being of sound mind and body
I must write of the days when I was slightly ******
when I would disappear into the beautiful abyss
with headphones
'Dark Side of the Moon'
or 'I Robot' taking me on journeys
only I could take
my room the isolation tank
from 'Altered States'
my mind the well that echoed within
the sitar vibrations of an unspoken thought
my dreams the night before realized in a wave
of painted sound
and when the consciousness of awake
and the boundless landscape of sleep
fused with the lost chord
one was as close as one could be to God
on this plane

Would a voice in heaven
sound beautiful
and inviting
or serious,
constant
and still
maybe sounds of a harp
possibly playing atop
pristine
waters
or Pavarotti singing
up in the mountains
or would it be a moan,
with intention
and focus
maybe just a recording
over loud and annoying  
speakers
with instructions
and a schedule
maybe if I am lucky
I would hear
My father’s voice
telling me how great it is
but sounding nostalgic
and homesick  
a plea for his soft leather chair
wearing his hounds tooth hat
smoking his hand crafted pipe
if death could speak
what issues would it bring up
rehashing troubled times
would this voice
guarantee pearly gates
willing
It beckons me,
conflicted with temptation
when your soul knows
that this is
a voice not
from any place
but from
the best place
where Jesus takes us
to reach
for something
knowing doubts exist
that you would rise
to be with us again

July, 2013  (RIP Dad) In memory of C. Dan Piccolomini

I think I know so many people so beautiful
once i gained a bit of notoriety and all I could
think was how nice sweet all these strangers are
when i don't know them at all
but for their words
sweet
and comments nice
when I go to their profiles
I like to read their statements more than their poems
things like
trying to be a  poet
or tired and dried out
I search for depth and abstracts
few say I am writer
one said save a life
I especially liked one who wrote
Just writing what I think, what I feel and everything in between.
and that said much but
I feel a kinship
a closeness
with those I never met in person
I suppose
you do too/

I just want to say thank you to everyone who has reached out and congratulated me on my poem and the ones who have written such heartfelt comments. I truly do appreciate each single one of you. Keep writing friends! :)

all those chemical exchanges
when reading poetry
reaction on a subatomic scale

poetry is
An image
by words

You should never love a poet
Where complicated creatures
Forever changing personalities
With many different features

You should never love a poet
We have darkness and devotion
Sometimes difficult to read
With forever changing emotions

You should never love a poet
They can write a lovely verse
But like the wind they can change
With verses full of hurt

You should never love a poet
Just read these words from me
Everything in life is second best
Our first love is writing poetry

David Swinden © 3/9/2016