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almostattimesthefool
16 In but not of the world
Citrus stabs the air With its orange aroma Seeping from the tree. Your words pierce the air as well, Sweet at first, then lingering...
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Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 5:53 PM UTC
Tanka 9
He sits, The horizon stretches out before him As the leaves above quietly Rustle with the wind. He stares Into the shade of the branches Twisting together paradoxical patterns, Hiding from his naked eye Dozens of Mercuries, Jupiters, and Saturns But one faint glimpse is enough to see The glistening fruit of the apple tree. Entranced, He peeks through the tangled mess, Searching for what is beyond the green, With the skill of a hunter, no less Than a tiger stalking its alluring prey. As the man pondered and lay Under the leaves, he began to see A greater dimension, A higher reality Than anyone has known under the sun. He pondered What the apple truly was. Was it the same flavor as the one in Eden? Where man chose self over almighty God And undermined order; odd and even Were mixed into something erratic: disbelief in Him. That apple shone with glorious splendor, But its beauty was a lie That killed humankind, Sold by a sick, sadistic vendor. Or, Could this apple be more like the one that dropped Onto Newton's head, they say, and brought Truth and knowledge to a hungry mind And a starving world. An understanding between us and the cosmos Was formed that day For so we say, "I hear you, oh music, and know your tune You sing out from every bloom in June And every sea on the face of the moon." The apple shines out this truth at noon. But then, Darkness fell over the land, The sun released its bonds on the earth, The man had thought too long, without Coming to a conclusion; his doubt Had held him captive to the apple. He could no longer truly see Into the branches of the tree. Whether the apple was of Newton or Eden Has no meaning to an unenlightened heathen.
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Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 11:15 PM UTC
Underneath the Apple Tree
He sits, The horizon stretches out before him As the leaves above quietly Rustle with the wind. He stares Into the shade of the branches Twisting together paradoxical patterns, Hiding from his naked eye Dozens of Mercuries, Jupiters, and Saturns But one faint glimpse is enough to see The glistening fruit of the apple tree. Entranced, He peeks through the tangled mess, Searching for what is beyond the green, With the skill of a hunter, no less Than a tiger stalking its alluring prey. As the man pondered and lay Under the leaves, he began to see A greater dimension, A higher reality Than anyone has known under the sun. He pondered What the apple truly was. Was it the same flavor as the one in Eden? Where man chose self over almighty God And undermined order; odd and even Were mixed into something erratic: disbelief in Him. That apple shone with glorious splendor, But its beauty was a lie That killed humankind, Sold by a sick, sadistic vendor. Or, Could this apple be more like the one that dropped Onto Newton's head, they say, and brought Truth and knowledge to a hungry mind And a starving world. An understanding between us and the cosmos Was formed that day For so we say, "I hear you, oh music, and know your tune You sing out from every bloom in June And every sea on the face of the moon." The apple shines out this truth at noon. But then, Darkness fell over the land, The sun released its bonds on the earth, The man had thought too long, without Coming to a conclusion; his doubt Had held him captive to the apple. He could no longer truly see Into the branches of the tree. Whether the apple was of Newton or Eden Has no meaning to an unenlightened heathen.
Continue reading...
54
A girl Skips down the street Holding a lollipop, Shrieking as tots do when truly Living. Dying, An old man hobbles next to her, Wistfully rehearsing Days when he was A boy.
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Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 11:07 PM UTC
Scenes in a Park
An ant trots slowly Through endless pastures of grass; Peaceful and content, Until a spider eats him; The grass watches silently.
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Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 10:30 AM UTC
Tanka 8
The world lays down to sleep. That ignorant, poor sheep Rests in the slaughter-house, Still as a dozing mouse. She does not hear the knife; The butcher takes her life. The world heaved out a sigh; We dream before we die.
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Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 12:35 AM UTC
We dream before we die
Is the thing that pulls us in all directions Until it doesn't. It prepares, waiting, lurking, And we know it is there in the murky Waters, but we plunge in anyway. What else was there to do? Was there some other path to take? Is it within our rights to break This old law? The legality was as logical as an unbalanced balance Where it hung it the air, poised, breaths held, Until, inevitably, inexorably, it fell. With a clang and yell, The tension snapped And worlds collided, those unmapped Places were no one has ventured before Smashed down each other's locked front door Causing Silence, The kind that seeps in the Sewers of the streets in strains of Slimy sludge. Silence, The type that echoes After the gavel is slammed down by the Unjust judge. As reverberations Cause palpitations Of an injured heart. And after this silence dispersed, After the tension melted from the earth, We parted ways; the very first One I loved now had no worth. I waved goodbye to your untense hearse.
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Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 12:54 AM UTC
Tension
A bent, haggard tree Offers his most precious shade To the small songbird. How much could our world improve If we were all like this tree?
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Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 11:13 PM UTC
Tanka 7
Thick walls of limestone rise to meet the sky, With rounded arches, quiet, stern, and deep, Where shadows in the nave their vigil keep, And vaulted roofs in solemn silence fly. The wisdom held within will never die; The sanctuary offers pilgrims sleep, While heavy columns promise faith to reap, And narrow windows catch the light on high. Yet in this calm, a silent presence dwells, Defying time with mortar, rock, and might, And carving saints in stone with careful hand. Melodic sounds of ancient copper bells Are stubborn beacons in the waning light, Hung high above a list'ning sacred land.
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Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 3:11 PM UTC
Sonnet on Romanesque Architecture
Coldness Envelops the Lone traveler on a Ridge underneath the dying sun And kills.
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Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 12:11 PM UTC
The Grasp of Nightfall
The tall grass quivers Shaken by a chilly breeze In the dead of night. Children of earth stretch upward Into the unkind silence.
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Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 11:43 PM UTC
Tanka 6