Desert*

 

Desert

Dry unfriendly

Hot rocks cook all lifeless

Burning sun, cold numbing nights

Leaving little choice for grace or a death

Quickly or slowly, it is sure

Descending completely

Causing all to

Desert.

 

 

*heteronym/rictameter

 

 

Two friends

 

It is night now.

The cabin is damp with evening chill,

so I light the firewood waiting.

The flames flicker and the hearth heats up.

I sit down in my chair by the fire.

The cat walks arthritically to my chair

and then, smoothly leaps to my lap!

As old bones demand

she sinks slowly down,

and then, poco a poco,

a pianissimo purr.

We share warmth, she and I,

as I stoke her sleek fur.

As the flames age, changing

to quieter red coals,

we sleep.

 

Psalm 261*

 

Seek Him. Praise Him.

For He choreographs all.

Love Him. Share Him.

Hear His magnificent call.

 

Hold Him. Bind Him.

With Him monopolize all.

Hoard Him. Kill Him.

Hear not heretical calls.

 

Seek Him? Praise Him!

For He choreographs all.

Love Him. Share Him.

Hear His magnificent call!

 

 

• from the lost pages of James the Feeble. Evidence that this is a later psalm is not only the number, but also the use of punctuation.
•  

 

 

 

.0(and 118 more of them)x

 

up-quark photon,

down-quark gluon,

strange-quark electron,

charmed-quark muon,

bottom-quark tau lepton,

top-quark w-boson,

neutrino z-boson!

And so some believe:

(“presto!”)

The Anthropic Principle.

 

 

The apple revisted

 

An apple drops.

(acceleration or gravity?)

If mass is expanding

(at an accelerating rate)

perhaps

Newton merely saw

the larger mass of the earth

expanding (out)

to meet the

lesser mass

of the apple!

 

 

 

Hold the course

 

Golly, things are getting worse

even though we do more!

Other nations have dropped out

rather than to share our pain.

Gosh, do think

(even though God is on our side), I got it wrong?

 

Well, freedom is hard work!

 

By fighting terror we

Uphold our troops and defeat evil doers.

So, protect our

Homeland!

 

 

 

Cinquain One

 

Spring time

Rebirth of life

Green plants growing, blooming

Comfortable awakening

Relief

 

 

Cinquain two

 

Old age

Wrinkles stiffness

Wisdom money too late

Melancholy enlightenment

Grandpa!

 

 

 

Cinquain three

Freedom

Lawful license

Talking working playing

Loving sharing…  and without fear!

Blessing.

 

 

Cinquain four

Black cat

Soft fur sleepy

Quick companion hunter

Mischievous serene shameless

My friend

 

Dreary day*

The day began slowly as any day.

The distant bells slew sleep

through dingy brown streets asleep.

The day broke slowly and cheap.

 

* englyn (I have studied and tried to use the welsh cynghanedd …I really don’t think it is friendly to poetry in english)

 

 

The third eye.

 

In 1966 Siva whispered to Mao

“destroy the evil doers.

Use the most young to root

out the four olds:

old ideas

old cultures

old manners

and

old customs.”

The red guards awoke to the call

and they destroyed.

The third eye of Siva

saw that it was good,

but the eyes of mortals

saw struggle sessions and the pain

of loss.

The loss of things valued for centuries

(“the sky fell to the earth”)

And

the loss of a generation

known as the Red Guards.

Mao, as all mortals, died.

(the Four, too)

the two lines formed a road

and called to the motherland,

and it still does.

Much later,to another person

in another land,

 Siva whispered once again :

“destroy the evil-doers”

 

Night noises*

 

Among bejeweled carpals

damsels enjoy finesse.

 

Ghostly hooded insects

jitter kindly libations,

making nocturnal overtures,

passing quietly regal

scented temples unnoticed.

 

Vanquish whispering xenophiles!

Yield zealously!

 

*Ludic

 

 

 

Looking  backwards*

 

Looking backwards over my life,

the most casual choices have major effects.

They cast the longest shadows.

Major choices are minor.

 

The most casual choices have major effects

and cause me to wonder.

Major choices are minor,

there are no regrets there.

 

…and cause me to wonder…

they cast the longest shadows.

There are no regrets there?

Looking backward over my life.

 

 

* pantoum

A lament for my e-mail

 

 

Once, not too long ago,

there was joy.

A tone!

“you have mail”!

even the arts saluted.

 

Once, not too long ago,

there were old friends found

by search engines brave.

I sent photos

to high-school buddies long lost.

 

Once, not too long ago,

the mail took a few brief moments

 to download.

But now?

Oh woe.

 

Like unwanted guppies my e-mail

has grown into a thorny mess.

Objects of every kind,

(living and non-living)

are promised to send me to bliss.

My ebay account needs my credit card number.

Banks that I didn’t know I had an account in

wish to return my money.

A person in Africa wishes to make me rich!

Secret messages fall into my lap.

 

And so, I sing this lament.

I sing it to ebay,

who tells me that it’s not really so bad.

I want to sing it to the law-makers,

but they are too busy.

So,

Lucky you.

 

 

 

 

Three strikes

 

Those whom the gods would punish

They first reward.

Those whom the gods would reward

They first punish.

 

The laws that give us order

Grow in chaos.

The laws that give us chaos

Die in order.

 

The good that bears us evil

Rules as pious.

The good that rules as pious

Is that evil.

 

Encore for Jamie*

 

The good that bears us evil

Rules as pious.

The good that rules as pious

Is that evil

 

The one who still is preaching

Is not needed.

The one who is so needed

Is not preaching.

 

The light of life is shining

As a sunrise.

A word as sweet as that sunrise

Is still shining.

 

 

* Jamie said: “The structure is great and the last stanza is my favorite--I'd suggest you start with that one as your first and head in a more specific direction. Was there a specific event that prompted you to write this? If so, that might hold the specificity that would make this a touch better.”

 

Patches

 

Patches, a small mostly white cat,

With black fur placed

On her body without artistic charm.

She lived under a summer cabin

And raised litter after litter

Of kittens

On mice from the woods.

 

In summer,

The summer people fed her well

And she lay happily in the sun.

In winter,

She took care of herself

But looked forward to

My offerings of food.

 

The summer people

Had her “fixed”

(and one of her daughters)

and so

she no longer needed

to frantically hunt for food

for her young.

 

Slowly she and I came to

Know one another,

And while she couldn’t quite

Let me pet her…

She would squirm happily

Just out of reach

On the wooden porch.

Her movements were always

Full of life and the love of it!

 

Then,

One day she came for her food

…but slower…

and I saw death standing

on the corner of the cabin porch.

 

The cabin stands

Cold and empty this winter.

As I walk by it

The snow falls silently

And the nights seem little longer.

 

 

 

Sarapiqui sunrise

 

Green wet trees lighten

Dark and mist paint plant chaos

Hollow howls demand!

 

Ode to a large brown beetle

 

Early in the morning

as the sun rises wetly

and the monkeys howl,

the volcan Arenal

rests uncomfortably

behind hills dominated

by bare kapok trees.

 

I sit

beside a still lavish pool

and notice a large brown beetle

the size of my thumb

weakly drowning.

In compassion

I pick up a near by

dry piece of palm leaf

and fish him out of the water

and place him and the leaf

by my chair.

 

To my surprise

as the beetle struggles to right itself

a spider comes out of the leaf

and slowly, wetly, walks away

across the brown tile.

From a tree

a lively sparrow flys down,

inspects the spider…

and eats him!

Now

the beetle rights himself.

the sparrow looks fiercely at the beetle

at my feet

but is not willing to approach

 

A moment.

The ancient volcano stands.

The Kapok watches.

The sparrow flies from place to place.

I sit with the beetle at my feet.

The beetle moves, unaware.

 

The sparrow, after some hesitation,

flies off into the trees.

The man leaves.

The large brown beetle

weakly moves his legs.

The Kapok tree stands guard,

while the volcano stirs.

 

Somehow, those three that remain

step outside of time

and become immortal.

 

 

Northern Cycle

 

Damply glowing, red and gold.

Dankly smelling, ripe and bold.

 

Deeply sleeping, dark and cold.

Brightly gleaming, snow and ice.

 

Joyfully waking, green and new.

Welcomed movement, wind and rain.

 

Warmly opened, song and sky.

Peaceful closure, light and life.

 

 Damply glowing, red and gold.

Dankly smelling, ripe and bold.

 

 

To that happy young man

 

 

Come, young man

And I will you

Wisdom

Sorely won from

Forty years of marriage.

I charge you to not

Reveal this token

To your bed companion…

Nor to any of that

Fair sex.

 

 

For any action

Requiring joint agreement,

Plan and think out

WELL

The opening line

Of the event;

For that casting

Of the die

Determines the outcome.

 

 

Derdim

 

Asleep, in nothing, was the timeless word.

The first event came at once quite unheard.

A being to hear should exist, derdim;

And so, life was formed and the noise, a hymn.

 

Author note:  after reading Nicholas Ostler’s “Empires of the word” , I was struck by the thought that the only single word, that is reflexive for “I said to myself”  is derdim (Turkish)

 

 

 

Senseless song

 

Soft white, cream and violet,

Light silhouette.

Butter , milk, and peppermint,

Myrrh overprint.

Sleek fur, silk and ecstasy,

Blur fantasy.

Drum beat , tone and sweet brass horn,

Fleet jazz reborn.

 Grass, lilac and new cut hay,

Sass everyday.

Rest now, drift and Morpheus,

Tau coleus.

 

 

Passage

 

 

Black

Nothing

Some movement.

Swirling darkness.

Dim mists of fog rise.

False dawn rings dark wet forms.

Life arises and then speaks,

while thought creates wisdom!

Knowledge killed by love.

Lightening flash.

Blinding light.

Nothing

White

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two nights before Christmas

 

T’was two nights before Christmas

And all through the house

The creatures were just resting

Yes, even that mouse.

 

The children and their families

Had all come and gone

They had opened their presents

And nothing was wrong.

 

The stockings had been looted

(no coal was in sight)

the turkey and stuffing were

said to be “just right”.

 

The shortest day left behind

And all had gone home,

Leaving mama and I

(with the cats) quite alone.

 

Oh the pressure of people

Too bright and too loud

Taxed patience and persons

From love and gifts proud.

 

 

Fire Light, Fire Bright

 

The bright noisy word

rules a rough sweet world.

Warmth flickers wanly

smelling lightly of kerosene,

the fire consumes the obscene,

as reality overwhelms

the once tall proud golden elm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

At night, alone*

 

My lantern shows the woods as stark

in the moonless night, bleak and cold.

The dog is barking into the dark.

 

(go to the cabin, as to an ark,

and think not of those tales of old)

My lantern shows the woods as stark.

 

I’ll wait for dawn to disembark,

or for that friend who may be bold.

The dog is barking into the dark.

 

The smell of wet earth and bark

creeps over the porch and threshold.

My lantern shows the woods as stark.

 

There is nothing seen, nor one to hark.

All senses numbed as in a blindfold.

The dog is barking into the dark.

 

Why is darkness death’s trademark?

Oh, would there be just one to scold.

My lantern shows the woods so stark.

The dog is barking at the dark.

 

 

*villanette

 

 

Hidden pattern*

 

 

Yea, poet unflinching play,

bray forfeit forbidding slay.

Stay scarlet beseeching. Nay,

sway pulpit performing fey.

 

*abca

abca

abca

abca

(and) one,two,three,one

 

 

 Poetry

 

Some poets who like to write poetry

do not like to read poetry.

Some poets who like to read poetry

do not like to write poetry.

Some poets who like to write and read poetry

do not write poetry.

 

But then, what is poetry

but a bunch of words that someone loves.

And what are “words”?

Nothing?

Well, perhaps the footprints of something

left in time?

What makes the footprints, then?

 

Perhaps poetry can exist without a poet

to walk through this world of ours.

But who would then love it?

Perhaps the Word?

 

Four times six

 

Swiftly charging clamor of joy,

slowly claiming glamour for boys,

sinking coyly hammer and noise

slyly oily grammar lacks poise.

 

 

 

 

That flag of ours

 

We learn those things that we were taught to love.

Each child knows that to serve the flag is law.

But there are lots of laws in this broad world,

one law says “yea” but yet nearby says “nay”.

 Laws are only a dark mirror of truth.

 

In pride we call this one” Empire of Evil”,

and thus give them our gift of love. (chaos).

They hate as they curse us for our “freedom”.

Oh please, I love that flag of ours as thee,

but then, let us try to be less righteous.

 

 

Winter’s Night

 

Winter’s night, snow and moonlight

sets the stage for the owl’s love song.

The summer sun, alive with light,

moves me to the warm world outside.

 

Too many years lay on my back!

A burden that grows heavier.

There is nothing I really lack,

but unfulfilled my life winds down.

 

Starlight takes more time in travel

than most men are given to live,

leaving mysteries to unravel.

Darkness and light are illusions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alice of Abervenny

 

Alice was a camp follower in love

with a Norman knight of far-a-way Wales.

When Earl Richard de Clare thereof

(who some yet call “Strongbow”)

was moving against King Dermot,

the Irish drove cows into the fort

only to have them turned again

against themselves by Raymund de Gros.

The defeated (of that battle of men

and cows, some say seventy of them)

were given to Alice, whose love was killed.

She was gifted an axe of tempered steel

And beheaded every one

of the prisoners in a field surreal.

 

 

 

A modest proposal*

 

“Brother! We’ve got trouble right here in River City,”

and it’s got three different names!

One: We’ve got sugars!

Two: We’ve got fats!

And

Three: we’ve got carbohydrates!

 

When you walk down the street

You see fat men and you see fat women.

You see old fat people and young fat people.

And

You see fat people eating three Big Meals a day!

 

And diets…we got um!

Last one I had was a high protein diet.

I got so I lusted more after a doughnut

than I did my wife!

And

And like the old cat…the weight came back.

 

You see Brother, we’ve got too much!

The food industry is a saber tooth tiger too.

It’s time for us to take action!

And

That means taking a little personal moral responsibility.

 

Many people are lucky to have one meal a day.

So,,,that is what I now do.

One meal, Brother, anything I want!

And

While I can eat all…I must not eat to be sick.

 

The result is that I think about the hungry others,

while do the people landscape a favor.

The weight does come off

And

I can remain the pig I am.

 

 

 

* thank you, Jonathan Swift

 

Ah Yes!

 

I think it’s quite pathetic

To feigh to be aesthetic

Or a little athletic

When it’s all just genetic

And a little phonetic

Perhaps even synthetic

To speak the lines poetic.

 

 

Two one

 

To one that seems confused.

That one who should have “two” better used…

(or would that one been too bemused?)

I say:” One, too much use of “to” leaves me bruised!”.

And one says:

” too much to tell me about “two” leaves me accused”.  

 

 

Carlo Emanuele, per la grazia di Dio, Re di Sardegna, Cipro e Gerusalemme; Duca di Savoja, Monferrato, Chablais, Aosta, e Genevese; Principe di Piemonte ed Oneglia; Marchese d'Italia, Saluzzo, Susa, Ivrea, Ceva, Maro, Oristano, e Sezana; Conte di Moriana, Geneva, Nizza, Tenda, Asti, Alessandria, e Goceano; Barone di Vaud e di Faucigny; Signore di Vercelli, Pinerolo, Tarantasia, Lumellino, e Val di Sesia; Principe e Vicario perpetuo del Sacro Romano Imperio in Italia*

 

Such a glorious name,

a man that almost no one remembers today!

He is buried without fame

in the Church of Sant'Andrea al Quirinale.

 

When crowned, joy was denied,

he lost land to the french;

and shortly after his wife died,

he decided to abdicate.

 

When his cousin and friend,

Henry Benedict Stuart** died;

the Jacobites called him to ascend

as King Charles IV of England, Scotland, France and Ireland.

 

He , however, joined the Jesuit order

(Never ordained to the priesthood),

A life in some disorder,

found only in a forgotten poem.

 

 

*Charles Emmanuel IV, King of Sardinia from 1796 to 1802.

 

**Cardinal, Duke of York

 

 

A far distant shore

 

 

When I was a boy

I peered across the lake

To the far distant shore

A half-mile away.

 

It calls me to come,

 to land on that beach!

A mystery to see!

A goal out of reach.

When I was older

I stood on the shore

Of an alien coast

 only to hear:” explore!”.

 

Now with the vision on screen

Titian calls clearly to me.

No boat do I have

although I still make my plea.

 

It calls me to come,

 to land on that beach!

A mystery to see!

A goal out of reach.

 

Ancient airs and dances*

 

I would sing joyful praise of JHVH

But then became confused of how to RHM!

 

A golden stone sang of a rosy CRSS

And a widow’s son was born in CRM.

 

*Arcana publicata vilescunt,

et gratiam prophanata aminunt.

Ergo: ne margaritas objice porcis,

Seu asino substernere rosas.

 

 

Alnitak

 

When the night air turns sharp as broken glass

And the stars drill through empty branches,

it is to Orion’s belt, I am drawn like a needle to a magnet.

The star in the middle, we call “Alnitak”,

from the Arabic: “belt of al Jouza”.

(“the central female one”)

In this darkness mysteries shine clearly

witnessed by a dark horsehead

and courted by a blue companion

in a dance, thousands of years in song.

I am lost in the distance, distance, distance.

I am dwarfed by the grandeur, grandeur, grandeur.

But!

Thousands upon thousands of photons from Alnitak

are lost and consumed with little effect

in my eye, in my mind,

finding immortality in thought. 

 

 

 

 

When I was young

 

When I was very, very young

sunlight danced on diamond snowflakes,

and each new day was full of wonders.

When boundaries were violated

the world was dark and hurtful.

Monsters there were,

but also

wonderous gods like Santa Claus,

mother, daddy, and sister.

 

When I was very young

we played fox and geese in the snow,

and summer vacation was treasured.

I leaned to whistle,

and then to play marbles.

Many of the gods fell.

 

When I was young

we walked to school in the slush.

Some did not graduate, but I did!

Cub scouts was for little kids

and merit badges were won.

Sunday best was worn to church.

 

One day I was a man,

and Eros changed from a pal

to one of those lost gods.

(Joy that captivates the bright now.)

I found Her, and we found me.

Now a career was necessary.

 

As a husband I turned to the world,

to provide for wife, and two fine sons.

Sometimes I was successful.

Sometimes I was not.

Joy and angst were placed on a scale

with many shades of grey between.

 

When I grew older

the sons met Eros, and she left with them.

Companionship and love silently

took her place.

From time to time

I met Thanatos and he left

with mother, daddy and sister.

 

When I grew old

Wisdom remained distant.

Grandchildren came to visit.

Autumn leaves sang bright colors

and soon the sunlight will

dance on snowflakes again.