arliced - Hello Poetry

guild houses wrinkle in canals bicycles ring as they rush past tulips dapple tiny window frames the city murmurs at this early hour Van Gogh's paintings swirl through my head the last to paint true transcendence cyan yellow black black crows advance a street I weep in Anne Frank's house

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:17 PM UTC

Amsterdam

guild houses wrinkle in canals bicycles ring as they rush past tulips dapple tiny window frames the city murmurs at this early hour Van Gogh's paintings swirl through my head the last to paint true transcendence cyan yellow black black crows advance a street I weep in Anne Frank's house

10

I have been marked by horses tied to the saddle as they forded the Colorado River chest deep in currents carrying me away I have disappeard in a cloud of ponies painted black and white I shudder at their muscular flanks they nudge me into the corral I have cheered as a Palamino pranced down Main Street my grandfather grandly on board beauty integrity his hidden strength I have wept as a horse has died unceremoniously carted off will I find him in my glue will I force the old man to answer Why

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:14 PM UTC

I Have Been Marked by Horses

I have been marked by horses tied to the saddle as they forded the Colorado River chest deep in currents carrying me away I have disappeard in a cloud of ponies painted black and white I shudder at their muscular flanks they nudge me into the corral I have cheered as a Palamino pranced down Main Street my grandfather grandly on board beauty integrity his hidden strength I have wept as a horse has died unceremoniously carted off will I find him in my glue will I force the old man to answer Why

16

I followed her down the Spanish Steps her pink dress billowing in the wind she was Hellenism in motion the tireless grace of youth in the plaza I dashed into Keats' house a mausoleum of dead Romantic poets and their ever-living verse death masks decorated the shelves as Byron and Shelley rose in shadow a lair of brotherhood rife with premature deaths and ill-lived lives I peered into Keats' life mask looked up and in the doorway languid Nike in pink I handed her a new volume of Keats' odes she smiled hollowly set the book aside and searched for wings to flee human contact missing a head her ancestor guards the Louvre

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:12 PM UTC

Winged Victory

I followed her down the Spanish Steps her pink dress billowing in the wind she was Hellenism in motion the tireless grace of youth in the plaza I dashed into Keats' house a mausoleum of dead Romantic poets and their ever-living verse death masks decorated the shelves as Byron and Shelley rose in shadow a lair of brotherhood rife with premature deaths and ill-lived lives I peered into Keats' life mask looked up and in the doorway languid Nike in pink I handed her a new volume of Keats' odes she smiled hollowly set the book aside and searched for wings to flee human contact missing a head her ancestor guards the Louvre

16

a gusty north wind races down the littered lanes of this concrete jungle we call home I turn my collar to cover my ears wish fulfillment brings no warmth I hear her singing against the gale her tooth-riddled mouth opened wide as she hits the high notes she wraps her ragged shawl around her neck memories of a glacial chill shivers my bones I turn for shelter but find only brick alleyways marred with paint my anxiety inflames my blood pressure the old woman shuffles my way her shoes taped to her toes a 16th-century barefoot mystic is she lost in divine love does she contemplate the soul's ascent can she levitate to the stars I daydream of her castle its moat full of frogs she is St. Teresa of the Avenues and rules no one do I approach her offer her aid genuflect to her cross rain pelts my poncho as she sings the aria of the lost

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:11 PM UTC

The Aria of the Lost

a gusty north wind races down the littered lanes of this concrete jungle we call home I turn my collar to cover my ears wish fulfillment brings no warmth I hear her singing against the gale her tooth-riddled mouth opened wide as she hits the high notes she wraps her ragged shawl around her neck memories of a glacial chill shivers my bones I turn for shelter but find only brick alleyways marred with paint my anxiety inflames my blood pressure the old woman shuffles my way her shoes taped to her toes a 16th-century barefoot mystic is she lost in divine love does she contemplate the soul's ascent can she levitate to the stars I daydream of her castle its moat full of frogs she is St. Teresa of the Avenues and rules no one do I approach her offer her aid genuflect to her cross rain pelts my poncho as she sings the aria of the lost

20

nexus of pain journey of waters webs of betrayal nature's lost self meandering rivers indigo lakes translucent streams pylons of pines climb the rocky staircase pinnacles snag the grooming sky light ascends recedes stalls in layers of deepest black from the moon winds batter castles of wayward kingdoms domains of reason & will empty stretches of desire step lightly your boots will soak much to do merely to survive art brooks no compromise paintings end where canvas bends if mountains are spirit their climbers must mime the density of matter better to grasp the burro's tail than to pack out your gear alone

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:09 PM UTC

Nature's Lost Self

nexus of pain journey of waters webs of betrayal nature's lost self meandering rivers indigo lakes translucent streams pylons of pines climb the rocky staircase pinnacles snag the grooming sky light ascends recedes stalls in layers of deepest black from the moon winds batter castles of wayward kingdoms domains of reason & will empty stretches of desire step lightly your boots will soak much to do merely to survive art brooks no compromise paintings end where canvas bends if mountains are spirit their climbers must mime the density of matter better to grasp the burro's tail than to pack out your gear alone

24

1. You descend through night's black skies an elongated bullet suffused with blue light from your window the cityscape lumbers awake like a crab side-stepping fires of flotsam Your soft shell flashes with pinpricks of stars plucked from your earth-bound parapets no one says "castle" or "torches" anymore yet how you long for the glow of the past Generators churn energy to seal you to brothers in arms guarding the runway your ears pop as you widen your mouth and swallow the moon hanging by a string 2. How you love this desert blanketed in sand how you wrap it around your troubles and sigh how it obscures the mist of your crab nebula how love outlasts the sky like a fresco Reach across the aisle to your sister in chains plumb the depths of her quiet revery she knows what light obscures she knows the cost of darkness tell her night slakes every thirst in the romance of light The crab sleeps half-buried in sand it stirs only to shift positions even sleep cannot ease its pain you know now that this flight remains in shadow O how light loves the drama of our checkerboard lives

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:07 PM UTC

Flight

1. You descend through night's black skies an elongated bullet suffused with blue light from your window the cityscape lumbers awake like a crab side-stepping fires of flotsam Your soft shell flashes with pinpricks of stars plucked from your earth-bound parapets no one says "castle" or "torches" anymore yet how you long for the glow of the past Generators churn energy to seal you to brothers in arms guarding the runway your ears pop as you widen your mouth and swallow the moon hanging by a string 2. How you love this desert blanketed in sand how you wrap it around your troubles and sigh how it obscures the mist of your crab nebula how love outlasts the sky like a fresco Reach across the aisle to your sister in chains plumb the depths of her quiet revery she knows what light obscures she knows the cost of darkness tell her night slakes every thirst in the romance of light The crab sleeps half-buried in sand it stirs only to shift positions even sleep cannot ease its pain you know now that this flight remains in shadow O how light loves the drama of our checkerboard lives

26

Li Po bathes his hands in the Yellow River -- How the calligrapher tires of brushwork Orange Koi nibble my feet water lilies roil on the pond -- I will race solo again to the open wine cave Wavy mountains push past the earth's surface -- Only Tao sustains the ten thousand things

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:05 PM UTC

Tao

Li Po bathes his hands in the Yellow River -- How the calligrapher tires of brushwork Orange Koi nibble my feet water lilies roil on the pond -- I will race solo again to the open wine cave Wavy mountains push past the earth's surface -- Only Tao sustains the ten thousand things

12

The Ancient Mariner slaughtered this ungainly bird around my neck like a bridle it directs my days like a talisman it breeds only doom the poet acts the marksman his words aim at the all-seeing eye to blind it of foreknowledge to skew its vision toward the western sky Only the bird hears my words recited like a child's rhyme only its wings mute my voice flapping recklessly on deck the music of my verse turns to spleen for the ****** masses who assault me the albatross a mere distraction an impotent symbol useless and puerile The bird's plaintive cry resounds as the measure of all poetic voices why speak when you can fly why land when the weight of the world propels you forward atop faded alexandrines you can goose-step from height to height or slosh through the gutter swishing music into broken light spying feathers at your feet biting the bullet of your humiliation plotting the evil in all things

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:04 PM UTC

Albatross

The Ancient Mariner slaughtered this ungainly bird around my neck like a bridle it directs my days like a talisman it breeds only doom the poet acts the marksman his words aim at the all-seeing eye to blind it of foreknowledge to skew its vision toward the western sky Only the bird hears my words recited like a child's rhyme only its wings mute my voice flapping recklessly on deck the music of my verse turns to spleen for the ****** masses who assault me the albatross a mere distraction an impotent symbol useless and puerile The bird's plaintive cry resounds as the measure of all poetic voices why speak when you can fly why land when the weight of the world propels you forward atop faded alexandrines you can goose-step from height to height or slosh through the gutter swishing music into broken light spying feathers at your feet biting the bullet of your humiliation plotting the evil in all things

26

the surface of the sun erupts spilling streams of brimstone into airless passageways where poets roam words catch fire orbit the mind like elliptical rocks mortared tight they shed more heat than light pile them high pick only hard consonants their Anglo-Saxon pedigree stirs the lowest impulses of life use them sparingly elegance eschews vulgarity the driving force of the body the circulation of black blood swallow it like wine to name is to own like landed gentry you parcel out your words as possessions ****** them from the void you must climb over the walls of what cannot be spoken stitch the sun's lacerations into the fire of the poem

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Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 7:02 PM UTC

The Fire of the Poem

the surface of the sun erupts spilling streams of brimstone into airless passageways where poets roam words catch fire orbit the mind like elliptical rocks mortared tight they shed more heat than light pile them high pick only hard consonants their Anglo-Saxon pedigree stirs the lowest impulses of life use them sparingly elegance eschews vulgarity the driving force of the body the circulation of black blood swallow it like wine to name is to own like landed gentry you parcel out your words as possessions ****** them from the void you must climb over the walls of what cannot be spoken stitch the sun's lacerations into the fire of the poem

24

bonfires seep across the heath orange flames flit like fallen stars harvesters rake beds of straw lay their heads on stone earth cools the indigo night heat pools beneath splintered scythes faces rise in dreams' sure might light lacquers stone we have charted nature's hopes from unloved loss to deep delight wrapped in darkness we covet gems buried in rugged stone your eyes trail me to the meadow's edge neon colors ooze down the ridge we paint them as flames snuffed out in chiseled fields of stone

0

Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 6:59 PM UTC

Chiseled Fields of Stone

bonfires seep across the heath orange flames flit like fallen stars harvesters rake beds of straw lay their heads on stone earth cools the indigo night heat pools beneath splintered scythes faces rise in dreams' sure might light lacquers stone we have charted nature's hopes from unloved loss to deep delight wrapped in darkness we covet gems buried in rugged stone your eyes trail me to the meadow's edge neon colors ooze down the ridge we paint them as flames snuffed out in chiseled fields of stone

16