Ottar

Ottar Dec 2014

o day, green grows your grass,
o sky, blue floats above a mass,
o cloud, puffs of cotton
    innocence above the morass.

o night, blue black with a sliver and pin ******,
o light, a crescent moon and stars play tricks,
o Eyes, watch me fortress building with bricks
                               as sleep falls and walls stand.

o snow, there is none white as you,
o air, it feels so much like spring too,
o dusk,
       o dawn, there is waiting as
       the gap yawns, choices now few.

o year, as you end you begin anew,
o time, you quit on me too soon,
o Eternity, strength in me renew,

let my dreams take flight on eagle's wings,
let me run and not be weary,
let these ugly toes and feet walk,
                 so that the body faints not!

#christmas #isaiah4031 #noonereadspoetrychristmasday

Ottar Dec 2014

The Grass Grows Green

little cold, yet more wet,
the grass grows green,
the wet gets wetter and old,
can be mistaken for mould,
that colour of green,
plants flourish,
self-nourish,
instead of self-medicate,
choose to,
meditate on written Word,
not the sounds of voices heard,
in those darkest corners,
of my grey matter,
on each compass point,
wherein stands a court jester,
and I pale against the green,
and I pale against the dark clouds,
and my failed umbrellas number in
the hundreds.

Yet the grass grows green on both
sides
of the rusting metal fences,
external signs that I am losing
my mind,
as each jester
takes a turn
for the worse giving
substance, and abuse
through the cut downs,
that the court
jesters use to, mock my sanity,
mock my vanity, mock my
words with my own voice,
and
the grass grows green and
the winds of change rush
and move the grass,
and draw the toxic sounds
out
.......and
away,
a safe distance I pray,
where the
acid can
do no
harm,
to the grass growing green.
Leaving me at peace and serene.
While the grass grows green.

#hope #maybe

Ottar Dec 2014

Outwait the Darkness

above
upturned eyes,
eyes seeking a
glimpse of heaven's reaches,
expanse
beyond human
arms palms up,
outstretched to receive a
merciful
moment of
clarity, more than
a sense of direction,
peace
that endures,
hostile human hubris,
wait and experience the
love,
not of
stardust that falls,
the voice that calls,
across
a cross,
light speed speed
times purest plenty is
energy.
A joyful
seasonal reprise brightens
a night sky, is
this..................................................................................................................hope?

or the northern lights or a snow fall or so much more it escapes understanding
Can you find the theory of relativity part?

Ottar Dec 2014

In no sense

cloud bursts in the sky,

raindrops falling from many eyes,

one for one, for all
one four one, fall

victims

voices break and tremble,

though the Earth

might shake and rumble,

as the ground is incised,
again and again, again and again...

and raised caskets to the fill the skies,

enough to black out the sun,

but not of those children, or of their memories.

First version was much longer, had much anger, and may find print another day time or place. Say the title real fast ..innocents

#sad #tragedy #freeverse #innocents #lostlives

Ottar Dec 2014

After All Truly

the dark air cool against skin,
the fireplace,
is waiting to light, start again,
a reflected face,
a window framed in pain,
such a place,
where the flat voice strains
echoes supplant,
the sharp notes replaced, it is plain,
by many faces
in the window, join as a refrain,

for this moment is just so,
how the voice hits those notes,
when the image, the man and the tune
are all alone,
but song after song, poet becomes a bard,
he finds his voice which, was impossible or hard,
in a crowded mind of a crowded room,
he takes on a song that fills his empty.

For alone, he sings,
the joy it brings, even if in a lament
to the lonely friendless place he recog-
nizes and fill with song, as home.

No snow, falls,
rain and tears spill
he has had his fill,

of rejection, but thrown
to the ground with harm-
less words, birds get treated better.

This crazy figure chases crows,
from his balcony, by singing opera,
caw caw....cawcaw.....caw caw ca-caw,
he ***** not his arms,
he stops and goes back inside,
bereft of pride, really lost,
so much giving has cost,
him dearly, he needs to sleep,
so to get up early, after all truly,
there is no one else to walk the dog.

#poet #song #voice #key #surreal #off #bard #burnout

Ottar Dec 2014

3:17 am

you asked me "why?", with a chuckle
I said "we touched skin, hip to hip"
you asked me "why?", with a giggle
I said "you bent your knee, touching me"
you asked "why?", and you laughed,
I said "you rolled over and raised your hips"
you asked "why?" smiling in the dark
I said nothing more .....now asleep
3:40am

real or imagined?

#poetry #time #adult #freeverse #sensuous

Ottar Dec 2014

Sun of summer

There is rest to be found in laying down,
      laying           to close your eyes to sleep,
         down          weapons the peace to keep.

fought any word wars lately, conflict leaves emptiness,
           emptiness        of a life that was once full and rich,
               leave us          love, like trees limbs stark and cold.

plunging into life every day, like it is like a lake put on cold till spring,
                   until            at the bottom the depths of cold, trap and bring,
                 aspiring        hope that there is a flicker of life to survive.

the inability to be two people, both me and you when you can't be you,
      you      the child safe and warm, where no harm can find and
      Be,              to become the adult confident and strong with a

SONG,
A Paint Brush,
INK,
Fibre Arts,
CANVAS,
****, where did you go,
I SEE YOU, but you are no longer in THIS ROOM,
                          sorry don't mean to shout,
ideas scattered
across the floor
to cover,
a path to dance on............... out
of the forest of trees,
that you cannot see
until you leave
until I leave
the line of trees all so aged
that mark, where we came from,
a "scots" Pine, that is a Norway Pine,
                make up mine,
yours a white Oak, your skin so fine,
               by design, those English,

and in each season, the unreasonable,
tears at the bubble, let the peace out up and away,
using up all your spoons before you can climb out of bed,
and the bucket will go down the well to get water but, oh
dear the bottom has fallen out and the hemp rope is in such disrepair
it gathers on a wheel called despair, as the needles of the trees fall
about the place and the oak leaves tumble in the refreshing wind but get tripped up by the
acorns.

all these black edged pine needles,
scattered floating lifeless on the well water,
all these black edged oak leave clusters
you deserve show their worth,
while that black cloud
RAGES
over head and fills the air with dread,
that something will be found, amiss,
and the volcano will show up
and the lava will flow
and will wilt me
like a lettuce leaf,
in the sun of summer.
Not that it brings hope....
but it has to.

sometimes being a partner with someone who is battling depression, anxiety, the physical pain and fatigue of both, tears down and rips apart personal organization, doubles up a load somedays, what was always difficult to keep together, gets lost and giving up becomes part of vocabulary, there are good days but fewer and fewer, and if no one reads this, I have given it a voice, not the depression, but the part of her, the small part of her that has the heart, that has the fight, that survives each day maybe I need to get out of the way.

#depression #anxiety #supportivespouse #hardlifelessons