Ekphrastic Poems

Hoping

After "Beyond the Broken Fence" by Jane Stairs

She and I, we both sat -
Just beyond the old fence.
It had been broken since way back,
It's purpose had lost sense.

The hill edge it guarded -
Still had it's steep sloping.
But the worry was discarded,
And so we sat Hoping.

For happiness and love -
Bright skies and peace to come.
We waited for all we dreamt of,
A drop of any crumb.

We sat beyond it all -
The broken fence, and past.
We would not miss the coming call,
Of Hopes alive at last.

 

 

Memory of a Mother

 

After "Like a Child" by Jane Stairs

 

I walked up to the old church.

The weight of history,

Running through the beams in the highest perch,

- Greatness and Mystery -

 

I sank into one of the pews.

The wood beneath me creaked, ancient,

The oak scent made a cue,

- Memory in Fragrance -

 

Of when my childhood home was built.

By the Mason's hillside,

How we dug through the stream's soft silt,

~ While the grey mortar dried ~

 

Of eating onions like apples.

While Mother was cooking,

She would give me samples,

~Of the Yorkshire pudding ~

 

And Somehow all these memories...

Were more precious in church,

After many years of worries

- And a funeral dirge -

Oh Writing!

That letters could mean so much,
And words could tear down kingdoms,
Or build courage in a soldiers heart.

That adventures can be started from sentences,
Or fears created by a string of words.

Speaking idly is a dangerous endeavor,
But writing idly is something lethal,
It can kill your peace of mind.

 

Bad Habit

Just as I thought!
You had no thoughts at all.
You spoke and thought you'd be wise,
But HA! No, none - wisdom's gone.
And who is to say that you ever had it?
It certainly doesn't show.
And shall I list for you your other failures?
Oh, you've grown too big.
You think you have over come,
But what dis you over come? Nothing.
Others had worse and they are better for it,
But you never seem to learn.
To think, you think people will listen to you!
Want to listen to you?
Laughable, and worse - pitiful.

I can't believe I just said all of that to myself again.

 

 

Quick Questions

Who's to say,
What the color of a daffodil is,
The nature of feeling what we call cold.

Who's to say,
That trees have green leaves,
And that no one can tell you any differently.

 

Stop for a Second

Listen very carefully - -
What do you hear?

Stop and count each sound.

Taste the air - -
It swirls around you,
Within your lungs.

Breathe - breathe,

Feel the swelling - -
Of your lungs,
The strength of oxygen,
In your blood.

The pulse - pulse - pulse

Of life surrounding - -
Your bones, muscles, and breath,
Breathe and listen,
Breathe and feel.

What do you hear?
What do you know?

 

Imagine

Take a moment to picture -
A black backdrop - negative space,
And let grow in it a silver sphere.

Let it turn round in that space -
Observe how some unknown light,
Glints across the visual edge.

Just enough light to catch the shine -
To show the turn.

Now pouring down comes the clear water -
A solid stream which dances off the sphere.

Watch holes the water doesn't flow in -
perfect lines straight down.

But lilts and looks as if some one's fingers -
Were distorting the stream as it comes down.

And now a light is focused through the water -
The stream turns pink then blue and orange,
And then remember that you are only imagining.

There is no sphere with colorful water in black space -
But yet it will always be there,
When you choose to remember it.

Ant Like

How terrifying would it be,
To be an ant in a world of humanity?
So small - among giants,
And for your size you would hold,
the strength of Sampson,
But compared to humankind,
Your strength is barely- a - barely.
Your life is so easy to miss,
That they don't realize,
Your body was plastered to,
The bottom of their shoe a week ago.

Worth of His Salt

The nomad stepped up to the scale,
And the merchant gestured towards the open plate.
The nomad stacked packed blocks of salt,
And slowly the scale shivered with the change.
As he stacked his salt he watched,
The merchant's weights on the other plate.
The scale was gold looking and the merchant's weights,
Were dark like charcoal, stacked tall and wide.
The nomad remembered how in the past,
The salt would go first, and the weights after.
The worth of a bounty determined by what was brought,
But now what was brought was worthless,
Unless it could match the merchant's weights.
He placed the last block on the scale and watched,
The scale arms settle with the weights hanging,
Just lower than the salt he had brought.
The merchant smiled, "sorry, friend."
The nomad watched the merchant collect the salt,
And was forced to walk away without salt or money.

Fraying

Fraying string.
One, two, three,
Strands tear.
The weight,
At the end,
Of it shutters,
And falls,
With each
Break
Until
It
D
R
O
P
S

 

On the Future

I have no recognition,
And question my strengths.
Wondering what I'm doing.
Trying to find my way.
I am told that's the nature,
of being someone young,
And that the old,
have the same questions.
But I will admit,
Some reassurance would be nice.

 

 

Break Apart the Sky

Like ripping open a grapefruit with only your fingernails.
Suck out its bitter juice and spit to the sea its thick seeds.
Gnash out its pinky flesh so the strings of it hang from your teeth.
Skies are not for observing but devouring.

So that constellations are like Pop Rocks snapping on your tongue.
So that the moon and sun are the grapefruits of the heavens.
And the bitterness in their juice is all the secrets they keep.
And maybe they will nourish with their almost unknowableness.

I Found Nothing

I was looking for something though.
Can't quite recall what it was.
But I had looked everywhere.

From the cocoa can that holds my starbursts wrappers,
To the binder which holds all my story ideas,
To the text book on the philosophies of education.
And something was unknowably missing.

 

Tree Planting

If you plant a tree it will not shade you,
For people always plant saplings.
They dream of the tree's shade, or fruit,
Or that the tree will make a hedge.
But trees out live them, out last them.
The trees they plant are the next's.
The new them's shade, the new them's fruit,
A hedge to make the new them's yard private.
So does that make planting trees not worth it?
No, because the new thems will need it!

 

Working

All the work was finished - the last of it done!
And then it all started back up again.
A kind of un-done-ness, if there's such a thing.
Amazingly there is always more to do!
And the work is always done to always start again.
Again and never end until maybe death.
An adventure of never ending!

 

Grownups

The grownups know.
Every child is taught that,
The grownups know -
Everything, and growing children -
The grownups know,
Will ask more questions of what,
The grownups know.
And the children,
The grownups know -
Will need direction by what,
The grownups know.
And they keep knowledge because,
The grown ups know,
The children can't figure out what -
The grownups know.

 

Children

I have been told that children can be cruel,
And frankly, I don't much understand them.
I never quite have - ask anyone who knows me.
But I have seen them be cruel - rip each other apart.
I have also seen a bottomless love that cures all.
Perhaps I still don't understand them.
I just think that they are remarkably what the are,
And understanding them is merely moot.

 

Green Leaves Only

I think I was just about to write -
A very poorly conceived idea.
I don't think you would've liked it.
Like how we teach children,
To only draw things as they are.

Photographic Realism in art.

Because perfection is better.
So, I'll save you the bother,
And keep the beautiful imperfection,
That I was going to write to myself.

Change in Love

There can be a change in love.

Where there was once hate,
Or at least some disliking.

There can be a change in love.

By the choosing to love,
Or experiencing long enough.

There can be a change in love.

 

Don't Worry

Wait for a minute and take a good look.

Oh, at what - you say?
Well, speak up I almost didn't hear you.

I was trying to tell you to take a look
At what was in view because you were distracted
By all the many things not in view

 

If faith can't be summed up in words.
Then I've said about all I can?

 

Small Insperation

One into the next
A word lights the fire
To make a new story
Out of some other

 

Argument for Loving

If journeys can be weighed
By every step that's taken
So that every door visited
Adds an ounce
And every life that's touched
Adds a pound
That every mile walked
Is like sand falling on a scale
So that gold could be
measured against it's worth
Then walk a thousand miles
And love every person
Ten thousand times more

 

Thoughtful Jokes

Depth in humor.
When a joke falls -
To the deep bottoms,
Of our minds provoking-
Some kind of thought.
Profound or simple.
It makes a thought-
Bred out of a laugh,
And they can be guilty-
Thoughts of sadness.
But it will always be.
Born out of a laugh.

 

Limits

Language is limited by having one voice.
And that only certain sounds make words.
But it can slowly become more whole --
When more and different voices speak together.

 

 

Home

Why is one short word so incredibly warm~
And so incredibly needed?
Whether home is a pair of boots and a hat,
Or a building grounded with foundation,
It is so incredibly needed.
A place where for unknown reasons,
You fit,
Just right.
And you fill it as it fills you ~
Like some beautiful metaphor.

 

Begining

One foot in the forest and the other in the ocean ~
A nymph, or fairy, or person stood.
That the wood and salt water were the most natural ~
So that they would fill the creature's blood.

 

Taste Words

Take some time to taste some words.
Don't speak them like baby's spit-up,
But let them roll in your mouth like a mint,
That snaps at your tongue with sweetness.

 

Possible Story

There was a small girl hiding in the briar patch.
Small and scraped she hugged her knees to her chest.
The thorns caressed her shoulders and ankles.
It was the kind of love she knew too well.
And yet knew that love was more than pain.
Her youth made her appear innocent.
Even as her innocence was stripped away.
And the thorns would pierce her soft skin.
For children only know how to offer their softness.
And she was safe in that briar patch.
Knowing that she could one day walk out of it.

 

Honor Among Books

Considering all that is known or can be known -
Is the sacred duty of books.
The record of every fact, question, and story -
In simple earthy tomes.

 

Not Enough Words

There is never enough words in the world,
To ever speak all of what you mean.
And yet it must be our goal -
To share all we have -- to every other
In deepest love and strongest sincerity.

 

Belief

Accused of believing too much?
Well what an I to do about that?
I believe in the crimes of man,
And the deep yearning good too.
I honestly do believe in God,
But I don't know all the answers,
And I believe worrying too much,
Can trick you into only seeing the pain.
Perhaps I believe too much,
And perhaps that's not true.

Few Many and All

There are few who can breathe,
but many who take breath.
Few who ever live,
But many who fall to death.
There are few who ever try,
But many who give up.
There are few who bare their hearts,
But many can't keep them shut.

And with all the undefined "things,"
That people do,
One thing all must learn to strive for,
Is to be wholly true.

Broken Down

The castle doors are being broken down,
The wood of the gate is splintering.
The King is being hidden,
Because the whole castle knows,
They are going to lose.

The castle doors are being broken down,
The wood of the gate is splintering.
The knights are charging,
To defend - to fight - and inevitably die,
As the enemy breaks through.

Foolish

If foolishness is a state of being -
Then I am a fool today.
Making all kinds of bad decisions,
Unprepared, poorly thought through!
What am I doing?
I think - just being foolish now and again.
Or fool hardy at least.

 

 

When the Art is Better Than the Artist

You are like a sour taste in my mouth,
Making my tongue prickle and burn.
Something I loathe to endure in idea,
But oddly accept and return to in taste.
And I can't say why I laugh with the sour,
Like you are the enjoying of comedy of menace.

 

Too Eclectic to be Loved?

I am too eclectic ~
How I write,
What I love,
All of it,
Is too different ~
To make sense,
Or perhaps be loved,
By any person,
Except maybe myself.

 

Unreal Worlds

Unreal worlds are my safety.
They are the places where there is no me, or I, or self.
Rather they breathe with their own life,
Move with their own form,
And cannot be defined except by frail observation.
And in that place I use too much imagery,
To try to make others understand,
And those tedious words pain to trim,
Because I wonder if you can see it.
These worlds on the very edge of your seeing.
These people on the edge of your knowing.
And they speak at the sacrifice of my voice,
For they or I can speak only in the air of silence.
And my world - our world - lives only,
When theirs dies from memory and mind.
In the end I find that these unreal worlds,
Are whole in my brokenness and break in my whole,
And all of us dance on this pendulum of potential.
The potential of being and not being,
And the risk of a word never being said,
To gain access to the unreal worlds.

Taunting Poem

Am I
Hard                    to
          Read
When
                                        I
                  Dance
All      over      
                           the        
                                                       page?

 

Words Make Me?

Who am I outside of words?
For someone so silent,
It may be an odd question.
Yet, I write and those words,
Never stop but flow on -
And on --
Yes, again, on ---
I write and those words break,
In questions of use and usefulness.
That my silent foundation still,
Leaves me unstable - outside of words.

 

Concern for Speach

Do I dare to speak...I don't know at all.
Sometimes words are dangerous things.
When my voice wounds your ear with,
Unintentional lack of innocence.
I realize that no words are truly safe.
The grown world tends to make the simple,
Fraught with strife and inconsistency.
It makes a "yes" or "no" into violent assaults.
How do we learn to speak with love,
When so many words are redefined with hate.
So, perhaps you can take my silence as an act of love.
Even if sometimes you'd be tempted to call it apathy.
For, perhaps, I just don't know what to say.

 

Fear

I think I've been faking it.
Whatever it is I'm doing,
May be an elaborate lie,
If only to fool myself.

 

Haze

I thought we were today ~
To seize the day ~
But I am only ~
In a fog.

 

If You Get My Meaning

Take on the wind - to beat the day - and dry the rain.
And do not dream of change, unless you mean to do it.

 

Understanding Poetry

I looked and thought
"What does this mean!"
"Why so shady and jaded?"
"Just say what you mean."
And everything in the poem
Said, "No."

 

Exhale

I had one moment to share my voice -
A line in air or in ink to be known.
And I thought you would listen.
So I spoke or wrote a phrase to you,
It was a prayer in unsaintly words.
A shout in the form of a whisper --
Which you took and buried in your heart.
Prompting from you an exhale of - love.
Which you gave by saying "very good."

I Am Not You

"I am not you."
A short profound phrase.
And so easy to miss - -
When we're busy being right.

 

Game On (Revised)

This game is like Portal,
"The cake is a lie."
And Master Chief's a myth,
When we live like KoToR's Exile.
And life gnaws our bones,
Like Mass Effect's husks,
When we run about,
Like Deadpool's various lusts.
We are like Hiyashi,
In anger madly shooting.
Grasping through grasses,
Like Link's looting.
Thinking deeper down,
DigDug-ing our way,
Like those fateful mages,
Caught in the Fade.
Jumping our barrels,
Like 1999 Donkey Kongs.
Our ghosts like Pacman's,
Keep coming back strong.
But life is always like it is,
Getting K.O.-ed isn't wrong.
It's as always up to us,
To declare "Game on!"

You Poems: Series on Observance

Observance

Look at the girl made of glass.

              Do you dare, my dear, to ask

                      Who she is under her shining skin.

                                 What life built her, grew her completion.

Or prefer you to write a story.

                     For her out of your mind's glory

                                  Then who would she be and so believed.

                                       Of your story written or of her own cleaved.

Of Your Making
If all you saw was made out of your mind,
What kind of shambled world would your eyes find?
There would be imperfections you could not remove,
And some crude tools which you could not use.
There is no such thing as a perfect world.
Not if man's twitchy fingers purled,
It off of their mind's knitting needles.
For all man's attempts prove to be feeble.
If you think that yours is really above par,
You may find out how useless you really are.

Looking Inward

Take one of your tears from the corner of your eye,

And gaze at the crystalline frame.

One tear is worth a world's worth of emotions,

And you don't dare let them fall.

For your emotions can become king of your mind,

And knot your heart and stomach closed,

So that there would be no chance for you to be seen,

And your strongest weaknesses kept secret.

If Only in Wishing
I thought I saw you the other day,
Like a memory faded gray.
You sat on a bench in the park we knew,
Sagging like my worn out leather shoe.
We had not seen each other in years,
Neither of us had bothered to stay here.
But I thought I saw you the other day,
But It's been so long since we went away.

Gibbet

You made a statue to watch the town.

And its eyes were always staring down.

I thought at times you lived in it.

Because the steely gaze seemed to fit.

And I've been talking to you every day.

Your bronze has gone green by the way,

And the skin under your eye has chipped,

And a crack is at your base where the ground dipped,

I've wondered why you've let yourself go to waste.

In a few years what will be left of your face?

But all you do is stand and stare down.

You should have done better at leaving town.

 

When We Think of Nobility

Take this as some kind of example;
That the ideas we like to call noble,
Are meant to be lived out by the dishonest,
And dishonesty always plagues the noble.

 

Reluctant Need

Find something else to do!
I have no need of you!
But when you turn away ~
I'll only beg you to stay.

 

Uneven

Missing milestones on the walk,
Proves privileges are not in stock,
For few who only have a lot of talk,
Given good Life's will to mock.

 

Overdrawn

I've been counting an awful lot.
The bills, the haves, the have nots.
And I find all accounts too small,
To ever satisfy them all.

 

Wonderings

There are a world of wonderings,
Which are meant to be explored.
Imaginations are made for these adventures,
Schools are built so that they are remembered.
If one world's wonderings are not,
Enough there'll be another to find.

 

Measuring Love

If closeness were measured,
By the weight of love,
We would have to build,
An unusual kind of scale,
To find out what we've known,
That closeness is love immeasurable.

 

Fire Watching Us

If fire were a person,
It could watch us burn,
Remark at the beauty,
In our many colors,
And sit by us to build,
fellowship with it's kin.

 

Crazy

Aren't we all rather crazy at times,
It is the necessity of mankind,
For true craziness only sets in,
When we resolve that we cannot win.

 

Silly Rhyme

Drip and drink in the sink
Salty eyes do often blink

 

Take it as a Joke

Take it as a joke if I seem too sad.
I've had a lot to think about of late.
Yes, it has been rather weighty thoughts.
But don't let them color my voice.
Taking me too seriously won't return joy.
If I say something sad take it as a joke.

Fancy Speech

Oh great tragedy!
I sound like I've walked,
Straight from history to here.
The crime of studying,
Literature's cannon.
Is creating an oddity,
In my modern tongue.

 

Travel

Where did you go?
Where are you now?
I've been holding on -
To memory hoping -
To meet you again.

 

Conform and Transform

Dare on, challenge more.
Speak loud, listen well.
Embrace tradition, and heritage.
Speak soft, listen carefully.
Dare more, challenge on.

 

The Heart

Imagine, if you will,
The sound of a beating heart.
Steady, Strong, Simple.
And all life depends on it.
And so easily it may fail.
Yet the heart beats on,
Unnoticed in its hard work.

Whisper

If we listen to every whisper -
We may find that there is no -
Labored breath in the whisper -
Just a prayer or a word.
Which pain cannot stifle.

Mortality

The tower of every great man,
Must whether every storm that comes.
A shelter cannot take shelter of its own,
And one day will decay to unknown.
Shambles make the monuments
To the no longer known.