Powerlines
above butterflies
Roaches and ants, can't
see them from here
Blue sky and clouds surround our minds all day
Tree leaves wave, temporary prisoners of existence, just like you and me
Squirrels, cats and dogs make doo in controlled nature
Rocks sit beside grass, wondering how they got there
Water runs through pipes and hoses quite happily
Houses squat in their places, seemingly disinterested
Sidewalks lie, contemplating indifference, occasionally tickled, next to rolled on roads
Stop signs stand sentinel, traffic lights have a little power too
Street lamps wait for darkness, and wait…
Sun dives behind horizon, unfettered by tiny buildings and mountains
The moon, the other beaming source of romantic shadows
You Tube Transport
I'm in my spaceship
of the imagination
inside my apartment
A two bedroom
with carpeted floor
and stuccoed ceiling
I sit in a black pleather
swiveling office chair
arms on padded rests
And lean back
close my eyes
sent aloft on
The music of
Constance Demby
"Novus Magnificat"
I journey into the stars
satellites and comets
pass beside me
As I fly
closer to heaven
I can feel the majesty
Of surrounding nebulae
or is that the introduction
to the celestial choir
I'm ready to land
take my place sitting
enveloped in dark cosmos
Looking around upon
all the round objects
and their unseen inhabitants
Who make noises
too faint to hear from here
but I remember them
And find myself
returning to my people
as one in the minor cacophony
Willing this being
to sleep and dream
of an afterlife
Dying can be bliss
fix me my harp
so I can trade
My earthly troubles
death divorce
disenfranchisement
For the joy of becoming
an atom without matter
a free floating speck
Refreshed for a span
of nearly half an hour
via artistry recorded
Decades ago by
a person I'll never meet
or will I
May we someday greet
as ether of the void
which exists timelessly
Neither up nor down
not left or right
only conscious of place
And be patient as gods
waiting for another
something vivid to happen
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Poppies
Poppies! Poppies! Poppies! Poppies!
Blown around by the breeze
Like citizens by politics
If Moses had hiked this hill
He would have said the clusters of
Orange flames were beautiful signs of God
Walk as a tee-shirted giant
In the land of the poppies
Swaying by the passing wind
Open petals take in
The sunny flow of air
Fed the feeling of being alive
Shadows pass over the poppies
Shoes temporarily knock flat the poppies
The poppies bounce back up lifted by the
following
A field of orange and yellow and purple
Brings delightful color to the brown
hills
The cloudless blue sky
Kneeling amongst the poppies
Get close to pure beauty
Fitting right in
Spotted desert brush
Enhanced by orange and yellow and purple
clumps
Such harmony in the variety of colors
The sign says Poppy Festival
April 22nd-23rd but
It's already here
Bearded and unbearded men stroll
Surrounded by poppies
Smiles all around
Buds hang together
Like a group of poppies
Grow to love the company
Outside with the wind dancers
Sashaying to the music of the breezes
Twenty four hours every day
Put anything next to a poppy
And it's livened up
A bouquet of flowers and object
Previously published in Metaphor - Issue 7
No comments:
Post a Comment