander alone
Asleep before I,
The self made monolith that eats lightness being consumed,
My succubus and I;
Working shift of chromosomes that enables disabled passions rift,
Heart felt allusion of diffusion,
Speaker dictates a march towards an oafish lactation of scripture,
This speaker was my compadre.
Walls beyond measure cannot exist in reality,
Incapacity to your magno-manity with butchers knife in pristine teeth
As you swing along the monkey bars,
Hercules deprived of ancient realms.
Swash buckling I run from the honking hangover of our harboured hate fuelled beings into the gutter where open prostate scenes slurry over me,
A fawn, a chick, a pup;
The flock, geese in arrogant disdain watch without repentance;
Know ye not sin?
I gather all my thoughts around me in rugged collusion against the starlit night,
Orb reflection of reflections daylight sober musings sings unromantically,
Where is the joy of self?
I experience joy and in the instantaneous exoneration I know self and extend its being beyond the beat up burial of lost time,
Shakti
Shakti
The word is nothing without innate life, with love and acceptance of all the Tao and all God is,
The glorious now, tantric joy exponentially de-toyed by western bed sits, now deployed upon the mass, dare they open themselves to it?
Then I’d go to Church and pay for my ride
Then I'd demand the loafs be split
To redefine the long lost isolation of the crowd
That worship their broken hearts,
The ire and the mind.
Whilst the baby sleeps
In Semblance
In semblance, solitude, they see him walking
Towards some goal with his dog,
Inside their worlds the radio plays
Old Beatles tunes.
The lights change and he stands there,
You notice he is watching you
As you ply the accelerator
The car beside you almost beats you
But is forced to submit to falling in
Behind you as their lane runs out,
Then in the rear-view mirror
You notice he skitters across the road
Whilst the light is green
It's J-walking you are sure of it;
You notice that you are going 95
In an 80k zone, and drop back down to 90.
You sip at your Mac latte
Driving on into your day.
In semblance, solitude, they see him walking
Towards some goal with his dog,
Inside their worlds the radio plays
Old Beatles tunes.
The lights change and he stands there,
You notice he is watching you
As you ply the accelerator
The car beside you almost beats you
But is forced to submit to falling in
Behind you as their lane runs out,
Then in the rear-view mirror
You notice he skitters across the road
Whilst the light is green
It's J-walking you are sure of it;
You notice that you are going 95
In an 80k zone, and drop back down to 90.
You sip at your Mac latte
Driving on into your day.
The Avenue
The avenue asleep, ashen from the heat of night;
Fires from the north that flay even now in pre-dawn dawdling
The lives of other folk.
The water simmers as the UV raises its penetration,
A hole in our ozone,
What glad news to give the next generation.
The tawdry tempers of your loved ones who cannot express
When it is all expressionless this mountain
Of our God's creation, the creature that is not you or I
That has allowed us our moments reprieve in conscious recognition of
Democratic freedoms and free market mayhem,
But to find that peace in life again;
Not that which is down by the freeway smog or up North in fire country
Nor to far south where the icecaps melt
Just there in the middle
There in the middle alone or with you, as you are
Are you hearing me? You,
With that peaceful grace to accept and love again
To know the pain of birth but to bring more life to this party
That is not the end but the changing time
The new path, that we day by day build to begin
Again our lost souls, our beautiful river, lust and love
Entwined in our magnificent world,
Where animal and god and human
Live.
The avenue asleep, ashen from the heat of night;
Fires from the north that flay even now in pre-dawn dawdling
The lives of other folk.
The water simmers as the UV raises its penetration,
A hole in our ozone,
What glad news to give the next generation.
The tawdry tempers of your loved ones who cannot express
When it is all expressionless this mountain
Of our God's creation, the creature that is not you or I
That has allowed us our moments reprieve in conscious recognition of
Democratic freedoms and free market mayhem,
But to find that peace in life again;
Not that which is down by the freeway smog or up North in fire country
Nor to far south where the icecaps melt
Just there in the middle
There in the middle alone or with you, as you are
Are you hearing me? You,
With that peaceful grace to accept and love again
To know the pain of birth but to bring more life to this party
That is not the end but the changing time
The new path, that we day by day build to begin
Again our lost souls, our beautiful river, lust and love
Entwined in our magnificent world,
Where animal and god and human
Live.
Job
When Job Met Sublime
Sublime moment, God told Job
"You are a fleck of the fleece",
He'd not sinned till he did,
He'd not cared more than he should;
Until it was taken
All of it taken
Away from his parking lot plot
"Lord I am a good man!"
What is a good man?
Although a wealthy generous one
Is better than not.
The mountains did not murmur dissent
At God's critical appraisal
Of Everything
Everything created,
Defence against Job's losses,
"But..."
There is a Kingdom
It is not of this earth.
"I..."
There is a path sometimes
So Hard to observe,
Sublime;
So it is written,
"There are more things of heaven and earth..."
Today I thought of this,
Trying to find a parking spot.
Sublime moment, God told Job
"You are a fleck of the fleece",
He'd not sinned till he did,
He'd not cared more than he should;
Until it was taken
All of it taken
Away from his parking lot plot
"Lord I am a good man!"
What is a good man?
Although a wealthy generous one
Is better than not.
The mountains did not murmur dissent
At God's critical appraisal
Of Everything
Everything created,
Defence against Job's losses,
"But..."
There is a Kingdom
It is not of this earth.
"I..."
There is a path sometimes
So Hard to observe,
Sublime;
So it is written,
"There are more things of heaven and earth..."
Today I thought of this,
Trying to find a parking spot.
Erotic intellect
Paint Face
Dearest,
How you have moved me,
How I was moved
To another state
Zipcode
Barcode
And did you not still uncover
Me
Lover,
How you rocked me
How I was swayed
To vote now right wing,
Hard line
To make more
Walls
To build a fortress for
You
That we might dine in the afterglow of serendipity
When the crowd cheered
It always cheered for you
When you sneered
They made a poster of it
It travelled to New York and Paris
Your poster sneer
The light and the undulating you
Fear not they will never know
Knowing was the final biscuit
In the shandy assortment
That God could only bestow
Upon so few
This poem in its entirety is wholly dedicated to
You
Et vous, ausi.
Dearest,
How you have moved me,
How I was moved
To another state
Zipcode
Barcode
And did you not still uncover
Me
Lover,
How you rocked me
How I was swayed
To vote now right wing,
Hard line
To make more
Walls
To build a fortress for
You
That we might dine in the afterglow of serendipity
When the crowd cheered
It always cheered for you
When you sneered
They made a poster of it
It travelled to New York and Paris
Your poster sneer
The light and the undulating you
Fear not they will never know
Knowing was the final biscuit
In the shandy assortment
That God could only bestow
Upon so few
This poem in its entirety is wholly dedicated to
You
Et vous, ausi.
-
Diane
That is a tricky question Diane, I've already deleted one thousand words in an attempt to answer it, I like Little Leghorn - page three, but I prefer the subject heading Sunday revolution before brunch, I think the ones on that page are probably best although I like the more recent ones or at least parts of them for they seem more eloquent (some at least) in style.
I've a new favourite now and it is on this page (two hours later)! In Semblence, it is perhaps a little simplistic but I think it has an honesty to it.
Thank you for asking though, it has helped me gather thoughts and redefine direction, I was getting a little wayward here and also out there. Hope you are travelling well.
James.
I've a new favourite now and it is on this page (two hours later)! In Semblence, it is perhaps a little simplistic but I think it has an honesty to it.
Thank you for asking though, it has helped me gather thoughts and redefine direction, I was getting a little wayward here and also out there. Hope you are travelling well.
James.
Re: Gilded Lillie
Hi Jim,
I haven't yet read all of the poems you have posted above, but I was particularly entranced by the imagery in Gilded Lillie. I especially like the lines:
And they speak to one another
Of time once gone
And things yet to come
A pale soft beauty that none could miss
- and -
A magic that upon this day will feed beauty to an artists nib
But if not today
Tomorrow.
It sounds very lyrical.
Best regards,
Sherry
I haven't yet read all of the poems you have posted above, but I was particularly entranced by the imagery in Gilded Lillie. I especially like the lines:
And they speak to one another
Of time once gone
And things yet to come
A pale soft beauty that none could miss
- and -
A magic that upon this day will feed beauty to an artists nib
But if not today
Tomorrow.
It sounds very lyrical.
Best regards,
Sherry
.two pence, two days.
Dear Diane,
Start with the next poem I write, if you like it read the following one, then if your interest is piqued well there’s lots about to choose from then! At the moment I don't have a poem in me, at the moment I cannot really believe in Adam's praise, at the moment I am two days sober as opposed to three months last sunday, my first "bust" as they say in AA, at the moment I suffer severe agoraphobia + depression + alcoholism + well you name it + I still smoke cigarettes (which would be bad enough on its own), at the moment I feel rather like crap as my body is pouring out sweat, at the moment I have to remind myself that today is the day I have to do myself the favour of not picking up the first drink, and I am doing that, at the moment I feel like a pill for depression not a cure, but then I did write some heart felt emotive and crucial stuff, mixed with some rather misogynistic looking ones which I am still scratching my head over, at the moment I am doing ok because I read poems and posts by good people on this forum, so Diane, stay tuned, JiminyC will write again one day soon I hope because I do enjoy it, but until then we can both enjoy the other nutters about hey, they give me strength right now, not my stuff; but from Adam's post I can glimmer it is not completely one way and that was so nice to hear.
Thank you for making me think though Diane, you helped me out a lot there and I bet you did it just because it's innate to you. I also wish to withdraw my stray dog statement which I posted in a passionate debacle back on page 2 I think, and apologise to my friend who had to withstand my tirade on that day I went into hospital, he is a good chap and I still haven't quite gotten my head around the whole humiliating ordeal, nor will I ever really; some things just happen and the outcome has been a long slow painful journey with pitfalls and tribulations. A big thank you to the people of the forum who have encouraged me too, there are lots of beautiful souls out there. Anyway stay tuned Diane, my next poem should be a beauty, even if it takes a lifetime; mind you I am incorrigible so it shouldn't take all that long, but first my recovery has to be readdressed. Onwards and upwards.
Cheers,
James.
P.s. Thank you Sherry, you are a gem.
Start with the next poem I write, if you like it read the following one, then if your interest is piqued well there’s lots about to choose from then! At the moment I don't have a poem in me, at the moment I cannot really believe in Adam's praise, at the moment I am two days sober as opposed to three months last sunday, my first "bust" as they say in AA, at the moment I suffer severe agoraphobia + depression + alcoholism + well you name it + I still smoke cigarettes (which would be bad enough on its own), at the moment I feel rather like crap as my body is pouring out sweat, at the moment I have to remind myself that today is the day I have to do myself the favour of not picking up the first drink, and I am doing that, at the moment I feel like a pill for depression not a cure, but then I did write some heart felt emotive and crucial stuff, mixed with some rather misogynistic looking ones which I am still scratching my head over, at the moment I am doing ok because I read poems and posts by good people on this forum, so Diane, stay tuned, JiminyC will write again one day soon I hope because I do enjoy it, but until then we can both enjoy the other nutters about hey, they give me strength right now, not my stuff; but from Adam's post I can glimmer it is not completely one way and that was so nice to hear.
Thank you for making me think though Diane, you helped me out a lot there and I bet you did it just because it's innate to you. I also wish to withdraw my stray dog statement which I posted in a passionate debacle back on page 2 I think, and apologise to my friend who had to withstand my tirade on that day I went into hospital, he is a good chap and I still haven't quite gotten my head around the whole humiliating ordeal, nor will I ever really; some things just happen and the outcome has been a long slow painful journey with pitfalls and tribulations. A big thank you to the people of the forum who have encouraged me too, there are lots of beautiful souls out there. Anyway stay tuned Diane, my next poem should be a beauty, even if it takes a lifetime; mind you I am incorrigible so it shouldn't take all that long, but first my recovery has to be readdressed. Onwards and upwards.
Cheers,
James.
P.s. Thank you Sherry, you are a gem.
Re: two pence, two days.
All the best to you JamesJiminyC wrote: Anyway stay tuned Diane, my next poem should be a beauty, even if it takes a lifetime; mind you I am incorrigible so it shouldn't take all that long, but first my recovery has to be readdressed. Onwards and upwards.
Cheers,
James.