Dan's Poetry Corner II

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Message 1312270 - Posted: 7 Dec 2012, 19:51:03 UTC
Last modified: 7 Dec 2012, 19:52:46 UTC

Sisters


There is much
to be said
about sisters.
Richness of living.
Measures of giving
to each other,
as sisters.


My face
in the mirror,
on their eyes,
reflecting.
Everything falls
back in place.

I've got all
my sisters
around me.
No hiding,
nor colliding.

With love
to my sisters.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1312384 - Posted: 8 Dec 2012, 4:18:21 UTC
Last modified: 8 Dec 2012, 4:19:15 UTC

The Wheel

(Wendell Berry, 1934-)


At the first strokes of the fiddle bow
the dancers rise from their seats.
The dance begins to shape itself
in the crowd, as couples join,
and couples join couples, their movement
together lightening their feet.
They move in the ancient circle
of the dance. The dance and the song
call each other into being. Soon
they are one--rapt in a single
rapture, so that even the night
has its clarity, and time
is the wheel that brings it round.
In this rapture the dead return.
Sorrow is gone from them.
They are light. They step
into the steps of the living
and turn with them in the dance
in the sweet enclosure
of the song, and timeless
is the wheel that brings it round.

from "The Discovery of Poetry",
by Frances Mayes
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Message 1312392 - Posted: 8 Dec 2012, 4:38:58 UTC
Last modified: 8 Dec 2012, 4:39:46 UTC

He Dances with Kitties


He dances with kitties, to where he doth not know.
But where the kitties lead, this man he shall go.

They sometimes run off, as kitties will do.
And then this man, he who dances with kitties,
soon shall be running off too.

They take him away from this world and it's strife.
It's troubles they all go away.
When the man, he who dances with kitties,
let's his felines direct him on the way.

So there now you have it, a story so grand and so true.
And some day, perhaps you shall be dancing and laughing.....
Dancing with kitties too.

msattler 12/7/12
"Freedom is just Chaos, with better lighting." Alan Dean Foster

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Message 1312885 - Posted: 9 Dec 2012, 3:51:22 UTC

Kindly permit a more personal poem from a stoic, of sorts. :o)


Polyphony


A wave crests, breaks,
and rushes across the sand --
and, does it again,
and, again.

And, so does my life --
it crests, breaks,
and rushes across the sands of the years --
again, and again.

What is added?
For every year,
a voice is added to
my life's musical score.

A polyphony of voices,
striving to achieve
a Renaissance
of beauty.

But,
not quite able
to reach the height --
to wipe the shore clean.

Waves of polyphony.
Resonances of today,
of yesterday,
intimations of tomorrow.

* * *

j. r. martin
8 Dec. 2012

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Message 1313229 - Posted: 9 Dec 2012, 19:24:07 UTC
Last modified: 9 Dec 2012, 19:26:21 UTC

The Fool, The Emperor


These days we've got sciences
that describe our narrow mindedness

Yet we're quite occupied,
while chaotic crystals
make my head ignite.

Holding the molten gold of the sun,
enjoying it slipping through my fingers,
futile to try holding infinity.
Only the mystery can
and thus it carries me


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1314375 - Posted: 12 Dec 2012, 19:27:52 UTC

Demon


He walks into a playground,
a demon diguised as man.
His face is blank, his feelings numb.
He knows how this will end.

He doesn't use candy,
nor toys or pain.
He uses their gullibility,
just to win his game.

He follows them on the street,
yearning, full of lust.
Should we tell little children
it's not ok to trust?


Julie Detavernier(2012)

Wrote it after a nightmare I had...


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Message 1314808 - Posted: 13 Dec 2012, 19:25:04 UTC

About existence


If you question your existence.
If you really have no clue
what you're doing in this world,
not knowing if they really need you.

If you need an explanation.
If you need a reason why.
Go and search your destination.
Go and search yourself, please try.

If you think you're not able.
If you think you might be wrong.
Take the chance to do so,
take the chance to be strong.

If you succeed in giving meaning,
if you succeed to make things work,
it will bring you satisfaction,
it will bring you back on earth.


Julie Detavernier (2012)


For a friend...
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Message 1316660 - Posted: 18 Dec 2012, 2:03:39 UTC
Last modified: 18 Dec 2012, 2:06:01 UTC

Puns


Some, pun on verbs.
Some, pun on nouns.
Some, drop their H's,
to give different sounds.

Some, frequent pubs,
and order their ale.
Others, at sports-bars,
are found, without fail.

Goals are the same,
for those seeking sport:
"Double them over,
don't let them retort!

Cracking a pun,
is jolly-good sport."

* * *

j. r. martin
17 December 2012

*

Ref. "Puns O Fun 24", James Sotherden, for inspiration for this poem.
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Message 1317290 - Posted: 19 Dec 2012, 19:42:21 UTC

Ice cold Whisky


Summer was the season
when he took the ride.
Women were the reason,
whisky was the slide.

Living for the action,
till it took him down.
Crawled into his bottle
and let us watch him drown.

Sometimes in the evening,
before the moon goes down,
before the dark is leaving,
I see him hanging round.

So I watch the shadows
and I stop and think
until he wades into the shallows
and gets himself another drink.

Certain things we can't explain,
we all have our attraction
and then the man became insane,
whisky was his crime of passion.



Julie Detavernier (2012)


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Message 1318857 - Posted: 22 Dec 2012, 16:53:01 UTC

Hopefully, this is a first-time submission:


Veritas


Do you know how people die,
When they have lost a precious soul?
Do you see the rainbow's end,
midst distant hills and darkened sky?

Do you hear the sparrow's song,
And wish your life had not gone wrong?
Have you ever wished for sleep,
amidst the rushing winds, at night?

Pots of gold, at rainbow's end
are unattainable for men.
Sparrows' songs sung cheerfully,
are based not on eternity.

Yet, they sound of hope, at last,
when sleep does come . . .
we breath our last.

* * *

j. r. martin
14 December 2006

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Message 1318984 - Posted: 22 Dec 2012, 22:10:22 UTC

Beautiful poem, Jim:)
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Message 1319160 - Posted: 23 Dec 2012, 3:57:31 UTC - in response to Message 1318984.  

Thanks, friend. :o)

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Message 1319386 - Posted: 23 Dec 2012, 19:22:53 UTC

When it rains


When it rains like this,
I start to think through,
how life would be
if you were here too.

When it rains like this,
and I hear the thunder,
are you ever here with me?
It just makes me wonder...

Then a rainbow appears,
breaking through the rain.
And I realize that
Life is worth the pain.


Julie Detavernier (2012)
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Message 1319633 - Posted: 24 Dec 2012, 15:27:18 UTC

A Bouquet of Rememberances


I cannot tell you how it feels
to gather flowers from a field,
Arranging them quite lovingly --
Each one, a person, who's love me.

Each one, unique, with destiny
now realized; it's up to me
to hope a loved one is of mnd
to add my blossom, when it's time.

I hope it gives as much delight
as my arrangement pleased my sight.
Each gave me reason to believe
that unity was destiny.

A myriad of destinies --
of life, and death, eternity.

* * *

j. r. martin
12 January 2005

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Message 1319942 - Posted: 25 Dec 2012, 19:11:32 UTC

A day of Joy


When your day is full of joy
and your happiness is found,
when a sunbeam warms your heart
and your friends are all around.

Please extend that warming beam,
share the warmth, pass it through.
Make a heart glow that is near,
it completes happiness for you.


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Message 1322515 - Posted: 31 Dec 2012, 4:35:52 UTC

One way to try to peer into the New Year . . .
(Happy New Year, by the way.)


Fortune Told


I spun a coin on table-top --
Impulsive plan, to view my lot.
A blur of metaphors was seen --
a strobe-light image, on a screen.

The Future, Past, both laughed at me --
a whirling dervish symphony.
Dispair was mine, to take a chance
on spinning coin, inducing trance.

Euphoria took hold, of me --
and, tempted with predestiny.
But, images returned to haunt,
or other journeyed landscapes, gaunt.

To my dismay, awaiting pledge,
Its final stop, was on its edge.

* * *

j. r. martin
30 Dec. 2012

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Message 1323352 - Posted: 1 Jan 2013, 19:13:54 UTC

Telling tales with noname


I was told a little tale
that's locked inside my head
but don't forget to knock
or ring the bell instead.

A tiny little creature came out
with an old piece of parchment.
It asked me what I pleased,
I wasn't sure what it meant.

I would like to know the future,
I told the tiny little thing.
Unknowing as it was,
it announced itself as a king.

Then it's brother came along
and stood by its side.
I already know the future,
it said, loud and with pride.

A third one came along
and asked about the tale.
It was the creature's task
and so it will not fail.

Everyone gathered around,
a few minutes well spent.
Not a word and not a sound
until the very end.


Julie Detavernier (2012)


(Happy New Year, Jim:)
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Message 1325151 - Posted: 6 Jan 2013, 3:34:45 UTC

A Most Beautiful House


Weathered wood, white paint peeling --
no two windows the same size.
Children gone, to live their own lives;
parents gone -- to live their's.

The lawn -- a lush study in native perennials
of varying shapes and colors;
birds and insects gladly inhabited it.
"We won", the rabbits might have said.

The garden had gracefully reverted
to nature's offerings --
reflecting, still, the previous caretaker's
tender, loving care.

Dust and old dog-hairs
carpeted the wooded floors and rugs.
Plants long dried,
as if for Autumn bouquets.

A perfect solitude pervaded the interior --
if only there were inhabitants to
startle it awake.
It was not to be so.

The tears shed were not enough
to wash away the sadnesses
within its walls;
but, faint echoes could be heard. . .

Melodies created by violin, cello, clarinet . . .
"Hot chocolate!", after a day's
cross-country skiing expedition . . .
Chopping of vegetables, in the kitchen . . .

sawing of wood, from the basement workshop . . .
"Trick or Treat!", from the front door . . .
Guests' chatter, during Thanksgiving dinner preparations . . .
Christmas carols and masses
from the family room . . .

"We'll never get this gear into the car!" . . .
a lament never realized,
before every camping trip.
But, then --

The silences . . .
missed opportunities, when solutions
to growing family estrangement,
could occur.

Brief, but increasingly prophetic
premonitions of absolute tragedy --
easily dozed through, during
evening family-room times.

Children asleep,
unaware of the coming
final tearing of the family fabric --
blissful, innocent sleep.

Helplessness --
as on a raft
heading toward
a waterfall.

Predestination
is an
incomprehensible
word.

* * *

j. r. martin
26 September 2011

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Message 1325573 - Posted: 7 Jan 2013, 19:39:11 UTC

Time will tell


When you get older,
you get wiser,
so they say...

Your past,
your childhood
doesn't describe
who you are now
but who you were.

I know I'm not
the same anymore

Now I know
which way
I wan't to go.
I just don't know
who I'll go my way with.


Julie Detavernier (2013)
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Message 1325596 - Posted: 7 Jan 2013, 21:04:49 UTC

. . . Certainly (for starters), with music and poetry, Julie!

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