chris-twyford
American
Chris / / The hair AND beard are quite real, a Renaissance Gentleman that still wears 'steel' both inside and out. I'm a poet by concious choice. / / I do bite, but not meanly - so if you care to look or speak - you can. Elsewhere, I add those that ask as friends and DO speak with them. Here, is a new beginning. / / I prefer 'freeverse' as my method of expression AND talking WITH rather than AT. My style is succinctly my own as are my views... but I do listen. Please comment on any of my 'works' however you want - shy I'm not, I've been a Poet for a long, long time. / / Through the years I have been published electronically at a variety of E-zines and have posted to many web sites and newsgroups.
One can care, but takes two to share.
The price of admission is always ...due, ya know?
"The Price Of Admission..."
I never hear you
you wait
out of hearing...
out of - having.
...And the tears
- so pale, quiet and frail,
and my fingertips just trace
so softly and lightly...
and each nail edges and slides -
my heart ...our 'time.
..........
*crying...
- just beyond my reach
out of living...
- everything I can only dream - having.
so - flavor my world
-- silly-sad, ...dark and empty...
-- that Cheshire grin
held within
finds
your cheek, your life ...our 'time.*
..........
I never hear you ...crying...
you wait - just beyond my reach
out of hearing... out of living...
out of - every thing I can only dream - having.
...And the tears ...so - flavor my world
- so pale, quiet and frail, -- silly-sad, ...dark and empty...
and my fingertips just trace that Cheshire grin
so softly and lightly... held within
and each nail edges and slides - finds
your cheek, my heart - your life ...our 'time.
IS the price of our admission...
Chris
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 6:05 PM UTC
"Watch The Sunrise..."
*Remembering
triggers
remembering
triggers ...*
...I sat a deathwatch with a friend - just this last November. She was quite a person... It became the ultimate "He said, she said..." and at the end - dissolution. We shared the creation of the world she was "becoming". At sunrise the silence was total... and the darkness complete
- the circle unbroken.
I still watch the sun rise...
her sun ...rise,
and others
and others...
With each brightening-
so many are "becoming"
more than they were.
New worlds -
to be explored,
remembered -
still other thoughts echoing within.
*Sometimes all I do is stare
-that faraway gaze,
that stolid look into eternity's face*
...and sometimes I hear the "birds" -
distractions of the 'dawning'
- and sometimes not.
Sometimes I understand -
chuckling here, at me ...understanding
how and why the anger flows inside.
For what it means to have been me
when
things happened, were done, weren't done,
ended ...began -
. is merely my own "he said, she said..."
soliloquy.
Life is sensual,
desire - ageless...
the need we feel
doesn't fade,
and loss isn't less keen now than then.
We hammer edges into the walls of our existence to prop
perceptions for renewel and then ignore the views
so they fade and fade away into our darkness.
And its almost like a physical distance
- to look into our thoughts ...almost.
I want ...
I want to ...
its not about ...
its ...
Remembering
triggers ...remembering.
Chris
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 1:55 PM UTC
"The Walk..."
We spoke a bit -
in written thoughts
holding each our imagined hands.
and it was nice
and it was warm
and each felt the other's smile
and then we paused -
as the day intruded
the world beckoned
and we moved on...
"The Walk..."
Would you be "a little girl" with me
or the young woman
or the just what? as we walked.
Would you hold my hand,
run ahead,
mildly stroll along,
just walk beside?
Would you pause - with me,
flow past me,
float hither and yon - lost
in your own wonder and thoughts?
Stand close - arm entwining,
share a view, a look, gaze, stare...
perhaps smile?
Would there be words?
Silence?
Would we listen to the world or place?
Would you listen - to me, to yourself?
Would we be a we or just a you and I -
or just a you or just I?
If I saw your eyes it would mean you looked
at me - looking at you...
and if I didn't would it be I didn't look,
or you didn't look,
or each was afraid to look
or either just didn't want ...to see
an other looking into a me.
"The Walk..."
Wandering the aisles -
so many choices
flavors, things... branded and nots
Drinks, bags of heaven
or perhaps late night "hells"
cans and bottles - shapes to fit every
whim - any whim...
An aisle of bread
loaf after loaf -
styles, flavors - bagged, protected
awaiting
choice.
I used my change the last time -
at the checkout...
people got angry - waiting
the clerk looked with impatience
and a huff...
I get hungry too... ya know?
"The Walk..."
"Amazing grace - how sweet the sound..."
one step then another and another
- feel your heartbeat -
another step - another...
its heavy but you CAN do it -
are doing it -
another step - another
- almost there, almost, almost...
another step... pause... breathe
turn in towards...
timing now...TIMING
lowering, lowering - there, the base is holding
release
straighten
breathe
"...that saved a wretch like me........."
"The Walk..."
It isn't as easy
to find
places
to just - wander at whim
pause as you want
hell, even WANT to pause AT
anymore - it seems.
You get these looks
from others
if they don't know you
and its THEIR world you're in
- intruding, trespassing,
- their sidewalk or path or berm.
Being a ghost
just isn't easy anymore...
"The Walk..."
... ... ...
and on.
Chris
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 11:16 AM UTC
Today the winter is not as chill, nor as gray. An azure depth backdrops the "fade"-to-white and the eyes remember what to see beneath patterns that shift and flow. You hear your footsteps and ...feel the silence leave your mind.
"Inside A Snowdrop..."
Driplets - droplets
pitter and pat
echo and float
...and the sun is here
its touching
tracing
edging patterns smooth and
flowing.
Feel the air
- its fingertips grasping
finding each bit of you all at once
...teasing and tickling your cheek,
nose THEN down the throat
filling and growing 'til
becoming an exhale
becoming you out and upon the world.
Feel as each hair lifts and spreads,
gathers and becomes waves eddying and rising free
freefalling and floating and rising again -
riding the unseen exhales as the world
- your world - flows by-and-by
grasping and tasting life
grasping and BEING life for all the other exhales
to find and feel and be felt in turn.
Reach - palm up...
wait
...wait
then
catch a miracle!
- a world within worlds within -
a snowdrop
a single glass to gaze in-and-in
to focus - deep
deeper still
... 'til
I see you
...behind my eyes
and the shadows and shades
surround and enfold
tightening
tighter still...
holding me
gentling me
becoming ...me.
I am lavender ghosting in the air
the taste and sweetness of your skin
the softness of each lil hair flowing by
the lips that found their home on mine.
Breathing is one long purr
and life is gently kneading into the softness
...of you.
Chris
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
"There's No Kiss In Your Eyes..."
You ever notice how you purrrrrrrrrrrr
when you focus on
- thought I was going to say me didn't you?
well I didn't...
puppies and kittens.
How the sun FEELs so **** good
in your eyes...
how that first taste of
cold winter's air just bites
and makes you FEEL so
...alive.
I make snowballs
- still -
and throw them
hard
and **** accurate too
- and laugh
and duck
- well - for ANY age.
No one asks me to make a snowman anymore...
I miss that.
I don't curse the snow I shovel
- never have, that's strange I guess
but
I like snow
and how it feels, tastes, touches me back.
Seems theres a Snow Angel in every bank...
and the feel of crystals
each as unique as we.
Its not the taste of coffee
that draws me
holds me
- nor its aroma
as the wisps meander to heaven
- one cup at a time...
Its the thought of the anchor
that binding HOLD
that keeps me focused and from floating off and
...away
and yet it still gets cold
while setting unnoticed and unheld and
...untasted and unwanted after all the herald's smiles
and teasings told.
I don't like water... theres no HEART to water
no ...squeezing GRASP to be had
no ...warmth shared
no ...bitter dregs to be mind-chewed
and eye-candy.
I never want to be told
"There's no kiss in your eyes..."
Chris
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC
"The Cafe' - Life As We Live It"
"Once Upon A Time..."
I've found myself 'day-dreaming' again - dangerous to be doing that because it makes for intense thoughts... and just how can emotional stability survive when your mind is re-inventing your 'heart' over and over and over again? And its not spring-generated fantasies of long-svelte-limbed, angel-faced, hour-glass-figured, cookie-cutter, 20-ish, magazine-material women - though god KNOWS there ARE a few of them around... lol, quite a few on sunny days and this IS a College town!
And its not just sexually-oriented-day-wishes; though I am a MAN you know, so a few of THOSE have been known to slip in from time-to-time. Its mainly that I find myself ‘playing’ a mental ***** game of - he says then she says and he says and she says and they go and do something quite bland - but its done together, and it HAS heart and meaning, and then it continues on-and-on until maybe there’s a sexual-oriented moment but most usually its just a soft kiss, shared-smile, and a see you tomorrow thing. Yeah, ‘dangerous’.
I looked up from the page… tracking, tracking… Ah there she is. “Mary?” “More coffee please?”
Sitting back - straighter, straighter still, body stretching itself internally in sections - tensions easing away. My head moved slowly (with intent) side-to-side and I felt those telltale ‘tweaks’ of - oh GOD that feels good!
”Coffee-time huh?” she said as she poured. “So how IS your daily scribbling coming along?” “Mind if I,” she began as she looked over the page. “Dangerous huh?” “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
And then she suddenly had this ‘look’ on her face… and actually began to blush… **** uh… I gotta get back to work.” Turning away, she quipped a “ Holler when you need more coffee hon,” over her shoulder.
She IS cute… well back to it.
Drifting… drifting… How many shades of auburn are there anyway? And what is it that makes me want to see and appreciate just how the hair frames the face and eyes. And it’s not an unconscious desire by any means - I really do SEE just that way - most days.
I like the feel of a woman’s hair. It’s softness and strength, the way it flows so naturally through fingertips. And then there’s the way it moves as her head moves, echoing so many things she’s feeling inside - demureness, excitement, heat, heart. Hmmmm… yeah, dangerous.
I paused, focused on the present and an awareness of my surroundings. Mary was just moving away… the coffee cup was full and a Hershey’s Kiss was next to it.
"Little Things..."
It’s the little things
we do
oft without thought,
and yet sometimes with so much more
than mere
thought…
Little things we didn’t HAVE to do
but just wanted to -
because we could,
because we can,
because if we don’t - then who would or will?
Little things -
that break my heart
sometimes…
because they were never noticed.
Chris
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
"The Cafe' - Life As We Live It"
“Castaway…”
”…Martin!” my voice got louder. “Martin, it ain’t right.” …and louder - just after the ‘angels’ gave their customary pause to all conversations - but mine.
People at the nearby counter took notice and started edging away. The ones at the diner’s tables, a little farther away, gave me that ‘you-aren’t-there-so-I’m-ignoring-the-loud-asshole-ruining-my-lunch’ glance and went back to eating.
“It just ain’t right!!!” I slammed the phone flip-face down onto the top of my table. It crunched - felt like it broke my hand too… fuck-it - was THEIR cell anyways, not mine anymore… ‘nothing of theirs is mine anymore’ crossed my mind right then and my body - my whole body, sort of just slumped in on itself.
They could have waited until Friday - **** at least til Friday. Tuesdays and I have a continuing ‘history’ - little of it ‘good’… The waitress took that moment to reappear, a coffee *** in her hand. “At least the refills are free...” she said. I looked up at her face - sad eyes and a small smile; yeah, she knew. I guess everybody there knew… even me, now.
I edged the cup toward her. She leaned a little, refilled it, and her free hand lightly touched my shoulder as she straightened, then turned and walked away.
I straightened up again… found MYSELF again - with that light touch on my shoulder. “Thanks hon, I needed that.” I said toward her back.
She paused in mid step, turned, and looked me straight in the eyes. “I know, and its ok. I’ve been there too,” she said softly. Then she continued on to the other tables. Coffee can be a luxury and serving it - a necessity… yeah, I guess she DID know about being here.
“Castaway…”
For some it’s a moment,
for some it’s a lifetime -
and its what we face
what we risk -
with every reach
every try
every hope and dream.
We want so hard
to control OUR existence,
our ways -
of being
of living
of loving and being loved
of having todays
of having tomorrows.
It hurts…
each slap is felt,
each ‘dig’ bites,
each laugh at our expense -
eyes that don’t see,
heads that turn away.
...and its MEAN!
not fair,
not always justified by what WE did
or do
or know
or say
or anything at all…
its just life
as we live -
as we TRY
to live it.
Its hard being me.
Sometimes I wish so much
for so very little in the grand scheme of things -
and sometimes it’s a touch
just
one
single
touch
that’s needed and isn’t given.
Chris
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 12:11 AM UTC
“The Cafe' - Life As We Live It"
"Hey Ole Man..."
"Hey ole man, how’s your coffee holding up?” I paused my writing - just more of my scrawling, actually, and looked up. Her eyes were crinkle-squinched and her lips had that smile. “God’s gonna get ya…” I said, “Ole man…sheesh…” and motioned toward the empty mug.
”Well it isn’t like you’ve had your normal five or anything yet,” she quipped back as she poured, laughed, then continued on her customer rounds.
I like sidewalk cafes. You can pause a bit, think things over… and over again if necessary. Write if you like, watch - everything and everyone… and sip coffee. And HERE the coffee is actually good and Mary is cute as hell too.
University towns have that certain ‘feel’; so many enthusiastic highs beside the deepest darkest lows - the ones that the daytime soaps just can’t seem to get enough of, let alone get right. “Guys and Dolls,” I mumbled to myself as I watched so many ‘dreams’ meandering by. Well, back to the scrawling…
Time has this way of passing without notice when I write. Focus is seldom an issue regardless of background noise or events. Yet I sensed eyes looking over my shoulder. Then came the scraping sound of a chair being pulled up to the table.
”Hi” I said - without thought or pausing or even looking up, trying to finish the current line before it escaped forever. Then Mary came up beside me, “and you’ll have?” she asked.
The answering voice derailed the train. “Black coffee " and bring him another too, please.”
I looked up and into a place a man " no man " should ever wander into without malice of forethought - the absolute greenest eyes gazing back into mine. I could actually breathe but didn’t know if I wanted to… I didn’t even notice Mary writing down the ticket, then turn and walk away.
There’s pretty and beautiful and striking and then - there was her. I wasn’t at a loss for words - there WERE no words… to say or think or interfere, just the absolute greenest eyes gazing into mine. It took a moment… **** I said and shook my head lightly to break the spell. Such is the gestalt of captured attention.
”Pardon?” She laughed out loud… even I KNOW a woman realizes the effect she has on a humble target of opportunity. “I said… **** I answered then chuckled, “You have quite a presence.”
This time she chuckled back, “Yeah, neat isn’t it?” as she reached and took my journal from the table, flipped a page back, paused and then began to read aloud.
”There are so many echoes
through our lives.
Moments beyond count -
though so few remembered…
each touch our nows
and our being -
and we?
Don’t even see
our present coming, because
our past shades our eyes,
our thoughts, our tastes of existence.”
....She paused looked into my eyes again… smiled. Then she turned the page and continued…
”I like the thought
of tomorrow…
the taste of it on my lips,
the smoothness of it in my mind.
There’s a FEEL that it has
to me
unlike any other thought
any other wish
construct
presence
desire…
unlike even the touch of…”
...and she stopped, looked up - seemed about to say something, but then just sat back and waited expectantly...
”The absolute greenest eyes
I’d never seen.” I said aloud -
without having to look at the page.
Chris
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 11:39 PM UTC
Format-Contests, word use, count OR time-constraint challenges... time limits - mind limits ~ people and self-imposed reach-for-a-brass-ring-through-the-cell-bars - to prove what? Inadequacy-ability-mentality or the lack of just... humanity. I guess when all-is-said-and-undone -Today I am 'something' that apparently yesterday or before the inquisition - I wasn't.
I would guess you can see how I really feel about doing 'challenges' - just for the sake of another's aggrandizement... notice I didn't say I wouldn't - just how I FEEL about doing them. Chuckling here. OK, 90 minutes began with the first word on a blank page - go...
"An Hour And 20 Minutes..."
An hour and twenty minutes… sigh. I’ve an hour and twenty minutes til what? What will it all mean - then. The sun might shine or it could be rain, snow, sheet ice. The heat might kick on all by itself. A light bulb may actually glow. I’m listening to the ticks…
Tick…tick…tick - an hour and ten minutes now… Where does the time GO when you’re having such ‘fun’… even pins drop as if encased in molasses pools - soooooooo slowly, barely turning end-over-end-over-end. It gives an entirely new meaning to a drip-brew coffee maker, and the mind! The mind races - RACES, in circles yet spirals too… in and in and round and around… but the thoughts - fragments and incoherencies, lost and found then lost and found again and again… threads, so many, many threads - interweaving…weaving…fading into the next construct… tick… tick…
An hour. Just an hour, another lifetime passed and past and yet to come… a whole **** hour…hour…6o more minutes… then 59… now 58…eventually 57? 57 more minutes… each a little eternity. Light a cigarette… the flame doesn’t flicker; strange how flames don’t really flicker after all… it’s all in the eye’s sight, what we THINK we see. Watching the smoke move, inhale and exhale… how does smoke dissipate - expanding and expanding into a universe, a growing ball - ever fading, fading, fading… do we expand and fade-and-fade as well?…
Is it 50 yet? 50, 50, 50… come on 50…will someone give me 50, 50, 50 50…SOLD! - to the young-ole man sitting there in the back row… yay me… 50 minutes… and counting, counting… down and up, and down, and up…
Electricity doesn’t hum you know… it’s the wires vibrating to the electrons racing within. Some would say it’s the ‘holes’ that flow and electrons just keep falling and falling within… like watching the hubcaps on a moving car - seemingly turning in the opposite direction of the tires motion… like living on the edge of our own universe… like living at all… life at all… flowing, racing, following all the holes, falling within and falling over-and-over and all to get - where? What was the actual direction of motion? Where did we go? Did we go at all? Threads and threads and threads " weaving, coalescing, expanding, fading… fading…
Its so not easy to lose oneself and yet we try… and find… ourselves looking back from all the mirrors that never were… cascading from all the non-surfaces back and forth and back and forth til we realize the fractals we are… such a pretty design that captures imagination and goes on and on and on til… 35… 35 minutes… 35… then 34.
Strange how coffee too hot to drink is so ****** cold the next instant of awareness… time isn’t linear to awareness ya know? It has no set place to be or follow. Awareness is NOW every moment you ARE aware, but not the one - the moments you weren’t. I’m aware of being me - except when I’m not… threads and threads interweaving. I CAN feel my fingertips… each ONE… and all of them at once… but not my toes… I can’t feel the smoke I exhale moving through my fingers… I can see it passing through but not feel it… but I AM aware of my fingertips and can still feel each one all at once… and I am aware of the smoke - moving… expanding… I’m thinking, am aware that I’m thinking I’m thinking…but what is it, what am I, in between moments of aware? Of unfeeling?
Tick…tick… 22 minutes… 22… Roses are red, Violets are blue, eternities last just moments - who knew? 22… 21…White noise, echoes without awareness… what really counts? And why? And to whom? So many ‘whys’ we have… whys for everything and anything - some our own and some are other’s. Wise whys, shy whys, lost whys, because whys… ‘it-doesn’t-matter’ whys that ‘mattered-after-all’ whys… and cold coffee… 18…17…
I wonder
at the emptiness
with each breath
because -
its what we do
its who we are
its all there is
its all I have -
just each breath...
to wonder with.
Chris
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 11:23 PM UTC
Each of us has a version, an expectation - if you will, of just what "When" means. I wandered this place - coffee in hand. Looking, looking, listening, moving on. Friends, strangers, nooks and grannies, lil cracks in the walls - windows all, windows to the world of all the places that aren't and yet were... and its Tuesday no less - figures, all visited, ringing so stridently in the ears...
The sounds of silence...
"When..."
When -
we forget
how loud the silence is
at 3AM, then 4 ~
at breakfast - as first a habit
- then just a chore
then an unwanted pause
then... you don't NEED to sit
- even at a table -
to listen...
to your silence.
When -
did you learn to listen to yourself?
Speak the unspoken -
listen to heartbeats echoing...
When -
do you realize being who you are
IS
who you are...
When -
do you look IN the windows
- rather than out?
When do WE
learn how to cry
- without a why?
When...
...all the never-ever-mores
forevers
- closed doors on times
on dreams
on moments, lives
...on the whispers
When?
I know
...now.
Chris
© 2012 Chris
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC