All posts filed under: Poetry

Vessels of Admiration

  Would you have poetry in your life? Then you must become such an object of wonder, 
that a poet would search the world over for the perfect phrase in which to capture your essence. Would you have beauty in your life? Then you must learn to recognize the beauty that surrounds you.
You must begin to expand your definition of what beauty is, that you may see it more readily. Would you have love in your life? Then you must do everything in your power to become lovely,
 so that others may see what is already manifest within you. Love, and beauty and poetry are not something for which you must search. They’re all around you.
 You are the only obstacle to what you desire. You are what is keeping them at a distance. It’s the first lesson the poet or the lover learns; that the quality he’s seeking resides within the beloved. From there he goes on to discover those same attributes inside many vessels of admiration. Until, at last, he learns that these powers reside in …

It Was You…

  I first saw you the other morning in a pedestrian tunnel, Striding; purposeful, compelled, as all of us were in that world – Though some were more driven than others. And as our eyes met, yours, and mine, you stumbled; Your step faltered, then recovered – a hitch; insufficient to Elicit the notice of those who crowded around you. But I saw. I knew. And you saw I was there – and aware, of you. And I also know, that until that very moment, I had lost the dream Of but some few hours before, When you and I were one.

Hymn of Pan

  I sang of the dancing stars, I sang of the daedal* earth, And of heaven, and the giant wars, And love, and death, and birth. –Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Hymn Of Pan“ *Daedal = intricate, artistic, richly adorned, ingenious in form or function… What a marvelous word. As promised, a picture with the sun visible. Bring it to full size, and just wander among the stalks for a while. Find a particularly alluring edge and linger there, feeling the sun as it traces both your edges, and the edges of that where you now, for the moment, reside. Feel the warmth seep into your bones, as it always does during the summer months. Luxuriate in the softness of the cottony flower at the top. Embrace the cooling breezes as they waft across you, for the sun is warm at this time of the year. Relax… sit a spell… Take one (1) of the above paragraph as often as needed, over the next five months.

A Terrible Good…

The following is a poem I wrote some time ago, in the style of a Cento; which is a form composed entirely of quotes from other authors. A conglomeration, if you will; a grouping together of lines that moved me in their own individual manners – such that I simply had to put them in touch with each other. Do not look for meter, or any of the more conventional techniques normally associated with poetry. You’ll not find them here. The only criteria for inclusion was intent and emotional meaning. Rhythm and rhyme were not consulted, nor was metaphorical simultaneity. I had something I needed to get off my chest, and only these lines would do.