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Feb 2015 · 236
you
Ottar Feb 2015
you
you're the young poet with old poetry;
            the old poet with youthful energy,
            the poet all aspire to reflect to be,
you're the poetry found under every rock,
over-
turned
amongst the gritty hard packed dirt of life,
and wet earthen scent, that hold secrets and
the tangled tiny trail of invisible insects steps,
walked on,
*******-
tight, a rope
of guttaral sounds, leaves your fingertips,
sure to express, hurt to joy, of unuttered pains,
that some shrug off as skin thickening lacquer
poured on hot, caught with your guard
down
and
bare
blue sky with a ball of molten ***** flesh pounding in a chest
the discarded remnant, that lost a voice as those around, wore deaf ears
the sensuous flesh that shivered at the touch of perfect sounds
breathed along your curves with warmth that lifted condensations'
crescendo
to fill the
sky, fingers
and hands
balling clouds
like sheets on
your bed
you're the poetry that will save the Earth and the people in it,
             the poetry that will burn when slammed back fast,
             the poet which carves word layers of life, off your thick skin,
             the poet who writes new words on again, translucent,
you're not the one we have been waiting for,
you have been here all along...twelve...ohh...one
No individual poet was the inspiration for this, no poet was made an example of, nor is this a job description, pure enjoyment of writing from both the dark(ness) and (en)lightened sides of my brain.
Feb 2015 · 559
Walking Jay
Ottar Feb 2015
Feet* and paired Wings,
Today that is what, so brings
US
To this, where cha-ching,
The rights to which cling,
LIKE
Static, we gave our mothers,
When Sisters and Brothers,
BIG
Like houses fell with furry on
Us, with sibling rivalry, luvin'
LARGE
Hands saying stop, pointing
To the crosswalk, anointing
SAFE
Places to cross the roadway,
Rather than be a walking jay,
TICK-
Ed and ticketed, by some loud
Constable, unstable and proud,
THAT
with you now, a notch on his belt,
Quota made for the month, melts
YOUR
Resolve to have a good day, red
Cheeks on display, like those dead
MEMORIES,
Of how your Brother or Sister always
Won the battle of wills, and turn away,
SHUNNING
Your existence to even compete,
Participation failure so complete,
BECAUSE
They were younger, too true,
And bigger, better than you.
...Walking Jay
Look both ways in life before crossing anyone.
Feb 2015 · 490
wings
Ottar Feb 2015
flit
and
wind, with
curves that give
lift, feathered each
  articulation,
controlled

flight,
Flight,
free, every
wing beat,
day or night touches sky, they meet, winged bird, invisible air, neither care that they touched, nor let the other be aware,
they experienced the same indifference, natural
example of marriage dispensed,

wild example, simplest truth,
touch with care, knowing,
before you go your separate
ways, both,
need to
know, the
sky the bird
it is not a fling,
To feel the touch of wings.
Feb 2015 · 997
Feet
Ottar Feb 2015
it is like a muddy avalanche,
surfing the surface, pulling from the deep,
boulder size nuggets, leaving cuts,
that blood, has to be stanched,
landside not a victory, rubble forms a heap,
at the bottom, where Earth puts

feet.
Gud velsigne deg og bevare deg
Feb 2015 · 839
Compass Points
Ottar Feb 2015
No point in chasing me for my money,
It found a red tide, isn't that funny,
No point in chasing me for my time,
Spend it all doing prose and rhyme,

No point in getting into my flesh,
I might be confused and think it a test,
No point in cheering me up and on,
It might leave you feeling put upon,

No point in breaking down these unfeeling fortress walls,
You won't find me, getting lost by the sounds, the echoes, along halls,
No point in remembering
landmarks on my skin and the bend of my joints,
You won't know where I have gone,
which one of 360 degree compass points,

Experience the ocean,
Scent the wind,
and throw my ashes there,
for when you find me,

My arms open wide, my hands too,
were painting pictures on the sky,
of me and you,

It will be at the end of my journey,
Failures outnumber successes,
I gave up and gave in.
But for now, to journey...anyone want to keep me company, everyday will be, I hope a new and exciting adventure.
Feb 2015 · 911
The Long Thank You
Ottar Feb 2015
always
poking
at the sky,
waiting for the signs,
to change,
crashed through a mile-
stone marker,
foolin' with life,
hands on the wheel of
what is broken down,
dark, dark, dark like area
fifty-one
grams are instant,
you might figure it out,
then again, whenever...

first heard of denver,
rhymes and reasons,
eagles and hawks,
music to my ears,
oh then came the tears,

Road Weary too early
in this Rotten World,
but rw came along,
and laughter filled
this heart,
to over flowing,
until tears
came from every laugh
and ... then...
only the tears.

A r m, there was no
harm, only a heart
for God,
step by step you
brought me closer,
if i stand,
brought
me to my knees,
understanding your love
for the Navajo
nation.

Too hard to be a bard,
all the waves that
sound like me
are hammered flat,
sharply.

Too soon.Wanted to grow
old with all of you
even though we share so little
phil-o-so-phically,
but here it is play
with words,
sun still rises
and watching flights
of birds and
dragonflies
make me pause;


from the shape of the sky
to a colour of the paint
that comes from the sun
in the clouds.

Then walking with ugly
toes with feet and
knees,
older than they should be,
seeing
people on the street,
who
love to hate,
hate to love,
each day is a wrestling
match in an atmospheric cage,
that puts ufc to shame,
seeing way more
than can be put on
parchment,
the will, be tried.

roof over my head
like a hat hanging
on an empty coat
hook
between the ribs
tearing at a heart
that refuses to
stop
beating while
being beat up by voices
that keep coming out
of the dark, dark, dark

shhhhhhhhh
whispers,
wisps
of hope
that knowing
as long as the
sounds of music
from many artists
find the ears
and,
able to feel,
lines of tears
and too
the laughter
echoes,
echoes in the
empty hallway
that swallows
red and white
and clear,
I live to write
another
day.
Take courage
to Play
the ukelele
if may I
by deSign.
12 poems in 2012, the other 760+ in 25 months, I had no other way to show You.
For helping me, for saying I matter,
you will never know
what you have been part of
thank you
200K reads
101 followers
A r m - a Rich Mullins, any and all of his music, "step by step", 'if I stand"  denver is John Denver, Rhymes and Reasons, Eagle and the Hawk, two very powerful songs in my teen years, RW is Robin Williams, made me laugh when well...strange what happens to you inside when people you look up to, successful people show their human side, makes you want to believe in yourself and what you can do, just a little bit more, better.
Makes it easy to believe that there is much more than meets the eye, in this world and especially every person.
Enough reading, do what you do best...write and read aloud
Thankyou for reading this if you made it this far, Thank you for all
of your
Poetry.
No Muses were injured, overworked or expected to get a tattoo with my name on it, during this poetic adventure.
Ottar Feb 2015
Tearing cellophane
                                 drops it, silver foil follows
C-stick lit, habit
No offense intended, in whole or in part, observations
Feb 2015 · 456
Dress Of The Day
Ottar Feb 2015
It was white, like snow, like linen sheets
Drying
             in
                  the
                         wind
It had silver buckles, like cutlery, that was only used
at Christmas
                       at Thanksgiving,
                                                   ­   but it was made to wear,
It had extra-long sleeves that tied in the back
for
       his
            own
                    protection,
Not from the rain drops
That tasted like tear drops
Not from the housekeepers
Barely five feet tall, a hundred pounds
if that at all...

With out his arms to salute,
He would not walk away,
He was a soldier, and this was now his Dress of the Day,
A good soldier was always
prepared to salute, now
he wasn't able.
Soldiers, PTSD, we have to do better, for them.
Feb 2015 · 417
Another long night
Ottar Feb 2015
The hard voices from soft people.
The soft rumble from hard vehicles.
Watered down by the rain.

Ruffled leaves, the dead remnant out of the horizontal, sticking.
The wind bends the barren tall trees out of vertical, time is ticking.
By.

Curled like a baby safe from harm,
He carry's his shoes up in his arms,

yet his short cropped hair and uncovered head
are soaked by the rain and he stops to give a shake,

after he points his finger and speaks to the apparition,
as drugs drift through his blood, and find his nerve
endings.

But his soaking socks wet from the sidewalk awash slap
in the the rain, are what attract the eye from across
the boulevard, one hund-
red one feet or more

away

it is plain,
he is having a bad day, which seems normal for him, for even the
telephone pole talks back, some insane day beginning.

To another long night.
Feb 2015 · 571
Rainbows and Happy Places
Ottar Feb 2015
Colours.
The Arc is a contrast to
the stark, overcast sky.

There are,
two end and there
are two sides.

Meeting
means to
collide.

Box
emptied of vacation
memories, blossoms
of plastic, frozen faces.

Broad smiles, hid the
lies behind the lines
and teeth, bits of sand,
those once were hot,
Between the ugly toes,
grains now discarded,
But no more enjoyed, the
mind is blind to the litter.
                  what was toyed, with
blackmailed emotional *** of gold.

The Colour
has drained away,
rummaging in this, in the dark
is too damaging, with gritty fingers,
on delicate nerve tissue, softly,
please, mind the
Grey matter.
Ottar Feb 2015
give me quiet,
when there is no peace,
all right, take the quiet,
and release peace from
the obligation of being,
on standby, for me.

find a friend,
have love, yes,
anger holds me
with affection,
need a friend,
who does not mind
quiet, in the room.

breathe in air,
not the dust
filled indoor
kind, make lungs
blind, to a
fresh look,
fresh take,
on quiet, walks
and runs

alone

along busy city
streets with people
dressed in clothes
to hide the real
mental state,
they are in,
portable prison
cells on four wheels,
take them
to where they
do hard time,
kept far away
from the only
friends and family,
they have,
*quiet and peace
free verse, free words, still mine to give
Feb 2015 · 811
eye opener (haiku)
Ottar Feb 2015
And Jesus saw all
While there was no internet,
Love us forever
Feb 2015 · 383
fear
Ottar Feb 2015
Wrote last time a title Fear of Failure,
this time, fear,
this time fear,
I weary of those,
who use fear as currency,
are you listening to me,
do you use fear as currency,
do you hear,
sorry it,
The market,
The value,
bottomed out, that
is right you have a whole donkey,
(read ***, I may have it backwards keepin' it clean, interpolate)
buy a dollar store dictionary and resuscitate,
your vocabulary,
too many overdue fines on
your library card?
Here it is, you will not be ready for it,
change your
underwear after you read this, the
fear you use to try to control,
is that you have so many
fears, your tear ducts are dry from the num-
ber of times
you cry and no one hears, because you are alone,
the fears you cause are less than
the fears you have,
coward.
I am so done with this topic.
Like we said in the army - no names no pack drill,
but you will find them trembling in their own shadow
Feb 2015 · 746
Special Prose Time
Ottar Feb 2015
faking it isn't
making it,
if you think you can take
a word or line,
And say "Mine"
though it wasn't yours
You were not ITS genesis,
in fact you are a neutered nemesis,
Of a creative being.

Ask if you may borrow,
If the answer is no,
Take your sorrow, and run to your own pool of creativity,
What? It has run dry?
Oh get your *** out into the world,
See the sights, hear the sounds put
your ear to the ground,
In the middle of a coffee shop
or how about a four way stop,
And intersect your introspection,
The self, get to know your limitations,
Flattery is not about thieving imitation.

If by some rule of mercy they say ”sure"
Please ensure you give credit for not only
The Bit you use, share your gratitude for
The One Time Use, stop copyright abuse

The O in Poetry stands  fo4 Ownership,
Unless you wrote it first, in this format,
It ain't you.

You don't have to believe,
In Karma, it is the great Equalizer.
So next time you see some one line(s)
Read them out loud a thousand times,
Before you add them to your prose or rhyme,
Leave the verse free in its original entirety.
This for you. In collaboration, though we did not talk about it, you might know who you are. As well Put police dog and Karma on a search
Feb 2015 · 1.3k
Feeding My Addiction
Ottar Feb 2015
Not tasting like affliction,
Not looking with reflection,
Needing a new affectation,

Unable to keep either hand
off
that remote control,
surfing from place to place,
Finding varying degrees of
un-
kempt hair,
Channeling, "Chocolate,
My Chocolate,"
The darker the better,
silky smooth
mousse, melts, making
merriments,
for the senses,

These are a few, of some favorite things
yet nothing compared to what
red wine brings to the table,
with nothing on,
as it unveils the light,
as added swirl to glass,
the round of the cup in the palm
of an open hand,
reminds one of...
past...bottles lying about the place,
a few at a time, Listen...

To be true, only hearing about
drugs as recreation, or
******* substances of
abuse, strange mystery to me,
as I am high on life,
so I cannot write about
what I don't know,

On anger, the hurt, on self-loathing, sings
a call from the Halls of the mountain King,
as printed voices tell in clear,
of battle scars,
of toxic people,
influence,

on lives that matter much,
much more than you know, I care for y'all,
but this ends, a tortured
free
verse,
freed,
for now I must feed my addiction,
"Open up, beautiful, here is another dark chocolate wine dipped cherry, no, no,
not from the bowl, but from my naked lips...
This is late so sorry, the stuff of life can knock the ink from my veins and pen from my hand ...and make simple things complicated...now to poetry...then?????
Feb 2015 · 505
Zentombed
Ottar Feb 2015
Rain drop rings, placed in puddles,
At the perfect place, and the perfect muddle
of time.

Beg the universe, to take charge put things,
In order, while the border of sanity, blurs a
vision of double. Losing it, feeling buried.

A double life, a day job, with no potential,
and spare time, where piranhas tears pieces
of time and me away. No time no need to worry.

Tenderness, is not ready to receive, what
is left, if it be known, if it be shown,
if it be seen, who is the master of the wind,
take flight.

Put up a kite, wait while flies, feel the tension,
and let it go, a kite tail may save a life.
Feb 2015 · 2.2k
Building Bridges
Ottar Feb 2015
Social breaks and cultural ridges,
Double takes and building bridges,

Seems like ages, for twenty four hour wages,
Boys to men in uniforms, training in stages,

To be soldiers, first, Engineers, second,
Every province shares, before The Reckoning,

Hands calloused, hearts as well, hands hold a couple o' beers,
Which will rouse, the parts, when the day is done, with cheers!

Thing, an exercise called a bridge gallop, where
For two weeks and twenty two hours a day we share,

A work ethic to assemble and strip bridges built,
Practice for the real deal, with a unified will,

We all know when some one else is not lift-
ing their load, brothers in arms not using theirs,

But we built bridges, long day into night
we played Euchre, in the down time,
Short night into day, smoky rooms and beers,
In play, we called empty brown beer bottles,

Dead soldiers,

We became a unit, unified, by our trade,
Jack of all trades, master of none,

All of us were from Canada's various parts,
Building bridges, in the light, in the dark.

Assembling parts, to make a whole, bridge,
From bank seat, to bank seat,
It took many bridges, for Canada to meet,
The soldiers and Engineers, UBIQUE.
What I call The Reckoning is the first Gulf War
Bank Seat, definition - Each end of the bridge must sit on a bank seat of solid ground.
Unique Latin for Everywhere, motto of the Canadian Engineers
Feb 2015 · 807
My Beta, an ordinary Joe
Ottar Feb 2015
tanked, no tide
fins fiddle, quiver so
to stay still and float,
territorial
fish bowl acre,
feeding frenzy for
one,
plastic plants placed
on rocks ranging in the round with rainbow
hues,
with unattractive algae, be-
ginning to creep up the glass
of once was a clear quartz cookie
jar, Joe is contained,
             no complaints,
he gets three free meals a day,
and is right now hearing the strains
of Cello Suites one through six,
light shining
into his ocean tide
pool,
waiting on me for his last
feeding of the day, then darkness
will fall and the false moonlight
will let him him be to play
or sleep...not knowing his
body of water is not the only
one!
Feb 2015 · 371
Stay Inspired
Ottar Feb 2015
tell a story about your day,
like a stream of light that had you swimming
for your life, away from the dark cloud
d
e
s
c
e
n
d
i
n
g
as it tried to hide the welts pending
to blush with red, is that a self inflicted hue,
or has some coward, done that to you,

write your way out, type the keyboard hard,
spell the word tunnel, and escape through
the opening, hoping, that the change will
stay and it won't close until you run head-             __
on into the light, that is waiting at the end.............(    )

some sound so sure sweet safe solid citizens,

yet stay inspired,
not in a rainbow and cotton candy dandy
with streamers falling long and landing
on your head as multicoloured hair,

my stuff,
yeah I have stuff,
making sure to bring
my self down,
to a puddle where
I might drown,
if I stay down there
long enough,
I use words and their double
meaning and edges,
throw myself
against the thorny hedges,
self esteem has bruises
deep, ....let me sleep
from sunset to sunrise
through the day,
no compromise.

I stay inspired,
by all of you that
place your vulnerability
place your brilliancy
place your life
moments

as an inspired observer,
stay inspired, read
(don't go anywhere without breathing out)

because then your body will make you breath in
what will you take to,
how will you make it,
who will shake, shake your world view,
for your sake,
letting you know we could not be here without you.

Stay inspired, I am not the only that needs you.
Strong content
Feb 2015 · 474
Right as Rain
Ottar Feb 2015
Forecast was for rain,
Misdiagnosed a pain,
What we got was mist,
That hung in the air, tiny cysts,
That clung, to pant legs,
To sleeves, to skin and
To the glasses, that beheld
Them,
Like spots before my eyes,
As all passed through them.

The Collective heaviness,
Was not felt but the steadiness,
Of the curtain after curtain of,
Droplets on fine twine, some seed
beaded Macrame, threaded not
Threatening, to pass the time as
You pass their way, they keep the
Peace
And soak you as an afterthought.
Hippies dripping in love,
A mist for the generations.
We have had a little constant rain ...lately, often.
Feb 2015 · 581
twenty hours
Ottar Feb 2015
Twenty hours to develop a skill,
Not become an expert but a will
and a way to make sense and play,
do with finesse, an aptitude that stays,
to build
upon the
hours of
basic ability,
A knack.

Not twenty hours out of twenty four,
Nor ten thousand hours of the master
             craftsman, or journeyman too.

Measure each moment, on a stop watch,
hurry not to or from, savour time as your
very own,
not on loan,
neither a
borrower
or a lender
be, of time
dedicated
to your betterment,
better me not,
and bless my soul,
if twenty hours is the time,
one hour a day would be sublime,
success is merely a fortnight away,
if you have the foresight to stay the course!
For Twenty Hours.
Inspired by a TED talk.
Feb 2015 · 456
Strength of Tears (Haiku)
Ottar Feb 2015
Cinder block chunked
Load it on paper weighted
          Sobbing erodes all
Find strength, when needed
Feb 2015 · 526
back by popular demand...
Ottar Feb 2015
It is not like a feeding frenzy,
In the bay boy, by the dock with youbread
by the loaf.

Just add seagulls
and a boat.

It is not like a gang fight, between
The Crows and The Gull,
at a MacDonald's entrance,
with some discarded
contra-
band,
in a Marked and torn paper bag.

Three are always
clad in black and
one dressed in grey..... or white.

It is not like any of that,
It is like standing in a silent room,
There is no clapping, nor thunderous Boom,
of approval, a the speed of sound, and of light,
the white is blinding, the emptiness binding,
on all sides.  Suffocate my self-esteem from miles and miles away,
if Social Media Therapy, is all I got
something has to change, that isn't LIKE me.
See my poem in this poem SMT (Social Media Therapy)
Feb 2015 · 310
Usefull
Ottar Feb 2015
Chaste scars, found on the fallen,
From green to grey to brown blending,
melding with the ground,
eventually become a mound.

Breaking down, the broken giants, who
still live in another form, to make shelter
from every storm for
those who need a home.

If I could be this useful, even after my purpose,
has been at an end and fruitful, bird perches,
hidden burrows, safe and warm and dry,
then lay me on the surface, leave but cry,

Not a tear to drop,
as it may speed the rot,
and nothing will find in me,
a home, a suitable place to be
at rest.

Maybe for eternity.
Feb 2015 · 507
Strike one, Strike two....
Ottar Feb 2015
Your skin is like the softest petals,
Your worth the rarest, of rare metals,
Yet
In the sunlight, you sparkle like a jewel,
So I guess we never met because I was a tool?

A discarded rusty wrench, with an oily stench,
I meant in play, when I said "*****", standing on a bench,
In the park, of my heart and yodeling my love for you,
From afar, so far, you never knew, the only feeling I had left,
I had for you.

There is always hope, I am not just another dope
I no longer need stuffed toys to cope,
Being the empty cup that only fills with tears,
I am chipped about the rim, your lips will never
drink from this cup, but wait I know where we
can meet, at that park, with my new pup!

If you have a dog to bring, we can talk while they play,
I promise I will only listen, I won't ask you to stay.

Too long.
Even life in its most serious of times needs stuff that makes us, enjoy, laughter is the best, but I hope you at least smile. No I am not stalking, you or you or her or.... and I am not a fan of baseball.
Feb 2015 · 653
How not to find a Muse
Ottar Feb 2015
two eyes,
blank stare,
glazed glasses,
be aware,
of numbness,
of nothing...
must be ice,
no, too nice,
trace a finger, cold can burn,
as much as fire, so can desire,
if ...
can one see beyond,
beyond the flesh,
find inspired fuel,
or a be the fool,
stand before the muse
transparent, transported,
just by moving frosbit lips,
against the willing warmth,
of acceptance,
yet where be the muse,
yet let there be  amuse-
ment,
because this ice is seriously,
frozen to this heart.

No light moments,
may laughter, shatter
the cast cold and surely,
refusing to be released,

it is not the fingers that
need to write but the
block that is the
frozen heart,

move
closer
please.
Not a happy place.
Feb 2015 · 969
The Boulevard Shuffle
Ottar Feb 2015
Balding head, across the boulevard, catching drops of rain,
falling hard,
cars and trucks travelling fast, weather warning was plain,
for all to see,
watching the drops bounce off, where they land, the strain,
in him is obvious,

his coat sheds water like a duck, the burden he carries tight
to his chest,
he stops and moves and stops again, points prepares to fight,
shadows in the downpour,
he talks, then shouts maybe he likes the sound of his mighty
voice, all alone,

he stops and confronts a telephone pole, others pass by, not staring,
to get his ire,
what he held to his chest, was dear to him and had to stay dry, carrying
his shoes, high
so his shuffle was in soaked sock feet, he had his mannerisms, wearing
plainly for all to see, he only had socks on his feet
between him and the rain swept
                                                         ground and street.

He may have needed more, he was tweaking, maybe he needed less,
was it **** or worse, he was still walking and still cursing, confess
to the gods, he would make it through the day,
against the odds.

Doin' the Boulevard Shuffle,
it isn't hard, until you have to live it.
Feb 2015 · 444
The Game
Ottar Feb 2015
hide and seek,
child's play, run away,
to stay, shhh, so still,
shadow absorbs,
all but the fun,
where night and
day matter not,
just get lost, in the game.

Then you will seek and find "home free"
Feb 2015 · 338
Pinnacle
Ottar Feb 2015
How does the human evolve,
Not a question to try to resolve,

Because as a species we survive.

More than like sand mites,
In a desert,
Go ahead spend the time,
Counting grains of sand.

Because as a species, we survive.

Let that hang on your breath,
say it again real slow, slower....
thoughts processes go where they will,
percolate and distill,
"we still have a habit to ****"
one another

oh brother, I need more wine...
Is this by design....or are we on a decline
from the pinnacle of creation.

But what part of you, will be the downfall,
from such heights...take time to drink in
the fading view.

Whether it is oil or riches,
Too big for our britches,
The only possession we own
it seems is greed,
so sweet is this reduction, over
the heat, of want over need,
do you even know your own

DNA

the pinnacle,
It is not the end,
but a place to see,
what you have yet learned,

No way to earn,
What is available for free,
Peace, that passes,
Release, of the past,
Envision, the future,

See?
Only from the pinnacle,
are the past, present and future,
more than whimsical and make believe!

In this journey, know, you won't be alone.

And there is nothing, I would rather do, than be with you.
#surreal
Ottar Feb 2015
Hear the motions of the engines,
Speed South to North,
As well North to South,
Care not they, the sounds they make.

It is a confession.
They speed in the land of ****.
It increases, then decreases,
As they travel past, the open window,
Winterless blast, a confession,
It feels close to spring.

Care not a bit that sounds, rude, to those who tomorrow,
Will wake up to snow, while the blizzard sounds here,
Are the rush of thoughtless trucks and cars,
Which are driven at speeds above the posted limit,
Even if they don't have to travel so far,
To get home in the drizzle, to their green grass.

Maybe snow would slow them down,
Or keep them off the road entirely,
No, no, not them, they are rude,
They have this attitude,
Drive like this, no matter what the weather,
They are better than the conditions, they drive in.

Another confession, they are in it to win, and no one
else knows there is a contest and contestants.

What a surPrize!

Hand him a sextant as he drives at night, after all he has to navigate,
Through Facebook and Likes and texts and bytes of downloads from
YouTube...would not want to be fashionably late in reply otherwise
Your social life, and status,
may die.

Trafficking bad habits,
Instead of "look out for the other guy or gal"
The phone and the life it holds,
can be dropped,
"worse than a dropped call",
is all the sirens wail as they go by,
Life in the balance, ghosts
White knuckling it with one hand,
While eyes are fixed, to a deathly white screen
And fingers dance solo in some sexless act,
The result is the same a distracted fact,
The mind is no longer in the car,
It has left the body already,
Waiting for it to die,
Watching from above and reaching to all
Who have fingers and a phone
Wanting to be ghosts and sticking to the life,
Which will make it happen.....by accident.

Drive defensively,
Leave your phone in the trunk.
Please don't text and drive
Hands free honestly
Show your family, you do love them.
Jan 2015 · 842
Good Night, Poetry
Ottar Jan 2015
Good Night  Poetry
Arc of the moon curves
as an outstretched hand
leads the way
Good Night Poetry
Arc of your back lying still
as a finger traces a line
a sheet falls away
Good Night Poetry
in motion
as two shadows become
one in the moonlit room
Good Night Poetry
no more woe in me
yet this is but a dream
misty shadows, lift as
the moon falls and as
the sun rises...alone.
for all the dreams and women named Poetry
Ottar Jan 2015
hearing feet pound the cement sidewalk,
seeing cars and drivers pass by talk-
ing on cell phones, silhouettes, shaped
by street lights lit as darkness drapes,
at the feet below these aging knees
the shadow moves ahead and is chased
down, falls behind as the body and face-
less shape with feet that slap the ground
not as a delicate dancer, because they pound

the run into submission,
at times the breath would better,
if it were louder, and with a rasp

then it would be easy to grasp
why this impossible implausible delight
seems so pure, in the dark and in the night,

I invite one, I invite all, drop by
any night and we see our foot falls
and hear who steps could crack
where they land and whose breathing
would be better if banned,
for disturbing the peace

legs with muscle straining from the training,
not getting the enough rest to prepare for the raining
and the run, the stuff that tests, a rare human quality,
can you finish what you start,
arteries clear and how is the heart,
do you know pace, do you know no quit
can you find peace, can you give a squirt

of water in your mouth without out choking and having to stop,

do you know the joy that a child knows as they run
can you find that place where activity was and is fun
hard sidewalks, hard life lessons to learn
heavy steps, heavy heart, hear the sorrow
shadows, follow the mind multiplies and borrows fear from the shelf
breathing in, hoping to be at ease,
breathing out, hoping to release

All
The

Tension
Handily
Exacting

Every
Nerve
Damaged
Jan 2015 · 1.1k
early morning
Ottar Jan 2015
Nerves pulled taute at an alarming rate,
Sitting on the edge of too many choices, a spate,
Leading to indecision and dizziness, changed
From horizontal, too vertical, too fast, deranged

To be awake at such an hour,
As the body tries to tap into power,
But hears this " take warning early morning"
Ahead, and a head still fuzzy while scorning,

Is there really a reason to get out of bed
at 5:19?

There are chores,
There are meals to prepare,
There is reading and meditation,
There is the routine of a morning constitutional!

There is full time employ...ment.

But all of these wait in line,
As care of a friend o'mine

Comes first,
We burst,

Into the morning,
Despite weather warnings,

And on good days too,
In the early morning,

We walk the same route,
And the same distance,

We have our pace, for instance,
My two legs keep up with her four,

She is never more excited then before
We go out the door, this is not a chore,

She pulls, she stops and drop to ***,
She is content and relaxed beside me,

She repeats as often as is necessary,
It all belongs, it is her territory,

In the early morning, I will, we will
Continue to walk, each and everyday,

We will arrive at three hundred and sixty five,
Morning jaunts
Again this year, it is a joy to move and be so alive,

With her, in the early morning,
We think not on, the mornings past,
               nor, that the mornings won't last
forever,
We only think on the present, the one we share,
In the moments found only in the early morning.

While the world around us revs its engine to a roar,
All we hear are birds,  paws with toenails on pavement or
Raindrops falling and wind calling us to stay longer, and more

Where there are no cares to wear on us,
We have each other, and it is early morning.
Jan 2015 · 343
There was a deal to be had
Ottar Jan 2015
he leaned back, like the rail was built just for him,
he had a crew cut, a scar on his chin, he was tall, slim,
his voice was like gravel, rolling in a can
he smoked from, once a boy, to now a man,

he offered his comforts and promises to the one who walked
beside, as there was a deal going down and whole promises talked,
younger man slowed his stride, not to leave his purchasing party
behind, his language was not descriptive, as it was blunt, smartly

he was not dressed, but he wanted money for the goods,
he asked the shorter man to wait there, right where he stood,
"Hand me the money and I will be back, right away,
or you can walk with me, over and back all the way",

the older, shorter man walk steady and slow, not very good
with english, but in a show of good faith, in this neighbourhood,
that was not his, he moving forward, a hand in his pocket,
he looked straight ahead no longer making eye contact,

curious stopping to watch them move toward some homes behind
the school park, the sun was setting it soon would be dark,  finding
his way once the deal was had, might be hard in low light, what if
it went bad, what if it was a set up, what if he got hurt, a scuffle, a tiff,

Buyer beware, there was a deal to be had,
The guy your in business with is angry and mad,
Buyer beware you may be in for trouble,
Your trust may be broken like a bubble,

At the point of a knife blade,
With pointed words of hate,
You look like karma, guides your fate,
Your voice was soft, your eyes kind, what was their bait?
Jan 2015 · 715
one season at a time
Ottar Jan 2015
Empty branches, nakedness stark,
Against an undescribable grey dark,

Sky,

Evergreens mockery, of winter's brown,
Mist so heavy the tall grass will surely drown,

Fog

Mixed with rain to the air a heaviness brings,
Here's the deal, there surely will be, Spring!





Bring on the poetry,
Hands not frozen
To an aging keyboard
Unseasonably warm
So why am I so cold?

This too is a season,
Or a trial of reason
It ....appears.
Jan 2015 · 431
Too Far
Ottar Jan 2015
the sky this night is
too far too dark,
away,
to be reached and drag-
ged down about
to cover
with some comfort
the bite, the deep bite.

the softness to be
heard as the voice
whispers on the wind
a song sweetly
too far to
be salve to
the bitter poison
in that bite.

cannot be dragged
from here as
weak and would wreak
havoc and too close
to what ills spill
and too far from
the good for what ails
the empty wind
and torn sails

with too far to sail
for the shore
for a quiet bay
for eyes that look
gently upon this salty face

too far out to sea,
never learned how to float
waves now hide the boat
...and the sharks are closing in
Jan 2015 · 356
In Meditation
Ottar Jan 2015
read me out loud, not to be proud, away from a crowd,
find the quiet and soft solitude of a sunrise of a sunset
with flashlight, candlelight in the moonlit starlight

on a clear morn, may ideas be born, in you
Abba I belong to you,
on a clear morn, play freely with day dreams,

as the day ends, the sun settles, may you settle too,
Abba I belong to you,
as the day ends, unwind and unbend, made it through

To Relief
To Grief
To Peace
To Sorrow

Abba I belong to you, even Tomorrow
Ottar Jan 2015
has the world cracked a vessel made of clay
has the life whacked a resilience far away
has flesh and bone lost its' steel to decay

Love sits waiting I am sure to caress the fissures
Love has open arms to catch the falling, so sure!
Love can wrap and mend the damage, as it is pure

Open eyes to see
Open hands to touch
run along the naked truth
like the whisper of the wind
Open to tastes
Open to the scent of being close
Open to listen, to what is really
said behind the words and hid-
den in the emotional
play on display to be a survivor

Pour the wine, who needs a glass...
Jan 2015 · 409
Feed Your Soul
Ottar Jan 2015
doing things that bring joy and sing in a soul
sounds, like laughter from a child's first chuckle
heals wounds in a tired rifted heart, no more tolls
to be paid, no trolls to slay, oh but some buckle

Under the load

juggle thoughts of what to do, while doing nothing, makes stew
and the juices, bitter tasting as they simmer with too much heat
pieces of another's life, pursuits that sound good but don't get, To Do
knowing not how to get the words out, eating uncooked raw meat

To Feed the Soul
Ottar Jan 2015
Wrestle with a giant named Failure
Fight for each breath with a fiend called Disease
Dig into a life labelled as Shallow

And win
And do not give up or give in
And break through

That giant Shadow follows shadowing steps
That Sickness creeps into thoughts, mind and body
The Dirt steals strength from the idle shovel

Face it ... face to Face, with the eyes to see it through
All of it, consume it, so it cannot consume you,
Sometimes...all it takes is a bigger shovel, and No Quit.

And A Friend
Someone needs this tonight
Ottar Jan 2015
Wheels turning 'round, asphalt below,
Wings a flappin' up and down, in blows
Wind as a friendly fowl plaything ... Fly!

Wander the streets, on feet, restless, seek...
Ways to strengthen the heart, lungs deep,
Breathing, an exchange of fresh for stale...Air!

Water pulled and pushed, streamlined, the mind,
Wanting to believe, what body won't accept, finding
Joy, in going beyond what the senses signals send...Stimuli!

Live
In
The
Moment

No monuments, never be found standing still,
Unless the time to collect and assemble what
It takes, to shake the foundation, to make a plan,

For
Peace
For
Acceptance

Of who, you are, ...of
Who will, you become! So free.
Ottar Jan 2015
Long reflected streams
Of light,
Wheeled light beams,

Create the gusts
Of wind,
The nose thrusts,

Above four legs striding
On a walk,
Thoughts drifting, riding,

On hopeful crests of waves
Of an ocean,
That experience brings, saves,

The scars that mar the heart
On the surface,
Marks the day's began, a start,

Hours sit and stand at a desk
Of employ,
Creativity not addressed,

By name, there is trial
In the error,
In this day success is viral,

The day end comes fast with a stat
Of failure,
Walking home is time alone, and that

Leads to free writing, to break the hold
Of the cold,
Bureaucratic wasteland, truth be told,

Yet the night the evening brings time
Of peace,
And quiet and of release, so sublime,

Emotions roil, sounds toil, and struggle
Of reality,
Cold sided pillow, head rest and snuggle,

Oh dreams become certain reality
Of a Hope,
Yet life is short, feasting on frailty,

Human identity, a man, negativity
On a winged
Sleepy prayer, not shared, in proclivity,

Soft clouds of sleep fall firm, leave a pall
On dream-sleep,
Recharging for another day is all,

That is found waiting viewing the whole
Of foolishness,
Each day too full takes its toll,

Like a bridge with infrastructure tolls
Of empty,
Pockets, of resistance, and angry trolls

That crush dreams of day and night
Of promise,
Found rising stumbling by mornings light.

A new day has begun to get it right
Of sand,
And the hourglass, which empties fast, a sleight,

Of hands
That write,
Make magic to start a stopped heart which was waiting for, to die.
The day begins with a dog walk
Ottar Jan 2015
Classic lines, not just words
                               But curves,
Parted lips, shape sounds of
                        Near perfection,
Vulnerable....

some see her poise,
others respect her voice
few take respite,
In the delight she brings,
when she sings, like me,
she seems so human now
that she is seventy-two Years, (she never hid it, but it took me
Fifty five years to notice...)

Of age
of an age,
that spans... Generations in kind,
in years performing, on stage, and screen,
                                                         ­     oh but don't call her a Queen,
And "don't rain on my parade"
Just let the walls listen
and let the music fill this space,
And be with the furniture....can
you hear what there is to
hear as the notes sung in
Brooklyneese,
fall lightly or move
toes to tap,
fond affection,
for one, whose voice,
and songs bring me to
a Brooklyn, streets that have not
felt the soles of my shoes.
Yet, my soul is stirred to travel....
Thanks to you Barbara
Somewhere
People,
The Way We Were,
No More Tears
(Enough is Enough) as
My Heart Belongs to Me
and I share through poetry!
Happy Days are here....again!
MH, you will be missed
Jan 2015 · 620
Seriously
Ottar Jan 2015
There is a Ness, called Loch,
There is a ness, called Happi,
There is a ness, called Lonli,
There is a ness, called Hot.

None of the words,
Would land like birds,
or release excrement,
in an simple experiment.

Of chasing monsters,
Of chasing insanity,
Of chasing the empty,
and chasing the vanity.

So on waking; take time, find purpose,
on leaving your home, take peace,
leave fear, in the shadows, but
let your fragrance, dance, down
the street, infectious.

Walk a mile in some kind of smile...seriously.
Mark Twain quote, "Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination"
not sure if I agree but it makes for great inspiration of poetry.
Jan 2015 · 466
Dreamy (haiku)
Ottar Jan 2015
live a dream once, yes!
finding a dream twice, is nice!
give, one dream, away
Jan 2015 · 401
"Graphic" Context
Ottar Jan 2015
what is in a name,
but letters and sounds,
and meaning,
gleaning spare gloaming,
C H
see aches
of broken hearts,
of many,
it was lines on paper,
some took it as lines in the sand,

life is lost when we can't laugh,

those who could not laugh, tried
to get their life back by taking lives,
the others
the creative core,

when you meet a man face to face,
you have a gun and he has not one,

you are not a man.

Life is fragile, life is too short,
to not be enjoined and enjoyed
in laughter at ourselves.

For now, it is right for tears to fall,
but let them be joined by laughter.

To honor C H

walk the streets of Paris,
sing songs in the city of Love,
not out of naiveté,
but for continued creativity,
so living memories live beyond
the loss,
much loss,
they now walk
beyond the boundaries of the imagination,
it is where they worked
it where they still live in all
who embrace Freedom,
in a name.
condolences
Ottar Jan 2015
Not about nations,
Not a melting ***,
Not multicultural,
Not about people,
    About a person.

All colour can be found in,
The absence of light akin,
to the black, the dark and the fear,
yes, the dark and
the fear.

Not just any dark, but the darkest.

They are separate
yet
found together,
Add wind and foul weather
and the
light just lets you see
the storm coming,
to play with your mind...a field of play?

So where is this going?
It is dark so you tell me.
There is light where you
are, but not around here,
not in this body,
even the thumbs
are black and have their
own pulse,
racing to leave for the light,
in the absence of,
where all colour is black.

Lose track of a loved one and you fear the worst,
the dark thoughts like water find the easiest path.
                                                           ­                            .
                                                               ­                        .
                                                               ­                        ....down,

All colour is black and the absence
of light is the dark, different roots
same result, especially in the corner
of a dark mind where the space is
painted with a fresh coat of black.

Just oozing,
sick of losing,
by fading lighter,
less black, less dark,
.......................leaves room for hope, more or less...
Jan 2015 · 437
Shortly
Ottar Jan 2015
Time will compress,
Maybe even your spine,
Counting and taking discs
Like they were poker chips,
A gamble,
A game
A gout,
For adversity,
Are you all in?
Time is not waiting,
Life is passing you by,
Money is falling about the place,
While your, deer in the head lights, face,
Just grows older,
Life will end shortly,
Money will live on without you,
So what, do you surrender as legal tender,
With your last breath,
Surrender your relationships for a short while,
Surrender your love and loves, for a large vessel of agape
Surrender with arms wide open, to receive an Embrace!
...shortly...
gout = taste in French
Jan 2015 · 275
The Days Dust
Ottar Jan 2015
Heart in place on the sleeve
                 No one asks if the man grieve
Walking eyes downcast, quickens pace  
    Leave not the days dust, on your face

             A voice echoes in his hollow head
The only rumbling, stomach hollow unfed
She always said, "sleeping or waking, lave"  
           Leave not the days dust, on your face

                        She left not wanting to leave
                                  Her loss tore his belief
Spectres tease as he walks and does chase
        Leave not the days dust, on your face

he knew she would not like his grief
the joy like dust washed from his face
Jan 2015 · 1.3k
Alignment
Ottar Jan 2015
sunlight westward quickly dipping
             o'er ugly toed-feet almost tripping
 frozen ground bumpy with cone molluscs
                         surreal before imminent dusk

             raptor bright hued in the sunlight
           captured freely fronting moonlight
       alignment moment chance the smallest
                         surreal before imminent dusk

      dog below still pause picture caught
catch my breath gasp grasped the thought
           sunlight to moonlight finding solace
                      surreal before imminent dusk

scotch pine limbs frame time a slipping
happenstance just like this,... honest
Instagram elverum51 - the story behind the hawk photo
maybe a Kyrielle Sonnet in form
going out on a limb here
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