Back to the Classics - Hello Poetry

Jan 2017

Alin

whisper a whisper of their shine:

“You can only see me if you are true
You can only be me if you are true”

I assume a purple
then

a flower

rocked by the wind

dancingly
embody

a shape of its stem

and its roots

serenely
deliver

All of my

desires

one by one

to
She

She
the ever knowing
the ever loving
receiver

disperses
the waves

in waves

through
particles

to equilibrate

by her
ever present
awareness

this
subtle

Tune of
Unification

curlingly
raises
towards
a crest

of a
single
wavelength

of
light

and
touches

touches
Me

Me

the
color of
thyme fields

for a while
just

#alin #lalin

Jan 2017

traces of being

A beautiful piece of heartache

.
Come swim within this restless silence
the raging river deep within beckons

the cadences we hear
are the heart's untamed waters overflowing ,
eroding this heart's shorelines ,
leaving the thrummed edges wild

prevailing currents swelling ,
no longer able to be contained
within the soul’s boundless margins

impatiently lost and lovely ,
faithfully dangerous

I’ll be your ocean and you my sky--
feel the calming tide
flood in around us ?

I've been swimming in circles ,
treading water
in an eddy of revolving reverie
waiting for the world to turn ;

fighting to release the swirling currents
meandering through
the shadowed places  so deep within

how does it feel to be the sky
that bestows ocean's light ?

how does it feel to be constantly on my mind ?

... what a beautiful piece of heartache

✩ ✩☺ ✩ ✩  ... ©

Notes: from the sky full of stars collection

... the poem was inspired by the way we misbehave
in my dreams ..., and ...

#passion #beautiful #sensual #heartache #wilder

Jan 2017

Ron

Last Conversation

If I could have one last conversation with you,
I would tell you how much I love you
I would show you how much you are missed
We'd laugh at terrible jokes
And we'd reminisce
If I could have one last conversation with you...

#love #sad #last #miss #rip #conversation #brother

Jan 2017

Onoma

Flowering Beyond Namesake

Peace draws itself out...leaving an
informed emptiness in its wake.
As light leaves room for everything...
what is let be, comes to itself.
Peaces draws itself out...leaving an
informed emptiness in its wake--
a flowering beyond namesake.
As anything can be renamed, any
shape altered...light...in peace, transfigures.
Dormancy's wayshowing can not be
filled with anything but itself...peace
beyond body and mind.

Jan 2017

Onoma

Dionysian Dithyramb

Abandon's clay roiled, doubled what pulse
of life...in tune and out of.
Pathological music derived from music...
ecstasy--whose recompense is a sound
loss of selves.
Multiform unto archetypal gods--Dionysus
first among, Apollo last among...eviscerated,
trophied, slathered upon these rotund
Grecian ladies and gentleman.
Hallowed names depart the incontinent
circle, forgone the synoptical scarlet lettering
of name...transcendence.
Torrent upon torrent of ambrosia down the
throat...skyward runoff of chins...scribbled
down the primordial bloom of ******.
O sylvan gathering, crowns of laurel graduate
thee from materiality...a shuddering
beauteousness--broke shafts of light clash
lovingly from luminous head to head.
Here...the extenuating circumstance of
consciousness appropriated quoad sacra.

Jan 2017

Jeff Stier

Knock on Wood

Druid is Derwydd
in our tongue
the Welsh of my fathers

Our land is called Cymru
and we have thrived here
since ancient times

We live by our cattle
first
our hearts and families
second
and our crops a poor third

We are taught that
a mist descended on our land
in the before times
and cleansed the earth of life

And that a new people came
our people
and brought with them
cattle
all of the trades
and a gift for song

We were called Celts
but now we are proudly
Welsh
the dragon is our badge
and red war our way of life

The Derwydd
are our guides
they follow the stars
know the mystic tides
teach our young
and ease our old
into the afterworld

Never cross a Druid
they say
or feel your tongue
curl into burnt leather
in your mouth

Please a Druid
and luck will
lay by your side

I am called Caedmon
wise warrior
son of Lhur
born in the shade
of a great oak

I was taught all of the high arts
poetry
music
and war

If ever you travel
through our fortress-locked land
you will be welcome
at my hearth

Come
bring your sweet pipes
and play
bare your sword arm
and raid with us

When we return
cattle rich
then the feast will begin
then the bards will sing
and poetry will open your mind
to the harmonies of heaven.

For my Welsh forbears.

Jan 2017

Jeff Stier

Michael

Like Breugel's Icarus
my brother Michael
dropped into the depths of the sea
unnoticed

Born at the bottom
of a crater of the moon
the sweetest foundling
since creation

His swaddling clothes
were denim and the blues
his pillow
a bottle of rye

This sweet soul
lived half a life
in halfway houses
and cheap motels
reeking of cigarettes
reeling from the *****

When he punched his ticket
on the midnight train to eternity
no one was surprised

I arranged the cremation
a fire that burned
more than one life

I gathered his ashes
and set out
for the crest of the Sierra Nevada

Alone
with my memories,
his ashes
and the cold stone
of those adamant heights

and then east
through the wastes of Nevada
the endless expanse
of the basin and range

A pilgrimage, of sorts
dedicated to nothing
and no one

Just the upthrust range
the solemn and self-absorbed peaks
the dessicated pine
and a wind
that scoured the soul.

— The End —