the cool stone his breath, he digs
hoping to find what he is longing for
the shimmer of a gold vain? sure of what they said
o how they told him long ago
so he blisters, too deep to remember, and how long the depths
the pick axe worn thin, blood and bone and steal and will
rip into the next swing, and cold chunks of stone
fall onto cold chunks of stone, piles, drifting in two and three
...wanting gold
to dig into a swinging party this deep must be a farce… yet
his hands no longer blister, and finding love brief and wonderful,
wild flowers in bloom, a field of holly, the most beautiful
dancing, the sway and whimsy of a ball surround
wind harps sweet air; the beat of the drums stead fast
and after the waltz, the moon walks them home,
knees… begin to ache, the weight of her beauty sore,
her pedals fall against the shores of lapping tides
and fading dreams…
and the longing for gold remembers him
….....deep underground, he awakens to hands blistered dry, now laying beside… detached
knees worn away, and his arms too… just pain the mind reassures
leaving his limbs behind, he must be close… this body to drag, is at least a bit lighter now
for the journey is another mouth full of dirt, the warm carbon against busted teeth
a broken inch crawls into light, the eyes struck blind and his tired tears do not stop him…
still the warm glow, somehow a reminder of the past, an old guide longing to meet him...
and something ancient still looms behind him too, a trail… the thick shadow, of fresh soil
so thoughts convince, to the center of the earth
or maybe a candle, that knows not that it shines,
the warmth he has been longing for, the shadow of dust behind
told of gold, sets off into the soil, and deeps the cold stone
and the cruel trick! or so he thinks, there is no gold down here at all!
just his warm laughter…
and the light ahead…
and the dung behind…
and the earth worm
continues to dig
with a smile
an inch away...
the goldenrod sun
and summer grasses
my dreams remind me:
that i have no lover
a still moon at sunrise
reminds me
i do
In the suburbs,
I am driving through the dark heat
of summer night
in a luxury car I don't deserve
to a house that is at least three times too large
In the suburbs,
I am a college graduate,
headed to medical school
and I won't pay for that either
so the remainder of my school fund
is being spent on pettiness
Which is what much of it went to already.
In the suburbs,
my phone flashes
with your neediness.
You shouldn't have left
but I was never there,
not for you or your friends
whoring around
at these high school reunions.
In the suburbs,
all we have are the scraps
of memories,
of trembling hands on breasts
and sticky fumblings
in cars
cloaked with sweat,
of drinking in dark basements
that stunk of our young, bad conscience,
of halcyon days
In the suburbs,
the wind licks from my tongue
the scent of alcohol
but throws dust in my eyes.
In the suburbs,
I switch off the headlights,
and race along the blackened asphalt
as the moon lights the way overhead.
On a pale winter's moon
when all do sleep
the birds come out
Dark night to greet
then they climb
with gentle feet
On top of trees,
wing and beak
lungs to fill
with precious air
voices blare
without despair
With all their might
the lonely birds
that sings at night
........................
There is a
Cream-filled center
To the Universe
Right beside the Milky Way,
Where Chocolate Covered Raisins
Sneak into the stars to play,
And powdered sugar
Dusts the moon
As Chocolate Chips fall through
That sea of Cotton Candy,
And Sweet Molasses dew.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
Note: this is a poetic translation of the poem 'Der Elefant', which I wrote originally in German.
-----------
The Elephant
He lies in the grasses
A white monolith
His skull a great mountain
Armored in ivory
Half buried, one tusk
spears the night sky
The black void of an eye
devours the moon
His grave is a secret
Hidden by time and
corrosion of memory
The others lie in
faraway grasses
Their departure was for him
the departure of his voice
The warmth of his songs
flowed colorless from his
mouth
and with each song his
life left him in one great
exhale
night walks
the cat
with her
Cheshire cat's
smile join
the crescent
moon in the
sovereign eyes
of the Moors
White, pale watchful friend of those who abstain normalcy,
Often ridiculed and blamed for uncontrolled lunacy,
Overshadowed is the light you give, by the blame brutally,
cast your way.
Round, tonight but the rest of the time your shape shift changes,
And people treat you with hardly a care, like distant strangers,
When there is no moon at all, they limit their verbal exchanges,
to the weather.
You are so full of yourself tonight and your ghostly white countenance,
The sirens are busy, noisy travels north and south moving to accidents,
People doing strange and dangerous acts, driving badly is evident,
with a darkening night sky.
Some nights you just drive me crazy.
the sensitivity of others to the Moon, full or otherwise and the
tidal influences it may have within the atmosphere or the human
condition. Beware of falling cows, the moon is too big to jump over
tonight.
My Sweet Spaceman
where are you now?
Trying to see between
those little glows
that speckle the sky;
similar to those
no longer in your eyes?
I just want to see
the world in which you're lost,
so take me please,
I'll pay the cost;
I'm sure it's less
than the price I pay
for the half-assed smile
you gave today;
I miss you babe,
it's been too long,
so let me save you
from this wrong,
because believe me when I say
I'm alone in this crowded room
while you run around the moon.
And you said you never wanted to be an astronaut
How I missed, how I missed the wonder in your eyes
The smiles at our hellos, and the pouts at our goodbyes
How we kissed, how we kissed only heaven could have devised
The passion with the moon, and the beauty of sunrise
How I wish, how I wish on stars to make this bloom
The stars over your bed, and windows of your room
How we squish, how we swish the smell of your perfume
The blankets with the pillows, and the smile to resume
How it is, how it is will be left for fate to tell
The anxious of a call, and the sound of the bell
How it tis, how it tis will beyond me compel
The things I do, and do them well.
So please don’t give me hell,
Just answer your cell.
