"A Saner Place" folder
8/27/56 12:44:00 PM Opening ÒSystem Log 8/27/56Ó for recording.
Subj: A first attempt... 95-05-22 10:53:24 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
at keeping the pace slow and easy. I believe valid comments are welcomed and I invite them, but would like to see an attempt to be supportive here. This was posted elsewehere.
AT FIRST LIGHT
I heard the notes of her song;
unmistakable robin's tune.
She had kept her night vigil in
the lilac bush outside my window.
I, unable to sleep,
watch the sun appear:
a thing white line separating
earth from firmament
ever widening,
changing hue;
palest yellow
with a touch of fuchsia
and finally the
unnamable color
of full daylight.
In the spreading half-light
her song grows louder
warning away the starling
or hawk
or me, as I
peer into her nest.
Untiring, this mother. When
does she sleep? When
does she know it is safe
to close he eyes and
silence her sung vigil?
Diana 1995
Subj: glad eyes 95-05-22 18:02:25 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Glad Eye
...to Harry Mitchell, solo circumnavigator,
lost at sea at age 70
His lucky charm was a lady's shoe --
black satin, stilletto, worn to rags
by lady luck, who gave him the glad eye,
more or less, for many a nautical mile.
She winked once in '86 , and they ran aground
on the fine white sand off New Zealand's South Island;
she winked again in '91, and a lusty swell
drove them into the side of a Brazilian tanker.
But they didn't miss one seven o'clock
below deck gin and tonic, their Happy Hour.
Someday they'd round the Cape of Horn together
and get him his prize gold earring; but a 60 knot gale
and thirty foot seas, Antarctica to starboard
and the rocky tip of Argentina to port
are hard on a girl. So Harry said, "Let's sleep a bit
dear. You can close your glad eyes now.
For everywhere's to windward
in these black antipodes, rocking and
rocking our seaworthy cradle
with a mast for a bough..."
5.21-5.22.95
Subj: an old one for the new home... 95-05-22 19:20:44 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Mangos at Midnight
If I were rich I could build
a house upon the beach.
Furnish it grandly with
pillows of silk and
angel hair rugs.
I would not cry
if the sea should claim her
For we would travel
to exotic places;
dance under foreign stars.
Eat mangos at midnight
and munch cashews at dawn.
I'd sip sweet moonlight
from your shoe
and never eat peas.
But for now, our home is parked
on the navel of the nation.
Should the sea journey to take her
I would weep.
For she is furnished
with pillows of love,
and soft rugs of hope.
We travel only to the market and back,
but the stars dance overhead
to the rhythm of our dreams.
Your shoe nicely cradles
my favorite beer,
and the peas burst green,
tender and sweet upon my tongue.
Subj: Re:glad eyes 95-05-22 19:47:37 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Beautiful tribute, Dr Swan. I remember this man and his story. Thanks
Subj: Re:an old one for the new home.. 95-05-22 19:49:45 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Ducky, this poem is so full of rich images...and I swear, I don't think I've ever read it before!
I like the transition from fantasy world to real world...beer and peas...good!
Subj: hope I don't wear out my welcome 95-05-22 21:10:01 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
And a new one....too fresh (the last 10 minutes) probably to be posted, but ever the rebel, here it is anyway <G>:
Contentment
Imagine dryness
no moist passion
to rain on you
to skip through veins
to wet your cracked
and bloodied tongue
no lust to water you
with images
of sun and sea
of lush pacific breezes
of love
Imagine living
suspended in sand
barren and joyless
all desire evaporated
from your flesh
the aching tears
dried down to
embittered salt
that erodes your face
and burns hope
from your lips
Imagine slipping
silent
into a pale
and wormless
grave
Subj: Re:hope I don't wear out my welc 95-05-22 21:18:03 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Sand, salt, dessication, 'pale and wormless grave' --
great images of aridity, what a biter 'contentment' -- I love the image 'suspended in sand...' sensual in its own way...
Subj: typo, and lame excuses 95-05-22 21:22:07 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
biter=bitter.
(Awright, you try typing with webbed feet!..oh, yeah, ducky, I guess you have...)
Subj: Something newish... 95-05-22 21:33:01 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
A poem I wrote as a shower gift for a staff member's newborn baby girl. The parents are Japanese but live in CA near our main office. Somehow rhyme seemed apropos for a child.
A WISH FOR MIKI ROSE
May you bloom like your namesake flower,
Golden bud just greenly begun.
Catch California stardust for spirit,
Warm your roots in the rising sun.
Thrive in grace, yet command respect,
Empower yourself with pliable thorns,
Flourish in female enchantment,
Taste butterfly kisses on misty morns.
Your mother presents you gentle strength,
Your father sweet music bestows,
A big brother offers a hand to hold,
Grow in our garden, Miki Rose.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
m.w.h.
Subj: A saner place? 95-05-22 23:16:08 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
I'm not sure I qualify.... :)
I am hoping for a serious critique of this. I wrote this about
my father. (I move l500 miles away and all of a sudden he
can talk to me on an emotional level) sigh....I hope to show
this to my parents sometime. I have worked a little on the
3rd stanza.....still may be awkward.....I don't want to use a
question mark....I know...picky picky.... :)
Stolen Songs
I was surprised
when I heard
you
playing that piano.
All those years
passed by
and I never knew.
You said you
taught yourself
to play
when you were
a child.
You recalled
the time
you stood in a doorway
and watched your father
take an ax to the
piano you loved.
Chips of ivory,
splinters of wood...
flying violently.
He scolded you for
crying and called you
a sissy.
He told you he needed
firewood.
I wonder now
had I heard
you play that
beautiful music
all those years
if I would have become
musically inclined.
Instead, I listened
to silence
and watched
mother
draw pictures.
Subj: Re:glad eyes 95-05-22 23:17:15 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
I was on a boat once when the mast really DID break.
At least the bow didn't break.
Love this!
ps: typos and lame excuses??? you oughtta see me
type with this fin
Subj: Re:hope I don't wear out my welc 95-05-22 23:18:10 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Contentment: wonderful
"skip through veins"----what a rush
And mangoes....yes I remember!
Subj: Re:Something newish... 95-05-22 23:18:55 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
What a beautiful gift, Lacey.
Subj: Re:an old one for the new home.. 95-05-22 23:51:25 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
I like this poem alot
Subj: Re:some and one 95-05-23 00:35:33 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Like the new nest!! Ducky you outshine yourself here,both are some of the best of yours I've read,great imagery.Swan sigh what to say everything of yours is so hard to cut where where no place...love the boat story.Write the buddhist primer again that made me uncomfortable I'll chop it LOLThe soft nature of this folder is your signature Diana and it fits...
9/27/88
two lips to press
to mine
rows upon rows
grown fine
or kids under foot
in time
blah sums of total
de vine
Dwain
Subj: Sheesh I'm, Looney 95-05-23 02:03:28 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
An impromptu trip to Vons
just a little after six
to grind some 'Morning Blend'
and grab some carrot sticks.
I wandered each and every aisle
sucking in my gut
till finally in the produce aisle
I saw the cutest butt.
She must have been a gardener
I knew she cared a lot,
caressing each tomato
to ensure it showed no spot.
But when our baskets finally bumped
I had to close my eyes
and grip the cart with all my strength;
she mustn't see me cry.
Subj: Delighted to accept...... 95-05-23 02:09:42 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
My lady Diana, if it please you, I am delighted to accept an invitation to your new abode.... Who could refuse acceptance into such a group as is found here.....
Having lost track over time of what has been posted and where, I submit the following selections, chosen from my efforts by dearest Lacey. If I bore you with repetition, please accept my apologies.
Willowmere
<O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O><O>
Faierie Colleen
Enraptured,
I watch
while a tiny spark
dances upon my window pane.
An ethereal courier,
a messenger emerging
from the void of darkness.
In nights now past
and tonight again
it dances, pirouettes,
forming arcs and lines
upon the glass.
Arcs and lines,
meaningless runes in the beginning;
but of their composite,
as blades of grass form a meadow,
the beginning of an image
forms before my mind's eye.
An image
with the dawning in her hair
and the seas in her eyes.
An image with sunkissed cheeks
and a sadness in her heart.
A distant Tuatha daughter,
soulmate seeking in the void.
I know,
that on the morrow again,
I must wait at my window
for the darkness.
Wait in hope for the scintillation
that it may tell me
if the image
has form beyond the void,
if the spark
shall bestir a flame.
Subj: Complement...................... 95-05-23 02:10:46 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
Complement
You are the other element,
the me I need to be complete.
Our souls, each distinct,
mesh as one
through common thought,
common emotion.
Each sensitive to the other,
sentences unfinished,
actions precede words
unsaid, unnecessary,
just known.
You are the one who will accept
the man I am,
the man I can be,
without facade.
You are the lover who pleases
and is pleased,
asking no more,
giving no less.
You are as incomplete without me
as I am without you.
If as some say,
all reality lies within the powers
of the mind;
then we have created each other
with our longing, our need,
and wait only for the bonds to draw us together
on this spinning
speck of dust.
Subj: Today........................... 95-05-23 02:11:41 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
Today
I sat with my coffee at sunrise,
watching hummingbirds pirouette outside my window,
and thought of you.
I stood in the wind this morning,
listening to the song of the trees while they danced,
and thought of you.
I drank hot chocolate this afternoon,
watching the rain and lightning from my porch swing,
and thought of you.
I walked the beach this evening,
While the storm surf crashed under washed crystal skies,
and thought of you.
I lay in my bed tonight,
feeling the quiet, the dark, the loneliness,
and thought of you.
Subj: lieder...(German for 'songs') 95-05-23 09:28:06 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
With these 'songs' I sing your praises and send my love...
Ducky...'salt that erodes your face'...now I know where the wrinkles come from...:) 'suspended in sand' is a really interesting image! 'pale and wormless grave' almost carries a bit of hope... Nothing's ever too 'fresh' to be put here...:)
Lacey...I absolutely CRIED...what a wonderful gift this must have been! I wrote a song the day my neice was born...my brother called to tell me she was 'here' and her name was Jessica. I lay down for a little nap and when I woke up, the song was full-grown in my mind. It was a fascinating experience...never happened again...
Bella...I think you don't need the question mark..it's ok with that other word change...:)
DAWINK: Thank you for the kind words and the poetry offering...it's kinda funny and kinda sweet, too.
JFBB...oh, mercy! LOLOL The 'phantom gardner' again, eh?
Willowmere...thank you for gracing this folder with your work...:) 'Faierie Colleen' is so lovely and lyrical...more, more!! "Complement" speaks to the old adage 'there's somebody out there for everyone'...but does so with grace and understanding beyond dreams. "Today"...I like the way you followed through with the theme of dancing...and movement from beginning to end. I also like the pictures you paint (gee, aren't they called images?)...mmm!
Subj: a rewrite...never seen 95-05-23 09:31:52 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Rewrote this with some fine suggestions from our friend Dark...
WORDLESS
In winter, mid-sentence,
when I need most the warmth of
your parenthetical embrace,
you cannot muster words
enough to touch me
where I once felt
your lip and finger trace...
the lingering adverb smoothed
across my cheek...
adjective waltzed along my
thigh toward its nesting place.
Will spring's sun
bring flowering words to mind...
recall for me the way an
improper noun became a grace?
Diana 1995
Subj: Suspicion 95-05-23 16:21:00 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Little boy
asked his teacher
how she knew
someone else
completed
the assignment
for him.
a friendly disposition
call it women's intuition
had a premonition
call it women's intuition
If he were older
she might have told him
that she still knows
how to spot a fake I.D.
After all, in her college days
she was a waitress.
knew what she was missin'
had to pay tuition
no time for wishin'
had to pay tuition
She watched people play,
she heard men say
every line
imaginable.
She even kept a journal
for a laugh or two.
She developed a thick skin
for this no-win
situation.
She learned
a saucy wit
brought great tips.
genuine smile is missin'
gotta pay tuition
put up with their hissin'
gotta pay tuition
She knew back then
some sailors
could not be trusted;
and somehow they knew
they wouldn't get too far.
No one really wants
to get busted;
but bouncers
became bodyguards,
and every night
after her shift,
Mario and Jake walked
her to her car.
In l976
she burned her uniform,
but kept her journal.
hung out a sign "gone fishin"
paid up her tuition
acquired a teaching position
no more tuition
She thinks it's easier
to work
in a classroom
full of children
than in a lounge
full of men.
Her saucy wit
brings no tips now;
but most
of the smiles
are genuine.
May 22, l995
Subj: Suspicion,read this one instead 95-05-23 16:41:53 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
oops.....missed a stanza.....sigh (she really called them "men o' demolition")
Little boy
asked his teacher
how she knew
someone else
completed
the assignment
for him.
a friendly disposition
call it women's intuition
had a premonition
call it women's intuition
If he were older
she might have told him
that she still knows
how to spot a fake I.D.
After all, in her college days
she was a waitress.
knew what she was missin'
had to pay tuition
no time for wishin'
had to pay tuition
She watched people play,
she heard men say
every line
imaginable.
She even kept a journal
for a laugh or two.
She developed a thick skin
for this no-win
situation.
She learned
a saucy wit
brought great tips.
genuine smile is missin'
gotta pay tuition
put up with their hissin'
gotta pay tuition
She knew back then
some sailors
could not be trusted;
and somehow they knew
they wouldn't get too far.
No one really wants
to get busted;
but bouncers
became bodyguards,
and every night
after her shift,
Mario and Jake walked
her to her car.
men o' demolition
protect my pocket of tuition
someday others will listen
gotta get past this tuition
In l976
she burned her uniform,
but kept her journal.
hung out a sign "gone fishin"
paid up her tuition
acquired a teaching position
no more tuition
She thinks it's easier
to work
in a classroom
full of children
than in a lounge
full of men.
Her saucy wit
brings no tips now;
but most
of the smiles
are genuine.
May 22, l995
Subj: Willowmere 95-05-23 16:43:31 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
I'm sorry everyone....but I just have to....just this once
then, I promise I'll be good....
s i g h .........
There, I feel much better now......
Subj: Re:a rewrite...never seen 95-05-23 17:05:36 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
I'm wordless
thanks
made me want to fall in love again.
Subj: chansons (french for lieder) 95-05-23 17:20:46 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Ducky, this is my first reading of "Mangoes at Midnight," and its lovely. I like its symmetry, and the movement from the exotic to the (albeit sensually heightened) domestic... "parked on the navel" is a great image...it sets up an expectation of mundanity, and the reader is surprised by the tenderness and hopefulness of what follows...
Lacey, "A Wish for Miki Rose" grows so musically from the image in the child's name -- I love the "pliable thorn" empowerment !
Bella -- (swan, trespassing into Bella's poem, penultimate verse...)
And what if you'd played
these beautiful songs
for all of those years --
I wonder, now,
would I, listening,
have leaned (grown, inclined)
to music.
(avoids the repetion of "music" and simplifies "would have become"...)
(Feel free to chase swan out of poem. Swinging a large broom is an effective swan deterrant...as are large dogs)
Why thank you, DWAINK; maybe someday Swan will tackle the eightfold noble path, and she invites your Dharmic blades along for the journey (glancing in deep shame at cat-hair covered zafu, resigning herself to many more samsaric rounds....) 9.27.88 is a sweet little turn on domestic dreams "de vine" ....
Diana -- "Wordless" : beautiful. I remember this one, but not well enough to appreciate whatever polishing you've done. It's spare, thight, musical, graceful...and that last line's a killer...brava
JFBB, I liked your Grocery song, for its humor, and the unexpected turn at the end, the tears... (I once felt oddly moved to tears in the market at the sight of a nun poring over the selection in the meat case...who can figure?)
Willowmere, "Faerie Colleen" is so delicate and beautiful: and yet it deals with the powerful conjuring of longing and creation out of the darkness. in "Today" I like how "the thought of you" quietly permeates the whole poem just as it has the speaker's day...
Subj: lunch! 95-05-23 18:08:09 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Still Life Lunch on the Anorexia Ward
At first glance, a stillness, as if of grace
or of contrition seems to hang
in the charged air above the plates
where trespasses, or daily bread,
are given and forgiven. It might even pass
for the cowed silence of a novices'
refectory, except that these are the faces
of old hand ascetics that bow to the food,
and not of apple-cheeked arrivees
flush from the secular world. Something
queers the stillness between appetite
and object here -- not gratitude, impatience
or even witness, but something duller.
It clogs the air like a dense miasma
of Sunday roast, so thick that conversation
stops, gravy congeals, and the wedged mystery
of incarnation gestures for a Heimlich.
The emptied plate is nothing but a clock face,
the filled stomach is heavy as a concrete boot.
But what in snapshot seems to hang in perfect balance
time lapse reveals as marasmus and decay.
5.22-23
Subj: Na Olelo Pokole 95-05-23 19:14:41 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Na Olelo Pokole.....Hawaiian for Brief Expressions
pronounced: Nah Oh lay low Poh koh lay...
I know, I should get a life.
Diana, I love At First Light...especially the second stanza
and your excellent description of the sunrise...
And I remember Wordless too...beautiful and sad.
Tbone: Looney....? I knew that. But, you never told me you
had a gut? sheesh....I have a little "ditty" somewhere about
"coming out to play".....I don't think I saved it....it was SO bad.
I posted it once in Want To Learn Something....I think.
Swan: lunch.....well, you amaze me, as always. I see these
images so very clearly. I would like to illustrate a little
bookletta for this one!....Great line: "The emptied plate is nothing but a clock face".....also love the concrete boot description.
Subj: Re:A first attempt... 95-05-23 19:16:27 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
This is very pleasant to read, pleasant imagery, the light, the colors, the sound.
Subj: Tribute to William Carlos Willia 95-05-23 19:50:26 EDT
From: HEARSAID
Posted on: America Online
This poem is a tribute to the poet William Carlos Williams called "William's Loaner"
This is just to say
I used your red wheel
barrow
I had some loose
gravel
that needed moving
so don't
worry about it
I will return it when
I am finished
Subj: Re:Tribute to William Carlos Wil 95-05-23 20:15:07 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Clever!
Have you read Kenneth Koch's "Tribute to William Carlos Williams" ?
swan
Subj: oops! 95-05-23 20:17:02 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
I mean "variations on a them by WCW" !
(the aging brain...
....sigh.)
swon
Subj: re:Re:oops! 95-05-23 20:18:50 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
"VARIATIONS ON A THEME BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS"
(there.)
s. (ob)
Subj: I'll say no more... 95-05-23 20:21:01 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
"There is nothing more pathetic than a tongue-tied swan..."
Emmanual Kant,
The Critique of Pure Reason
Subj: a 'fall' poem, really... 95-05-23 20:31:18 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
THE REMAINS
Skeletal remains
of hand-like leaf
fine, thin skin
withered and blown
leaving a lace of vein.
Artery of stem
once nourished
wrist and palm.
Sere snowflake, each
tracery of capillaries
- unique by segment -
nearly colorless.
Transparent wind
blows thorugh delicate bones
left behind in autumn's chill.
Diana1994
Subj: Re:Na Olelo Pokole 95-05-23 22:06:55 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
>Date: 95-05-23 19:14:41 EDT
>From: Bella K226
>Tbone: Looney....? I knew that. But, you never told me you
>had a gut?
Welllllll, I didn't really have to suck it in *too*far (and I can still wear my shirts tucked in).....
Subj: Re:a 'fall' poem, really... 95-05-23 22:08:40 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
I always said you were the teacher, Di. This is truly beautiful; I can see the images, and we don't even have seasons here in SoCal!!
Subj: Re: Stolen Songs 95-05-23 22:16:50 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
I hesitate to offer any suggestions to you Bella, as you write so enchantingly and I would never want to do anything to break one of your spells. Yet I love you, and wouldn't want you to think I didn't care enough to put forth an effort on your behalf. So in that state of hopeless confusion (you know, the one women always create?), I offer this alternative...
I wonder, father...
if I had heard
you play that
beautiful music
all those years,
would I have become
musically inclined?
Subj: Yet another... 95-05-23 22:47:11 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
Oh my...what a serene spot you have created here, Diana, populated with some of my favorite people and feathered friends, LOL. I find little to critique and much to admire in the last day's postings..truly a panoply of the best and the brightest.
I must thank Willowmere for adding three favorites at my request, and join Bella in one long heaving <sigh>, redolent with yearning.
Appreciate all your comments on my poem for Miki Rose. When I finally grew stalwart enough to admit that I was, in fact, one of those freakish creatures called "sorta-a-poet", I began making gifts of my work on special occasions. (Try it..sure beats scanning the bridal registry at Macy's :) The following was written for a friend who was married at a beautiful winery in San Diego several years ago.
EPITHALAMIUM
A Wedding Poem for Lori and Bruce, May 2, 1992
"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect
and touch and greet each other."
Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet.
May wine mellowed today
demands balance,
fox grape and woodruff,
acid and sweet,
oneness and variation.
Where there is balance,
there is sameness and difference;
from sameness and difference,
desire is born.
Sap rises, and mystic sympathy
between vine and wine
excites a second fermentation.
Needless mortals dare today
to clarify, ratify, validate
vintage which wants only
time, light, shelter, motion,
freedom to breathe.
Ceremonials salute blends,
acknowledge promise.
Great wine falls bright in
new barrels without witness;
matures rich and deep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
m.w.h.
Subj: Anticipation 95-05-23 23:09:41 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
Anticipation
Imagine damp salt air
as it penetrates your clothes,
soaking into your ravished skin;
swelling your membranes
with passion's juices
seeping past parched lips
to leave the sweaty taste
of masculine embrace.
Imagine living
where the wind blew
cool across bare skin
warmed by mid-day sun;
where the ocean waited
to engulf your body
in its endless rows
of renewing caresses
and gently
bear your weight.
Imagine slipping
silent
into a wondrous
underwater realm
with me.
Tbone...
Subj: Re:Anticipation 95-05-24 01:26:22 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
TomatoLady's butt musta been pretty cute, ay?
-nice poem-
I too imagine salt air.....us old folks here in the south
don't see much ocean, ya know.......anyway...you see, it's a
good thing because I don't have to get my "quarterback"
body into one of those little bathing suits....
Mostly, I'd like to get my quarter back.....
ahem.......Talk about "goin' south".......apologies..... :)
See y'all in a few days
Bella
Subj: soup&quackers 95-05-24 01:28:20 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Diana -- Thank you for making this wonderful, warm, and sane? ..ahem...place. Already it feels like home. "At First Light" is a song of unbearable beauty, diva. "unnamable color" is a glorious high note of that song.. "Wordless" once again left me speechless. "the remains"...what vision you have...so perfect a description.
Swan-- LOL...yes, I know 'bout web-footed typos. I'm luckier than you, though, I don't have to peck out all those hundred dollar words that you are so fond of and that send me running to the reference books <G> (thank you for that, btw) "Glad Eye"...What a wonderful story and that last stanza is perfect. "Anorexia Ward" Love "marasmus and decay"...a perfect "snapshot".
Lacey--"A wish" ... What a wonderful gift! The gift of self, music, and color. She is a blessed child from the start with this. Your
"Epithalamium"....the richest of wines, what an intoxicating gift this is.
HEARSAID---"tribute to wcw"...Well, now that I am near finished shaking with laughter from the rare sight of a tongue-tied Swan, I shall welcome you and tell you I like this little "tribute". (though I've never been sure it *all* depended on that red wheel barrow<G>)
Dwaink--Nice to see you here. "9/27/88"...kind of sad isn't it? Like the "de vine".
Bella--"stolen songs"...love what you have done with this one. "suspicion"...Hmm..I was a waitress too. I guess I didn't learn as well as the teacher. Like this alot.
Willowmere--Never fear that you would bore us with the repetition of any verse so lovely as these are. "faierie"...lovely and lyrical. Could most easily "bestir a flame" ..."Complement"...This is wonderful. I love "wait only for the bonds to draw us together/ on this spinning/ speck of dust" I wonder if the words "these bonds" (as they are so beautifully described in the body of the poem) could replace "the bonds"? I don't know, it seems somehow more intimate a phrase..."Today"...know this feeling well. Shall I repeat Bella's *sigh*?<G>
Tbone--"looney"...love this (and your sudden shirt tucking vanity is charming too<G>) LOLOL...Now, as for "anticipation" ...Whew! This is "contentment" methinks.<G> (maybe this belongs in "erotica"?<EG>). ::Running for cold shower::
Love&Peace,
Ducky
Subj: dra-yang Tibetan for ... 95-05-24 01:53:33 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
This for my uncle's funeral:
Jim
Again your voice rings
out ahead of me
beyond my ability
to grasp
just as a child I beheld
your politics without
comprehension
only to understand the joy
each objective filled you
with
learning to respect
your advice
which always startled
with its clarity and
command of knowledge
even now your words
rain down on me
prodding with your
experience
to celebrate life anew
this last water grey day
Dwain 5/18/92
Subj: Re: This Folder 95-05-24 03:16:21 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Diana, there is nothing I could say to you that, undoubtedly, you haven't heard before my meager post . You are a poet. You're inspirational for control of language and imagery, and well just inspirational.
Bella- you touched me with the poem of your father. I don't know if it's relational or what? Possibly just a good poem.
Every poem deserves a good comment, for those I don't critique here.
"It's not too late to swim, There's just no where to swim to" or "A Natural Progression, I guess"
I've let myself get too far out,
And surely the waves eat the distant shore.
I learned to relax in the water &
Trust the moon as she makes waves with the wind.
Having been taught the rewards of Stoicism,
I began to float in the gulfs of troubles.
To go with the flow.Relax &
Wait for the horizon. BUT
For the lingering surmounting
agitation of no apparent destination of the
Growing waves,Tossing,Swallowing & Spitting
Seemingly Always
Back Down
To the same Hole of water-in a fit of anxiety-I
Claw at the liquid time, passing through my
Fingers. Moving Passing Below & Around Me,But
Never with me.
I grab for land, Beach, Solidity, but alas it seems
the sea has swallowed her too, if ever she existed.
In the trough of two waves,
Even the horizon is missing.
I cry to the moon to pull
Some magical tide.
To bring Fruition to Floating or
To just swallow me in some storm
in the sea of tranquility.
Subj: lieder... 95-05-24 11:03:33 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Bella...'suspicion' is so cool! I like the rhyming parts set off from the unrhymed parts...that makes the form interesting. The subject ...well, that I understand...been there/done that...LOL
Swan...thanks for the good words on 'wordless'. The changes were in just the first and third lines (didn't expect you to remember, that's why I felt justified to post is again...ahem....<G>) Had to look up 'marasmus'...good word! 'anorexia ward' is a particularly moving poem. I like the tie between the holiness of 'blessings' and futility (if I can call it that)of the emptiness.
Hearsaid...Oh, how I laughed! What a clever parody!!
JFBB...thanks for the good words on the 'leaf' poem...:) 'tis good you can 'see' it...it's a stark sight. 'anticipation'...lemme see, wasn't that the title of a great Carly Simon song?? Ooooooo, T, this is so...so....ooooooooooo!! Great answer to Ducky's 'contentment'....YOW!
Laceylog...Oh, Lacey, thanks for posting
Epithalamium!! It's lovely...and was so helpful for my own brother's wedding!
DWAINK...Oh, the poem to your uncle is so good! Especially liked 'even now your words rain down on me."
SevernX...whoever you are, I thank you for the kind words and welcome! Your poem is awfully good. The 'sea of tranquility' at the end is rather surprising!
Subj: if you'll forgive me, Bella 95-05-24 11:07:48 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
I think this is the poem you referred to (something about coming out to play)....I've taken the liberty of 'relocating' it...:) I also LOVE it!
1.
It was a hard driving rain,
the kind that knocks
Rhododendron
blossoms to the ground.
Now I have a basket
full of Rhodies.
2.
The grass is wet
he can't come out to play
His shoes are new.
He used to care
about her garden.
3.
The mud is warm
beneath my bare feet.
The weeds are playing
ring around the
roses.
4.
No matter how hard
we try,
to keep our eyes dry
we all fall
down.
Subj: Re:an old one for the new home.. 95-05-24 16:08:12 EDT
From: MarionEL
Posted on: America Online
I loved it! I could read between the lines--I remember too!
Subj: purple swan 95-05-24 20:54:14 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
An old one. One of swan's very few love poems. I think I've posted it before. Does "urge and thrust/of complex erosions" qualify this as erotica ? Mainly, I think, I was playing wih the prefix "com-" ...
Air and Earth
At compline,
lingering in the west,
the amber light
reveals a poised complicity
of earth and air -
trees, in their blue
composition with the wind,
these two most disparate elements
cohabiting, strange, with uttermost
discretion and delight
the difficult twilights
of earliest spring -
a duplicitous composure
that nearly masks
the urge and thrust
of complex erosions, to be sure,
but of valiant unsuccess:
as cries of wind
their strident incompletions make
at nightfall: as we
strike, don't we,
across the space of
our complaisance, love,
some bright compassion ?
January 1986
Subj: Re:a 'fall' poem, really... 95-05-24 20:58:44 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
The image of hand as drying leaf is beautiful...I especially liked how you moved from vein, to artery nourishing wrist and palm... and the capillaries...the unity of nature, its correspondences...and a hint at rebirth ?
Subj: need help w/ this & the next 95-05-24 21:06:00 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
(terrible title, if nothing else...LOL)
AFTER CLASS ON
A FOGGY NIGHT
I pour myself into a
rain forest this night,
mingle with ethereal drops
that kiss my hair,
curl round my face;
swim through the fog
like some amphibian
- cold-blooded -
the chill seeping
through my slimy skin
into my bones.
Tactle, cloying, suffocating.
I try to peel away the cotton
before my eyes
and am met with more,
soaked in brine, stinging my lids,
turning red the whites,
blurring my vision.
The incredible silence of fog
with touch as light
as fairy's tread
and the imperceptible hum
of a thousand generations
gone.
Driving through it, I follow a line
like notes of a melody
across the staff;
its weaving note heads, stems and flags
float by on my left,
the gounding bourdon to my right.
How incongruous that
here in this mist
I recall your voice
and that you tasted
sweet in the morning.
Subj: this is the next...:) 95-05-24 21:06:37 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
A FINE LINE
This distance is spanned
by bridge becoming plank,
then cable, rope,
twine, string,
wire, thread,
filament...
then razor's edge.
I must walk
barefooted
across the chasm below
while the breath of time
twirls round my head.
His voice
pierces my ear with
sweetness,
tearing apart what
little resolve
I have to stay alive.
This is a love poem
(did you know?)
suspended out
over the precipice.
Subj: Re:a 'fall' poem, really... 95-05-24 21:10:17 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
You'll never believe this, but I was actually talking about the LEAF looking like an old, withered HAND....mercy!
Major re-write necessary, here...! Well, the metaphor was sure clear, just backwards..LOLOLOL
Subj: Repost by Patch 95-05-24 22:07:16 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
Bella told me about this quiet place, so thought I'd repost an oldie;
summer-sounds
1992 Patricia R. Piatt
bernice and me. . .play hopscotch
on hot, growing-up summer mornings:
she. . .marking out squares
with yellow soft-stone while I nestled,
scrunched down in the grass. . .eyes shut fast,
soaking up sun
and summer-sounds:
the harsh scratch-scrape of her stone
drawing magic numbers on slated walks;
the busy droning, coming and going
murmur of bees. . .the whining,
the bizzing, the buzzing and zizzing
of a million myriad insect songs;
squirrels
quarreling with squirrels
and the birds. . .the birds!
whistling, whirruping, cheeping and chirruping,
adding their din
to the summer-sounds.
bernice would call for the game to begin
and struggling. . .to let it all go,
I'd stand up to throw the first stone,
sleepy-eyed and toasty,
baked like a potato from the morning sun
and nearly drowned
by summer-sounds.
Subj: since muse is sailing..an oldie 95-05-25 00:26:10 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Reading Whispers
The moon's thin smile
lends light enough
to read whispers by.
A braille..
Of fingertips& breathless
tongue-tracings.
Of trembled hands
learning truer
rhythms.
Of tastes that feed
an ancient hunger,
inflame remembered fevers.
Of a heated rising pulse..
and,at last, the rubied sun.
Reflecting it's light
--fallen stars--
your sapphire eyes.
Subj: Re:Careful... 95-05-25 02:22:50 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
twin orbs
that anoint
your body
dripping
( a slow movement )
in case you don't
know
between them stand
awaiting
Dwain 90
Subj: lieder... 95-05-25 14:03:11 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Swan...I think your love poem is lovely...and no, not qualified for the
erotica folder...LOL Although if 'com' had a slightly different
spelling...ahem...'scuse me...<blushing>
Patch...so glad you stopped by...and thanks for bringing THIS one...it's one
of my favorites! I am THERE and soaking up the sounds and sun. What a sweet
piece of work!
Ducky....oh, DUCKY!....mmmm, 'trembled hands'...'tongue-tracings'...'ancient
hunger'......ooooo, girl....this so sensuous!
Dwain...this poem is dangerous! It, too is very sensuous...put it together
with Ducky's and KA-BOOM...we'll have an exploding folder...LOL Nice!
Subj: kissing up 95-05-25 17:43:00 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
-just kiddin'- :)
Will try to get back later with comments....
I told Patch I posted my "need help" plea in here.... and told her
how nice y'all were to help with the piano poem.
she offered a "fabulous letter" ....and this thought:
I will always wonder,
if I had heard you play
that beautiful music,
whether I would
have become
musically inclined.
Subj: Re:this is the next...:) 95-05-25 17:55:19 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
"A Fine Line" is good. I view the previous poem as "work in progress."
Subj: I'm new here.... 95-05-25 19:24:01 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
From my readings of the messages in this 'corner' of the AOL universe, I take it that DianaSings is the near the center of the activity. So, to DianaSings, I would liketo submit a short poem for your consideration.
Netwalking
It wanders far pathways
my electronic soul
It carries no wants
I give it no goal.
I've taught it to ramble
to wander...to prise
open new routings
which may not be wise.
I've set it to searching
I've sent it to read
I've sent it just looking
but I don't know the need.
If I add to my wisdom
is that a fair measure
of these wanderings I do
just for sheer pleasure.
Subj: lieder... 95-05-25 20:50:22 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Bella...Patch is always full of good ideas...that should come as no surprise! I like what she did with that troublesome stanza!
(Patch...post some more...:) )
Mi57891121...thanks for the words on 'fine line'...I do know the other needs work...any suggestions?...we are open to them around here.
COOLDECK...I AM FAR from the center of anything! I AM glad you dropped by, though, and posted your poem here. I like it very much. You know, you should post it in On Line Love, too...I believe it would be appreciated there as well. Come on back...:)
Subj: I AM 95-05-26 00:17:00 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
Another poem for Diana and Bella
I AM
I stand here alone
in this hurrying stream of flesh
one lonely person, apart
whose mind is meant to mesh
with others, not like me
but, more conventional,
clean and clear of sin.
It was not intentional
to become an outcast.
An incident in the past.
But...I am what I am.
When a car pulls up
I open the door
hesitate, then go in,
for I ....I am a whore.
@ April 1995 by W.C.M.
Subj: thought i'd try a saner place 95-05-26 01:20:39 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
THE DAY SHEDS ITS LIGHT
Somewhere between the
cloth
and the ground
is the moment not bought.
An eighth veil.
The cloak dance
of an old woman--
hardly seen
between the tits
and the gore.
The end of the day
is a dance to the shedding.
copyright 1976. R. C. Beswick
Subj: lieder... 95-05-26 10:22:40 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Cooldeck...I see you took my advice and posted in the on line love folder...good for you! Your second poem posted here is a little unsettling. Interesting that you wrote from a woman's perspective on this one. You might consider giving us more detail...what was it that happened in the past to make her what she is? How did she stray away from those others with who she shared so much?...and whose lives are so different from her own?...Just a thought.
Rmcleon...glad you chose to post your poem here. I understand that the poem refers to the 'seven veils', but I am lost 'between the tits and the gore'...I'm not so good at figuring these things out sometimes. Perhaps you could elucidate...?
Subj: poetic license 95-05-26 10:43:38 EDT
From: Bambi77
Posted on: America Online
POETIC LICENSE
with my pen
I can write away the world
no rhyme
no reason
I am me
just me
you can't take that away
Jane Carlson (Bambi77)
Subj: Re:lieder... 95-05-26 12:11:03 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
I'm not sure that I can add anymore information about her...the whole thing just appeared in my head one Saturday a month or so ago, about as fast as I could type it.
Subj: too many dreams ruin a pure face 95-05-26 12:28:14 EDT
From: X3Jane
Posted on: America Online
(hope this don't ruin the sane thing you have going...)
too many dreams ruin a pure face
night time is for the washed
for the man who has a clean heart
he whistles to his bird of fame
come here, sweet thing
but at 3 a.m. I look up
see crazy spaceships
blue cars that fly
hear animals coughing
stars converting
back into suns
there is a corner of my room
where the beasts are jailed
by 4 a.m.
there are hundreds of them
yellow parched throats howling
but they never wake up anyone
I'll take salt and throw it over my shoulder
for the luck of the Irish
James Joyce never slept like this
he had Spanish whiskey
and me just English gin
once my cheeks were young
and red lipstick stretched across my lips
boys leaned over to kiss
the dreaming girl
now?
old and harsh
my nightmares have become
my aging house
1995
Subj: The Tinker 95-05-26 12:53:39 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
A slightly silly poem with maybe just a bit of truth in it.
The Tinker
...married to a tinker,
who's always on the road.
Drivin' a cart that's
a clatterin' load.
He's good at mendin'
pots that want tendin',
but I wonder how good
he is at fendin'
off the advances
and come-on glances,
of ladies who start
...roadside romances.
@1995 by WCM
Subj: 'fantasy' from last year... 95-05-26 19:37:39 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
THE GLASS
Tissue-paper thin
layered illusion
generations
held in glass
fade and brighten
in turn.
Each surfacing
intent and curious
searching for followers.
Face succeeds face
beside, below, above, between:
drifting and gone
through life's quick steam.
Genetically entwined
hair, eye,
cheekbone, chin
the new find no recognition
in what they see;
wondering, wandering
reflective layers.
In the glass
- with love and without -
generations
overlay
and glow
through seamless membrane
of remembrance.
Diana 1994
Subj: soup&quackers 95-05-27 01:12:25 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Such beautiful music fill thy halls (and your spirit) Diana...I feel soup coming on...(is kindof like a seizure of sorts<G>)
Dwaink-- Your tribute to your uncle is so wonderful....love "even now your words rain..." and "this last water grey day"...As before, never hesitate to say what you feel. "twin orbs"...whew..'nuf said.<G>
Sevren x-- Welcome. Your poem "never too late to swim?" ..Has some nice images and like the "sea of tranquility"...I am not sure about the capitalization of some of the words. I understand that it was for emphasis, but does not flow as well as it should for me. Maybe a tad too wordy also? Too much reflection in things such as "if she ever existed"...Someone once rightly pointed out to me "show don't tell" ...I still have a hard time with that, but am practicing as muse allows...Still this is a good start and I, for one, would like to see more.
Bella--I'm glad that Diana purloined your "coming out to play" for this folder. I like it alot, feel it alot...and the last stanza really gets to me.
Swan--"air and earth"...well I'm not sure about "erotica" either, but love the "com"plexity of the "com"position. "urge and thrust" ..well, maybe it is erotica<G>.
Diana--"after class..."....I love the last stanza in this one. Question though ...was that "tactile" in the second stanza? I do think this is one of the few of yours that could use a few less words or perhaps a rearrangement of words. I will look at it again and see if (mere mortal that I am) would have any useful suggestions<G>. "a fine line"...I like this one alot too, but think with arranging the words a little different it could have more power. What about stringing those words out ala
"this distance is spanned
by bridge becoming plank,
then cable
rope
twine
string
wire
thread
filament, then
razor's edge" ?? I don't know...I'm also not sure that you need the "must" . how about
"I walk
barefooted
across the chasm below"
In this one, again, a powerful last stanza. Okay now that I have sliced one of the queen's poems...do with me what you will...just don't banish me please.<G>
Patch-- SO good to see you here. I remember "summer-sounds" well and still hear it's sweet music. Thank you for reposting it. And I love your suggestion for Bella's lovely "stolen songs" Stick around we can use your surgical services (with a smile and plenty of anasthesia) here.
CoolDeck--Sorry you couldn't make the party tonight, but Welcome anyway. "netwalking" I usually am not fond of rhyming verse, but feel that this says alot about some of the creatures that wander these electronic corridors. (and glad to see you posted it in "online love" ...I think it fits perfectly there) "I AM" ...interesting, but the line "I am what I am" throws me off somewhat (sounds a little like Popeye<G>..sorry) This one could also be related to cyber-relationships I think. Was that your intent with "hurrying stream of flesh"? I think "an incident in the past" is too easy an explaination or maybe not explained enough? I do like "tinker", as I told you, in spite of the rhyme. It made me smile. Let's see more of these.
Rmcleon--sheesh..so many new faces. Welcome. "the day sheds.."
I think this needs expanding for me to understand it. (maybe Duck is too dull). I understand about dance of 7 veils but, as is, you lost me with the "between the tits/and the gore". If is a literary reference of some kind I am not aware of it and think that this may lose the average reader (that's me "average"<G>) Do stay and post more though.
Bambi77---another new face (although I knew another Bambi once, she was beautiful, but shot down by hunters in the prime of life...but I digress..) "poetic license"...welcome. No we can't take that away...the "i am " (must be a sale on that tonight<G>..just kidding). I do think that this could use a tad more imagery to be effective. Thanks for posting. Let's see more.
running over again....sheesh....
Subj: more quackers... 95-05-27 01:13:48 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
X3Jane--LONG time, NO see....Hi again! "too many dreams.."
I like this..."james joyce never slept like this" This is a keeper, as usual with you. Nice to see you again.
I have done enough damage for one evening methinks.(sorry) Remember love, peace, and plastics...
Subj: and another "oldie" as muse 95-05-27 02:00:03 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
still sails away into the sunset....
Levitation
As sure as the moon
slowly ascends
the satin skin of night,
I rise to your touch.
You enter my dream
filling me with starlight
and the taste of
flesh-warmed cream.
Subj: From Swan's Tomb 95-05-27 11:38:43 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Old, reworked a few months ago... not quite right yet... any suggestions ?
Old School
Restless, rumbling, the playground
storms with children. Their bright clothes
weave like bubbles across the tar,
iridescing in the sun.
New rules let boys and girls mingle, now,
as if a slow diffusion had been at work
these many years. And a fence
has gone up to contain them
as if new energy had been born
from the flux, greater the force that once bristled
in the no-childs'-land that ran
along the painted line
between the boys' and girls' side.
There's nothing for me here.
This corralled hysteria of bright androgyny
could serve as symbol of my sex, sure,
but something else might as well or better.
As I pass, three giggling girls
fling up their skirts at me.
Bright panties burst like flowers into the air.
A fourth one stands apart, taller, grim,
her eyelids hot and squeezed, tight
as new breasts, her wide mouth whispering,
Babies, babies, oh you are all such babies.
9.73-3.19.95
Subj: Re:and another "oldie" as muse 95-05-27 12:39:28 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
Levitation is a nice piece even if it doesn't rhyme...but when I got to the last line, the only thing that came to mind was putting down a bowl for my old black cat....wouldn't something like 'a silver tasting moonbeam' have fit better with the rest of the metaphors?
Subj: Re:and another "oldie" as muse 95-05-27 12:55:56 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
I think you've got a song there!
Subj: Re:The Tinker 95-05-27 12:58:03 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
Sounds like the lament of the spouse of a salesman. I thought it was clever.
Subj: Re:The Tinker 95-05-27 13:05:54 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
That's what it was meant to be....I used to be a far traveler....
Subj: lieder...(comments, folks) 95-05-27 13:46:52 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Bambi...(I am also familiar with the other Bambi <sniff, sniff> whom Ducky mentioned) now...to your poem... A nice firm stand on being who you are. More detail might help...i.e., what are some of the things you would "wite away"?
X3Jane...WOW...have you been in my house at night...or somehow invaded my dreams?...this is a fine statement of the inevitability of getting older. I like the literary references, too...:)
COOLDECK: "The Tinker" is, indeed, fanciful, but I also like the way your brought it up to the 20th century in the last few lines...LOL Of course...that NEVER would have happened in the days when there WERE tinkers....LOLOL
Ducky, thanks for the soup & quackers...LOL I was getting hungry, myself...LOL Yes, there are MANY new names...good to see them, hope to see them back, too. Also, thanks for the words on the poem...I've gotten some very helpful e-mail, too! And, Ducky, dear....you know I levitate every time I read that poem!!...Whew...hot in here...:)
Subj: From Lacey's tomb 95-05-27 15:37:01 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
An oldie, revamped...
ANIMAL KINGDOM
"It's difficult to fly with blood on your wings."
Oprah Winfrey
He whistled sweet entreaties
tuned for unkissed ears,
collared one clay pigeon
shelter-starved
beneath a leafless tree
Brilliant timing, sir!
The fox preys upon
the weakest chick;
the wolf sizes up an
injured lamb.
Adrift in delirum,
paperwasps in love
mate mid-air,
while asses prance
the matchhead of desire,
wearing nothing but
sandpaper soles.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
m.w.h.
Subj: Re:From Swan's Tomb 95-05-27 17:01:19 EDT
From: X3Jane
Posted on: America Online
Gosh whatta great line: "Bright panties burst like flowers into the air."
I just hadda stop there. I think the whole poem is kinda great.
Subj: 2 hymns 95-05-27 19:06:28 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Dainos are Lithuanian folksongs.
Two Hymns
i. Need Fires
Lent, harvest, solstices -- the year turns
on a wheel of fire. From the Paschal hills ablaze,
to the Yule log flickering on the song
of the doomed wren in its wicker ball,
the world rolls downhill, burning,
placating, petitioning, warding off.
But seasons of distress and calamity
come, and draw the need fires out of hell.
A new wheel from a cart,
nine spindles, flax and tar,
an oak board from a tree felled by twins,
a new rope woven through
with one red gallows strand,
a naked boy to coax them into flames
in a black room while the effigy
waits in the square, on its pyre --
snuff out all the lights between
the two nearest running streams,
fasten the shutters, bolt the doors.
Effigy, cat, witch, Jew, the long red
tongues licked at the gates of heaven,
its padlocks fusing at the forge. The rich
smoke aimed to please fell back, the sickened
cattle swayed too slowly through the embers,
staggered, fell, scorched. Ash-bathed arms
flailed in a gleeful totentanz,
to supplicate the charred
remains of heaven. And then
the world went out.
ii. Dainos
Just outside of Vilnius
blooms a rue garden.
The wren flew
into the rue garden, Mother.
What will happen,
oh, what will happen ?
Your voyage is long,
your abode is dark,
and dark is the house
that has neither door
nor windowpane.
5.27
On the edge of Vilnius town
there's a fine rue garden.
The little he-goat jumped into rue garden
What will happen, dear mother,
oh what will happen ?
Long your voyage,
dark your abode,
dark the lodging
without door or windowpane.
Subj: Maximum... 95-05-27 19:32:25 EDT
From: MaxMrvlus
Posted on: America Online
I thought there were
needles
screwing my feet, I was
frightened...I
swear I wouldn't have come
otherwise. I woke to
silver threads and one sound,
the throbbing of
nerves caught unaware, of paper
sheets disturbed or
the fading tap of departing feet.
This place comes up to my
chest, crumbled,
I swear I can't climb it, please
help. But lying
here between you two
is no help-maybe now there
are things crawling on my feet, I know
that wall,
it was in my room too...this is no separate
darkness.
I remember lying between
my parents, they,
cold,
angry, whispered over
the sheet I had pulled to cover
my face. I feigned dreams, they bought it...
At my feet, bodies and strange
life tears free,
comes as far as my
crotch
before the altar of my father
or the monster of my mother
frightens them back.
The mahogoney nightstand is bare, not
even a book,
no clock.
The white drapes that hug the wall, then flee
from it, they don't
frighten me, just the whisk of their
shadow,
mingling with the air. Moonlight.
How easily I got frightened
then,
way back then.
And it's not the same
as me walking away from
you.
I just thought there were
needles, but you
have to walk that out to make
them go away...
and I thought you too
beautiful...I mean, why
else would I stare for hours into an empty
nightstand drawer, touch
the warmth you put
onto the pillow, and leave?
===>I'm sorry, I don't know how to end this one...I have suddenly lost my motivation...wish you were here, Lulu...
Subj: Stain 95-05-27 20:02:00 EDT
From: MaxMrvlus
Posted on: America Online
L
what did you see?
S
loss, cut into time, sharpened edge
I let you paint my portrait...
L
and do you still have it?
S
I let the tapestry bear the attempt on my life,
the woman I robbed of joy, I recall still
my claim to glory, the wicked crease that
parted the north and south of the portrait,
like lead wings, like the power to conceal,
for it, I sold my soul...
L
I recall when we were children, you held my
hand and said you weren't happy for doing
it, but wanted to see the shape of our
crossing into eachother, how you
kicked me in the shin and ran for
squirrels, it was only squirrels, but
your cruel wake left me bleeding, creased
with a scar that runs like when you lay
sideways and look at an oak tree and
see it cut the world into east and west...
S
True, none of this has to do with
finding the way back, it was dark when we
got worried, I cried, for the loss of you
was unbearable, and I kicked the dog to
hurry and find you, and I kicked the rest
quiet so I could hear you flapping,
each bloom of silence scaled
the red brick of my heart and touched
my urges, I was preparing for the announcement
of the start of death...
L
Remember how then you held my hand,
wouldn't let me sleep, kept telling me stories
of Greek Gods, how Hermes was your favorite,
and you kept me up until six telling me over and
over about how when we are born, we die from
another life where we live backwards until we are
infants and ready to be born, dead...
then how Hermes seduced Apollo with your
favorite Bob Dylan song...
S
"Boots of Spanish Leather..."
Let the petals fall where they may, I
will pick them up tomorrow when you
have left...I would even take back its
flowering if you would stay, so much
of when you stay fades, I just
want you to stay longer...
I thought of Lulu this morning, I
stepped out of my door into the bitter
Northwest air, rolled a drum and
drank from the cup she gave me
on my last birthday...the wood on
the porch was fading, my dahlias
needed watering, they that sit so
densely...the blue Patagonia
I wear is a symbol of her, how
she still waits for me down in
Eugene, and I must stay up here
to work, she finish school...I thought
of the day when I first met her,
in the cold furious winter, she
ravished every cell of my being,
even the inside ones...she likes Wilde,
told me about a foreign poet, she smokes
now, and she's even been with a woman...
L
I didn't make the world you wait for me,
meet me this weekend in Portland, we
will go dance, take me to dinner, let me
smoke from your cigarette, light mine
and yours together...I love you.
Subj: Re:From Swan's Tomb 95-05-28 01:32:02 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
As usual Swan excellent but a slight flaw methinks in 4th stanza 'This corralled hysteria of bright androgyny'this line fits most all of the poems of yours I've read but not this one,although I feel it's point this is one of the few you use common speech in and this seems badly out of place.Not sure how to tone it back to simple speak to fit...and oh yeah Danios are dittther fish ...what Dainos ..... sigh
Dwain
Subj: Re:Tribute to William Carlos Wil 95-05-28 02:14:39 EDT
From: Sarah Dezy
Posted on: America Online
I was just wondering if the poet to which you wrote that tribute wrote the poem about the plums from the icebox. Your poem reminded me of it. I love both poems. Love, Sarah
Subj: Re:since muse is sailing..an old 95-05-28 07:43:26 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
!Excellente! poem
Subj: once again(another poem) 95-05-28 08:34:36 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
"Fuel for Insomnia"
When I lay down in the night,
silent hush,
but faucet.
Quiet night,
but nearby freeway.
Restful time,
but restless thoughts.
-I realise I am aflame. Afire,
in constant motion
no rest
As a flame
all the time
burning myself out
in perpetual thought.
No rest. Problems
burning in my mind
solutions and ideas,
on the back burner,
I constantly burn- That's why
I like a cool breeze
coming through the open
window at night-
It fuels my fire,that
burns in bed. Come on. Touch me.
Subj: My Mother's Box(rough hewn) 95-05-28 08:50:34 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
(This is pretty rough hewn-bare with me)
"My Mother's Curious Box"
There is a box
Where things precious
kept, turn fragile.
My mother
Told me of this box,
Of its horrors and glories.
How not to mis-use the box, which
is to not use its preserving powers
at all.
"We are human," my mother told me," and are
to die too soon. In the box,
things will become as dead.
Stale.Possessed and kept apart from the living, and
for the dead.
"We each have our own box, for precious memories&
keepsakes. Use the box sparingly, if not at all. Be strong. The box is for the scared
and frightened."
And all my
life, I've tried to remember
this,then
when my father disappeared,
my mother climbed
inside her box
on her own accord
& started waiting
& crying for his return.
Subj: a memory for the Memorial Day 95-05-28 08:54:49 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
festivities. One with, finally, a name.
Will You?
If we make love
will you whisper your poetry
softly, musically,
in rhythm with our growing
passion
Your words
caressing my body
faster
faster
'til the need for words
and love is spent
and the final word
slides slowly
down my thigh
and falls upon
the bright white bed.
Subj: destination 95-05-28 10:36:13 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
destination
#########
all along the border
where the ocean erases
and the gulls string the miles
like a feathery necklace,
your skinny dipper's smile
washes ashore.
chasing white lines down highway 1,
my steering wheel grips me
like a therapist's handshake
like a slinky chain that reins
at the radio,
at the ashtray,
at the inner seams of my lap.
the wipers rub their shielded eyes,
astonished by the lightning
and the brilliance it illuminates,
striking images of you.
i climb down the middle lane
with a jealous diesel on either side.
i could fit both cargoes
into this backseat and still roar on past,
leave them coughing on my dust,
choking my exhaust.
dry lips part
when my watery destination comes to mind.
top down, head back,
wind tunnel in sunshine,
i focus in on my two favorite blue pools.
throwing out the road maps,
i punch out the throttle
and fly.
dark/78(v.95)
Subj: for Memorial Day 95-05-28 11:24:51 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
WARS: INDEPENDENCE AND CIVIL
Not poppies here, but heather.
Among the pink/purple blooms
the bodies lay
uncovered
unkempt
unnaturally bent
eternally altered
by war.
One hand, fingers curved
- attached to air -
lay beside its body
- eviscerated, headless -
Bunker Hill
The Roundtops
Where did the worst hurt lay?
Not on the ground
of the dear land
but at home
in bed, alone
with tear to drink
and supper, only stone.
Diana 1994
Subj: Re:From Lacey's tomb 95-05-28 12:17:22 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
verrrrry good. Patch
Subj: Re:a memory for the Memorial Day 95-05-28 15:48:07 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
Thank you for that...it is lovely and very evocative...
Subj: lieder... 95-05-28 15:59:20 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Swan...I'm gonna do the unthinkable...I'm actually gonna critique your 'old school' poem...ahem... In the first two lines, it sounds as if the playground is 'restless and rumbling'. In the 3rd stanza, it there a word missing? That's all. I adore the ending!! Were there two endings to your 'hymns poem' or did my log get messed up? There was a BIG LONG space and then some more about Vilnius...?
Lacey...I really like the 'animal kingdom'...wish I'd known about those 'sandpaper soles'...whew...and 'mating in mid-air'....really???
Max...'maximum' is stark...and it rambles, as you , yourself admitted...:) Who's Lulu?? 'stain' could well be a short story. It is so prosaic (not meant in the negative sense)...I think it needs another venue. But there's a buch of feelings tied up in there.
SevrenX...'fuel' is very clever. We actually DO that! I liked the end where you cooled off all the heat of the day with a nice breeze that invited touching. 'curious box'...what a very thoughtful poem....maybe cut the 'which is' in lines 7/8. I like this one very much.
Ducky...ahhhh, you know ho mushc I like 'will you'...title or no title!
Dark...Hey, Dark...glad you dropped by! 'destination'...it's a LOVE poem!! Oh, you little devil! (course, it was written back then when we were ALL writing love poems...but this one is, as usual, coming from a really unique place!)
Subj: re: "After Class...." 95-05-28 17:07:22 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
Diana, I suggest deleting the 6 continuous lines beginning with "swim through the fog" and ending "into my bones." With that elimination, there is unity and a fascinating use of language culminating in the contrast of the last stanza.
Subj: a voice reflects 95-05-28 17:10:46 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
a voice reflects
a consciousness transition
mirrored is a rhythmic rise
and fall
culminating in the creation of
life out of life
rising from within
descending beneath the literal reality
a vision of a girl
calling within
her voice transcends the literal surface
participating transparently in life's freedom
Subj: Re:lieder... 95-05-28 18:43:57 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Oops. The stuff after the BIG SPACE was an earlier version of section 2....
Yeah, I agree: the "Restless and rumbling" kinda dangles there, tho' I did mean it to modify "playground" .... "restless", though, wants to affix itself to children....thanx
Subj: Re 95-05-28 23:30:13 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
12/4/89
this emptiness hanging
low like burdend clouds
rain with no parched
earth to quench
chain mail broken
consequences left
to face
but each night my bed
makes room for you
here next to me
hoping to feel your
touch
your warm light
on nights like this
dark unyeilding sleepless
nights I wish only
the chance to prove you
so
Dwain
Subj: Re: lieder 95-05-29 10:33:40 EDT
From: Bulldog406
Posted on: America Online
If lieder means song, what does liederhosen mean-singing socks? Couldn't resist> jj:)
Subj: Through The Prism 95-05-29 11:02:51 EDT
From: Wisdom15
Posted on: America Online
THROUGH THE PRISM (extended version)
Vision 20-20 sees the whole spectrum:
No temper tantrum in the inner sanctum.
Residing in a nation that still eats her young
And like any god, concerned about the far flung.
Clairvoyant recitals move the native tongue
To retstart the legacy of ancestry unsung.
Flying high in the prismatic sky
Passing right by with time to exemplify
And pry open all the locks on all the doors
Into the dimensions that god and earth adores.
Vibrance and earthtones in all their splendor
A mind bender with a truth that's a neverender.
Nevertheless guess life, emphatically yes!
To coalesce the mess is to basically bless.
To depress through a poem for me would be a sin
Suicidal recital is a situation no-win.
Pain is minimalizing, high tide is always rising
Present with another prism at the next horizon.
In the backyard of my mental mansion
Every tree is branching, so universe expansion.
Singularity materializes with clarity
That daily realization is no longer a rarity.
So like charity, handing out escapism
Crystal clear distortion straight through the prism.
COPYRIGHT 1995 Wisdom Love X.
Subj: For Serena 95-05-29 11:03:52 EDT
From: Wisdom15
Posted on: America Online
"For Serena (Ultramagnetic U)"
Ambivalence
Is the only thing you see in me.
But wait;
Look closely and carefully: believe in me!
Light years ahead of a boyhood crush,
I can't be imagining the lovestruck rush
You bring to me, I'm in awe awe at your persona.
Your charm is stunning and cunning your corona;
That is, your aura, that inhabits every aspect.
That way you smile and laugh; when my eyes connect
With yours, I peer through twin brown windows.
It's an amazing world that I'm gazing into!
I see what's going on in that beautiful mind,
So if possible, could you plausibly find
Some vacancy, a place for me to stay.
No neon signs, being fake isn't your forte.
How about a role reversal so I can play host.
And like i'm supposed to: propose a toast
To you, the guest of honor, done with the most
Admiration and affection as I let my hands coast
through your ebony hair, If I'm in sight of your stare
i will be captivated and want to kiss you everywhere.....
Long range love exchange, the investment that we share
Will be of laughter and tears since everything is fair...
Do you harbor any self doubts? I say "au contrare"
No earthly wealth could conceivably compare
To the beauty you exude, you lovely extraordinairre
Of teasing my attention, this is my signal flare!
Don't it ignore it or miss it, noticing's no fuss
What lies in store is the rare, precious stone called "us".
It's up to you, honeychild.....
COPYRIGHT 1995 Wisdom Love X..
Subj: For Serena 95-05-29 11:04:55 EDT
From: Wisdom15
Posted on: America Online
"For Serena (Ultramagnetic U)"
Ambivalence
Is the only thing you see in me.
But wait;
Look closely and carefully: believe in me!
Light years ahead of a boyhood crush,
I can't be imagining the lovestruck rush
You bring to me, I'm in awe awe at your persona.
Your charm is stunning and cunning your corona;
That is, your aura, that inhabits every aspect.
That way you smile and laugh; when my eyes connect
With yours, I peer through twin brown windows.
It's an amazing world that I'm gazing into!
I see what's going on in that beautiful mind,
So if possible, could you plausibly find
Some vacancy, a place for me to stay.
No neon signs, being fake isn't your forte.
How about a role reversal so I can play host.
And like i'm supposed to: propose a toast
To you, the guest of honor, done with the most
Admiration and affection as I let my hands coast
through your ebony hair, If I'm in sight of your stare
i will be captivated and want to kiss you everywhere.....
Long range love exchange, the investment that we share
Will be of laughter and tears since everything is fair...
Do you harbor any self doubts? I say "au contrare"
No earthly wealth could conceivably compare
To the beauty you exude, you lovely extraordinairre
Of teasing my attention, this is my signal flare!
Don't it ignore it or miss it, noticing's no fuss
What lies in store is the rare, precious stone called "us".
It's up to you, honeychild.....
COPYRIGHT 1995 Wisdom Love X..
Subj: lieder... 95-05-29 14:23:13 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Thanks to DUCKY and MI(many #'s) and DR SWAN for the wonderful suggestions on BOTH of the poems I asked fro help with. (I know, that sentence has all kinds of dangling things in it!!)
Mi(many #'s)...I really like 'voice'...ethereal and yet grounded. Particularly liked the last two lines.
Dwain...'specially liked 'your warm light'...great image!
JJ...that's LEDERHOSEN as in 'leather pants'...but actually I really liked your version better....'singing socks'....LOLOLOL
Wisdom...I bet 'through the prism' is a really smashing performance piece! Despite the rhymes, these I see as prose poems. The last line in the second one is superfluous...or maybe too 'silly' ...I'm not sure which.
Subj: pasts 95-05-29 17:01:14 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Pasts
The river says
nothing
about pasts --
what it says is,
and it is
what it says,
a circle,
no mouth no source.
But my detritus
my round
want, my word,
Merrimack,
winding toward
sheer brick
and black shatter,
my word,
mill, a broken mile
upstream.
5.29.95
Subj: pasts v.2 95-05-29 19:16:48 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Pasts
The river says
nothing
about pasts --
what it says,
and what
it says,
says circle,
no mouth
no source.
But my detritus
my round
want, my word,
Merrimack,
winds past sheer brick
past black shatter,
past my word,
mill, a broken mile
downstream.
5.29.95
Subj: The Black Meat 95-05-29 20:12:23 EDT
From: MaxMrvlus
Posted on: America Online
"We're still friends, yeah?"
Sure, and just as easily I can forget
the chemical therapy, the addiction
to furenol...
We're stil friends without the dedication,
no power, the incessant coughs. At night,
it seems now like a locker room or the barracks,
I think of never buying a ballpoint, ever,
it just doesn't measure up.
It's the black insect laughter that I cannot overlook,
or the inability to say toilet. (teret!!)
"Johnie boy came out of the closet,
man--why you still running with him?
you queer too?"
I've seen you just before you enter a crowd,
pull that notebook out of our back pocket
to read some quote you put down...you're
a liar and a cheat and have no place to accuse
me of leprosy, of being queer!
"Yeah, man, course we're still friends. It's
nothing, man..."
It's too hot, or the roast is burned,
or the muttering louder than normal,
but I'll still be there, despite the
damn vulture wings that husk
in the dry air.
Subj: Of Rivers Past.... 95-05-29 20:43:51 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
Swan--your economy of words is laudable and earns much envy from this windier writer. Your "rivers and the past" poem reminded me of this moldy oldie which has long been reposing in my files.
WATER LANDING
In the unlikely event of a water landing
could we choose our water for descent?
Some who fled might wish to rise and soar
over half-forgotten highlands where trash bins
are printed with a quote from Henry's crew:
"A very pleasant place to build a Town on."
* * *
None of us believed it in the sixties--
cynical youth confined to a small place,
small minds hemmed in by an intrusive river.
One rolling bold meddler followed us
south to the city, north to the capital,
spied on West Point dalliances,
forced steamboat history for merit badges,
needed crossing to catch the Beacon train.
One highbrow gossip, patrician tattler,
a final flare at Palisades.
Which was more pretentious--
the river flanked with castles of
dubious antiquity, or my classmates?
We abandoned the place, the minds, our past,
and the busybody river.
We claim new rivers now:
Klamath, Potomac, Snake, Monogahela.
We need to be near water.
We hear Storm King, Sleepy Hollow,
Boscobel, Bear Mountain, and remember....
* * *
In the unlikely event of a water landing,
we might choose to float above Rhinebeck violets,
Highland Falls, the Catskills.
We would drift on valley gusts homeward,
lift our wings like renegade angels,
and ask the river to receive us once again.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
m.w.h. 1988
Subj: Re:The Black Meat&past v2 95-05-29 21:45:50 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Mr Maxmrvls like "Texas", I don't know how to catergorize what you've posted and in some devilish way it makes me like it all the more. I enjoy your poetry.
Dr, When I read the first version I liked it, yet felt something was lacking. I clicked to next post and ::Poof::: V2. It had the more economy that I somehow felt the first lacked. V2 gets my vote, and a humble vote it is ,Dr.
Subj: Life Tar Tar 95-05-29 21:57:16 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
"Life Tar Tar"
dizzy sometimes
with
contradictions, surely
I am human, and
Know not truly
Where false& good& true& evil
lie. Where
is the
handbook or roadmap? There
are no directions. The
Southwest wind cools
with a warm breeze.
It is heaven where I live,
so close to hell, where warm
breezes fuel& cool the fires.
do you understand?
do I seem half-baked?
Surely you are raw human,
and have no answer to these questions.
Subj: No good name here. 95-05-29 22:10:10 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
The title for this will be something to the respect of:
"On Slackdom" or "Answer to a Job Application Question: Where do You see Yourself in 5 years?"
or possibly " Why I Don't Mime" and well hell, there could be billions of these and this is almost longer than the poem. Forget it. There is no title. No good name for a no good lazy poem.
"POEM"
I
wanted to perform
an existential mime
(the silent motion of my living)
But
I can only stand very still.
Not walk against the oppressing winds,
Nor mimic being trapped in an
Invisible box collapsing
(My flat frantic hand slapping air).
I can but stand
in a
singular, linear stance.
Stand
(and that's not good mime)
And
So beside this tree, and you
and everything else, I feel
no need for pedantic frilly lies
to label my motion, or lack there of,
Thank you
Subj: Season Lost 95-05-29 23:23:29 EDT
From: MaxMrvlus
Posted on: America Online
sort of an aged one, changed a word cuz i changed my mood and my mind...um...here:
Spring will not come
to my porch
in sweet apple chomps
in blasts of blue sky
and painted leaves
with squirrel chatter
and bourbon and lap robes
under a horny moon
no
it will lie on my halls
like a wet rag on a salad
damp and green:
full of sad memories
Subj: at the end of Memorial Day 95-05-29 23:56:00 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
THE FREEDOM OF INNOCENCE
A 6-year old, quite alone
clambers from his bus.
Pausing to fix a strap
on his book bag, he
turns in time to see
2 older boys raising
the flag into place.
He was unaware that anyone watched,
but I had that singular honor.
He did what he did for
himself alone
because he felt he should
because he felt pride
because the innocence of
a child is often where
we need to look for
guidance.
He lay down his bag,
put his right hand
over his heart and
waited, watching,
until the flag
was in its proper place;
then turning, picked
up his bag and
began his day...
a free child.
Subj: soup&quackers 95-05-30 00:36:25 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
So much talent has been presented in this folder to date, I hardly know where to begin. Maybe I should start with a quote ( I know Dan likes 'em)..."Ducking for apples--change one letter and it's the story of my life"...Dorothy Parker.
Lacey--"animal kingdom"....This one is terrific. I love "paperwasps in love/mate in midair" ...Ahem, I think you should post this one in "online love" too. Nice work as always
Swan-- 2 Hymns...I remember this one well. All I can say is "wonderful"...especially love "dainos"..the last stanza. "Pasts"...short, sweet, perfect.
MaxMrvlus--Welcome. I have seen some of your work elsewhere and I am happy that you have posted here. "Maximum"...Painfully wonderful...I think the ending is right there as an *ending*. "Stain"...I like this too. I would like the last stanza much better if you would delete "I love you" from the end. I think 'tis already said and seen.
Sevren x--"fuel" Recognize the force of insomnia well...and this, this, describes the burning quite nicely. "box"..as you say, rough hewn, but I think with just a little work could be wonderful. I like the last stanza lots, but think you might experiment with the line breaks some.
Dark-- "destination"...I am so glad to see you here mon ami. Diana is right, this feels like a love poem. Is also agleem with your wonderful imagery. Nice.
Diana--"wars"...If I could stop weeping I might be able to tell you how wonderful this is. The last stanza....it got to me.
Mi(muchonumbers)-- "a voice"...I know this girl well. Like this poem alot.
Dwaink--"12/4/89"...If only you would title some of these lovley poems, I should be happy. This one is unbearably sad. So it is good.
Wisdom--Welcome..."through the prism"...and "for Serena"...I think you have many nice ideas in both of these, but in places the rhyme seems a tad forced to me. Of course, I am not the greatest fan of rhymed poetry, so take anything I say with that in consideration. Maybe try to put some of these feelings together without the rhymes. Try it. Thanks for posting and I'd love to see more.
G'Night and Sweet Dreams to all
Subj: Re:pasts 95-05-30 01:43:23 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Nice consonous consonance Swan.
Dwain
Subj: Re:at the end of Memorial Day 95-05-30 09:00:35 EDT
From: Bulldog406
Posted on: America Online
Loved this Di. To teachers who see this everyday and still appreciate this singular act, I applaud you. Maybe we all could learn something from the innocence of a child. jj
Subj: Bulldog Bites 95-05-30 09:09:26 EDT
From: Bulldog406
Posted on: America Online
Well Di, maybe I have reached that saner place we discussed. I have some mouldy oldies I need some help with if some of you guys don't mind helping .
Graveyard Shift
Sirens screech, horns blare,
Ambulance roars up to the door.
Like a lion with its prey,
Dumps death on my floor--
Then screams ou into the night
In search of more. jj
Subj: Re:The Black Meat 95-05-30 13:40:46 EDT
From: Sarah Dezy
Posted on: America Online
Really interesting poem... where did the idea come from? There are lines I don't get {poetry} and I wish I knew what side you are on...
Subj: ghost hand 95-05-30 19:55:51 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
A physician who has herself for a patient has a fool for a physician...
Ghost Hand
It seems to fall
along no particular contour --
to spread from nowhere
outward, then vanish.
It moves like water,
but it's dry as a hand;
it could almost be a blush,
but cheeks blush not left legs.
Is it bad circulation, sciatica,
or an ignis fatuus
of the right post-central gyrus ?
Could it be a trembling delerium
a post-Freudian conversion,
or even Baron
von Munchausen's malingering?
The doctor's got his opinions.
But he's wrong. I know it.
This hand, so casual,
familiar and fond,
whispers regret and adieu
from beyond, poor paramour.
Oh, has someone departed
with such tenderness unspoken
that he must return to tell me now ?
Or is this the long-awaited bridegroom
sent to collect the betrothed,
glancing from the creased photo
in his one hand
to the wilting nosegay in his other,
awkward, but used to it by now,
with more wives than Bluebeard, and
two more one-way steerage tickets for the ferry.
5.29-30
5.29
Subj: Re:mangled adage 95-05-30 19:59:43 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
No, wait...how does that go...
A patient that has a fool for a physician...no...
A fool who has a patient physician....
A physician who has a fool for a ...NO!
Physician heal thyself!
(maybe i need those bifocals after all....)
Subj: Re:Of Rivers Past.... 95-05-30 20:02:15 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Lovely ! The evocative particulars....those names....resonant, laden and fragrant...
Subj: MaxMrvlus 95-05-30 20:06:02 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Your stuff's a joy to read -- narrative, image, speech, stunning details, always overturning expectation with oddity and ellipsis and invention....
Just had to tell ya...
Subj: Re:dra-yang Tibetan for ... 95-05-30 20:08:56 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
" ...your voice rings
out ahead of me
beyond my ability..."
This, and the "water gray day" ... lovely poles to a moving poem.
Subj: Re:thought i'd try a saner place 95-05-30 20:12:10 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
This one caught me up and held me for several readings, through its several layers... a remarkable image ... "between the tits/ and the gore" was a surprise, but visually and emotively stunning...
Subj: Re:too many dreams ruin a pure f 95-05-30 20:16:02 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
As a long time X3Jane fan, I can only applaud...
I love the change of tone from the quasi romantic "come here, sweet thing" to the almost surreal nightmare menagerie....
Subj: Re:'fantasy' from last year... 95-05-30 20:19:48 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
This poem made me think of the vertigo I feel when I look at the Lad's face and see mine and his daddy's features all commingling...
Loved the "wandering layers" and the "seamless membrane" ...
Subj: Re:and another "oldie" as muse 95-05-30 20:22:06 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Re: levitation....goosebumps! It even pulled the appolonian swan in far enough to appreciate the "taste of flesh warmed cream" ! (Hope for the old girl yet?)
Subj: Re:destination 95-05-30 20:24:09 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Great exuberance and velocity!
Subj: Re:for Memorial Day 95-05-30 20:26:18 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Beautiful, Diana...the long reach of war.
Subj: Re:Bulldog Bites 95-05-30 20:27:38 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
I love the double entendre of the title !
Subj: West Virginia Highway 95-05-30 20:39:16 EDT
From: Ronald8274
Posted on: America Online
West Virginia Highway
It's a cold wind thats blowing
to the heart of West Virginia
and the mountain road keeps going
down--and down--and down--
til you think you're at the end
and then just around the bend,
you go down--and down--some more;
it's a heartless thing they're doing
to the soul of West Virginia,
and the mountain girl I love
goes around and round and round;
til she thinks the dance should end
and she's there, without a friend,
then life goes down--and down some more.
copyright 1995 ron wilson
Subj: lieder... 95-05-30 21:07:14 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
'course...there was about a zillion posts which appeared since I wrote this...sheesh!....:):)
Swan...I'll take door # 2...seriously..I like the second version od 'pasts' better...and I'm not even sure I can tell you why except that as I read it...it flows more than the first. (it is, after all a river)
Max...WOW, this took my breath away! 'black meat is a powerful poem! It will take many read to absorb all it has to offer. Max, sometimes spring 'be's' that way. Very striking images.
Lacey...ah, my dear...so good to see 'water landing' again. It links all flowing waters...
SevrenX...'tar 'tar'...love the title! Yes, we are ALL raw humans! This is a very good poem for those of us in middle age struggling with how the hell to get through it. I think your namelss poem is really a love poem...I'm not good at titles, so don't look at me, but I really like the way the inatimate (sp?) tree is brought in at the end.
JJ...thanks...:) It was just too precious a moment to pass up or forget! 'Tis true, too...as it happened! Yep, you'd be surprised what you can learn from children...LOL I don't know, JJ...methinks your poem needs no help. The roar leads to the lion which leads to the death which leads to the necessity for more...ya think?
Subj: hot off the press... 95-05-30 21:07:46 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
FLOWER MAN
Climactic Clematis
bursts into orgasmic bloom,
crawls up the porch posts
to delight the man
who lovingly planted them.
His pride is matched only by
the brilliance of the colors;
here violet, there pink
green surround
striped and dark purple.
This is the moment he
waits for all year.
Subj: mooning again... 95-05-31 02:54:07 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Need a title, need a poem, need a life<G>...help!!!
"Crescent Moon"?
The moon smiles tonight.
Her tears gently dried in the fire
of a sure bright star.
Her face glows like the
pearled salt that clings to
my flesh as , breathlessly,
I rise to meet your
curious lips.
And a long silent blood
finds voice in our first
trembling touch; sings
rhythms born of heat,
barely whispered needs.
Subj: Re:mooning again... 95-05-31 10:54:42 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
"Born of Heat" from next to last line, and well I'm not good at titles, and tend to unconsciously come from an advertising point of view. Unconsciously I think. I hate it when I feel like I'm coming up with a name for a new hot item. Have you seen,"The Hudsucker Proxy" when the thing, you know the one for kids, is in mass production and the advertising guys are coming up with a name for the gizmo? Any way, I see that image in my head of my self when ,theoretically ,I'm coming up with a title. All in all, my point is, maybe I'm not the one to help.
Subj: Re:mooning again... Again 95-05-31 10:56:45 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
In all that wordyness, i forgot to mention that I liked the poem. It left me wanting more,though. I had the overwhelming desire to scroll down more, and stay somewhere among this image for awhile longer.
Subj: Re:mooning again... 95-05-31 19:28:37 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
Duckster, this is SO delicious that I almost felt like I was there. (Probably wouldn't have cared for that, would you?) Pearled salt, our first trembling touch, barely whispered needs: lovely and a little "warm-making." I agree with Sevren that Born of Heat would make a dandy title, but disagree about wanting more. ALWAYS keep 'em wanting more...;)
Subj: tell me what you think... 95-05-31 20:32:04 EDT
From: WindsWhspr
Posted on: America Online
i look in the mirror
what is it i see?
small and unsure
i only see me
take a good look
i hear "me" say
look inside and outside
and every which way
small and unsure ?
is that all you see?
i happen to think
theres a lot more to"me"
i think for a moment
thought turns to wonder
where was the "me"
i had yet to uncover?
i turn my gaze inward
what is it i find?
im complex, original
i'm one of a kind
i look in the mirror
and i beckon to me
lets share with the world
all the wonders of... ME
end.. written by: WindsWhspr
Subj: I'm young 95-05-31 20:37:32 EDT
From: MaxMrvlus
Posted on: America Online
so i am still writing love poems...or maybe I am old and haven't lost faith, yet...haven't lost the awe for it...but at any rate, here's one:
SAILOR AND LULU
Look, Sailor, I'm the type of girl
that gets inside your head, watches you
sit by the tracks, and rampages through
you to watch you rattle as I pass...I've held
the remote gaze of your enemies, friends,
I shake through the body.
Are you still willing to try me?
Alluring smile paints sailor's face,
piles onto his contours rawlike...
He knows her power: Kieerkegard
had nothing on the croak of seduction
she parts with, she is predator! But
Lulu, he's swift, shifty, too. He can lure
you out...I remember
watching him work, he would hold them
as prey, they that fought lilke lions...
he would watch them fade like an erection...
Subj: Re:mooning again... 95-05-31 21:36:24 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Sevren..thanks much for the title...I think it fits nicely. and thanks for the kind words....I would have liked more myself (sigh)
Lacey...and thank you (and, you're right.. I'd rather not have your fine company at that moment...any other time, yes<G>)
Subj: I figured, what the heck, 95-05-31 22:54:41 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
I might as well just go ahead and post this thing...you know...run it up the flag pole and see who salutes...LOLOL Chop away at it...or burn it...whatever.
BROKEN TOYS
This room holds
neither joy nor pain,
is devoid of feeling.
a passionless place
where once a headboard
knocked
a spring
squeaked
and two tangled masses
- out of God's greatest joke -
made a push-me-pull-you toy
to satisfy even
the most contrary child.
But no more!
The toy is broken and
the passion has faded
to blank whiteness.
- the absence of color -
Not even a flower
to tint the air.
Subj: Re:hope I don't wear out my welc 95-05-31 23:45:32 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
Pretty grim, but a damn good poem.
TMT
Subj: Re:A saner place? 95-05-31 23:51:56 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
You most certainly qualify....more so than most of us.
This is beautiful.
I can't decide whether or not to tell you to use the contraction "I'd" in the line
"if I would have become"
or to just shut up and enjoy this.
Try it and see how you think it reads out loud.
Would you consider moving in with me?
TMT
Subj: Re:Complement................... 95-05-31 23:56:26 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
Just beautiful
Subj: Re:Suspicion 95-06-01 00:13:32 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
It's got the Bella bounce,,,and fills in some untold history.
TMT
I love you.
Subj: Re:I'll say no more... 95-06-01 00:18:44 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
If you weren't so crazy I wouldn't love you so much
TMT
Subj: Morning After 95-06-01 08:30:12 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
Morning After
Why is it
do you suppose
that the smell
of me
on still damp
tissues
excites me
about you
all over again?
Subj: lieder... 95-06-01 10:37:11 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Swan...Oh, Swanella...your 'ghost hand' is just marvelous! I am in tears and smiling...I have found that many people write 'ghost hand' poems. esp. women....your is oh, so good! (I'll post mine) Thanks for the words on 'the glass'...it was written at the request of a friend.
Ron...well, now....I AM a West Virginia girl and I felt that poem to the marrow of my bones! I can say that this is the best poem of your I've seen!
Ducky....OH, DUCKY....OH.....OH.....the 'moon'....Oh, Duuuucky! MMMM
Winds...this poem is a sweet and delicate contemplation of something we have all thought about in our lives! A couple of your rhymes are a little 'forced' but the overall poem is dear.
Max...young or old, I like 'Lulu'!
Teach...glad to see you here...:)....why not grace us with one of yours?...Please??
COOL...I've commented on this in the ERotica#4 folder...:)
Subj: ghost hand a la Diana... 95-06-01 10:37:57 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
UNTITLED (ghost hand poem)
I would have thought
that after all these hours
the touch of you would
have disappeared.
But I was wrong.
You linger here,
soft as a whisper
and as loudly disruptive
as an army bugler.
Unsettling my ride home,
your ghost hand on my leg
is at least, a fond
memory and at best
a summary of our affair;
We are part and parcel
of each other's lives
for whatever time is ours.
5/7/77
Subj: just 24 hours/comments 95-06-01 10:50:18 EDT
From: JaneOaks
Posted on: America Online
5/28/95 Some day for posting.... I feel the need to express my gratitude:
Sevrin X touched my psyche with "fuel for Insomnia" and "My Mother's Curious Box"... I think everything I need to know about life is in those two poems....
then Ducky came on with Will You? and took another little piece of my heart..... (Ducky I'm putting all these pieces away in a box, my only choice)
then there was Dark, who blew me away with "Destination".... jeeze, talk about a definition of poetic power.... I have no pride, so I'm posting a poem I wrote about the feel behind the wheel.... not so different an energy..... but inferior poetic power. I figure someone might learn by seeing Dark's further (by miles) reach. (I still tell too much, blah, blah, blah...).
And Dwain: I love all your stuff... the quietness and peace I breathe in. Even the sad ones.
And next day swan... Pasts v.2 This really got me.... but I know the Merrimack... and am learning about rivers... how about "and is what".... more zen
and I have a folder of saved MaxMrvlus poetry (you are beyond spectacular)....
and Diana's gorgeous gifts... and I guess everyone..... (now that I look back over Zorn and Phreak and on.....)
Sevrin again: "LIfe Tar Tar " and "POEM", two more that are shudderingly perfect to me..... now I see where everyone got their sighs and grins..... Jane
Subj: My driven poem 95-06-01 10:52:42 EDT
From: JaneOaks
Posted on: America Online
god I hate to do this now....
~~~~~~~
Reckless
Hot nights on the pavement of the city
go down in smoldering ashes.
All the lovely young ones sigh
in trendy clubs and trendier galleries,
his canvasses
draped like fashion fabric.
They fall upon the artist,
"Breathtaking scope".
No dim eye sees.
No collision there of selves,
no dancing of,
no stealing away from senses.
He speeds in his so hot car
towards the middle distance
of the empty desert.
He seeks something of the dark tonight;
transcendance and redemption.
Heedless of the distant lights,
in a tunnel he speeds,
hot fire in his veins,
as the great open spaces
of the Mohave slip by.
1/95
Jane
Subj: Re:My driven poem 95-06-01 13:05:32 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Thanks for your canvas in this folder. Great imagery, and a beguiling ambiguity. Post on!
Subj: Broken Toys Revisited 95-06-01 13:30:27 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Okay, I'm not trying to re-write anything by Diana. She said we could do what we want with the Broken Toys and I thought it an interesting challenge. I'm not necassarily happy with what has come out, but I think it shows an interesting perspective of how good Diana's original was. So here goes nothing:
Broken Toys
Headboards Knocking
Springs-a-squeaking
mimicing 2 masses
a-tangling
Until
Unsatisfied contrary children
of God
Ignoring the
Joke/fun of the great
Push-me-pull-you toy
are broken, and
lay
as fun as
a blank whiteness to
the uncreative.
Okay, so I changed the whole damn thing.Sorry.
Subj: re:Re:A saner place? 95-06-01 14:56:52 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Are you flirting with me again?
First you want my body. Then you want my mind.
Now what? I spose you want me to pay your mortgage?
No, I will NOT move in with you. For it would only last but
a minute or two. I nag purdy good. You should know that
by now.
One more thing....if you are going to bond with us in this folder
why don't you post a "nice" little poem or five. Note emphasis
on NICE.
Be nice, be gentle, be kind.
nag nag nag
Bella
Subj: red pen life 95-06-01 14:57:46 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
I am sorry to say I really am getting a life.
But, I try to read as much as possible. Everything in here is
so nice.....sane too....mostly. ahem
If you want a brutal critique....you may email your poem to me.
Just ask Diana how brutal my "red pen" is. heh heh
Love to all,
Bella
Subj: swing 95-06-01 15:13:49 EDT
From: GRACEDARLI
Posted on: America Online
swing
by Grace Darling
limit ourselves with constraints
time space direction
our mind
has ability
to exist
in multiple dimensions
our body not
mind does the bidding of body
constructs this framework
we call reality
takes back control each night
forcing body to sleep
ignores the web
exists of its own
passing freely
from past to east to last
so close your eyes
lay down your reality
travel on my swing
it is a hard flat wooden board
that softens to firm rubber
to a caressing hand
swinging gently
breeze in your hair
sunlight dapples down
distance a haze
a row of bushes
the schoolyard fence
sandy ground below
clear blue above
your hands clench tight
heavy supporting chains
cut into your palms
and
you tip back
your head lowest down
hair streaming out behind
nearly making contact
your closed eyes flicker
earth races past
topsy turvy disjointed flashes
your clever brain
has for an instant
altered the reality
of your body in space
you laugh in anxious delight
come with me on my spin
you are indoors alone
some clever grownup
has decided you are old enough
leaves you to your own devices
while they go to market
first
music goes on LOUD
next the cushions are dragged
off the couches and chairs
you hop from one to another
like a bird released
excited and nearly out of breath
you begin to spin
around around around
faster faster faster
at your spins zenith you stop
stare hard at the twisting world
laugh hysterically
as the left tips up over the right
try a few steps against the pull
of your newly created gravity
plop down on the cushions
still straining against the pull
gradually overtaken
by a mild nausea
the music stops
you quickly repair the room
to its original state
as a car noises up
the gravel drive
you are afraid to be found out
tampering with reality
come for a swim now
you can stand in the water
it's only chest deep
not very cold
not perfectly clear
chlorine stings your eyes
but you keep them open most of the time
anyway
you have been playing "underwater tea party"
with your friends
then "can you hear me yelling?"
two very popular games
in your suburban pool
next every one tries to show off
hand stands and somersaults
you go for a triple
you run out of air
you panic
lose direction
no sense of up or down
flailing
gasping
your feet find bottom
as your face finds air
your body shames your mind
for losing their place
you experience a queasy exhilaration
each time your mind takes you
where only it can go
your body snaps like an uneasy tyrant
"off with her head"
so you play the game
fall in line
an occasional drink
a toke at a party
the release of orgasm
granted with grudging permission
still each night
you sleep
dream
win
copyright 1995 Grace Darling
Subj: Safe Passage 95-06-01 16:19:30 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Safe Passage
Late at night
there is a place
we can go
where time stops
and nothing
is measured.
It is a place
where
even at night
there is
no darkness
nor doubt.
The water
reflects the
the lights
and colors
night brings.
The distance
between
each ocean swell
provides comfort
without counting.
We can hide
in the sail's shadow.
It will be our shade
pulled tight
until there is no light
except in you...
and we
are home.
6-1-95
Subj: Ok, so it's like this 95-06-01 17:51:13 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Tbone and I had a talk. Hidden muses. More excuses. sigh
Tell me, T....more about that word jell?
I wouldn't be old
if I were a tree.
You would be amazed
to see how strong
these webs are
under my branches.
I would paint
my leaves
every shade of pink
and scatter them
before you.
Each song I offer
would be a silver strand
of hair woven
into dream catchers
looking light
as butterfly wings
but feeling strong
as sinew.
When I dance
with my Indian friends
colorful feathers
will fall;
and when you step
upon them
you will see
how resilient
I can be.
You also may gather
the beads
and put them
into your
medicine bag,
or simply
add them
to your dreams
you hope to
catch.
With wine in hand
I will become
a rain dancer
until you are soaked;
and like leaves
on a river
we will
slowly
drift away.
6-1-95
Subj: Re:A saner place? 95-06-01 20:53:13 EDT
From: Crawshan
Posted on: America Online
I was quite touched by your poem. The image of the piano chopped into firewood reminded me of a story from my father-in-law's childhood when they served his pet rabbit for dinner. The experiences of those who grew up in depravation are powerful to those who know them.
I think you qualify, whatever that means.
Jim AKA Crawshan
Subj: lieder... 95-06-01 21:35:03 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Jane...good to see you! Thanks for the 'reckless' poem...it held my attention and made me just a tad tense...good!
SevrenX...yep...you suuuuure diiiiiid change it...LOL I'm laughing about it, though, cause now it doesn't say anything NEAR what I was aiming at...Nice try though....and please...know I'm typing this with a big S M I L E on my face...go ahead and fiddle with my words anytime ya want...just don't walk off with 'em...LOL
Bella, Bella, Bella...stop naggin' the 'patrons'...ROFLMAO!!! Teach will be back with one of his goodies, I've no doubt! Just quitcher flirtin' in here...LOL And, yes, folks...her red pen is definitely (spelled correctly TMT!!) mightier than the sword!! "Safe Passage" made me cry...your images of color and water are always flawless! Though I don't understand the reference to the T-man, the poem is lovely...many varied images...again, lots of color and tactile things. One change..."add them to THE dreams you hope..."....you already used 'your' earlier in that stanza and the repetition is not necessary, methinks...:)
Grace...your 'swing' is just so terrific!! I was a kid again...feeling the headiness of youth..it was glorious...thanks!!
Subj: Re:lieder... 95-06-01 22:59:18 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Diana, yes I see....I changed Your to The, and to then, and as to like. LOL figure that one out.....LOL...ahem.
No reference to Tbone. I was on line yesterday and heard
that little Lacey Chime.....ahem....so we talked a bit about
lost muses, thought we should get some poetry going.....so I am
trying to write something but I dunno. Thanks for the help.
I like your folder. Keep up the great work.
Bella
Queen O The Fashion Folder LOLOL
(with a new FASTER modem) :)
Subj: Re:A saner place? 95-06-01 23:01:08 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
rabbit stew? aak and eek
ahem....I qualify? er... Thank you, I think.
Lets see......sane, insane, sane, insane, sane, insane...
Dontcha y'all just love daisies?
sigh
Bella :)
Subj: SWAN 95-06-02 02:23:35 EDT
From: MaxMrvlus
Posted on: America Online
I like to post in folders you frequent...that's my criteria for posting, usually...shit! i'm getting mushy...
LULU vs SUBLIMATED
quite a severe lesion, i think...
split down the middle...now, it's
up to the mathematician to resovle this
one...the concert violinist, a chess
master...
Sailor is drunk, fumbling at the pick up
frontier: a languid area of hiatus
miasmic with yawns and gaping goof holes!
He is re examining this new complication...
between these two women that duck
away, both. Sailor loused up what they
both stand for, now, he's drummed out
of the market, stumbling...it's just like
god to hand over a list of all his citizens
and let Sailor sort it out...but even Sailor
needed glasses...I mean it's obvious
since he somehow blended Lulu and
Sublimated into the same. He thought
they were the same...
But they're not, and his finger is fishing for
a nickel to call her with...call who, sailor?!
And they both would require more than
just one lousy nickel that you can't seem
to dish out! They're both
in their frock coats, "waiting for the Man,"
and that's you, brother...what do you do? Maybe
god's offering up at the gate...i thought i saw a
now hiring sign...why don't you go back to
sea, man...get away from them.
Sailor dreams of them. Reels in dead
drunk, caught trafficking slunk, buys them
both illegal diamonds. Pounded
the rocks to dust...
Sailor dreams of them.
Subj: Re:lunch! 95-06-02 03:51:46 EDT
From: Lushi lani
Posted on: America Online
dr swan,...i have just discovered this department and your writing is very inspiring. thank you.
Lushi Lani
Subj: Re:Ok, so it's like this 95-06-02 15:46:00 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
Very Bella-esque. Dancing on leaves...feathers...colors. Marvelous.
Subj: An Artist's Hands 95-06-02 18:16:32 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
The Artist's Hands
He rolled the ancient beads
over and over
in his hands
as he did every night,
and waited
for the visions..
Once strange and unfamiliar,
he now knew each pair of hands
better than his own.
He mirrored each movement;
every turn and rub
of those now living
inside him.
Ancient hands which
had worn courseness
from the beads
becoming maps of
calloused mountains,
cracked river beds
and stained prairies;
telling their harsh story
of native life.
Young hands which held
the beads just long enough
to leave the faintest and
softest of memories;
pink skin.. innocent laughter..
Large hands
leaving bold scratches,
battered and bruised
by untold acts of
bloodshed.. violence..
Until at last
came
the hands of peace...
Artist's hands,
firm and gentle;
guiding, teaching..
Hands that spoke;
weaving tales of
distant islands,
garden paradise..
Hands which knew the
curve of a sail,
the rise and fall
of ocean swells..
Hands that caressed the
soft hair of
an artists brush,
and the stiff bristles
of a bearded face..
Hands which passed an
ancient medicine bag to mine,
and let my dreams begin.
Subj: Sister Meat 95-06-02 20:00:11 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Many Thanx to The Lad for supplying the word "vexed."
Meat Nun
Omni, Star, Purity Supreme --
Sister shops in markets named
with Episcopal whimsy, but doesn't notice.
The meatcase is her priedieu; she leans
and reads the labels like a breviary,
and with perfect mystical attention she recites
the canonical hours of flesh:
mignons, prime rib, turkey, shank,
bones, oysters, capon.
With a gentle thumb she prods
a flank steak as tenderly as if it were
Christ's own gash. Covert, I watch her
as she turns her gaze
toward the Ave Maris Stella
Fish Shoppe
where lobsters lie heaped
in a restless Golgotha
in their glass tank --
a Biblical 2 X 1 cubits
of bubbles and rust.
Only one or two still care enough to strain
a fabulous claw against
the rubber manacle. They languish
in a Crustacean Dark Night
of accidie, abulia, ataraxia.
Like the vexed Saints,
their fate is sealed by otherness
and succulance: to be boiled alive.
But chilly insinuations
of freon and gristle
must have tentacled her ankles. She looks
alarmed, she thinks she'd better settle
for the nice ground chuck:
fresh, cheap and extra lean,
with no troublesome ribs and knuckles
to evoke kindreds,
and may God Bless the unholy triune
of carapace, angst and prayer,
our scrambled food chain diorama
of watcher, eater, eaten,
with His water like blood
and His shell like broken wafer !
5.31-6.2
Subj: well, ok, SweetFace 95-06-02 21:14:01 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Since you have decided this just MUST be a public issue, I will inform everyone IN PUBLIC that I asked you nicely via e-mail to take your complaints with Dr. Swan somewhere else instead of here.(I will send a copy of that letter and the 2 replies I received to anyone who wants to see them.) I did, indeed open this folder...no, it does not make it mine any more than it makes it yours. Neither were any of the folders you opened under your many guises YOUR folders and yet, you treated them so.
I have ignored you up to this point. I shall attempt to ignore you AFTER this point.
But, yes, Ramona/Frieda/Erene/Babs. etc., etc., etc...you HAVE made this personal by ignoring a very respectful request.
Diana
Subj: I'll stay out of yours: 95-06-02 21:55:35 EDT
From: ASweetFace
Posted on: America Online
If you stay out of mine, when I start up a folder. I have a lot to write yet, and don't want to intrude, but for a lesson here and there.
Ramona
Subj: Re:I'll stay out of yours: 95-06-02 22:13:34 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
It's a deal...I don't recall posting but once in one of your previous folders and I don't intend to post in any future folder. There IS one free to open right now...be my guest.
Diana
Subj: Re:I'll stay out of yours: 95-06-02 22:18:55 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
oh yawn...
same ol' schtick, eh, rita?
and those shoes.... they're AWFUL!!!
Subj: Re:where 95-06-03 04:26:41 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
Sorry......thats "Proctor20", using a friend's screen name.
Proctor20/Ismahan/isa.
Subj: Ramona's Runes 95-06-03 09:55:06 EDT
From: ASweetFace
Posted on: America Online
That was ill-advised. Any legitimate poet, including Diana, may post in my new folder. No comments; no flaming any more; poetry. O.K?
Ramona
Subj: Re: Ramona's Runes 95-06-03 10:17:55 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
You're on.
Subj: Re:An Artist's Hands 95-06-03 12:38:40 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
God, I love your words. Would you care to loan me your Thesaurus...you wrote it yourself, right? (The Thesaurus, that is). Love Patch
Subj: Re:Sister Meat 95-06-03 13:14:54 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
marvelous, Swan...how do you come up with these ideas? Patch
Subj: Re: Ramona's Runes 95-06-03 13:20:30 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
sounds good to me.
Subj: Re:Hag 95-06-03 13:22:58 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
marvelous. MARVELOUS, MARVELOUS, MARVELOUS. Patch
Subj: Re: Hag 95-06-03 13:40:43 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
That is marvelous, absolutely marvelous...thank you
Subj: Re:Hag 95-06-03 14:10:05 EDT
From: Bulldog406
Posted on: America Online
Oh Swannie- this is mah-velous, simply mah-velous my dear! Ramona's Ruins-er I mean Runes (or do I or does she?) were misnamed. So apropos! jj:)
Subj: Re: The Artist's Hands 95-06-03 14:13:04 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
This is beautiful.
You ahh the sweetestah....
Be careful, you might actually get a medicine bag some day.
Love,
Bella
Subj: might as well dive 95-06-03 14:19:10 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
DianaSings -- "Flower Man" -- a gem, Diana: a seamless intertwining of the sexual and flower imagery, with an almost palpable tenderness in the simplicity of the last two lines.
Ducky -- "Crescent Moon" -- The title's fine ! It could also be "New Moon", I guess, but crescent is nicely visual. I really liked "fire of a sure bright star" and "pearled salt" To condense a bit: how about "pearled salt that clings to my flesh" becoming "the salt that pearls my flesh" ... and how about throwing in some tides in the last stanza to go along with the moon imagery ? "And sleeping tides of blood/awaken at our first touch" or some such thing....
MaxM. -- "Sailor and Lulu" -- bravo. Great twist with Kierkegaard, expands the context the physical, intellectual, historical...you're great with colloquial rhythms, that shift from simplicity to charged/imagistic speech...(don't go)
"Lulu vs. Sublimated" -- yow. "languid...hiatus...miasmic...yawns...gaping goof holes" what a great line...I did like the frock coats, and the rock pile...the ghost of Freud wafting thru...dark wit...
Diana -- "Broken Toys" -- the middle section is great, the elaboration of the wonderful passion toy; I think you might not need the 3rd and 4th lines, and, at the end, to cut the 3 lines between "the passion.....of color-" would make the end more pithy (but you might have to throw in some flowers or colors earlier on to anchor it better.) The feeling is well expressed, poignant and sad... (Thanks for posting your ghost hand poem...we've tapped into a Jungian archetype I think...)
Jane -- "Reckless" -- I like how the narrow angst of the first half, opens up into the spaciousness of the second, but echoes thru it. Art as commodity/art as transcendence...
GraceD -- "swing" -- Nice exploration of mind/body thru images of chidhood... "passing freely /from past to east to last" is a great way to describe the primary processes of the mind that leap the constraints of category ! And the anxiety/ambivalence is well expressed by the queasiness and vertigo.. the image of a swing is perfect for expressing freedom/constraint.
Bella -- "A Safe Passage" -- I liked the dimness of this, the "without measure," "without counting" , the colors only in reflection, the great billowing sail...seemed almost womblike...
JFBB -- "Artists Hands" -- an interesting vision of artistic inspiration, tradition, sources, imagination, homage to teachers/forebears....
Subj: Summer Fool 95-06-03 15:23:20 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
Comments please . . .
Summer Fool
There is a woman I date every spring
before nine hours of sleep. Just
feeling which lurks around the bed
until a visual,
a word or even a song -
enters me. And the countless dreams
one can have in one night, gone
forever in a morning stretch.
Repression can cause the most
useless skills to develop. I invent
a recollection, a dream or two to
light my day. Perhaps she enquired
to the appropriate agency. "Chapter VII?
I shall not want to wait 6 years
and 11 months for him", she says to herself.
And to reason out my own human
condition brightens it more. I know
what's in those unrecalled dreams.
The fatigue of sophisticated fear and
rage. And to reconcile myself with
me conjures up a vision of chatter
with some cat being a cat who has just
knocked over the glass bowl which contained
my only prized goldfish. I need not these defenses.
I see it's pink gills, they flap a
last minute grasp at life. What do
I say to it, and the feline? And then another.
This woman in spring she calls
the state. The fish is almost dead now
because she called them. Now she knows
they have prosecuted me for self-abuse.
If I could go back and sleep
every dreamless night over again,
I would not do it alone. I would smile
in the morning, I would scream some kind
of joy - punishment, that traces back to every
one of those unsung songs that this time
I will sing.
copyright 1995-PROVOST
Subj: Re: Safe Passage & Ok, so... 95-06-03 15:35:50 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
I hope you know that my response indicates a very deep appreciation for what you wrote. I know you know, but I wanted to say it anyway.
You remain as enchanting as ever, Bella.. I only wish I could respond as enchantingly.. sigh.... Tbone
Subj: Re: Safe Passage & Ok, so... 95-06-03 15:44:07 EDT
From: RymeMaker
Posted on: America Online
T-Bone:
Dearest brother anf friend...I don't think you need to wish for much more than you have, son.
The artists hands...they are so cool and so clever and they inspire more than men can dream in a single lifetime...and you have told them well.
I wish I had written this...just for her..as you did.
God but I hate all this good competition.
TMT
Subj: incubus 95-06-03 15:47:27 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
No stranger to periodic and comedic shrieking awakenings from nightmare, swan is astonished that only last week did she have a classic incubus dream...
Incubus
I zigzag through my dream.
I veer from wall to wall.
I have escaped from Hell,
and spies are everywhere:
I still owe half of eternity
to the fiery furnace.
(They're tough on crime there.)
It's one of those dreams
weak on particulars,
but strong on atmosphere:
It's a pavor nocturnus,
heavy and classical as Wagner,
that squats on my chest
growing denser and denser.
Spreadeagled on granite.
I'm pressed flat as a slap.
The whole weight of the planet
encumbers my sleep.
I feel sternum kiss backbone,
ribs crack where they're pinned,
I have no more breath
just the sound of the wind
as I'm sieved in between
fissured atoms of rock
and electrons of dream,
pulled toward the magma
of the penetentiary core,
to my cell with no windows,
where ceiling meets floor.
6.3
Subj: Re: Ancient Hands 95-06-03 16:16:13 EDT
From: COOLDECK
Posted on: America Online
....it truly is a saner place to hear beauty like that...
Subj: Re: Summer Fool 95-06-03 16:27:35 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
"Summer Fool" is interesting. The poet's talent succeeds in expressing the nuances of the related reality. The singer could also express this reality more directly so as to free up the poetic character's energy.
Subj: Prom 95-06-03 17:26:41 EDT
From: VozCascada
Posted on: America Online
Prom
by VozCascada "waterfalling voice"
I awoke perhaps on a Wednesday
And brought a lump of cream cheese
To the metal cage. My rat was cool like the ocean
And I put her outside. Her gray softness shifted
Into the earth, and was gone.
I wore a shining silver dress
And sparkles on my wrist, neck, ears, while
Hairs of another continent, pleasant and coarse,
Were beginning to cascade around your lapels.
Silver sneaker dances, photos
Soon to be photographs, skylit dinner below,
The electricity pulsed up your thighs
And two white rats sniffed the old cage,
Sniffed sickness and agony
And would not let me touch them.
Meryl? Tamarisk, perhaps?
My cheek on your bow tie felt strength.
For a moment, in your dance suit,
I saw Gabriella in the tight black dress,
All curves and smiles and sex-filled cigarettes.
Subj: Re:Sister Meat 95-06-03 18:36:47 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Really dig your poem, Dr!
Subj: Whistling Wind 95-06-03 19:00:30 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
"Where the Wind Whistles No Dogma"
We shall never know
the pages
god has so cleverly
pasted together.
Never the first form of truth.
Still we try
to read between the lines of a double spaced
Humans Handbook to Life
and after so many years of
analytical
Etymology, cryptic pandering
and second guessing,
We no more understand the
blank pages of the book, than
the first bewildered
face, carrying the first
copy of the first issue
In some time
Present vanity forgot.
Perhaps it's a journal afterall.
Subj: Love Was Our God 95-06-03 19:04:52 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Love Was Our God
Cut Hands
Gripping the leather straps
around an old church leaning.
God impossibly above
passionate poses dust covered
and all the candles out
except for those
in your eyes,
and with them
you look at me,
wavering shadows
of old prayers, and crying,
"revival"
Subj: Re:Hag 95-06-03 19:28:52 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
Dear Swannie:
If you see Ramona, send her my way....I'll put fifty-eight years to her and make her scream for
M & M's
Mercy and More!
Just never know what the woodwork hides, do we.
Stan
Subj: Would like to CLEAR things up... 95-06-03 22:34:53 EDT
From: Proctor20
Posted on: America Online
TeachMeTru is NOT my screen name.
When two people are on the same computer at the same time, it is quite easy for either one to accidentally post or send mail using the others screen name. That is what occured last night, and I've been told that it has caused a great deal of confusion amongst people I call friends on these boards.
I've also been told that my posting "Re: Where" as TeachMeTru, was a bit tactless though not in so many words. Perhaps it was, that was not my intention. This folder is a wonderful place to share poetry, I have been reading it since it first started just haven't posted until now. I offered Max a place where there is no flaming. Many on the boards believe that the Cuisenart is for the elite of the poetry corner. There are many wonderful poets that are scared away by our familiarity with each other and how long the chain has been in existence. I merely meant to assure Max and anyone else who read the posting that they can walk in there and be welcomed.
Again, would like to apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused anyone who read my posting.
isa.
Subj: Pulling the Pansies 95-06-03 22:49:50 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
Something new and a little different. Critique welcome from anyone whose name does not begin with an "R"....
PULLING THE PANSIES
They pulled the pansies on new 85,
saffron and royal faces uprooted,
brown berm denuded, torn out of bed.
Caltrans crews, grim reapers
with rakes, committed violacide
one fine night; redefined roadkill.
Seems drivers were slowing,
drivers were gawking, some drivers
were copping a quick pense.
Engineers of the silicon sort,
low-riders in '69 Chevys;
two-mile delays on opening day.
Brain-dead execs, road jockeys,
smog-coughers, craned necks
at the sight...and sighed.
"Great horrors, they're slowing!
We think it our duty to rip out
the posies. Imagine, seek beauty?
We want normal freeways,
graffiti soiled sound walls--
commute-spoiling pansies, begone!"
Now they slow us down right
with metering lights- flash, green, go,
flash, red, stop- two cars at a time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
m.w.h.
Subj: Re:Hag 95-06-03 23:00:54 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
Bravo, bravo, bravo and many LOL's, dear swan. Your spirit is an inspiration. Fly with the eagles...
Subj: Re:Summer Fool 95-06-04 00:52:50 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
the addition of the cat and goldfish added a chilling touch. Good piece of work..tense. Patch
Subj: Re:incubus 95-06-04 00:54:50 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
pressed flat as a slap. what a line, Swan. God, you're good.
Subj: Re:Would like to CLEAR things up 95-06-04 01:00:16 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
I just posted a response "Cutting"...answering "What is this Place?" meaning the cuisinart. It is all I said it was and more. We were all newbies once...and we respect new poets, young poets, inexperienced poets as well as the experienced, published or unpublished. The Cuis is a warm, loving, nurturing place for people who want to learn their craft. Patch
Subj: Re:Pulling the Pansies 95-06-04 01:01:50 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
I am smitten Mimi! You have my solemn promise that I will read any and all things that you post on these boards. God that's a good poem! I am your slave forever.
Brian --- A 60s Man
Subj: To A 60's Man 95-06-04 01:45:55 EDT
From: LaceyLog
Posted on: America Online
Well, Brian...what more could a 60's sort of woman ask than your undying devotion. I think I'm in love! Thank you for your kind words.
Mimi
Subj: From under the dust........ 95-06-04 01:55:28 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
Foremost, my warmest thank you to those who had kind words for my postings... special thanks to Ducky, "these bonds" of course, so much better...
I offer some selections from under the dust here upon my desk.... again, for those who may have been subjected to these in earlier postings, I apologize..... Willow...........
***************************************************************************
Crockett Under the Bridge
The sound
of the running shower
works
its way
into my consciousness.
I hesitate
to open my eyes
and disturb
the pain
waiting
in the light.
Now
I hear you
humming
softly to yourself
and smell
your fragrance
in the bedding.
Through
the doorway
I see the golden curve
of your back
as you dry
honey colored tresses.
Wrapping yourself
in sunlight
you come to the bed,
offering
soft words,
aspirin,
a cold cloth.
While last night's
memories,
fogged
in alcohol,
incomplete,
don't include
arriving in your world;
the sound of your voice,
your gentle touch,
your kiss,
are familiar.
Perhaps
loneliness
recognizing its kin
caused you
to collect me
as one might
a stray kitten.
Your embrace
tells of more
than just
a maternal instinct.
An afternoon sun
warms
through the floral sheets
as we stir
and softly
talk
of everything,
and nothing.
The tall bridges
are gold edged
silver
against the
cobalt sky.
The antique shops are
closing
as we venture
down your apartment stairs,
seeking the evening,
to mix with
Saturday night.
We chase the sunset
from San Pablo
to Sausalito,
searching
the shoreline
and shops
for mermaids or unicorns
finding
the happiness
of each other
and your old Plymouth
reluctant
to maintain this pace.
A late drive
to Berkeley
for
a Chinese restaurant
open after midnight.
Then down the hill,
around the turn,
and we put the car
and ourselves
to bed
beneath the traffic
above.
The wisdom
of the day:
That love
is like
Chinese food.
***************************************************************************
Subj: Leaving............... 95-06-04 01:59:08 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
Leaving
Automatically, I guide my old Chevy
southward on State 41.
The hot sun carries my thoughts
to yesterday, and Fresno, and you.
Yesterday, when we again lived our lives
apart from reality;
with bookshops and chopsticks,
tangled sheets and pink Champagne.
Again lived the tender moments,
the hungry moments,
the hidden hours;
and then again, the parting.
Now each second draws us further apart,
even as we grow closer together;
returning
to our separate lives.
Releasing you is not easy, is not done so soon.
The car, my clothes,
yet hold the fragrance of your perfume.
The taste of your kiss still rests upon my lips.
My arms can feel even now your warmth
and the scent of your body is yet upon my hands.
In my mind I know the reality of our love,
that we can only have these fragile
stolen moments.
But with each goodbye
an emptiness deep within
tells me I am doing something
dreadfully wrong.
Subj: October................. 95-06-04 02:01:23 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
October
I turn my collar to the wind and walk,
trying to think of other places,
other times,
before yesterday or the day before
or last summer.
The world before you.
The chill in the air warns of the coming winter.
Of waking alone
to a monochrome world.
A sun only gray in a gray sky.
Being alone in winter is the hardest.
Subj: Re:Pulling the Pansies 95-06-04 02:31:13 EDT
From: Ismahan
Posted on: America Online
you are not the only one 60's man, Lacey has had us in a corner with her poetry for a long time.
Mimi, won't you be a dear and email me some poems of yours since i won't be on the boards anymore?
love you,
isa.
Subj: Re:at the end of Memorial Day 95-06-04 02:35:00 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
good diana - it was nice to be reminded of how much freedom we americans have taken for granted.
Subj: dominique's body 95-06-04 10:07:41 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
dominique's body
######################
television camera
pantleg mud
whirling machine
goochie goochie gooing
his shaken friend
fourteen, pointing
murder bled in police red
gathering crowd
senselessness
they found dominique's body
with no love on
and the beauty all gone
the nightmare glides down
the escalator in a Sears & Roebuck
wearing polished black shoes and
dark glasses, but hard to recognize
a nasty scar burning inside his ear
it's in his head, only in his head
the boy was a ghost from the beginning
the nightmare is never caught
dark/80
Subj: Re:Would like to CLEAR things up 95-06-04 11:31:47 EDT
From: Bulldog406
Posted on: America Online
I've known Diana Sings for a long time. We go back before Cuis ever started. She opened this folder with a warm heart and greeted everyone like the lady she is. There could be no warmer, more nuturing folder on this board than here before the "plague" struck. Now please lets get back to being the good friends we were before the Ramonic plague struck. Check out On line poets in More Poetry. jj:)
Subj: Re:Leaving............... 95-06-04 11:44:18 EDT
From: Jaguar Jo
Posted on: America Online
Loved it. Have you been living my life? jj:)
Subj: a doodad 95-06-04 12:14:20 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Zombies
In the night
under the portico
of trees, long shades
slip out, the leaves
susurrate a handshake,
the lamps discretely
turn away.
We walk,
the dead return --
the living dead,
drawn by the familiarity
of these four legs,
not to eat them, but to stroll,
companionable, awhile --
you, me, the boy
jamming his way to heaven
in the basement
of Holmes Hole,
the girl, picking her way
through gristle and bone
toward a star.
6.4.95
Subj: Re:Pulling the Pansies 95-06-04 12:17:17 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Bravissima, Lacey !
Subj: Re:Would like to CLEAR things up 95-06-04 12:40:46 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
You mean we are supposed to share poetry and show respect?
So.....er......does this mean I have to stop flirting.....
Again?????
sigh....
(big phreaky-type grin)
Bella
Subj: My First Girlfriend 95-06-04 14:06:34 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
comments?
My First Girlfriend
No, it is not so much the limitless blue,
the green or even profound golden rust
which pulls me in. Void of crimson streaks,
the painless white which surrounds her eyes
keeps me away.
No, it is not so much the supple skin.
Or the way it glistens beneath tears,
or thin strands of unfiltered light which
draws me near. It's the way her softness floats
in my ear which keeps me away.
No, it is not so much the scent of strength
which envelopes me, sucks the soft white
of my belly against her sex. The tender-edged
flaps, anticipation of need inside my lungs
keep me away.
No, it is not so much the exactness of her
tongue when it speaks confident words that
reel my heart into her throat. It's the taste in
my head of her leaving which
keeps me away.
No, it is not so much the "I want yous"
or the "Goodbyes." which fullfill me
and lead me astray. What kills me,
keeps me alive? is the "I've never been in love.",
I've admitted today.
copyrighted,Provost-6/4/95
Subj: Re:Would like to CLEAR things up 95-06-04 14:14:31 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
Stop flirting? Bella??? ROFLMAO!!!
Sheesh, I hope not... where would I get my inspiration??
Bella=flirting=inspiration=poety=Bella=flirting=inspiration=Bella=flirting=inspiration=Bella=flirting=inspiration=Bella=flirting=inspiration=Bella=flirting=inspiration=Bella=flirting=inspiration=Bella=flirting=inspiration=.....
Tbone...
Subj: Re:Would like to CLEAR things up 95-06-04 15:34:57 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Great solo, TBone...but the rest of the band's gone home ! <G> (hands him a tube of Zoog's Lip Balm)
I have discovered that "the host's not responding" means that the post in question goes to a sort of AOL cyber-bardo from which it eventually gets posted...
I'm not sure whether it gets posted if one logs off, but I assume so (but I tend to think of cars and computers in human physiolgic/anatomic metaphors, which means I am often wrong ! -- ie. if you think of the post as a blood clot in the carotid artery, it eventually embolizes....stop me!)
Subj: Re:Would like to CLEAR again 95-06-04 16:13:34 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Bardo yes..more like double post toasties.Like I always say keep doing it till you get it right. <G>
Subj: Re:Would like to CLEAR things up 95-06-04 17:50:20 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Thank you, Isa.
Subj: Willowmere&Kimsviolet 95-06-04 19:44:45 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
I enjoyed both poems. Kimsviolet, i was really touched and slapped in the collective consciousness face. You write for me ,too.And I appreciate it.
Subj: goodbye 95-06-04 20:12:20 EDT
From: MaxMrvlus
Posted on: America Online
I have been contacted by the aol authorities that I have used profanit again (in my "where" posting) and have been fined...
Since I write a majority of my poem ONLINE, I feel I will be unable to post here anymore, for how can one truly give life to art with limits imposed upon it...
Ask Glen Gould...ask John Galt...
I'll continue to read many of your very inspiring works, but for now, count me out of the circle of poets that seek sanctuary in this "saner place"...
farewell...
I hope this gets you off my back, THopeB...
Subj: Re:Willowmere&Kimsviolet 95-06-04 20:44:23 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
damn - my poems verging on clinical and appealing to the collective unconscious. i have to stop going to therapy - couldn't you think of some constructive critique sevren ? Just kidding severen. thanks much - I'll get to the raw feeling somehow on my own.
Subj: Re:October................. 95-06-04 20:46:10 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
i like this but being alone in summer is worse - is this too major of a last line change for you to consider?
Subj: isa 95-06-04 20:48:51 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
sheesh - all these words about isa and I MISS you without ever having a cybercon with you. Then again saige vouches for your wonderfulness. oops - I might get in trouble now.
Subj: soup&quackers (long) 95-06-05 00:30:01 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Dearest friends you have graced this lovely folder so eloquently that I scarce know where to begin...but begin I shall, and you'll probably never get me to shut up....(ain't that right, Di?<G>)
MaxMrvlus-- "black meat"...Powerful work. I should have you check the spelling of "furenol" ( else it is a new one on me )...I think I would also like to see, for rhythm sake only, something following "dry" in the last stanza..."in the dry and ----- air"? Just a thought. "season lost" ... Love this one. Perhaps an "or" in place of "and" in "and bourbon and lap robes"? I shall have to consider your "lulu/sailor" poems. They are good, but somehow sound too familiar? Please stay and post more. (the devil with the Gestapo, I shall catch most of them before they do)
Lacey-- (my name begins with a "D"<G>)"water landing"....Beautiful. " Pulling Pansies"...Yowza! Critique this? Not on your life! It's perfect.
Willowmere--Nay, my thanks to you for sharing your wonderful verse. "crockett"... very sensual...and the last stanza made me smile. "leaving"...Nothing to critique here, the only thing to utter is an empathetic sigh (this one is too wonderful for words). "October"...you are breaking what is left of my heart here...(but don't stop)
Dark--"dominique's body"....scorching, as usual. (wanna be a June bride?<G>)
Sevren x-- "life tar tar"...(god, I love that title<G>) ..and the poem is good too. "no name"....I think you should eliminate the "thank you" at the end, otherwise good work. Interesting *take* on Diana's "broken toys" , but no cigar. <G> "No dogma"..Wonderful. "Love was.."...Like this one too.
Diana-- "freedom" is unbearably touching. I remember feelings like this, where do they go? "flower man"... a moment we all wait for methinks..nice. "Broken Toys" is marvelous. Love the "push-me-pull-you toy" and "to satisfy even the most contrary child". A thought..not a rewrite<G>
'the toy is broken,
the passion faded
to blank whiteness.
-an absence of color-
Not even a flower
to tint the (word of choice here, maybe "silent"? ) air." I do love this one. "untitled ghost hand" ..how true. Wonderful.
Jane--Good to see you here and thanks for the kind words. "reckless"...feeling the wind in my hair. I like.
CoolDeck--"morning after"....whew! thinking about this one maybe you could post it in the "online love" folder as well?
JJ-- "graveyard shift"..I remember this one well. Short, sweet, and perfect. 'Tis good to see you here.
and lest I runneth the soup-pot over...go to the next post.
Subj: more soup 95-06-05 00:31:01 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Don't say I didn't warn you<G>(motor mouth in overdrive)
Swan--(say didn't I see your .gif posted on the post office wall?<G>) "ghost hand"...terrific, as usual. I think (oh my, can I really do this?) you might eliminate "but used to it by now" from the second line of the last stanza though with no ill effect. "Meat Nun" ...incredible images here. "biblical 2x1 cubits/of bubbles and rust" Not bad work for a *crone*<G>. "Incubus" dreams are most likely a direct result of AOL addiction (trust me 'tis why I no longer sleep).<G> another winner.
VozCascada--"Prom"...Welcome and congrats on a terrific poem.
windswhspr--welcome..."tell me"...sweet poem you have here with many truths. In my opinion the last stanza could go and it would be a better poem for it.
Grace--I have seen some of your work elsewhere and am happy you chose to post here "swing"...what a wonderful ride. More please.
Bella--"safe passage"...Sigh, little wonder you are the enchantress. This and "okay, so it's like this"...very nice.
Tbone--"artist's hands"...Oh my! This is wonderful. Love, in particular, "hands that caressed the/soft hair of/an artist's brush,/and the stiff bristles/of a bearded face." I feel a *sigh* coming on<G>.
Oh my, now I have laryngitis of the digits<G>
so sotto voce..."goodnight, sweet dreams"
Subj: Written for 95-06-05 00:44:39 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Written for Someone Whom I Respect and Admire
In a dream once we sat and talked,
or perhaps it was another lifetime.
You a queen and I a trusted counselor.
We spoke at length, as I remember
about nothing in particular. Mainly the
pleasure of each others company.
After this it becomes foggy for me,
not because there wasn't more
but that it was incidental to the facts.
Now when we speak I get that same
feeling as of old, of things done
once and again with pleasure.
No tensions or pretenses, just open
expression between old friends.
There is nothing that would make me
wish to stop or betray this ever.
Subj: inspiration? 95-06-05 01:54:13 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Cute, Tbone, Cute
You know its a good thing you posted that several times,
because sometimes it takes me awhile to get the message.
Do you know that there is some....er....gossip about us around
these poetry boards? Sigh.
Just wanted to let you know, O casanova, it costs about
$79 to fly from SunDiego to Rainland. (one way, of course) :)
dum de dum de da dum de dum
Bella
(night and morning low clouds and haze, clearing to sunshine
in the late afternoon, night and morning low clouds and haze,
clearing to sunshine in the afternoon, night and morning..........)
Subj: Re:inspiration? 95-06-05 02:55:53 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
79.00? - watcha waitin' for TBone - directions?
Subj: i THINK this is new to aol... 95-06-05 15:02:17 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
it takes a heroine like you
to save a hero like me
#####################
i've known the answer like
the back of my own hand.
it isn't you.
it's me,
lusting after sadness
in the heart of afternoon;
touching a leaf like a lover's cheek;
shedding a solitary tear.
the mistake i made last night
taps me on the shoulder
like a friend i owe money to.
i roll around to the sedimentary shame
of bald questionings and
pitying accusations.
handcuffed to lonliness,
i'm forced to participate.
a prisoner roams my arms,
my legs, my lungs.
another breath
and yet another,
i walk barely above
the cracked and crumbling clay
searching for a problem
to fix
my solution...
... and still i need you.
dark/85(v.'95)
Subj: Re:inspiration? ahem 95-06-05 15:08:54 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Of course....please bring the family, the pets, the kitchen sink...
....unless....on the pets.....you don't have one of those pet rats...
do you?
Ducky will pick you up on the way.
Wear fins.
Subj: Re:i THINK this is new to aol... 95-06-05 15:12:45 EDT
From: Sinking2
Posted on: America Online
This is simply beautiful...
Subj: Re:inspiration? ahem 95-06-05 15:16:20 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
Actually - I used to have a pet rat. I still haven't figured out what the pet rat thing was all about. I guess I figured that if I could love and nurture it then I could grow to do the same with my parents (myself).
Subj: Re:i THINK this is new to aol... 95-06-05 15:20:29 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
thanks darkness
a prisoner roams my . . .
Subj: Re:inspiration? ahem 95-06-05 16:07:26 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Actually - I was er....talking to Tbone....
sorry
ahem...whoever you are
Subj: Re:i THINK this is new to aol... 95-06-05 16:19:47 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
This is so nice.
Sigh
Where was I in l985.....
sigh......too bad you are such a terrible dancer ;)
Love,
Bella
Subj: rio doloroso 95-06-05 16:41:51 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
...something like completing a night shift in the ER, or SPOTLESSLY cleaning the house... transient victories over chaos, at best...
All in a Night's Work
The Apple whole upon the branch,
Sleeping dogs asleep at last,
Gadflies smashed and Loki bound
the Bottle corked, the Gyre rewound
Pandora under lock and key.
Ragnarok postponed another day.
6.5
Subj: Re:inspiration? ahem 95-06-05 16:46:48 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
I knew that Bella but your posted Re: was a reply to my post to Tbone so I thought I'd make a funny about the pet rat I used to have.
Subj: Re: Pulling The Pansies 95-06-05 17:07:01 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Love pansies
hate freeways
sigh......This is great....(engineers of the silicon sort?) wonderful...
I have a question, why are the express lanes in the center
on I-5?.......all I wanna do is exit. :) So, I admit....I'm a right
laner. (gawk, honk, scream....just don't shoot me)
Love, Bella
ps: request Cafe Monet post here by Willomere
Subj: Re:goodbye 95-06-05 23:22:13 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
I'm relatively new to aol and these boards. Is there really censorship here? I haven't read MaxMrvlus' "Where," but I have read some of his other work. He's good. Now he's apparently not going to post anymore, because someone may be reading and waiting to fine him if he crosses some line. Does this concern anyone else?
Subj: Re:goodbye 95-06-06 00:36:48 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
yes!!! It concerns me. And I would like to have someone's log of whatever it was that the gestapo pulled belonging to Max so I may write the powers that be to voice my exception to their tactics in this and in the pulling of one of the good Doctor's poems as well. Anyone got it? Please.
Subj: something new...cut away 95-06-06 00:37:46 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Burning Bridges
As she plunges through
the chill, so silent dark
there is yet a remembered
warmth.
The trembling tug gravity
of words and flesh
that held tight her
desperate float
until this...
her final fall.
Subj: Re:goodbye2 95-06-06 02:13:38 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
tight, i mean, right behind you, ducky.
[how embareass, er, *oh, god* embarrassing]
let's see those logs. [is that right?]
Subj: I have the logs 95-06-06 09:31:58 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
just e-mail me and I'll send the pertinent text.
Diana
Subj: lieder + + +...LOL 95-06-06 10:27:34 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
This may well become a song sysle instead of lieder...LOL
Going back to June 2nd!!! Thanks for all YOUR comments on my things and for your support...<wink>
JFBB: 'Arists Hands' left me breathless! Hands are a wonderful subject...they tell so much and you took the theme to a beautiful, beautiful depth!
Swan: 'Meat Nun', though it began a bit of consternation <wink>, it's really good...and funny. 'Hag!!!!.'....WOW!!!!!!!...great huge laughs between tears!!! 'Incubus'...di you ever read my incubus poem...? ;) ...loved 'sternum/backbone and 'sieved between atom so rock...' "Zombies"...<shudder> 'Night's Work' - makes me tired...your images make my head spin as usual!
Voz: 'Prom' -oooo, that was neat! Lots of twists and turns.
SevrenX: 'Dogma'...wonderful...speaks to the human condition! 'Love Was...'...WOW...I really liked this one!
Lacey: 'Pansies'..loved 'violacied'...LOL...just great. Here in the East we plant wildflowers in the median between our four-lanes...:)
Willowmere: I'm only going to say that I am so taken with your poetry that I am speechless...:) Ahhhh...the stories you tell.
Dark: "Dominique" is really wonderful...' no love on and the beauty all gone"..chilling! "Heroine/Hero" aother of those love poems...:)...mmm...lovely on a 'Dark' sort of way...LOL
KimsViolet: 'Summer Fool - wonderfully done with a nice twist! 'First Girlfriend'...blew me away! Like a slam to the gut!...absolutely great!
Dwain: 'Written For...' made me weep. Oh, to be held in such high estimation by someone...lovely.
Ducky: 'bridge'..SUPER and painfilled...like life, huh? I think a comma after 'silent' in line 2 and move 'gravity' to the next line...cosmetic treatment only...:):)
Subj: an old relationship... 95-06-06 10:28:46 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
mother & daughter
We both are wives, run homes, cook food.
Our "company towels" smell the same.
- like ancient wooden boxes -
We stow them away, keep them from
ourselves, as though not
worthy
to have such softness touch our skin.
We both worry that someone needed us
and we were not there;
that needful voices cried out names
but we head the Muse instead.
We have scattered our minds in many directions
unable to find peace.
But there are differences...
One has cried enough for both.
One has prayed enough for both.
One's shadow wholly devours the other
- a reversal of the way it was
at the beginning for us -
One had children, the other, not,
missing the 'curse:'
"Someday you'll haveAC a child just like you!"
One of us married young.
One of us married old,
and yet our husbands are nearly the same age.
(Strange, mother, that we stand to lose them, then
at much the same time.)
This litany is a hope that we can
bind a wound we never acknowledged...
the pain of loving each other too much,
yet needing to live at arms' length.
Subj: Re:something new...cut away 95-06-06 10:48:27 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
I like it
-comma needed after 'tug' ?
-is it really a final fall or could you say,
until this . . .
her next fall. ?
her familiar fall(ing). ?
her welcome fall. ?
her penultimate cascade ( JUST KIDDING!)
her crimson cascade. ?
sounds so final with final
but I like it very much til the last line
peace,
bob
Subj: Units of Time 95-06-06 11:11:31 EDT
From: RKMartin
Posted on: America Online
Units of Time
***************
Gretchen?
The light stops
Spine sinks into hell
(small voices and tapping sounds)
The light stops and whispers fall as sharply as faint cuts in glass
And so goes the passage of the praised and the worthy.
(light for a moment)
We are glad you are saved
And we know that you love us
And the brittle grasp we assume
And we are weak and must surrender
And our time will amount to beetles and flies
And craters will gather upon the faceless form of the earth
Dying to shade the love splitting image cast into our eyes
At the table, during prayer, I did look at my hands.
And here stands the light
Dividing my units of time
Like puddles of days
(a little less light)
A little less time
The moments are so enticing, sweet
And at just the right time . . . my fingers age
My worthless rituals have finally began to show
The age and dry milk sand dunes . . .
It must be part of the gathering assumptions
Riding long and hard, into the last pages
Gretchen? . . .
(a little more silence)
Did I hear you move in time?
Did I remember to beg for your touch to be subtle?
Did I remain proper, while scrolling through your
Deftly arranged flower patterns?
At the time, I wondered if I would ever see this again.
I can paint for you a simple picture
An observation
For you to taste and touch
Unlocking the dormant image, sound and texture
Open the door . . . .
I now have no memories of your early attempts
They have loosened in the rough and tumble
Slipped through air
They may be in Spain
On the walls of some cave
But the longing is hardly crucial
This one is breathtaking . . .
Reckless . . .
And I am afraid, like a grasshopper
And you open the door.
rKm
So much wonderful poetry I've missed while being busy
(Swan . . . . you leave me grasping for words - my mind spinning . . .)
So many new folks . . . . Hello to all!
Hope to join all of you more often . . . soon
But for now, the sweet, dissonant density of mass and line, moving through space and time, tempts my soul . . . . just a little more.
Kevin
Subj: re:something new...cut away 95-06-06 14:32:24 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
love how your last line punches.
I emailed you.
Subj: re: an old relationship 95-06-06 14:33:29 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
This is great Diana. I really like the line:
"We have scattered our minds in many directions
unable to find peace."
....and about the "curse"......It's true. :S
Love,
Bella
Subj: re: written for 95-06-06 14:34:33 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Clearly this is about someone special....
How about...
Once in a dream
and
ever wish to stop or betray this.
Subj: Re:re:something new...cut away 95-06-06 15:53:20 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
wow - a strong disagreement - maybe I'd better read that poignant poem again
Subj: All In 95-06-06 16:13:08 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
An expansion of my previous ditty...yes,yes.. this IS a poem a clef... (deep, moody sigh). You supply the dedication.
All In
All in a Night's Work
The Apple whole upon the branch,
Sleeping dogs asleep at last,
Gadflies smashed and Loki bound
the Bottle corked, the Gyre rewound
Pandora under lock and key.
Ragnarok postponed another day.
All in a Day's Work
The pectin gleams on Adam's chin,
the wakened Dogs all howl and din.
Gadflies gad and Loki lokes,
the Bottle spills, the Gyre is broke.
Pandora lets the demons free
and Ragna Rocks for you and me !
(...the two sections to be alternated repeatedly,
without variation, until the end of time....)
6.5.95
Norse mythology consultant, The LAD -- luv ya M.!
Subj: Re:out-of-body writing 95-06-06 16:33:39 EDT
From: Shabda9
Posted on: America Online
LOVE AND THE UNIVERSAL SOUND, THE LIFE CURRENT.
I'm doing a workshop on Thursday, June 8, 1995 about writing and states of awareness.
How to expand awareness to 'catch' more of the good from the inner side of life. Dreams, contemplations, daily events that strike the consciousness like the poem that rings true!
That's June 8th at 6:30 PM. If you're in the Sacramento area and want info, call the Learning Exchange at 916-929-9200. Ask about the 'Out-of-Body Writing' class!
We'll have videos, tapes and perhaps some amazing photographs showing how sound affects 'reality.' Also workshopping your original writing.
Strictly out of the ordinary....
New worlds to see, feel, and know.
With Goodwill,
Tim
(e-mail me if you like...)
(I'm looking for short notes and poems on the universal sound (the music of the spheres, or divine sound) that some hear as various friendly inner sounds - coming from a spiritual source. If you have any personal experiences to share, I'd love to read them on e-mail! May include in a book I'm crafting on love and the universal sound and writing. The courageous approach to life.
My thanks for your thought and attention....
Subj: Hailstorm 95-06-06 16:55:15 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
A gathering feeling of humidity
and gentle rain on the windows
consumed by loud resonating thunder.
Electrical power flickers on and off.
The thunder explodes again.
We simultaneously laughed.
Suddenly the thunder reasserts its presence
echoes in the lightning.
Our listening silently initiates its stunning mystery.
A window, slightly open, suddenly receives a gust of wind,
alien to the atmosphere.
The rain accelerates.
Pebbles are raining rapidly, furiously.
The thunder more ominous and more present
in a co-ordinated synchronicity with a flash of lightning,
as the pebble sound is consumed in the falling stones.
The stones transform into rocks.
The windows around the house sound like they are breaking.
More is falling than sound in the shadows of the daylight,
yielding to a twilight,
interspersing the sun's rhythmical disappearance into the shafts of light,
flashing the grey cloudiness into a dark luminescence.
The falling stones, finally decreasing
as more space comes between them.
Greyish clouds, under and over blacker clouds
whirl in the sky extra-naturally.
The sound on the house is now musical.
The windows are now instruments.
And the rain washed the stones
which had fallen from another universe.
And the sky broke,
then resealed,
then shattered the sound of thunder,
then sealed into the far-off lightning
moving away,
perhaps over the seas,
or to new mountains and new continents,
reawakening what is already there,
waking up the fertile seed,
disturbing its sleep.
The rain is washing the darkness.
The clouds occasionally break, then reform.
The thunder is moving farther away.
The lightning glimmers occasionally in the cloudiness
which communicates distance in the other direction.
It is moving away.
Its eye focused on us from another eternity,
in another genesis,
in a timelessness that speaks out of an empty silence,
sounding only light visually tracing the seed's germination
as the seed sheds its husk and awakens simultaneously
within and without the light in the darkness.
Subj: Re:goodbye2 95-06-06 18:04:34 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
just a little closer, Dark, can't hear you (snicker)
Subj: Re:I have the logs 95-06-06 18:05:27 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
please send 'em Diana...I have letters to write to the gestapo and need some ammo.....
thanks..
Subj: On the Edge of A Flood 95-06-06 19:38:48 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
On the Edge Of A Flood
-for Paul
For lonely
there is no
immediate remedy.
I got it from some human
hurricane which dried
before I was born
or when I came out.
On the edge of a
flood is pure white.
The side of a tide,
its sand, bone, its glass
sweep waters against
filthy things before it storms
back into the sea.
On the soft tip of a
wing, there is angel.
A pink love which
on rare occasion
brushes the clickety-clack
hardness at my center
to harness a flight.
Light,
almost weightless,
a step from this ground up
to something above hope
onto a joy I scream
all to myself in a moment
of birth.
copyright 1995-PROVOST
Subj: lieder..(p.s. shoulda been CYCLE 95-06-06 20:49:42 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
RKMartin...WELCOME...so good to see you here! Speaking of 'breathtaking'...your "Units of Time" certainly was! There are so many layers to this poem...I shall read it many times, I'm sure!
Dr Swan...I don't know if I can stand TWO night's work...LOL Clever, compact (even in its expansion)...straight to the point...:)
Mi(many #'s)...I'm gonna e-mail you on the 'hailstorm' (and the other one you sent me). This poem seems to accelerate as the storm does, then fades away with it, too....I'll write...:)
Subj: Crawshan 95-06-06 21:28:03 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
your rabbit
my pet goat.
Subj: Re:Hailstorm 95-06-06 21:39:52 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
this is quite good. My only suggestion: you use "suddenly" twice, very close together about a quarter of the way down in the poem. Perhaps you could replace or omit one of them. Patch
Subj: Patch/RymeMaker 1st Lines 95-06-06 21:44:41 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
RymeMaker First Lines:
c1995 by Patricia R. Piatt
these twin peaks should be named.
such rare, bare beauties,
so voluptuously cuppable,
so fittingly fitting in my two cupped hands
should be named
adorable
kissable
holdable, sweetable, tongueable
lickable.
prickable.
@ @
stray thoughts, like poisoned darts
puncture our passionate kisses
with needling persistence:
did you tongue him
as you do me?
when his body cross-hatched
yours, were your needs as pressing?
did you open for him
as you do now for me with twisting
yearning intensity?
your darting tongue
licks
the piercing thoughts away.
our sighing bodies find their center.
sweet,
sweet poison:
I take you with such pleasure.
c1995 Patricia R. Piatt
Subj: oops!...Mi (many #'s) 95-06-06 21:51:19 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Did you ever have one of those days?....You did not...repeat...DID NOT mail me a poem...that was RMCLEON.....alll you new guys look alike...LOL
But I WILL e-mail on the hailstorm...:)
Diana
Subj: dottirs 95-06-06 22:35:01 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
I was thinking aout 2 contemporaries who are "great" with child, the etymological roots of 3 words (great grand gross), the form "terza rima" and an article in this morning's Globe about Eichmann's son...throw in a LARGE splash of paranoia and spleen, and you have: nebelsdottirs. Forgive me this bilious trifle...
Nebelsdottirs
Old Herr Professor Sigmacht Nebelfrei
once spawned and made himself three pretty daughters --
Grosein, Groszwei, Grosdrei --
who traveled by themselves to Argleterror,
Bigone, Bigtwo, Bigthree.
They fled across the sparkling Heimat waters.
One was as fair as blissful Saxony
and lusty as a Rhineland tinker's dam.
First she took the fine name Great and then she
called her brooding older sister Grand.
Grand was tall as a hollow Lindenbaum
and swaggered like a hopeless courting ram;
the last was Gross who pined for hearth and home,
through thick and thick and thick and thick and thick.
A sward, a swale, a whistling piny grove
a cottage made of twenty walking sticks,
the sisters were as rich as Deutschland queens,
with crowns of tooth and roots like leather whips
all tangled beneath the cold reluctant green
of shallow grass. But their woods were full of owls,
and black feathers spun and tumbled on the sheen
of their brooks and anthems; their sky blue porcelain bowls
held cheeses ripening to sour and fetid soap.
There were no cellars deep enough, no holes
whose darkness could in them instill the hope
that they could bear to look upon the closest
to them, and not think of dying by the rope.
Yes, Argleterror was a bitter hostess
to dreadful Father Grimm's expatriata
the lovely daughters gross, grosser and grossest.
6.6.95
Subj: THE YOUNGER UNCLES 95-06-06 23:55:58 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
I wrote this in 1976 and found it recently. Comments welcomed.
THE YOUNGER UNCLES
My father's brothers have been visiting my dreams--
like courtly phantoms--
Only there daring to join me.
Awake, I almost never see the younger uncles.
Since the funerals--
Dick's at Thanksgiving, Dad's in June--
Gus stopped only once. George never.
My ways are not sufficiently servile,
and the brothers shame me with their humility.
Do they know I did not serve him?
That I sought his place?
And can they know
that now I fear to know the secret of that place?
That I too know what terrifies the younger uncles,
and drives them in their sad quiet ways?
1976, Rob Beswick.
Subj: inside 95-06-07 00:52:31 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Inside
just to the left
of center, and
slightly above,
lies the biggest
lie of all:
that he ever gave
her love.
Subj: Re:an old relationship... 95-06-07 01:22:32 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
I think most good poetry comes from very personal roots, rather than deliberate attempts to be universal. Then a funny thing happens, those personal messages turn out to have very universal appeal, ringing bells in a lot of different ears, often for very different reasons. This poem is both personal and specific, yet it has a very universal message and appeal...
Thanks, Di...
Subj: lieder... 95-06-07 11:01:52 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
KimsViolet..."flood"...absolutely flawlessly beautiful
Patchy...you know what I think...<SEG>
Swan...first, as a terza rima, it's great! second, the humor in it is wonderful. third, the twist to it is unexpected. fourth, I understood all those German references and was laughing myself silly! Just Great!
RmCleon..'uncles' is as wonderful as I said it was...thanks for posting it here...:)
Ducky...'inside'...ouch...tears...love to you
JFBB...I am humbled by your assessment of my poem. I will e-mail some thoughts...:)
Subj: Sean 95-06-07 11:52:12 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
Sean
ignore1974 Patricia R. Piatt
How long can he hide
the noise that threatens
to burst the seams of his mind?
And when it grows,
as, surely, it must,
too large, too loud, too heavy
to remain safely hidden from view,
what will he do?
How long can he control
the volume of his screams,
so that words will emerge quietly,
carefully modulated,
on a level that doesn't frighten
before it engulfs?
And should he fail. . .
will anyone hear
his cry for help?
Subj: "pliable inventiveness" 95-06-07 14:03:31 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
pliable inventiveness
is a germinating seed
free of laws
namelessly resounding
spontaneously received
music dancing
Subj: Re:Sean 95-06-07 14:05:55 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
I'm Bob - not Sean. - Great work patch. I hate(love) it when I identify too closely with a poem of that nature - like it was written for me or something like that, especially considering that 2 out of 6 or 7 of my last posted poems contained "scream" in the last stanza. damn - you made me cry and I'm not even falling . . .
at least not today
Thanks Patch for posting "Sean"
Subj: Re:THE YOUNGER UNCLES 95-06-07 14:12:10 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
this is moving - movingly sad - erotically sad - incestuously sad - sad
Subj: Re:inside 95-06-07 14:19:10 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
I feel like your "inside" and patch's "sean" are talking back to my recent posts of "My Girlfriend", "On the Edge of A Flood", and "Summer Fool". Stop! - Beautiful! - Emotion packed! - Stop! - Let's see another one stanza poetic punch like that. You and Patch making me well - holding the mirror to me unwittingly. Help me Saige. Am I being paranoid again? Thought I grew out of that. Maybe I'm just extremely vulnerable lately.
Thanks Patch and Ducky whoever you are.
Subj: Re: Sean 95-06-07 16:29:36 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
"Sean" is really good.
Subj: Re:inspiration? 95-06-07 18:37:55 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
Why the hell does he get off so cheap...make go by way of Atlanta:):)
Subj: Re:Sean/Bob 95-06-07 19:39:58 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
Thank you Bob...I love it when someone links up with something I've written. There's more to the story of Sean...I'll tell you about it sometime. He was my foster son. Love, Patch
Subj: Re:inside 95-06-07 19:41:20 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
you're most welcome.
Subj: Thank you Mi5etcetcetc. 95-06-07 19:43:12 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
I appreciate your appreciation.. Ummm..do you have a name as well as a number? A nickname maybe? Something a little easier to pronounce? LOL, Love, Patch
Subj: Re:an old relationship... 95-06-07 23:06:18 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
This is warm, honest, relaxed, open, comfortable--like the towels. I think it's right out there in a very nice way. Thanks.
Subj: Re:All In 95-06-07 23:16:58 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
Whoa! Let's teach this one to the kids. They can sing it during the Christmas pagent at the old Meade Hall.
Subj: Re:incubus 95-06-07 23:36:59 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
Whew! You must have done something real bad!
Subj: Re:My First Girlfriend 95-06-07 23:45:23 EDT
From: Rmcleon
Posted on: America Online
I'm not sure exactly why I like this, but I do
It's the mystery which keeps me away!
Subj: Uh... 95-06-08 01:03:11 EDT
From: Zorn
Posted on: America Online
Although I have wanted to, I have avoided posting here thus far because I have nothing sane whatsoever to to say...here is an attempt, feeble though it may be...
Best Used By This Date
I ate.
Three bowls of Life Cereal an amazing thing.
I have.
Enough sugar in my body to last an entire tri-exsistance.
Life Cereal.
Comes in three flavors; The Father, The Son, and Cinnamon Raisin.
I murdered.
Mikey and the universe burst into wafer grit.
I can.
Take a spot of existentialism in the hub of my spoon.
I can't.
Un-weave the locking wheat fibers.
I know.
I know.
Quaker Oats is hiding the realities behind packing information.
I wonder.
Why Life offers no free prize, in any box.
(c) 1995 by Z
Subj: Re:Uh... 95-06-08 01:20:18 EDT
From: Savilly106
Posted on: America Online
:::cracking up:::
Zorn... don't know if I'm prepared to call that a poem... but it is damn creative and very funny, my man!
Three flavors... Father, Son and Cinnamon Raisin... you are a truely bizarre character, but I love you man~!
Maybe they need to create an *Insaner Place* just for your unique talents
:-)
A 60s Man <<-- holding his sides cause they hurt from laughing
Subj: Re:Uh...2 95-06-08 01:53:27 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
LOL!
i think this one has real possibilities, zorn.
seriously, don't let it get soggy.
(don't worry about the kid.
the boys said he had it coming.)
Subj: lieder... 95-06-08 12:08:34 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Patch...'sean'...oh God, if you only knew how close to home this hits! It is a very insightful poem and with an economy of words and a basis of questions, draws the reader in...it drew THIS one in, for sure!
Mi(many#'s)...'pliable inventiveness'...the title alone is intriguing! Few words say much and say it well.
RmCleon...thanks for the good words and I'm glad you liked the m&d poem. It was really VERY hard to write and very hard to contemplate. Happy to know it cam off as relaxed...{whew}
ZORN!!!!!.....I'm so glad you're here...not only THAT, but thanks for bringing this hysterically funny piece here! Gosh...such a departure from the Zorn we know and love. Keep it up!! ::::laughing mucho!:::: One question....do you think Mikey really wouldn't eat ANYTHIN??? I mean, look at the size of those pudgey little cheeks of his!!...LOLOL
Subj: a 'newbie' whose title...well... 95-06-08 12:10:09 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
(not so sure about the title)
THE VISIT
Laughter bubbled up
from deep inside
- deep as her kneecaps -
as she and a cousin ate
nectar-filled pears
on the tiny back porch.
Late summer - early fall,
the air nipped but did not sting.
Big brown eyes took in the
colors of the changing leaves
as she smiled and licked
the pear juice
from fingers and lips.
A visitor appeared,
then 2 - then 10
and she, unafraid,
holding out her hands
- an offer of welcome -
invited them to land.
Their yellow bodies, lightly striped
delicate buzzing wings were fascinating,
their beauty transcendant.
They tickled as they walked
along her fingers, enjoying
the pear juice as much as she.
Glancing up, she caught
a look of fear in the
brown eyes staring back at her.
Should she be frightened, too?
She moved, awakening
fear in all the guests
who rudely used their
only defence to
sting and sting again
as she cried out.
Her cry was not pain,
but betrayal by these
invited guests!
Subj: Eating Bitter Herbs 95-06-08 12:21:24 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Eating Bitter Herbs
Hypocrisy---that perfidious kiss upon the cheek
Condemns the Man to death, if dare we speak.
Weren't you astride, as we marched the Avenue of Laws,
Proclaiming, oh so loudly, the justice of our cause?
Surely you remember, my Baby Booming Brethren,
Adopting Zeplin's credo, Climbing Stairways to Heaven?
And yet, we let them roll back the decades of our toil
To make this Land be Their Land and not our native soil.
Subj: Re:a 'newbie' whose title...well 95-06-08 12:26:00 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Diana,
I liked "The Vist" as much as anything of your's I've read to date. Thank you for issuing the passport to your mind. :-)
Brian --- A 60s Man
Subj: Re:Uh... 95-06-08 12:26:40 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
Oh Zorn. You done it again. I'm gonna buy myself a tee shirt with your name and this poem all over the front. Patch
Subj: p.s. Zorn 95-06-08 12:28:08 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
Your Life is just bursting with flavor.
and good humor too.
Subj: Re:lieder... 95-06-08 12:29:25 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
thank you Di...
Subj: hi everyone 95-06-08 12:31:22 EDT
From: Chatwyn
Posted on: America Online
hope it's okay if I hang some things here. Saner sounds very nice to me.
If this is a closed folder blame ducky for blabbing to me and ignore the poem and it will go away.
One More Day
Standing helplessly, watching blood pour
from wounds too numerous to count;
my arms smeared and sticky with the crimson
of my friends life. Soaked bandages lie
scattered between us, forming a clotted trail of
uselessness and failed opportunities.
Struggling for a way to staunch the flow,
I raise bloodied hands in mute frustration.
I see the resignation, feel her deep desire to slip silently away.
NO! Not Today! Maybe tomorrow, but NOT NOW!
Ignoring her protests I rush across a lifetime
of emptiness, stuffing anything I can find
into the holes to stop the steady drain of life.
Hours later, lying across her sleeping form
I check beneath the dressings. Theyll hold for now.
Until tomorrow, maybe the next day.
Not forever: the wounds are too deep
to bind forever; but one more day.
We have one more day.
Robert Gore
June 1, 1995
Subj: Re:Uh... 95-06-08 12:32:10 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
Zorn,
I think this is very good - very good indeed. i'll come back to it to see if in my eyes it can't be improved. Sorry to resort to the "I know what I like school"
Subj: Re: Uh . . . 95-06-08 14:31:52 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
LOL
Plenty O fiber here, Zorn
Didja ever wonder why there is no expiration date on
twinkies and other such things they call "breakfast bars"?
I should have such a long shelf life......
sigh
Pass the preservatives,
Bella
Subj: Harmony... 95-06-08 16:37:03 EDT
From: WindsWhspr
Posted on: America Online
This impressive poem was written by my 10yr old daughter... but please dont let that stop you from reading it.. and commenting on it.
Untitled
A cold nights breeze on my shoulder.
I pull the shawl tight againt me.
I float across a beautiful lake.
skipping rocks through the water,
and counting each ripple.
As the water becomes still,
I see a reflection of me.
Reeds and flowers sway,
The crickets gleeful chirping.
Bullfrogs croak , their
low pitched croak.
The sounds, like an orchestra,
playing especially for me.
The Sencery reflected
is quite a view.
Together, this is harmony.
Which I would be honored
to share with you.
Dusty rose Evernden 10yrs old.
Subj: Re:hi everyone 95-06-08 17:24:00 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Shame on you, Bob! You know there's no SUCH THING as a closed folder!
Welcome...:)
(thanks for blabblin', Duckster!)
Subj: an oldie 95-06-08 18:14:19 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Seesaw
In the playground of youth,
my sister and I perched
the poles of a rough wooden board.
Strong legs, knees scabbed
from kissing sidewalks, we pumped
each other higher and higher,
laughing at the little teeth clenching
bump at the top.
Rhythmically we rose and fell under
a summer sun as bright as dreams.
Until the day, distracted by another's laughter,
she left her seat with me at the top.
A harsh meeting with Earth that cracked
the tail memory of my spine.
The pain lasted for years.
In time, you replaced my sister at the
end of that aging crimson plank;
the fulcrum a little different by the added
weight of your ego. But with desire
strengthened legs we pumped each other
higher toward Heaven, laughing at the
little teeth clenching bump at the top.
Rhythmically rising and falling under
ever darkening light of Autumn's star.
Until the day, distracted by another's laughter,
you left your seat as I was kissing Heaven.
A fall into the arms of Earth that
broke a forgotten heart; now
only pain remembered.
Subj: Re:hi everyone 95-06-08 18:57:59 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Bob...so good to see you here!!!
The poem you know how I feel....and wow!
Subj: Re:an oldie 95-06-08 20:44:01 EDT
From: Chatwyn
Posted on: America Online
and I STILL like it too!!!
Subj: Re:lieder...& Bulldog Bites 95-06-08 21:34:21 EDT
From: Bulldog406
Posted on: America Online
Can I ditto everything that Di has said and Patch- your Sean is my Brian (12 Yrs. OLd).
Di - I loved your Mother Daughter Poem. It struck a chord (keeping it in the musical vein).
Ducky - Inside outed me> jj"):)
Subj: lieder.... 95-06-08 22:08:32 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
60's...'bitter herbs'...hate to admit I remember all that!...well done combination of life then/life now...<sigh> (And thanks for the words on "The Visit"...straight out of the real life file. I just couldn't figure out a way to get in the cold, blue cloths filled with baking soda in which they wrapped my hands...that's a really vivid part of the day, too!)
Chatwyn....oh, gosh, Bob...did you have to come back with such a tear-jerker? This is just fantastic...truly....'just one more day'...isn't that all we ever can hope for?
Winds...you tell that daughter of yours to keep on writing such lovely poems and we'll read her name in REAL print someday! I work with the writing club at my school (I'm the music tchr) and these kids amaze me...but please tell her...none of my students are as good as she!
Duckster....you did it again...here I am, thinking this is such a sweet, poignant poem about relationships and ...WHAM...a smack in the face, a knife to the heart...lovely, girl.
Subj: Re:Harmony... 95-06-08 23:29:01 EDT
From: KimsViolet
Posted on: America Online
I was moved and happy to see that your ten year old has apparently not been playing much Nintendo. Thanks for sharing that beautiful poem with us.
Subj: Re:an oldie 95-06-09 01:31:50 EDT
From: Zorn
Posted on: America Online
Ooo la la!
Z
Subj: Re:an oldie 95-06-09 01:39:24 EDT
From: JFBB
Posted on: America Online
I hadn't seen this before Ducky...
tears.... and much appreciation....
this is *really* good... Tbone
Subj: more swan gloom 95-06-09 06:18:07 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Here's a gloomy little archaicism...my recent "troubles" (ahem) have led me to the extreme of considering retiring the old swanmeister...I don't think I can bring myself to do it, but I just HAD to make the end rhyme of the final couplet !
Schwanentotensonett
Goodnight, dear Swan, I've built for you a bier
of boughs and leaves piled deep upon a raft.
It's time to sleep, to travel far from here.
Your wings must never again bear you aloft.
Your throat must close around its strangled song,
your feathers crumble ashen, your black eyes close.
This dim world stinks of calculated wrong,
as if its putrid air were the breath of foes.
So float, dear Swan, upon the water gray
toward the mumbled promise of the grayer sky,
make your pyre a towering blaze that scathes the day
like a poem's icepick thrust into the eye !
...until all that's left is the trickling ignis fatuus
of the karmic fate of Doctor Cygnus fatuus.
6.8.95
Subj: Re:an oldie 95-06-09 07:33:23 EDT
From: Bulldog406
Posted on: America Online
Ducky, I too remember this oldie. Still sweet as ever! jj:)
Subj: Communications 95-06-09 13:51:40 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
Dr. Swan/re: more swangloom, Schwanento.... the language is interesting and 'entertaining' (assuming the gloom is only surfacial)
Seesaw/Duckyweb\ the emotional parallel is a poignant juxtaposition
Dusty Rose & Windswhspr/ re: HARMONY\untitled: thank you for sharing HARMONY, it's wonderful!
Patch/re: Mi57891121- you can call me Michael
Subj: emotional consciousness 95-06-09 13:59:34 EDT
From: Mi57891121
Posted on: America Online
emotional consciousness
in a mould of callousness
casts a focus
on personal identity
in a closed field
awareness
fluctuates
from hope
to helplessness
declining
to a crippling pessimism
controlling and manipulating
the more conditioned,
hardened in assimilation,
deteriorating
in the smothering
of human naturalness
apathy and insensitivity
collide with perceptions
Copyright 1995 by Michael Montana
Subj: Re:Harmony... 95-06-09 15:43:56 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
this is a remarkable poem. Not only remarkable because it was so well written by a ten year old, but because it would be considered well written had it been done by an adult. That a child could show such maturity in writing, such depth of feeling, such descriptive imagery is a gift. A remarkable gift. Love, Patch
Subj: Re:more swan gloom 95-06-09 15:48:25 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
trickling ignus fatuus, indeed! Oh, don't go away Swannie, we need you here! Patch
Subj: Re:Communications 95-06-09 15:50:20 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
ok...Michael....are ya gonna post a poem? an erotic, maybe? :::leer:::
:::grin:::. (I don't want to be the only one). Patch
Subj: Re:emotional consciousness 95-06-09 15:53:24 EDT
From: PatchPiatt
Posted on: America Online
quite a perspicacious eruption of sensitivity there, Michael. Love, Patch
Subj: Re:Harmony... 95-06-09 16:25:21 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Some beautiful images Ms. Dusty.
Keep it up...
Love to you,
Bella
Subj: Re:an oldie 95-06-09 16:26:46 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
I remember this one very well.
Sending a warm embrace,
Bella
Subj: Pet Rat ? 95-06-09 19:28:29 EDT
From: TheTinyOne
Posted on: America Online
Pet Rat
What's this about a Pet Rat?
Oh no, you couldn't mean that
hacker mouse
livin' inna 'puter house
singin'
~......still attacking.....after alllllllll theeese years....~
like a Sewer Rat Cheer
no pom poms here
they be hanging on the rear
of a fat derriere tease
my, how she moves with such ease
scurrying in the dark, dank breeze
of electric cheese
jeeze
Subj: soup&quackers 95-06-09 21:14:49 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
In only a couple of days you have all managed to facinate me, make me laugh, and make me cry (again!)
Kimsviolet-"my first girlfriend"....lovely and sad. "on the edge"..."for lonely there is no immediate remedy" ..sigh. I really like this one.
Patch--"twin peaks"...Oh my girl! Whew! This is good. "Sean"..stunning. "how long can he control/the volume of his screams.." this is just too close.
Zorn--You *finally* got here!!! "Uh"...This is terrific "I wonder why life offers no free prize, in any box"...a serious hoot ( but serious I know)...and your rubber nightmare...wow! Love ya kid.
Dwaink--"written for"...I like the feeling of this .Perhaps "once in a dream we sat and talked"...It is wonderful to have friends like this. Nice work mon ami.
Dark-- "heroine like you"...This is so good (as usual). "lusting after sadness".."a prisoner roams my arms"...what images you weave.
Swan--"riodoloroso"...if it could only be so<G>. a poem clef...LOL...methinks it is repeated, without variation, until the end of time. "nebelsdottirs"...How do you say LOL in german? <G>."schwanentotensonett"....(try saying that fast three times<G>)...never fear I think bulldog and I could do CPR (or at least a F***face-ectomy<G>)
Rmcleon--"younger uncles"...wonderful.
Diana--"an old relationship"...terrific. Funny how those old relationships tend to color the new ones (well, maybe not so funny). "the visit"....I love the title actually and the poem.
60s man...."eating bitter herbs".. I remember well. Hipocrisy indeed. I really like this.
Bob--"one more day"...you know how I feel about this one. I am especially fond of "I rush across a lifetime of emptiness" and the last stanza, well...you know about the tears. Thank you so for bringing this here.
Windswhspr--"harmony"....please kiss Dusty for me and tell her again and again how very talented and special she is. What a wonder this is.
RK-- How good to see you again!! Has been a long time (afraid I'd be asking about adoption again<G>) "units of time"..."unlocking the dormant image, sound and texture"..with this one you certainly do. Terrific.
Mi(michael)..."hailstorm"...some pretty electric images here. I think it could be cut a bit to improve the flow, but all in all, thunderous.
Bella-Tbone...get outta that dark corner<G>.
Love&Peace
Ducky
Subj: cartoon 95-06-09 21:55:50 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Infirmary Afternoon
It's a cat and mouse perpetuum mobile
of hot pursuit and vengeance
unreeling beneath the barred and bleared
squares of afternoon in the solarium.
Things are getting grayer by the minute,
until the only color in the room
is the ate-the-canary yellow
of the holier-than-Bonnie-and-Clyde
swiss cheese, and the blood-spatter-red
decapitated stump of Sylvester's neck
as his head wends its zesty bumpity bump way
down the cartoon stairs. The split spine
gleams like a hambone and then the CO, he goes
it's time for medication, move your ass,
and if you're late, the nurse, she just says
too f**kin' bad and the cop'll give you a ticket,
sure, even if it's your heart pills, or your
AZT, it don't make no difference to her,
or him, he's probably bangin' her anyhow.
And at the bottom of the stairs Tweetie Bird
pops out between the dead fangs, laughing,
not a feather out of place, into the engulfing
shadow of the falling piano, or anvil, or safe
and when they get back to it, Fido's snarling
in his spike-and-rivet S&M doggie collar,
about to be hoodwinked by Tom or Jerry
before the master gets home, and the nurse
she turns and looks, thinking, my kid
watches that one, and she imagines
her small boy staring through all that flickering blood
right into the cathode ray tube eye as the house,
and eveything else around him, darkens.
6.9.95
Subj: Funeral Procession 95-06-10 01:19:42 EDT
From: Zeratustra
Posted on: America Online
I pulled it myself.
This heavy black box
that scraped against
the earth...
A small stiff girl, back
to youth...you wouldn't
have it any other way...i
have your hands bunched up
in your breast, to go the
length of one tree, striking
the earth.
Face, yours, mine, flung
towards the sky, craves...
I am bearing you, you
that bore me for so long,
sweat softens to silk
my brow, in winter mist,
the wake crumbles behind me.
Can you understand this
shaking of the head, this
corporate grief that
blackens the earth? Just
south of Seattle, away from the
city, I paid to rest you here!
There is no pay, my brother
limping behind is sobbing loud,
he too is open to the sky...
Your daughter leads us, leads
you to the margin of the earth,
where she has seen the mottlings
from anger that can never be hidden.
she is to take your place, now, the wind
reminds us. Bless you, since you bore
the scar that shines. Let me
carve something on the box, where
no one will see it, so if you
wish to awaken, there will be a small
stiff angel beside you, reading my poem to you,
telling you of the many times you
can still return home, pick your day!!
It will be a map that brings you back,
if you so desire...
Subj: Re:Funeral Procession 95-06-10 05:47:48 EDT
From: InstiKafka
Posted on: America Online
Something about hearing the imagining & hearing the opening strains to 2001 / Thus Spake Zarathustra as I read the first stnaza...and then letting the music build and break in my brain like popping butter really made this a treat.
Z
Subj: reading for meaning 95-06-10 13:19:07 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Ah, the sweet mysteries of text!
Reading for Meaning
...Let be be finale of seem.
Wallace Stevens
He sought her in the labyrinth of text,
as if she lurked there like a Minotaur.
He sought, and came away supremely vexed
that meaning, which seems so chaste, is such a whore.
He sought her in interstices of rhyme,
on crags of sound, in fissures of metaphor,
in laughter tinkling gaily out of time,
in gardens heavy with the thought of rose.
He sought her armed with the very finest tools --
the OED, a cache of myths, some masks,
collected works, his wits -- for only fools
embark unclad on their heroic tasks.
He brought along a copy of H. Bloom's
Map of Misreading, and one of Freud's
On Dreams, and hoped that chloroformy fumes
could pervade aether of the the buzzing void.
He sought her, and unreeled the saving thread
behind him, as he wound deeper into the maze.
There were no blandishments he left unsaid
as he tried to lure her to his webby gaze.
He sought; she fled him like an asymptote,
like walls eluding fingertips in the dark,
dissolving into the sheerest vertigo
of nights unleavened by the smallest spark.
The consummation of their fated tryst --
The labyrinthe was empty, and his thread was lost.
6.10.95
Subj: Re:reading for meaning 95-06-10 14:51:54 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
Ah, Doctor...thou art such a pessimist.
The meaning is always in the seeking...and quests that end fall into the trap so aptly stated by GBS.
"Life has but two great tragedies.
The first is to neve achieve your heart's desire.
And the second is to achieve it."
You are one of the finest spirits anywhere on these boards, lady.
Don't leave us.
TMT/Astrolon
Subj: Re:reading for meaning2 95-06-10 19:03:29 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
another richly textured tapestry to hang
among so many. i gave up coordination miles back.
sign me,
querying the quilt
and woozy in the weave
Subj: mrs parker 95-06-11 12:11:50 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Mrs. Parker
The smell of perfume, smoke and liquor --
the smell of glamour --hung over Zosia's own
Algonquin Round Table. Not repartee and
sophistication, but picture puzzles
were their metier. It was the last
summer of Camelot. I was ten.
Mrs. Parker would last another five.
Outside, Hag's Pond's diamonds
glittered beyond the no swimming signs
aloof as any aging Hollywood
legend passing in a long white car
and out of its window
a white suede glove, a hand,
a bagel with a bite out of it,
one of the first sights
Mrs Parker saw in Hollywood.
The dense female miasma
choked me. I fled from it
to the dry, bright, dusty attic
to hide beneath Zosia's
purple satin puff and, sullen,
pout. But it was hot,
I'd soon had enough,
and I came out
to browse Zosia's bookshelf.
Between Ellery Queen,
and the Readers' Digest Condensed,
I found her brown Collected Benchley,
from before the war
and hid for one long August
inside the cool perimeter
of Mr Benchley's wit,
as he and Mrs Parker once also hid
inside the speakeasy haze of alcohol,
then died of it.
Mrs. Parker, I have met you late.
Zosia has outlived you by 5 years.
there are some things that I've outlived as well,
grateful, I suppose, but I don't know to whom.
Its funny how these old round tables turn --
Zosia, Benchley, cocktails, and Mrs Parker,
and always the ringside seat held in reserve,
for when the the days get colder,the nights darker.
6.10-6.11
6.10
Subj: Re:mrs parker 95-06-11 14:34:25 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Sombody hold me back!
::trying to jump through his monitor to hug the Good Dr.::
Good! Damn good!! Great!!! Stupendous!!!! ...well you get the picture...
::reading for the fourth time::...will probably read a dozen more...
I love this board! Thank you Dr. Swan....
Brian --- A 60s Man
Subj: Let Your Mind Be the Gide 95-06-11 16:34:53 EDT
From: SudsNjava
Posted on: America Online
Hey writers...you're doing a great job, and I love your work...Stop by my World Wide Web site, and read our listings, add to them, or write some prose to be viewed by others whom share your love for mythical prose...
http://www.execpc.com/~javaman/Dream/create.html
Subj: On Poesie, etc 95-06-11 16:56:59 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
On Poetry
Zu Liebgesicht, au doux visage,
what a pretty camouflage
of a grim moulage
that in turn's a twist
a palimpsest,
of persona, masque
and bright facade !
The tinkling I
the mournful O
(a grimmer hope)
but far below
the tin man's
craftily covered slum
the rats still gnaw
the hidden bone.
6.11.95
Subj: BV Blues 95-06-11 18:32:48 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Another ditty.
Blue Velvet Blues
Orion hangs knee-high
in the blue velvet sky
prompting the questions
Who should I thank ?
and, Why are there people like Frank ?
6.11
Subj: lieder.... 95-06-11 18:40:17 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Swan...'Schwannentottensonnet'...er whatever...Loved it! It's really kinda sad, huh? ...and I loved your cartoon...dark and delicious images...LOL 'reading for meaning' was one of your best!...I especially liked the way you used "He sought her" repeatedly...it was like the strand, the thread that was lost, and yet not lost... "Mrs. Parker"...is a marvel! Really, can you stop topping yourself? I was lost in all those images of the round table and the attic...lovely!
Mi(many #'s)...you kow what?...I understood you 'emotional' poem and I'm not at all sure I wasn to be that conscious of it...my emotions, I mean....very powerful work!
Tiny...methinks we need 'cheese and quackers'...LOL
Zeratustra...welcome...haven't seen your name before, but my, my...what a WONDERFUL first offering your gave us! The last stanza brought tears and more tears...just stunning!
Subj: Re:reading for meaning 95-06-11 20:34:11 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Tell me again Doc whatem I supposed to do when I run out of thread???
Subj: Re:reading for meaning 95-06-11 23:39:56 EDT
From: TeachMeTru
Posted on: America Online
Just Punt!
If you can't run it
and you can't pass it:
Give the other side a chance to make a mistake.
Dwaink?
Subj: Submissions wanted 95-06-12 00:18:36 EDT
From: Syzygy23
Posted on: America Online
Syzygy is looking for submissions for its winter issue. If interested, please feel free to contact us at SYZYGY23@aol.com OR
SYZYGY
Closed Quantum Publishing
56 E. Uwchlan Ave., #443
Exton, PA 19341
SYZYGY is interested in the passion, intellect and vision of a
younger generation whose expression goes beyond the confines of
conventional parameters. We seek fresh, intelligent writers and
artists who believe not only in their work, but in themselves.
Subject matter and style are open. Rhyme, however, is discouraged
unless superb. For poetry, we suggest submitting 3-5 poems at a
time to allow for a thorough reading. Responses require
approximately 2-4 weeks.
For short fiction, the limit is ten pages double-spaced per
piece. Do not send an anthology. Other than that, our only
requirement is quality.
SYZYGY acquires one time rights and pays one copy.
Subj: something new...needs HELP 95-06-12 00:49:57 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
posted in queeze too, but since the best are always here and this needs help...here it is:
Balance
When did the world shift,
bend over its axis,
vomit pain? The
green's grown grey, and
her once fertile meadows
bear only sharp lies
that pierce my feet
in stigmata shaped dreams. Without
the sweet slide of your flesh,
they tred silent hills, search
desperate ruins, thirst
for echos of your voice.
There are no poems now;
denied gravity, the words
tumble from skeletal pages
as tilted and barren as I. Come,
bring your thirsting tongue
again to the river, her water is deep,
still warm. Lay your weight on
my form. Align this aching world,
whose mountains lust
for foundation.
Subj: Re:BV Blues 95-06-12 03:03:24 EDT
From: InstiKafka
Posted on: America Online
YES!
Ra ra ra!
I'm a freak for blue velvet...
"don't you F*%^ing look at me!"
one comment, on this ditty...maybe not Why are these people...
but "How are these people..."
I dunno...
Z
Subj: Re:something new...needs HELP 95-06-12 03:05:14 EDT
From: InstiKafka
Posted on: America Online
I can't help something...
...that's already better than I dream of writing.
No insincerity here, either. Jesus, Ducky.
Z
Subj: Re:something new...needs HELP 95-06-12 12:23:42 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Yep fraid must agree with Zorn hard to sheer here.Nice work Ducky kind of leaves me gasping for breath,makes me want to hold you and make it better...kiss it and make.....sigh loves hell isn't it??
Subj: bv blue... 95-06-12 14:06:05 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
... and i still can see blue velvet thru her tears.
come on, doc. you're holding back.
Subj: Somnambulist 95-06-12 15:21:14 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Somnambulist
How was it that I ceased to wake:
That in perpetuity I dream her essence?
Is she some distilled intoxicating spirit
Drunk in so deeply that unwaking-walk
Lulls mind with sedulous visionary
Images of one I've never seen?
How can mere words and voice alone
Make mockery a man's lust-filled desires?
Enchanting every moment's thought
In ecstatic sexual unions with she,
Whom I've not seen, and yet,
With she, that I am so enamored.
Wake not from this till arms enfold
Our bliss! Let sleep encompass days
Vacuous, save for your reveries of her.
On-line love sprang forth hypnotically,
Entrancing mind with mind so rare.
Sleep-walking --- destination rendezvous!
Brian - - - A 60s Man
Subj: Re:bv blue... 95-06-12 15:32:46 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
i'd love to....
but I've got this frog in my throat.....
Subj: Hold 95-06-12 16:14:03 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Hold
When the gale anoints
the harbor's ludicrous Virgin
and the clouds occlude
the Star of the Sea,
then men in fedoras
and women in kerchiefs
stately and shy as the Sabbath
set out in their boat
in a hold full of vespery shadows
with a round white cake
like a summertime
cumulus of sweet cream
and on it a red ring
of strawberries
pointing to heaven
like hands that are praying
for the children
suspended below
where the water is still.
6.12.95
Subj: dream 95-06-12 16:15:20 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Dream
to JM
I dreamed of an empty stage
to which someone who'd loved me
and who had changed
returned to pantomime
the History of Pain
and then to enfold me,
like a broken cage might,
in arms awkward as hinged sticks --
loose, and almost sincere.
6.12.95
Subj: Map of Newfoundland 95-06-12 16:53:39 EDT
From: RKMartin
Posted on: America Online
Map of Newfoundland
I see why you have insisted . . .
Why you continually, without a word,
Bring my hand closer to you -
Heading for the stairs.
Heavy shoes making hollow, clumsy thumps
Up to your attic room.
Ann will see us from the corner of her eye
But she will not speak - like you
Her broom's rhythm will recite her dull mind
Only knowing the various sounds of the tide
As it fetches the odd restraint of calm
That we all wish to believe.
If you choose to say nothing
Nor speak with your dead salmon eyes
This, I will accept
And pass my own light through the prism.
The only sound . . . .
The raspy breath that whispers "asbestos"
Within the aged sighs of these walls
And the song of my finger, tracing a path
From Placentia to Port au Choix
On the map of Newfoundland
That graces your floor.
Words are no longer bridges to worlds
And eyes do not function as inlets these days.
When the tips of my fingers join with yours
I feel the secret - the cousins and aunts
Filled with your semen and spit
Calmed by the various sounds of the tide.
If you flinch at the brushing -
My thoughts tracing paths on your thighs.
Acts we must regret:
The light that you pass through my prism.
12.0695
rKm
Subj: Re:Funeral Procession&Others 95-06-12 18:30:00 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Zeratusta- I found this poem terribly powerful. It's beautiful.
Dr.- "reading for meaning" well, I would like to put in this humble note all the passages that were vivid and beautiful. I would only rewrite the whole thing. Top to bottom, it is beautiful. Context, story and image all whole and wonderful."Parker" - a subject dear to me and handled beautifully."hold" &"dream" are two more good ones. How can you be so prolific and damn powerful and beautiful at the same time. You are the star I pray to in my sullen nights, in need of heart.
Ducky- I can offer no help, but only that, to me, you never need any help with all that you post.
Brian- You capture that need or longing wonderfully
Subj: 2 hands for everyone 95-06-12 18:34:37 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
Five precious fingers
raining everywhere
skillful fingers
old and new
touching, searching
everywhere
Fingers touching worlds &
other small places:
my heart
your closed eyes
the places stiff,
wanting
fingers to massage
into peace
& only delicate
fingers such
as yours can
hold a world
as strange as
my heart
Subj: Beautiful Statue 95-06-12 18:42:23 EDT
From: Sevren x
Posted on: America Online
In transition, but still here for your wise consideration.
Beautiful Statue
She is melting
A rock
in ageless motion
I sat and saw
her change.
Elegant neck
graceful eyes
powdered skin
all deceiving.
Lips as soft as
rock
with all the harshest words
flowing over them,
keeping them in
Ageless motion.
She is everything
of playground mythology
sugar& spice
be not deceived ,
her stone heart
only my bitterest words
can strike and stick
lies that they are.
"Don't touch my heart
and I want sever yours,"
she whispered in a
quiet moment
meant for kisses.
She is melting.
A hidden anger
eroding her
Soul.
Stone and beautiful
that she is.
Subj: Even Now 95-06-13 00:03:55 EDT
From: VaughnJMG
Posted on: America Online
So this is where you've all been hiding. Olly Olly Oxenfree! Had I known, I would have posted this here instead since I don't think I'm ready for knives on this poem or about this subject. Maybe emery boards, but not Cuisenarts.
Even Now I See Meagan
(Aniversary June 16th, 1994)
Even now I see Meagan at the stove
stirring her experimental pots
legs muscled, olive skin
brown hair and laughing eyes
Even now I remember the music coming from her room
the hours of painting behind her closed doors
I can remember her holding a glass of wine
recall the laughter in the light of a summer kitchen
melting the cheeses and toasting the crackers
and cooling off the late nights
I remember her thoughts that were out of my grasp
her future which she never cared to define
her indecision that was my envy
(who is this who dares refuse to plan?
why am I not not she?)
She was never my friend
Against my will
I see the day
the moment
that ripped her from her home
raped the music and the cooking and the books
and the plants and the birds and the photographs
and the long hours and the home and the innocence
made her float from home before the breath was gone
before the shame invaded
before he knew that he had choked life from life
that the prize was pale
that she had defeated him
Even now I remember
Subj: cinema 95-06-13 17:29:59 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Frame Noir
The shadow has subsumed the hero.
in its undertow. A sharp diagonal,
a gulf. The heroine, effulgent
in the kliegs, looks back
across the chasm; her dewy eyes
wave handkerchiefs of farewell,
and doom. She knows the line
that slashes through even the most
complex of grays, pure as a piano
wire, garrotting. She can't cross it.
Black is the color of the frames
of the DA's grave hornrims,
and of the cruisers that show up,
tires squealing like a dirty rat,
not quite in the nick of time,
and of the blood that pools
on the sidewalk by our hero's face,
finally rendered pure and white
by the inevitable, redemptive hail.
6.13.95
Subj: Re:cinema 95-06-13 21:34:07 EDT
From: DARKNES850
Posted on: America Online
always that empty feeling of reality returning
to focus down the big, black pupils as we step
outside the cimema doors. squinting, i light a
much needed cigarette, adjust my fedora to
accommodate the cold blast that's waiting beyond
the warm glow of the marquee's warm and
rhythmic pulses.
nice work, doctor.
dark
@\@
(((~ ))/~
Subj: lieder... 95-06-13 23:04:32 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Just in case there is anyone out there who thinks all I do is praise whether or not a poem deserves it...I suppose it is my 'teacher nature/nurture' coming out...Soem people find it refreshing and helpful to be supported as we ALL once were. That said...
Well, Ducky...here's what I'd do... ( I think) It's a blockbuster!!
Balance
When did the world shift,
bend over its axis,
vomit pain? The
green's grown grey, and <--- grow not grown
her once fertile meadows
bear only sharp lies
that pierce my feet
in stigmata shaped dreams. Without <--'-like stigmata of dreams'
the sweet slide of your flesh,
they tred silent hills, search
desperate ruins, thirst <--'-desolate ruins'
for echos of your voice.
There are no poems now;
denied gravity, the words
tumble from skeletal pages
as tilted and barren as I. Come,
bring your thirsting tongue
again to the river, her water is deep,
still warm. Lay your weight on
my form. Align this aching world,
whose mountains lust
for foundation.
60's man....I like it...:)
Swan...at the risk of sounding l as though I like your poetry{ :) }...'hold' is very, very good. Seems to me there are several layers to the very word itself! 'dream'...not ususal for you...a love poem...lovely, at that! 'cinema'...Stephen King fan, are we?...LOL
RK...OH WOW!!!...'Newfoundland'...WOW....oh, my! (did you get the point that I liked it!?...LOL
Sevren...we usually think of hands when we think of recepticles...'fingers' that hold a heart...a welcomed change...Like this! 'statue' is cold and warm at once. the melting and the coldness of the stone...juxtaposition, very intertesting.
Vaughn...so glad you are here!! 'Meagan' is so poignant and wonderfully written. Thanks for putting it here...:)
Subj: Re:cinema 95-06-13 23:54:32 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Dr.Swan this heroic poem left me feeling queasy,drained as it were, not well at all anymore.Have you one with a more cheerful ending perhaps,please dear doctor my eyes........
(as usual Swan another masterpiece tell us how many enslaved demons(maras) it takes to conjure these masterpieces,or better yet how you hold them..) I smile big as I say it<GRINS>backs down slowly...fade noir
Subj: Vultures 95-06-14 15:29:33 EDT
From: RKMartin
Posted on: America Online
Vultures
Heat
The thermals begin to rise slowly
Transparent tendrils of ghost water
Drifting up from the mirage in the road.
Against a wash of white and fading blue
A black "V" opens, tilting gently
Unfolding with heavy, deliberate waves
Only on occasion.
Another joins the spiraling ballet
And another still . . . more
Great wheel, turning in the sky
With intently fixed resolution.
I rest in the shade and whisper sonnets
To a solitary fly, empty and hostile
Rubbing her hands on my knee.
Does she see me a thousand times, or more?
I fall deeper still into the blue of eyes
wrapping myself in their color, so clean
Dissolving into the promise of drifting mist.
Curtains that float me to heaven.
It seems as if no time has passed,
This must be too simple for a god
My spirit has left, abruptly falling away
But in slow motion . . . I wanted to speak.
The wind has come far to draw in the sand
Come far to whistle over dry white bones
Far to list the wings that hang with no effort
To sweep away my ashen sonnets . . . .
14.0695
rKm
Subj: Bagel Sundays - Cafe Monet 95-06-14 23:57:43 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
Another one from older folders. Re-posted at Bella's request.... Perhaps it will be new to some....
Willow..........
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Bagel Sundays - Cafe Monet
A warm Sunday sun
falls through a caressing breeze,
and flows over me, soothing, relaxing.
Time for fresh bagels and sweet coffee
amid violet, purple and pink
overflowing their flower boxes.
Gently easing into the afternoon
fragments of thoughts
drift before my eyes.
Sundays in another place,
another life, with
coffee and bagels and you.
Fragments that warm,
and find me with a smile.
Around me; quiet table chatter
with musical bursts of soft laughter
from within multicolored rows of cards
and a kaleidoscope of coffee mugs.
People,
at tiny tables reading, talking, dreaming,
over coffees, bagels, biscotti.
A table by an ivy clothed post
where butterfly hands light upon a tablet
and then flutter again.
Sea green eyes glance towards me
and return to the hands.
From behind my cup
I watch her eyes, her hands,
while upon her paper
the cafe and I are captured
in lines of charcoal.
Even as, I capture her
in lines of ink.
Subj: Bear the Soul 95-06-15 00:36:11 EDT
From: Kayak54
Posted on: America Online
I asked TeachMeTru where I could post a poem for some substantive comments. He suggested coming to A Saner Place. After reading through the 348 postings here, I'm glad for the good advice. So here goes!
BEAR THE SOUL
Days shorten
the sky sputters snow
as you lumber to your slumber
down among the roots
in the crumbly humus
paws cuddle your nose
and your heart slows
to beat in geologic time
Descending into the dark
no guarantee of a return
she bears her year of day's light
swallowed into winter's yawning silence
Then how is it
that come spring
with soggy soil sporting green fuzz
you shuffle forth
while cubs cavort
somersaulting down the hill
Did they piggyback as burrs in your fur?
Did they coalesce from your exhalations?
Did they materialize from your dreams?
Her young of the year
gestated in somnolence
bare the hopes
unknown
unlooked for
understood
when nightfears
sublimate into spring's moist
growth
1995 Susan Rutherford
Subj: Bear the Soul 95-06-15 00:37:18 EDT
From: Kayak54
Posted on: America Online
I asked TeachMeTru where I could post a poem for some substantive comments. He suggested coming to A Saner Place. After reading through the 348 postings here, I'm glad for the good advice. So here goes!
BEAR THE SOUL
Days shorten
the sky sputters snow
as you lumber to your slumber
down among the roots
in the crumbly humus
paws cuddle your nose
and your heart slows
to beat in geologic time
Descending into the dark
no guarantee of a return
she bears her year of day's light
swallowed into winter's yawning silence
Then how is it
that come spring
with soggy soil sporting green fuzz
you shuffle forth
while cubs cavort
somersaulting down the hill
Did they piggyback as burrs in your fur?
Did they coalesce from your exhalations?
Did they materialize from your dreams?
Her young of the year
gestated in somnolence
bare the hopes
unknown
unlooked for
understood
when nightfears
sublimate into spring's moist
growth
1995 Susan Rutherford
Subj: Unusual Objects 95-06-15 01:48:56 EDT
From: ScrewyDuck
Posted on: America Online
Unusual objects in round boxes
Are sold, so I'm told, when they're old;
Constructed by oxen and brown foxes,
They're gold if they're rolled in the cold.
Impossible puzzles with white pieces
Are free, don't you see, in a tree,
Unsolvable teasers with light creases,
With tea they can be fun for three.
Incredible lanterns on door handles
Burn low if you go to the show;
A billion times brighter than four candles,
They glow, you may know, like the snow.
Illogical poems with gay verses
Can float like a boat on a moat.
Unreasonable critics might say "Curses;"
This vote, you should note, gets my goat.
Subj: Unusual Objects 95-06-15 01:49:59 EDT
From: ScrewyDuck
Posted on: America Online
Unusual objects in round boxes
Are sold, so I'm told, when they're old;
Constructed by oxen and brown foxes,
They're gold if they're rolled in the cold.
Impossible puzzles with white pieces
Are free, don't you see, in a tree,
Unsolvable teasers with light creases,
With tea they can be fun for three.
Incredible lanterns on door handles
Burn low if you go to the show;
A billion times brighter than four candles,
They glow, you may know, like the snow.
Illogical poems with gay verses
Can float like a boat on a moat.
Unreasonable critics might say "Curses;"
This vote, you should note, gets my goat.
Subj: Mica Lake--Tetons 95-06-15 09:45:05 EDT
From: ROBSISSON
Posted on: America Online
Mica Lake--Tetons
This pond is not blue
and it is not surrounded by lilies
or grasses thick on its lip.
Its frame is long granite,
a sullen, cold gray wall,
sharded tight against the water's edge.
It is high in the mountains,
ramparted from view from all but a few
and two day's climb up and up and up
is the steep admission.
The sky moves faster here.
The wind lis louder,
meeting rock and rebounding to rock,
shouting forsaken solitude.
Like mercury, heavy and inert,
the silver surface of the pond
mirrors the flowing clouds above.
The spirit of the earth bathes here,
as surely do the souls of those
who stand upon its shore.
Subj: The Swan - VeraFlower 95-06-15 18:00:30 EDT
From: VeraFlower
Posted on: America Online
A new poetess here, from afar and away, but now and near, to sing a different song.
The Swan
The Swan it ranks and raves,
It stirs within its' wretched grave.
No Phoenix is harboured here,
No song of love or sweet refrain.
But sodden in bloody feathered breast,
It rests, in its' sombre nest.
Death and error has taken away,
A shrill cry from its' haunted nest.
The Fall earth peals with shrinking
Peals, and Shreiks of parodie's zeal.
VeraFlower
Subj: Re:The Swan - Gloomy! 95-06-15 20:29:21 EDT
From: MDoktorNo1
Posted on: America Online
Mein Gott! How gloomy. But nice, in a sense. I'm not sure What sense, but I like it; it makes sense.
Herr Doktor
Subj: lieder... 95-06-15 22:18:01 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
RK...'vultures'...the images are stark and wonderful!...the last stanzas being the most powerful, I think. 'speak to me', huh? ....much laughter here!! I like you when you're 'not so serious', too!!
Willowmere...'bagel'...lovely as usual!
Kayak...Welcome!... and thank you for bringing such a fine poem with you. Nature poems don't seem to do too well around here, but they are particular favorites of mine!
Screwy Duck...I like it!!! The internal rhymes are fun!...and you did them well. Up beat poem, too...thanks!
Robisisson...my favorite lines...:
'The spirit of the earth bathes here,
as surely do the souls of those
who stand upon its shore'
This is a marvelous poem.. the images put us on the cliffs...in the water...in the surrounding air...nice!
Subj: DianaSings 95-06-16 10:28:57 EDT
From: RKMartin
Posted on: America Online
DIANASINGS
insiDe my thoughts
delicate but powerful vIsions
dAnce on words, so warm.
your name is a soNg
that changes the shApe of my eye
allowing me to cradle the heat of a new Sun
the freedom to bask In new blessings
and find wonder in my own soNgs.
i know that God smiles upon your presence
and whiSpers your name to the stars.
rKm 16.0695
Subj: Re:DianaSings 95-06-16 11:34:54 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
:-) Good job Ross... Wish I'd thought to do that ... but then I probably wouldn't have done it justice...
Diana, you deserve many poems!
Brian --- A 60s Man
Subj: RK and Brian... 95-06-16 15:40:26 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
RK...I am speechless. I have no words to thank you sufficiently. No one...NO ONE has ever written so lovely a poem for/about my ScreenName! It made me cry....
Brian...I thought you were after Bella and Lacey and Ducky?...LOL (sorry, needed some levity there) Thank you for YOUR kind words, too.
You guys make me blush!
Subj: Gemstones for Diana 95-06-16 15:41:37 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Fallen apples
Swarmed by worker bees:
Apiary cider.
LongAcres Race Park:
Ghost horses called to post
By Boeing trumpets.
Chilly nights in Seoule ---
Trash cans cuddling for warmth;
G.I.s as well.
Brian --- A 60s Man 6/16/95
Subj: Ark 95-06-16 19:18:55 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Ark
i. Fourteen
Sheepish (who was my little lamb)
he hands over
the tape-tailed, tattered xerox
from his bedroom wall.
Mother and baby Cerval,
in a grassy cache
the newborn cat asleep
in the crook of mama's neck.
Here, it fell, he says, and anyway
it clashes with the new decor,
the spider-web festooning yellow
"Caution" tape he's tacked
from wall to door.
Where's the chalk outline,
and the smoking gun -- de rigeur
for the crime scene motif, don't
you think, son ? I shout.
He grins above the din
of Nine-Inch-Nails
and kicks me out.
ii. Ark
Sometimes I think the ark
left without us, all those neat pairs
filing two by two up the the gangway --
their genitals measured for perfect fit
by Noah, God's first eugenicist --
into the Gopher-wood belly
of all those deity-decreed cubits of boat
to sail until all the dirty laundry
came out clean and rainbow-fresh.
Other times I think we chose
to stay behind, here, on this grim
highland remnant, huddled against God's
40 day and 40 night snit , hoping the flood
would recede before it swamped our nostrils.
And sure enough it did,
and we sat there blinking at the sun ,
shaking the rain from our sleeves,
smutched with mud, olive leaves
and dove droppings, the three of us,
misfit and revisionist,
trying to resume our lives
on the high, unwashed barrens above
the smug copulations of Shem, Ham and Japheth
and their three wives.
6.16.95
Subj: Re:Ark 95-06-16 19:46:50 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
:::counting off on his fingers for affect:::
Now let's see... 1. you do operations 2. you raise a 14year old son
3. you daily gush out the most extraordinary poetry
Dr. Swan, I am in total awe of you! You give new meaning to Superior Woman!
Brian ---<<-- wondering whatever became of those "perfect fit genitals"
Subj: sorta new....:S 95-06-16 20:01:51 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
IN THE MIDDLE
Here in the middle of my life
when I could fry an egg in
the middle of my head,
(it's that hot!)
and In the middle of the night
the sheets are thrown off,
my nightgown tossed aside...
and...
and hour later, it's all put
back on...
Here in this time
when much of life appears
to be finished...
something new has arrived
and I am
encircled in the warmth of
poets and
paper and
possibilities!
Diana 1995
Subj: Re:Ark 95-06-16 23:08:45 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
WOW, Swan! I wouldn't change a word of it. Good poem!
Subj: Re:DianaSings/RKM 95-06-16 23:11:53 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
Good to see you back, RK, and with such a lovely poem for Diana!
Love, Birdie
Subj: Re:Mica Lake--Tetons 95-06-16 23:14:44 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
good visual poem!
Love, Birdie
Subj: Re:Bear the Soul 95-06-16 23:20:41 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
I like this poem, Susan. I see so little nature poetry here, and if you have more, it's be nice if you posted it. The poem is tight with strong images. I liked
"bare the hopes
unknown
unlooked for"
but I don't get the nightfears part. Love, Birdie
Subj: Re:Bagel Sundays - Cafe Monet 95-06-16 23:28:31 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
This is a poem that makes me feel good to read it. I like the way the poem emphasizes the small movements of the beloved and the significance of those small movements to the persona. The ending is perfect. I loved the line....
"where butterfly hands light upon a tablet
and then flutter again."
Love, Birdie
Subj: Tricolor 95-06-17 10:22:04 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Tricolor
He lay in a stupor
for three days and nights
in the pretty French Hospital.
Everything there was as pure and white
as cinematic curtains blowing gently inward
to frame a bucolic of meadow, farm and sheep.
It was a stupor, and not sleep.
He had a flesh wound, and shell-shock, and by his bed
a porcelain bowl of poppies supplied a red
visual echo, really very nice , but quite lost on him
(he was in a stupor) and on his blue eyed nurse
(with the crimson pouting mouth)
who found his bloody bandages uncouth
but it was her job, after all,
at least until the soiree fell
and released her to the Moulin Rouge,
alcools stuttering with a clean blue flame
until everything around her smudged
to a fine, forgetful gray.
6.16.95
Subj: a few swan comments.... 95-06-17 12:36:46 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Swan reflects on the recent profusion of riches... (and thanks you all for your generous comments on my poems)
Ducky -- "Balance" -- I liked how you carried big, geologic words (shift, bend, axis, gravity, tilted, align, weight, form, foundation) all through the poem, and the contrasting smaller movements (meadow, walking thru hills, the still-warm river) ... nicely balanced indeed!
RKM -- "Map" -- I'm elated to see you back! This one unfolds its felicities through reading after reading...the use of images of sound and light are masterful, as is the subtle way you tell the "story" of the poem -- through evocative specifics (Ann, broom, map, shoes, attic, dead salmon eyes, spit and semen, cousins), ellipsis, suggestion...
Vaughn -- "Even Now" -- Beautiful remembrance. I like how you beautifully detail remembrances, then echo them in a list -- almost like a litany of the lost -- when you enumerate what has been "ripped" and "raped" ...
Willowmere -- "Bagel Sundays..." I was quite taken by the artistic embrace in your last stanza -- the mutual sketching and writing image -- that aspect of love that reflects back the beloved in an attempt to honor and understand...
ScrewyDuck -- "Unusual Objects" Hooray ! I loved it. Whimsical, a tad surreal, and a great interplay between the clever end rhymes/ internal rhymes and the images --
Robsisson -- "Teton" -- Thank you for the description of a place I'm not likely to see ... nice evocation of the elemental. I liked the opening, with it's contrast with the other type of "pretty" lake... I liked "sharded" and "ramparted" ...
A 60s Man -- "Gemstones..." I liked your 3 haiku-like "gemstones" -- stringed together they make interesting contrasts... "apiary cider" is clever, and sweet...
Diana -- "In the Middle" -- I liked how this poem moved from it's beginning echo of the first line of the Inferno, through the various vicissitudes of the body "in the middle" and the sober "...much of life...finished" to the hopeful ending...
Sevren x -- "2 hands..." This is sweet...I liked "fingers raining" and the last bit about the only one who can hold the strange world of your heart...
Kayak -- "Bear..." -- I love the mimetic music of the first verse -- the bearlike heavy "u" of sputter, lumber, slumber, crumbly, humus, and also root, heart, among, snow. Beautifully done ! Could you separate slumber and lumber ? They give a slight unwanted comic effect when so close together (shuffle off to buffalo)...I wondered why you shifted from "you" to "her" to "you" and finally back to "her" in terms of voice -- was it a literal bear (you) alternating with a second related persona as if explaining the metaphor? Is "her" the poet ? The pun on bare/bear and the use of "soul" suggests this to the reader, but my bias is that if you stick to a naturalistic depiction of the she-bear, the metaphoric levels will be there; also, I wondered why the speaker was so puzzled about where the baby bears came from... the "hopes", the series of "un-" words, the "nightfears" ...I guess what I'm saying is that I think you could more subtly interject a meditative woice among into the beautifully naturaliztic image of the hibernating bear to make your point about (I think) how creativity sometimes mysteriously springs forth after barren winter somnolence.... (...er...you asked for substantive comments! Feel free to send the SWA(N)T team out after me if I've misread you !)
Subj: Re:A Feminine Place(to go) 95-06-17 13:41:28 EDT
From: BethAnn765
Posted on: America Online
As this folder gets burdensome and large, don't hesitate, ladies--and mostly ladies post here--to post in my new folder, right away! before the men catch on! Diana, Dr Swan and many others who write serious feminist poetry, and those who need help and critiques, if need be. You will be treated sanely and there will be no flaming or arguments, I guarantee you!
BethAnn
Subj: Re:more Diana 95-06-17 13:53:37 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Seems a movement afoot here...about time,me on bongos and if you listen close the Duck on spoons...we love you DS
Something Long Overdue
"Hell twelve" is it that you must go?
then in that hell joy would be glee,
for any inferno that held one like thee,
would gift a pleasure to the soul, trust me.
For never met I a being so gentle and sweet.
A Diva with musical spirit so sublime,
whos critique of our work is always so kind.
Let not the tacky nature of this verse
detract one degree from the praises due,
to Diana of the Silvered Voice,
and Golden Heart; that, my dear is You!
Please know that my voice is not alone
many have felt your kindest touch,
felt your truth and how dear as a friend
you cared and tried and helped so much.
Understand from those who know
just what it is when friendships grow.
The medium is not what matters
nor looks, nor clothes(be they in tatters),
it's the heart you see that really counts
of this you're queen, I have no doubts.
Here is where I'll rest my case
my points been made, now to place
this song of gratitude at your feet
with garlands fresh and prasises sweet.
a friend Dwain
Subj: of the sigh 95-06-17 18:34:48 EDT
From: TheTinyOne
Posted on: America Online
Before the morning's misty eye
can penetrate the budding sky
with starlit dreams from yesternigh
I kiss the softness of your sigh.....
Subj: Re:of the sigh 95-06-17 18:48:54 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
This is lovely, Susan!
what an image, to kiss the softness of a sigh....mmmmm
Thanks for posting!
Subj: lieder.... 95-06-17 18:49:25 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Brian...your 'gemstones' are precisely that! lovely little haiku that bring vivid images. The 'apiary' reminds me of the yellowjackets in my 'visitor' poem...:)
Swan...'ark'...made me laugh...made me think...the first part made me remember why I never wanted kids...LOL 'tricolor'...oh, Swan...this one is just great...
visions of WWI and "Les Miserables"...and the wonderfully clear white, red and blue of the French flag...marvelous!
Birdy...thanks for dropping by...:) (you should pardon the pun....bird...drop...oh, never mind!)
Oh, DWAINK....you are so sweet! If you only knew that my real personality is somewhere between Atilla the Hun and The Terminator...LOL (I'm telling you, this is the way I get over the embarassment of being 'praised'...LOL) I thank you for the lovely verse...you and so many others have been so kind of late and I do appreciate it more than most of you will ever know!
Subj: soup&quackers 95-06-17 22:15:58 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Holy Falling Waayyy behind, Batman!!! I doubt I shall be able to brew a stew that includes all the lovely work I've seen here (unfortunately my nemesis, real life, intrudes every now and then.<G>), but I do have a few thoughts.
Zeratustra--First of all Welcome. "funeral procession" Very nice first offering here, please come back with more.
Swan--I can't really tell you all of your poetry that suits me, for so much of it does...In particular, recently I have loved "reading for meaning", "Mrs. Parker" and "infirmary afternoon" ..oh those crazy cartoons<G>. Then "frame noir"!!!! wild applause to the author. Now if I could only find something of yours that I didn't like my life would be full and rich..(LOLOLOL)..hold your beautiful neck high, your poetry is much to be proud of.
Diana--"in the middle"...Love this "poets and paper and possibilities" Yes yes yes...(and the Odes from RK, Dwaink, and all are richly deserved and indeed "long overdue")
A 60s Man--"somnambulist" still I love this title, you already have my critique. Your "gemstones" are gems...lovely.
RKMartin--So nice to see you here with such a wonderful array of work. "Map" is perfect without a doubt. "Vultures" is to my ear, near perfect too. The only thing I could most humbly suggest would be not to repeat "sonnets". Maybe take the line (which is marvelous) "I rest in the shade and whisper sonnets" and replace sonnets with "poem" or something. Or change the word in the last line? Nit picky huh? but to me would might make it sound better. Love the poem though. And last, but not in the least, least...there is "speak to me"...LOLOL...this is at once funny and erotic ( a lethal combination,my dear)..Very nice.
Willowmere--"cafe Monet"...I remember this lovely poem well, 'twas nice to see it again.
ScrewyDuck--(hey! thought that was moi?<G>) Welcome my fine feathered friend. "unusual objects"...unusual and amusing .I'd like to see more.
Robisisson--Welcome to yet another new face. And judging from "mica lake" a pretty fine poet as well. Nice.
Kayak--Stan has sent you to the right place. "bear the soul" As Swan has offered a wonderful critique, I shall just say "welcome" and hope you'll bring more here soon.
Sevren x--"2 hands for everyone"...love "..can hold a world as strange as my heart" . Terrific. "beautiful statue"...love some of the images in this one and would love to see it when it is no longer "in transition" I'm not sure about the "lips as soft as rock"..the image is fine, but since you used "a rock" in the preceeding stanza I think something else maybe? Or could you use in the first stanza "she is melting/rocking/in ageless motion" ?? Just a thought. And thank you for your most kind comments.
VaughnJMG---"even now" my eyes are tearing thinking of this one.
Holy Keyboard Cramps, Batman!!!!
Love&Peace
Ducky
Subj: a transfer poem 95-06-17 22:34:57 EDT
From: Chrysler77
Posted on: America Online
I usually post in the Queeze, but thought I'd bring one over here for a fresh look...appropriate for father's day...
DOWSING ROD
My father used to talk about
dowsing rods and the miraculous
spurts of water that would rise
from the ground if you dug in
where the rod turned down.
He'd take us out to the yard
with a bent coat hanger, or sometimes he'd cut
the fork out of some little tree,
and he'd show us where the pipes were laid.
We always took his word for it.
We always took his word for it, for that and for
the stories he would tell of
infant ghost blood that used to appear in a corner
of the smokehouse back on the farm,
a reminder of a neglectful mother
who went coon hunting on
a dark wet July night, who left the baby alone
and the baby fell out of the crib and died, split its head
open enough so the greasy stuff spurted out, and
they turned the shack where it happened into a smokehouse
but the blood kept coming up on hot summer nights
all those years later.
I turned my eyes down every time he told that part,
looking for something below my feet
that would wash the sick feeling away.
Now that would be a miracle, something clean
that flowed down deep, something to wash away the stories
and the sight of blood and the feeling that every miracle
or scary story I ever heard about was either a lie
or the God's honest truth.
Subj: Re:a few swan comments.... 95-06-18 02:54:07 EDT
From: Kayak54
Posted on: America Online
Thank you so much! Yes, the point of the poem was not so much describing a hibernating bear, but reflecting on the creativity that sometimes germinates during the "dark night of the soul". The shifting between 3rd person and 2nd person came from writing the poem in two sittings. The second and last stanzas in 3rd person came after I realized the poem was too much describing the bear business and not enough on the real point about the value of the seemingly inactive times of life. I appreciate your comments very much, as well as comments from other people, and will be working on this poem some more.
Subj: Father's Day 95-06-18 09:24:17 EDT
From: MattWard
Posted on: America Online
Father's Day
(from a letter to the editor)
Father's Day, for me this year, will be very much the same
as in the past few years. When I get there, I'll pause for
several long pensive moments, and gaze silently out
to where the newborn summer sky comes down
to mingle with the tree tops, and think back...
in vain, for a thousand yesterdays. Then,
in a futile attempt to compensate
for any one of those days...I'll
lay down my flowers,
beside his marker,
and walk away.
c1992 Henry Matthew Ward
Subj: hi 95-06-18 12:44:18 EDT
From: SunkstGirl
Posted on: America Online
I don't know if this is a good poem to put in, I just wrote it...it doesn't even have a title
Dreams,
You walk along,
The paths,
So many dreams,
Left unsaid,
Or shattered,
Like broken Glass,
They cut our minds,
Our souls,
Eating away at our sanity,
We become obcessed,
With the thought of never having another.
Dreams,
They haunt us,
Like life itself.
EJP 6/18/95
Subj: H2O 95-06-18 15:40:46 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Johnstown Flood
On clear summer afternoons
they thought they saw
sails on the mountain --
bright white isosceles
wafting to and fro
among the cliffs and scarps.
They knew the rich
could buy anything,
but a lake ? A lake
in the sky ? It defied
their imaginations,
blunted by the millstone
necessities of poverty
and unlucky birth,
until one fine afternoon
it all sluiced down
into the cleft
of their steel-gray valley
like a huge cornucopia
unloading sails,
chaises longues, shuttlecocks
all on a 30 foot wall
of ill-tended, improbable water,
hastily abandoned
since early that morning
by Messrs. Carnegie,
Mellon and Rockefeller.
6.18.95
Subj: Re:H2O 95-06-18 16:15:06 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
sigh
swan
You amaza mia.....as always.
Love to you,
Bella
Subj: Re:H2O 95-06-18 20:00:14 EDT
From: KATESCHW
Posted on: America Online
La Docteur:
This crystalize images like a photograph. Focus of the things. As it happens, it was a topic of conversation at breakfast!!
Thanks again.
Kate
Subj: H20...revised 95-06-18 20:16:28 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Thanks for the comments ! I'd forgotten about this blot on American history until a colleague was raving about a PBS documentary about it; the image of the sail in the mountains grabbed me...here's a revision/expansion after I was able to view that documentary this afternoon....
Johnstown Flood
On clear summer afternoons
they thought they could see
sails on the mountain --
bright white isosceles
wafting to and fro
among the cliffs and scarps.
They knew that the rich
could buy anything,
but a lake ? A lake
in the sky ? It defied
their imaginations,
blunted by labor,
until one wet afternoon
it all sluiced down
over the dam
that had been cropped short
for the Carriage Road,
over the spillway
that was clogged by the screens
erected to keep
Lake Connamaugh
fat with fish for the patrons
of the South Fork Fishing
and Hunting Club,
over the splintering dam
declared safe by its members,
the Steel Men from Pittsburgh,
Messrs. Carnegie, Mellon, Clark
and Frick, Phipps,
Knox and B.J. Ruff --
It was their Lake that
sluiced down into the cleft
of the steel-gray valley,
like a huge cornucopia
spilling sails, trout,
chaises longues, shuttlecocks
all on a 60 foot wall
of ill-tended, improbable water,
water they finally shared
with twenty two hundred
of Johnstown's fair citizens,
all heaped in a mass
of workers, wives, babies,
at the foot of the stone bridge
at the mouth of the valley
as if by a fishscreen,
next to the oildrums
exploding like Fourth of July
fireworks, a Company Picnic,
a swim, then a smorgasbord
of death by drowning, by burning,
by crushing, oh passing regret
as they took to the air
in their sailboats and set forth
for other fair stops
on the shores
of their movable feast.
6.18.95
Subj: A little something 95-06-18 22:11:03 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
after a looooooong dry spell......
A Poem from Tumult and Silence
I run down cinnamon brown Trail of Silence
into cool beech timber
leaving hot meadow grasses
and bee titilated black eyed susan's behind.
I can feel the heat in my face;
I am full blooded
full bodied
full breasted woman,
remembering a kiss from a stranger
with softly penetrating blue-gray eyes;
blue-gray like kestrel wings.
His eyes remind me of wings,
but so does his voice when he
talks of evening sky as blue as milk glass.
When he looks at me, all the rare wild birds
of the world are fluttering inside him.
I know him though he is in a stranger's body.
I am in the yellow-green light of the Trail of Silence;
light and shadow dapple my face,
Humid breeze brings the scent of pine.
I remember the hot asphalted country road
where he tells me I'm beautiful and sexy.
I know I'm not beautiful and sexy;
not in any modern or even classical sense,
but I do have this beautiful, sensual place.
I can see its reflection in his blue-gray eyes.
I walk deeper into the darkening silence.
I hear no bird calls, no buzzing insects,
no thrashing of squirrel or rabbit.
I see white-tail deer quietly browsing
beside quiescent stream.
I kneel and dip my fingertips into cool stillness,
emptying my beautiful, sensual place,
creating a concentric disturbance
on the surface of the water.
My composure regained,
I take to the trail again,
follow its steep grade upward
until it burst into a tumultous summer meadow
adorned with white Queen Anne's Lace, yellow sunflower,
purple blazing star, blue aster.
Regal gossamer wings of Monarch butterflies
add moving color to butterfly flower.
I hear the konk-a-ree of red-winged blackbird.
My beautiful, sensual place filled;
Creates no disturbance here.
I lay down in meadow grass to compose a poem
about eyes, blue-gray as kestrel wings;
about the enchantment of a stranger who sees
the poet in the woman.
I am full blooded
full bodied
full breasted woman.
SP Hall 6/95
Subj: Re:A little something 95-06-19 01:09:39 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Ahh birdwings you stir nature deep here...only find one big mistake...the line that says:I know I'm not beautiful and sexy....
Subj: Re:A little something 95-06-19 02:14:15 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
sigh....yeah yeah....here I am sighing again....it's
what I DO ! Anyway, Birdie !!! I got so carried
away I just E-MAILED you.....because I ended up
blah blah blahing.....I thought I would just get too
wild.....sigh....
the blue-gray reminds me of someone
I knew for l7 days......I had posted this a loooong
time ago....but it has been revised l00 times I think.
Anyway.....A Little Shirt.....
Subj: A Little Shirt 95-06-19 02:14:39 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
A Little Shirt
I painted a shirt for you
before you were born;
but you left too soon...
Little white cotton
splashes of color
blue and gray
like your eyes...
quiet hues
of sea and sky
two calm colors
to ease pain...
Now, a little shirt
flashing blue-gray
hangs here
in a cold glass frame
to warm
me.
Subj: Re:Somnambulist 95-06-19 12:11:58 EDT
From: SaigeFawn
Posted on: America Online
WOW BRian, I have had the same syndrome! Course it was a male form wandering through the convolutions of my sleepless dreams. Come back with more!
Saige
Subj: billionaire 95-06-19 13:36:05 EDT
From: Mikey1972
Posted on: America Online
here is a poem i wrote for richard brautigan.
it looks like a blank check from an eccentric billionaire
but it isn't
it's the ghost of richard brautigan
hitchhiking back home in the dusk
fishing pole on his back, thumbs numb
the forgotten little rascal
upstaging everybody who can laugh
making stories for everybody who knows how to die
mapping out a rhymeless america
a flapping fish years before
the final hook
that will stream a perfect line
and make everything ripple
even infinity.
mike dockins 6/18/95 albany, ny
Subj: re: hi 95-06-19 13:40:20 EDT
From: Mikey1972
Posted on: America Online
hey! cool!! ya know, sometimes i am pissed off to wake up cos my dreams bug me out and i wish i could have stayed there with all its mystery and what-the-fuck-is-going-on-here and joy and wonderment and all that shit.
good to hear yer words.
mike dockins albany, ny]
Subj: lieder 95-06-19 15:10:09 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Ducky...thanks as always for the soup and quackers...that's what was missing before...them quackers...LOL
Chysler77..I'm glad you brought your 'father ' poem over here. It's very well written and I can almost smell the smokehouse and see the blood. Odd how we take things so SERIOUSLY when we are kids...adults have not idea...until they grow up, that is...:)
MattWard...oh, it's good to see you here, Matt. Remember last summer and all the neat poems we saw? I remember this one so well...it brought the same tears this year. Thank you.
Sunkist...it is a good poem! I think if you do away with the commas at the ends of the lines, that might help. If it's OK with you...I'll e-mail and let you know where I think some changes might improve it...OK?
Swan...though expanded, I think like the first version better. Of couse this may be because I live here in PA and know the story all too well! The detail in the second DOES make it richer in image, I must admit...guess my mind's eye and knowledge of the event provided that for me. (awwwwww, whaddo *I* know?!...LOL)
Birdwings...first I want to say thanks for coming here. Then I want to say that I can't wait till next Monday when I can hug you in person and show you the tears this poem brought to me! It is so strong. It is so gentle. It is so loving. It is so full of the world! Picky, picky, picky...I'd change 'this' to "a beautiful sensual place". Oh, the emptying of the beautiful sensual place onto the surface of the water is SO striking! <chills> One more leeeetle thing...how about adding an 's' to burst? All I can say is ....Oh, Paige....<sigh>
Bella...I have no words for this poem. It is your heart. I love your heart, Bella...and find it hard to type through tears...
Mikey...I like the poem!
Subj: botany 95-06-19 17:33:26 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
A (probably botanically-incorrect) ditty....
Couvade
A mock travail,
a faux confinement --
oh sympathetic alignment
that must fail,
of course,
since our bodies' ground
(XX, XY, and neither hound
nor horse)
seems bent
(disregarding will and need)
on an either field/ or seed
intent,
oh, alas,
I would like it better
if I could just be both and neither
like the grass.
6.19.95
Subj: no title...need help with that.. 95-06-19 17:53:17 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
I wonder...
are these tiny shells
- 6 fit in my palm -
aborted fetuses of
oyster, clam or
other unnamable bivalve?
Enameled like teeth, they were
strong against the ocean's pounding.
They bear aquatic tree rings
showing growth.
One has opened, still hinged,
like a soft brown butterfly;
the darkness inside like
the warmth of a brown face.
How far did they travel to
reach my hand?
Perhaps from Africa where
warm brown faces, unaborted,
feast on the cousins of
these tiny miracles.
Diana 1995
Subj: Re:botany 95-06-19 18:32:36 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
LOL
Oh swan....everyone round me has couvade these
days.....(long story) ahem
Love you,
Bella
Subj: Re:no title...need help with tha 95-06-19 18:55:48 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Maybe use miracles somewhere in the title?
"Enameled like teeth....."
so true, never thought of it that way.
And.....to be sure.....tiny miracles, all.
Love this wonderment, Diana.
sigh
(I'm goin to the beach !)
Subj: dans le can de sense 95-06-19 19:14:00 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Too hot to make sense....
C
a
e n
l
d
incandescent
of incan
descent
in candy
sense
candy
cents IN
in can ca
decent ND
decedent es
in no sense CE
innocent nt
canned essence
Subj: Re:A little something/DWAINK 95-06-19 20:02:01 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
Aw shucks, Dwain....<blush> Thanks much for your kind words.
Love, Birdie
Subj: Re:A little something/Bella 95-06-19 20:06:51 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
I love it when you mess with my poems, Bella. You always improve them. I've sent you a response to your e-mail. Yes, I do need your color palette. And no, the black eyed susans do not have a behind. (Although this Susan does have a fairly good size behind.) That apostrophe sneaked in there some way.
Darn gremlins in my word processor again. Thanks much for the e-mail. ...Love, Birdie
Subj: Re:A Little Shirt 95-06-19 20:10:29 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
This is a little miracle of a poem, Bella. It is so sad and poignant, yet so warm and loving that it brought tears to my eyes and made a lump in my throat.
You showed the reader volumes in very few words.
Love, Birdie
Subj: Re:lieder/Di 95-06-19 20:15:22 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
Thanks so much, Di, for your feelings about this poem. And thanks for being so picky. I hate it when grammar mistakes go unnoticed. "Bursts" it is! And "this" became "a" in a couple of keystrokes. I'm ready for that hug too! I will get back to you tonight on your posts. You do not have to wait until Monday.
Love, Birdie
Subj: Re:dans le can de sense 95-06-19 20:19:01 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
I enjoy it when you play with words, Swan.
I'll be back later with comments on Johnstown Flood. I agree with Diana....I like the first draft better. But, I'm comapring the two so I can make suggestions on how you can borrow the best from both...kind of a marriage of first and second drafts. I'll e-mail you if you'd rather.
Love, Birdie
Subj: aka the most 95-06-19 21:52:01 EDT
From: Zeratustra
Posted on: America Online
POPPA, MAMA'S CRYIN'
All our afflictions! The punch in
the mouth, poppa's cool kick
in her gut...momma's blood that
triggers the man hook in a
boy barely five...more sinister
manifestations when out comes
a bright bright knife that wants
to nestle in her arm...
poppa...poppa...these are your
grandiose delusions...from
the work that occurs in her face,
i am not so certain these are her
ecstacies! Look...there is a trickle
of milk on her breast...
mama...mama...please don't die...please
don't kill my mama...in the high
sea camps, you showed yourself then, too...
i'm leaving toward sunrise...there,
i can't here her. Mama...it's you...he
brought you back. Where did you leave to
for so many hours?
Her dusty organization of mind has been
disrupted...never coming back inside...
i want to understand, mama...that he wanted
you to love over the cliff...would you have
pulled the noon with you?
Of the burning plains, the sommersault
cloud, mama left to the desert on her
own after he brought her back...screamed...
and it triggered
nothing.
the snow laughed. birds heard
but flew away...wind rustled her
hair...she was cold...she screamed...
Her left hand flung out at the same
knife...she cut her other arm. The
wind, the clouds, the hundred or
so oceans that had been trailing
after just crumbled behind her...
and still she clung...screw
Baudelaire, now...screw'em all...
mama wants her pejorative view
of phantasy back...eyes
riding in tears, blasts of blue
sky, a small stiff man
is sobbing too...but poppa...
i saw you spit on her face...
hidden below the cries
of severity, seeing and
unhearing, twisting
before and even
after he leaves, packs
all of his belongings,
ruffles his hair as to show
he never was beautiful!
Mama...poppa's going...
doesn't he like his books
anymore? There's one
he stuck his signature on...
why don't he take that one? Brothers
what mama? Kamzvov? Perhaps
I need to crawl back into your breast,
dripping down the length of your
legs, I don't like it here, I still recall
the far flung sky inside of you...and
he crushed you, there, too...the mottlings from birth
i saw...and you screamed again!
am I like the child that is one of the
Brothers? Was Ivan Kmrazmamaav
talking about me?
Mama...was he talking about you?
6.19.95
MaxMrvlus
Subj: lieder.... 95-06-19 21:54:54 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
Swan...I don't care if it's botanically correct or not!....it's funny...and too true! The rhyme scheme was really interesting, (Now I shall show my ignorance to poetry, folks) did you make it up? By the way, are you familiar with E. Dickinson's "The Grass"?...reminiscent of hers, is yours. 'dans le can'...LOLOLOLOLOLOL!
Bella...thanks...will consider any and all suggestions for titles...:) Have fun at the beach...wish I could go...sigh
Birdie....tap tap tap tap (foot tapping while waiting for you to get back on my posts...LOL) Did I tell you I'm already packed? All I need now is dramamine and nerve!
Subj: aka the most 95-06-19 21:55:57 EDT
From: Zeratustra
Posted on: America Online
POPPA, MAMA'S CRYIN'
All our afflictions! The punch in
the mouth, poppa's cool kick
in her gut...momma's blood that
triggers the man hook in a
boy barely five...more sinister
manifestations when out comes
a bright bright knife that wants
to nestle in her arm...
poppa...poppa...these are your
grandiose delusions...from
the work that occurs in her face,
i am not so certain these are her
ecstacies! Look...there is a trickle
of milk on her breast...
mama...mama...please don't die...please
don't kill my mama...in the high
sea camps, you showed yourself then, too...
i'm leaving toward sunrise...there,
i can't here her. Mama...it's you...he
brought you back. Where did you leave to
for so many hours?
Her dusty organization of mind has been
disrupted...never coming back inside...
i want to understand, mama...that he wanted
you to love over the cliff...would you have
pulled the noon with you?
Of the burning plains, the sommersault
cloud, mama left to the desert on her
own after he brought her back...screamed...
and it triggered
nothing.
the snow laughed. birds heard
but flew away...wind rustled her
hair...she was cold...she screamed...
Her left hand flung out at the same
knife...she cut her other arm. The
wind, the clouds, the hundred or
so oceans that had been trailing
after just crumbled behind her...
and still she clung...screw
Baudelaire, now...screw'em all...
mama wants her pejorative view
of phantasy back...eyes
riding in tears, blasts of blue
sky, a small stiff man
is sobbing too...but poppa...
i saw you spit on her face...
hidden below the cries
of severity, seeing and
unhearing, twisting
before and even
after he leaves, packs
all of his belongings,
ruffles his hair as to show
he never was beautiful!
Mama...poppa's going...
doesn't he like his books
anymore? There's one
he stuck his signature on...
why don't he take that one? Brothers
what mama? Kamzvov? Perhaps
I need to crawl back into your breast,
dripping down the length of your
legs, I don't like it here, I still recall
the far flung sky inside of you...and
he crushed you, there, too...the mottlings from birth
i saw...and you screamed again!
am I like the child that is one of the
Brothers? Was Ivan Kmrazmamaav
talking about me?
Mama...was he talking about you?
6.19.95
MaxMrvlus
Subj: Kind words all..... 95-06-20 02:25:27 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
My very warmest thanks to those who have taken the time to send kind words and comments regarding my posted efforts. A kind word or helpful comment from one considered to be above my stumbling ability is fair food for the Muse. A trio posted this time covering varied subjects which will hopefully bring someone a small measure of pleasure.
Willow
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
To the girl crying at the bus stop
I offered you my handkerchief
and a cup of coffee.
What I tried to say
is:
"I'm sorry someone's hurt you.
I want to help."
Subj: White Oak Point................. 95-06-20 02:27:09 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
White Oak Point
Beyond
the doors
the warmth
of the afternoon kitchen,
supper smells,
friends.
Outside
the hills
and trees
are
a wet
watercolor.
Pieces
of the canyon
move in and out
of the fog,
like the disconnected thoughts
moving through my mind.
Ten million
crystal droplets,
in dying,
counterpoint
the thick silence.
Silence,
old
as forever,
where man
is a temporary
intrusion.
Darkness, quiet,
so gradual,
surprises
by its appearance.
Now,
the fog
bolder with nightfall,
advances,
embraces me
with cool, gentle
caresses
and peeks
in the window
at my friends;
its tendrils
dancing in the yellow
window light.
Subj: Lilacs.......................... 95-06-20 02:28:42 EDT
From: Willowmere
Posted on: America Online
Lilacs
Your memories visit often
in the dark, unsteady minutes
of the night;
and when the empty hungering of loneliness
seeks a better time, a better place.
But, it's always with the smell of lilacs
that reality slips
and the here-now snaps back
to days in a spring turning summer
of pale blue skies
and blinding sunlight.
To memories of silent shimmering heat
on humid air heavy with
the perfumes of springtime.
To a bower
within a copse of lilacs in hillside sun
and apple green grass
running down to a cattail hidden stream.
Of a white sleeveless blouse
and faded red jeans.
Of auburn hair on tan shoulders
falling, curling over breasts dappled ivory and gold
by sunlight through the lilac leaves;
and rose nipples proud
as their kisses dry in the hot air.
Of the sheen of perspiration
on flushed, freckled cheeks
and around brown eyes
warm from the glow of the fires behind them.
How the finest line
of dark hair,
glowing red in the sunlight,
ran from the milky rise
of your belly
like a path way
to the widening thicket
of mahogany curls.
Of sweet salt tastes on lips and flesh
and the smells of grasses and woman and sun and the lilacs.
Memories of red winged black birds calling
from the rushes,
and of your answering in monosyllables
from deep in a time before time.
As we climbed higher and higher yet
the sense of being overpowered, engulfed
with no will to resist.
Then the dizzying velocity and flying off the edge
into the void of time and space beyond eternity
to return gently falling
into the soft grasses
and lilac perfume.
And again,
and again,
and yet again until,
as we whispered the ancient litanies,
the calling locusts
told of dusk
and the late breeze on sweat damp places
tickled and chilled.
Subj: Because Saige asked... 95-06-20 11:02:27 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Picture, if you will...
Imagine my time
the tale of a man's search for grace
born a child of self-interest
so afraid to let his feelings show
the IceMan
who brought no succor from the heat
Imagine the encounter group
the eleven who intervened
in my time
insistent I emote
the Apostles
who were arrows of direction
Imagine the man-child
loosed in a candy store
of emotional freedom
a sucker for
the Lollipop Lady
who offered sweetness for a price
Imagine the therapist
mirroring reflections of depression
restoring my time
to a balanced self-esteem
the Lighthouse Woman
whose beacon showed the way
Imagine my last days
resplendent in grace drawn of you
joyful in returning love
nurturing our esteem
Magnolia Lady
whose fragrance fills my time
Brian --- A 60s Man 6/20/95
Subj: Re:Because Saige asked... 95-06-20 15:12:09 EDT
From: SaigeFawn
Posted on: America Online
Thanks Brian, I really like this one. "lighthouse woman" and "emoting apostles" are perfect images. Also, some woman in your life is very lucky to be the object of all this adoration (ie, last stanza) <sigh borrowed from Bella>
Saige
Subj: Re:Because Saige asked... 95-06-20 15:35:42 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Where have you been all my life, O hippie brother....?
I was trying to decide which line, which stanza was my favorite.... I love them all.....really !
Magnolia Lady.....maybe that was it....
You amaze me.
Love,
Bella
Subj: Re:Lilacs....................... 95-06-20 15:36:22 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
sigh
I think I am in love. (just kidding, lacey) :)
I have some comments on this one. I can email if you
prefer.
Bella
Subj: Birdette...a la susan 95-06-20 15:38:41 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
glad you chuckled about susan's (with the black eyes) butt.
.......yellow-green does not mean caution-go? I didn't think so.
yellow-green=sunlight, richness, happiness.....Chartreuse
could be the one....but once a kidlet told me
it looked like "puke". I try to maintain some sort
of civility in my class.....but I happened to agree with him....
so I refer to Chartreuse as "vomitus". No wonder the beasties tend to
get wild sometimes...... ahem.... now that I've ruined the Chartreuse
party....how about Cadmium Yellow, Ochre, Lime Peel, Canary Yellow, Deco Yellow, Goldenrod, Straw, Naples, (this could get crazy)
Jaune, Sienna, Apple Green, Gelb, Amarillo, Vert Clair, (yes, I am rambling,
I am sounding like Patch you say? I could use a donut)
Verde Claro, Viridian, Spectrum Yellow, Parchment, Aureolin,
Aurora Yellow, Gamboge, (told ya I was possessed) Wildflower Honey, Sunnybrook, Mint, Citron, Thalo Yellow, Crocus Yellow, Lemon Custard,
School Bus Yellow (where do they get this stuff) Buttercup,
Lemonade, Moon yellow, English Mustard, Lemmon Chiffon,
Antique Gold, Taffy cream, Summer Sand, Golden Harvest, (make that
a chocolate donut) Light Cactus Flower, Crenshaw, Asparagus, Pineapple, Hausen, Jarosite (check Random House College Dictionary for jarosite) heh heh ........had enough? Hey, today was the last day of school......Ms. B
is free until mid-august. Scary, huh?
What's the next color.......blue, perhaps?
toolatetogetalifetoolatetogetalifetoolatetogetalife
itrieditrieditried
Subj: Re:Birdette...a la susan 95-06-20 15:57:30 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
and they say "tomorrow" is the longest day......
...sheesh....
Subj: Re:aka the most 95-06-20 15:59:02 EDT
From: Bella K226
Posted on: America Online
Holy Martha.....I do need to read this again.
Wow.
Later,
Bella
Subj: Re:Birdette...a la susan 95-06-20 17:02:16 EDT
From: SaigeFawn
Posted on: America Online
Did you have to remind us of tomorrow being the longest day, Bella? Don't things stink enough already? Why point out the length of our pain? Jeez. well I guess I cannot expect to be the center of the blasted universe, but just when I had forgotten that fact, and one which sets me off a little since I never sleep, you bring it up again. Damn. If I were not laid up with this incision, I would hike down to the desert for some peyote.
Never mind. sorry I brought it up.
Saige
Subj: Re:White Oak Point.............. 95-06-20 18:16:29 EDT
From: Chrysler77
Posted on: America Online
a thought: does it have to be "a wet watercolor"? What about just "wet with color" -- a more saturated image, and buries the painting metaphor a little for a subtler effect.
I liked it overall!
Subj: Re:Birdette...a la susan 95-06-20 18:32:05 EDT
From: BirdWings
Posted on: America Online
My mama always said, "be careful what you ask for. You might get it." :):) Thanks for the palette in the green spectrum, but jeez, Bella, soooooo many choices and sooooo little time. Aaaaccckkk.
You have school all the way to the end of June. You northwest coasters are barbaric!
Love, Birdette a la Susan
Subj: at last a poem, VIOLET 95-06-20 19:47:23 EDT
From: SaigeFawn
Posted on: America Online
VIOLET
I have looked longingly
at the flushed throats of pansies
and have slipped with you
beneath the violet silk
of the night's sheet.
I have touched
with my poet's fingers
the warm spot
where your poems spring
out of you, vibrant
and full of song.
The world needs violets
you say,
and so for this,
I forgive you your sorrows,
forgive your weakness,
as you forget
to forgive yourself.
I see you
desperately facing the moon
waiting for her white shoulder
to turn away from you.
And in each of her faces,
darkly lit, I see each turning
week, and weep.
I hope you may never again
gaze upon her
without the violet whisper
of my name,
without remembered pleasures
folding you in fragrant arms
like honeyed secrets
locked in nectar,
without her visage
flowering, petalling
into a deep-throated song
of a flower,
amethyst color,
which sweeps you,
caresses you
into the living poem
you could never
bring yourself to write.
Saige (c) 6-20-95
Subj: Re:at last a poem, VIOLET 95-06-20 20:08:12 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Game, set, and match to Saige ... :-)
Jesus, that's beautiful! Keep it up and we'll have our own little mutal admiration society.
:::extends hand offering her a button:::
Brian --- a devastated 60's Man
Subj: lieder... 95-06-20 22:52:15 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
MAX...YOU'RE BACK! And what an astounding piece you've brought with you! Truth-based or pure fiction or both???
Willow...you set us up with a sweet short poem...went to a foggy evening...and brought us full into the sulight and HEAT with the last of the three. It's lovely erotica...should be posted there to let them know what erotica should be! YUM!
60's...you got MY heart thumpin! Really lovely images in there...the women cast as light of some sort...all women should say 'thanks'!
Saige....beautiful.....!
Subj: lullaby 95-06-20 22:54:31 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
I found the kernal of this in a grim 1976 ditty about
"...the forward current of the music/shall bear me straight toward death..." (Swan, desperate, muse-forsaken, plundering the juvenalia again...)
Lullaby
Close your eyes -- your bed shall be a boat.
Let the current of the music be your stream.
(I shall stay near and watch you as you float.)
Keep back the shadows with steep banks of dream.
I promise that you'll soon forget your name.
Your hands will fly away like silver birds
and vanish between the curtains of the rain.
Then fill your mouth with stones instead of words --
the will that yokes my song will soon sleep too,
and then I'll sink down deep in time with you.
6.20.95
Subj: lieder... 95-06-20 23:09:22 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
MAX...YOU'RE BACK! And what an astounding piece you've brought with you!
Truth-based or pure fiction or both???
Willow...you set us up with a sweet short poem...went to a foggy
evening...and brought us full into the sulight and HEAT with the last of the
three. It's lovely erotica...should be posted there to let them know what
erotica should be! YUM!
60's...you got MY heart thumpin! Really lovely images in there...the women
cast as light of some sort...all women should say 'thanks'!
Saige....beautiful.....!
Subj: lullaby, rev. 95-06-21 20:19:14 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
It grew, overnight, into a sonnet...
Lullaby
Close your eyes -- your bed shall be a boat.
Let the current of the music be your stream.
(I shall stay near and watch you as you float.)
Keep back your shadows with steep banks of dream.
I promise that you'll soon forget your name.
Your hands will fly away like silver birds
and hide between the curtains of the rain.
Then fill your mouth with stones instead of words --
let brackish water pool inside your heart,
and grasses sift the trickle of your breath.
The river's long and slow from source to mouth
but the only thing I know is one brown depth.
The will that yokes my song must soon sleep too,
and then I'll sink down deep in time with you.
6.20.95 - 6.21
Subj: practice 95-06-21 20:19:43 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
Practice
Mozart, in a clumsy volley on the air,
fusillades to a final tonic, ricochets
off the wagging metronome
like a starred ball,
and rolls across the street.
There are afternoons of such benignity
that they seem to come to rest
still as a spent ball
by a quiet road
where there's always a grave stranger
to pick it up and carry it back over
and hand it to the careful child,
who wouldn't ever think
of running into
traffic or crossfire. Candy, dear ?
6.21.95
Subj: ellen 95-06-21 20:20:52 EDT
From: Dr swan
Posted on: America Online
About my ex sister-in-law...
Ellen
i. Botanical Gardens
The daylilies,
like candles snuffed by afternoon,
take me back to Vancouver, 1982,
to the Botanical Gardens
and how she plucked
one furled and livid blossom
and thrust it at me: here,
taste this. I was sure
the Royal Mounties
were just around the bend,
lurking behind a hybrid rosebush,
named for someone's aunt,
so I snatched and swallowed,
mumbling, very nice, but she was off
already to something else
possibly explaining
what herbal, or eschatological
beneficence I should expect,
but there I was, wet petals
clogging my drainpipe,
too embarrassed to hear
anything but the mocking strains
of Campion's Followe thy Faire sunne
unhappy shadowe.
ii. Cider
Her royal orange hair
unfurling in the sun,
she held court
in the kitchen of the farmhouse
she was building,
as beside her,
her peevish daughter,
named for a Tibetan Goddess,
shuffled a Tarot.
She was reminiscing
about how, at eighteen, after she'd
hitchiked from Framingham to Chile,
and married and divorced the L.A. guru,
she learned how to dynamite
stumps, and joined up
at a Vancouver logging camp.
She glittered in the corner
of my eye as I chased my toddler
through the struts and pitfalls
of her open stairwells.
I was married to her brother,
the one who never got away,
and for five years we never got away together
until we finally got away from one another.
By then I'd become an adept
at what I discovered one afternoon
as I lay, feigning migraine,
in the bright attic of her house
(under the tilting, iridescent kite
she'd filched in Thailand) --
how many hard ciders
it takes to drown a mouse.
iii. How It All Turns Out
Ellen got sick,
and all her hair fell out.
It grew back white.
She keeps it short.
You could fit a wimple
over it. She went to night
school and became
a nurse.
I write verse.
My son's besotted
with his exotic cousin Tara.
He's met her once.
6.21.95
Subj: Re:at last a poem, VIOLET 95-06-22 13:13:51 EDT
From: SaigeFawn
Posted on: America Online
Thanks Brian, I am proud to be a member of the society. ::::taking button, kissing it, pinning it on lapel, beaming::::::
post more poems, Brian
Saige
Subj: Re:ellen 95-06-22 13:17:08 EDT
From: SaigeFawn
Posted on: America Online
This is beautiful Swannee, just marvelous. I love the vignettes and the movement of time through them. Love the daylily metaphor and how it repeats in her hair. Love the whole damn thing!
Saige
Subj: Re:ellen 95-06-22 14:12:17 EDT
From: DWAINK
Posted on: America Online
Tara....Om Mani Pame Hum.... 3x...
Subj: Re:ellen 95-06-22 15:11:57 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
Wonderful Swan,
It is a delicious education to read your poem-stories. I read them over and over, each time culling more from them. It is an honor to be granted mental presence before such genius!
So sorry that you never found that chance to get away. :-(
Brian --- A 60s Man ::empathizing in a responsible Martian way::
PS: Thank you for teaching me about the curious practise of couvade
Subj: Re:at last a poem, VIOLET 95-06-22 15:16:15 EDT
From: A 60s Man
Posted on: America Online
RAOFLMAO
No, Saige, they were *buttons* of a pharmacological kind that I was offering. You were always a member of the society!
Brian --- ::enjoying a good belly laugh at Saige's expense::
Subj: Re:at last a poem, VIOLET 95-06-24 18:01:54 EDT
From: Duckyweb
Posted on: America Online
Violet is beautiful Saige...
and I hope we can now post again!!!
Subj: Waiting for the Jetway 95-06-26 11:31:40 EDT
From: Larousse
Posted on: America Online
Waiting for the Jetway
Passengers choke the aisle, bags on shoulders,
hands clutching bags and clothes, eyes
on the cabin door willing the jetway to arrive
that, sitting, I alone can see hasn't left the
terminal next to a row of planes, tail
logos in the shimmer of idling engines:
American's blade-like wings, Virgin's ragged
signature, Korean Air's red-blue yin-yang
wavering in the jetwash, icons dissolving to
ideas first glimpsed, perhaps, in a moment by
a man mowing his lawn on Long Island, or
partners eating while on retreat in Yorkshire
or a young woman riding the Seoul subway
alone, deep within the crowd when she felt
the beauty splash her mind.
(c) 1995 John Chilcott
Subj: Birds 95-06-26 11:32:15 EDT
From: Larousse
Posted on: America Online
Birds
huweohuweo
morning
fitfitfitfit
waking up seeuuweet
seeuuweet noknoknoknok in my tent
paduppadup paduppadup
huweohuweo fitfit
from seeuuweet a dream
seeuuweet to
noknok this noknok huweohuweo
paduppadup
paduppadup
demented fit symphony-- fitfitfit
seeuuweet
huweofithuweofit what nok
noknoknok was BRAWWWK!
I padupaddup nok padup
seeuweet
thinking
BRAWWWK!
(c) 1995 John Chilcott
Subj: Re:glad eyes 95-06-27 15:56:14 EDT
From: CaveStar 1
Posted on: America Online
I don't know of Harry Mitchell, but I enjoy your poem and love the personification of luck.
Subj: Re:Tribute to William Carlos Wil 95-06-27 16:02:41 EDT
From: CaveStar 1
Posted on: America Online
Hearsaid: I teach college English classes and would like permission to use your poem. What do you think?
Subj: Re:Ark 95-06-28 13:02:23 EDT
From: CaveStar 1
Posted on: America Online
I admire the humor with which you treat the changes brought on by adolescence. It is interesting that the narrator is alienated first by the rejection of being thrown out by the son, and later by the neglect of Noah -- or possibly by choice. I like the irreverence for Noah, his god and his dove. Still, this narrator is not alone in alienation. How nice to be one of three.
Subj: Thank you for your time 95-06-28 14:41:33 EDT
From: RKMartin
Posted on: America Online
Veil
The effigy began as rested peace
In the translucent, lush coma of the never-say world of her neck
"Leave it alone and he'll come back"
The older ones, without a clue, would say.
You know the place, you know it so well.
Digits open slowly and span my eye against the sun.
This is where it all began, and this is where it will end, even slower.
To try and gain on the lavish drama
Is to besiege the sightless will of the oppressor
And I have no desire to rake the mortal fringes of their solace.
In the process of our removal form the animal world
We have lost sight of her neck, and all that joins it in Christ
All that joins it in open union
All that relinquishes the diatribes of myth
And all that ends slowly, like an orgasmic volcano
Thrust upon the willing desire of any elder sun
Any elder son . . . .
Who would not drag the abhorrence to the top of some Roman hill?
Who would not feel the slime of the aberration
scratching, with small particles of sand and dust, at the back of the throat?
Given two sticks, a pale English garden and a small boy on rye
I'll make believe any sort of fanciful plight, just for you.
For you are the one, cast in the proper image, you are
And I can see color through the trails of sweat
Passing from your neck to your chest
Passing the coordinates from one duck to the next
In the pattern that swings down from your jungle
And the hissing that slips through your plunder
Effigies begin as rustles in driveways
Smoke in the wake of singing crabs
And good little girls wrapped in humid funk.
And effigies end with Mexican funerals and the eyes of dogs
And pancakes and sausages and heroin
In Nam.
rKm 28.0695
Subj: Re:lullaby 95-06-28 18:23:15 EDT
From: MattWard
Posted on: America Online
8/27/56 1:23:19 PM Opening ÒSystem Log 8/27/56#13Ó for recording.
Please don't take offense that I have not commented favorably on many of the poems in here....I have only skipped about and read a few whose titles intrigued me into opening them for a reading. But this one...Lullaby...I just had to comment: Ahhh! How beautiful!
Subj: WHEELS 95-06-30 03:39:48 EDT
From: TECHLiveOT
Posted on: America Online
It's not over for her.
In the condition of imaginative
suspense, she packs her
light half, wraps up the four
year old, tells me
to record the moment, for she
has to leave, she's on her way,
being used up by space,
she needs to practice her
skills away, here, in my studio,
her oldest son...
With a forced term, I show
unique proof, terms still apply,
you would have done the same
for me...
He is my brother, too...and they
bond with flight to reach me,
record misery, Wagner...I am
detatched. This separates
us forever, of course...for
I am offering sanctuary to
a particular, your wife,
and there is no hint of composition,
no transfusion of blood between
any of us, anymore, save the baby...
I must be unbound, clean, prepare
my mind, for tomorrow my maker,
my bearer, my strenght comes
to make me equal. She comes to
lay her life in my hands, lay her
strength in the delicious relationship
of mother-son. I have one day to
perfect the ability to record. I will
strain the 200 percale sheets, smooth
out the wrinkles and offer her the white
in its entirety. I will record the force
moving her, push the dust certainly,
forget Wagner, for a while. This may
be the last of my poems.
I may never write again. She may
require that much, she may stand
on one leg, stare out at the
West road, pacing the four
wheels of my car.
I swear there is something
grand occurring here, something that
will change me forever. Of supreme
importance. Enough to take from
me art. I was a girl once, for a day,
I remember you mother.
And the boy, I will have to fit him
with the latest Green Ranger outfits.
I am his working brother. I am
his rock, too. He was there to
watch her die. He saw it all
and wept. I must heal him. A
world removed of his mind would
be the collapse of mine.
There is largeness, my friends...
bare with me, for I must no longer give
you poems, i think. I have to
save the feel for her, she needs me.
Farewell, for now...perhaps for good.
Zeratustra...had to use tech live to post for me...since system was
down...and i may never come on again...
:(
enjoyed you people...my saga is truth, no fiction in what i write,
unfortunately, for those who've emailed me inquiring...
i may return, so please hold a spot for me in this magnificent circle of
poets...
maxmarvlus/zeratustra/belovedstay/etc
Subj: OK...time to move now.... 95-06-30 16:42:41 EDT
From: DianaSings
Posted on: America Online
let's all go post in 'Saner Still'...same stuff...different folder, that's all. This dumps out the first messages if we go over 450 (for those of you new people)and we don't want to lose any of them if this folder gets 'archived' (I'll ask Tracey really nicely!)
Diana
8/27/56 1:23:48 PM Closing Log file.
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