Jun 2015
Refractions of Vivid Emotions
This poem has a story. A few months ago, inspired by
the response from patty m to one of my poems (quoted below,)
I started this poem and never completed it. Stumbled upon it, and asked for permission to post, when I realized the why of the absence of her voice from here, the passing of her beloved, Joey.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1195106/for-the-love-of-my-life/
It changed the poem.
for Patty M.
and Joey,
who I only knew through
the eyes that loved him
~~~
"dayummmm this is amazing.
I love your foreplay,
the wanton ******,
your words tipping words in
refractions of vivid emotions"
patty m
~~
she hits me
sweetly, unknowingly
with a best shot,
a four lined stanza
of expresso appreciation,
while
shhhhh,
I'm at work
everyone, observing,
looking at me,
cause I am instantly
floored
instant cognition,
emotional reverberation
disturb, perturb,
by her phantastic imagery
a language, a phraseology
"refractions of vivid emotions"
slow conniption,
her phrases,
never didactical,
cause my reactionary words
to refract my emotions,
light rays now reflecting,
breaking off pieces of me,
all scattered about the universe,
and I'm learning me a lesson good,
be careful what you read...
grab the cell only to hear:
"currently, none of
Humpty Dumpty's men
are currently available,
so please stay on the line...
you're caller number one,
expected wait time, well,
ha ha ha ha ha..."
fix me woman!
tape or glue,
won't adhere
where you words have cut me,
sutures cannot close caverns,
reverse magma flows,
can you,
is even possible
to bring me back to whole?
you've tapped some
deep watered notions,
split my atoms,
you have refracted me,
vividly
I have here
writ me
down
newborn needy,
requesting more of her words
to patch
up
and heal
me
~
so I search for a refresher course on
The Poetry of patty m,
and am twice trashed,
thrown twice over prostrate to the floor,
her voice gone quiet,
lost from loss,
sometimes loss makes makes the best silence,
sometimes loss make the best poetry
Oh, this wanton ******!
her news upends,
her words tipping words,
each word,
a companion to each tear shed,
and I cry copiously
a last poem, this time
of an endplay
absent he... absent foreplay
my pal Joey,
though our eyes never met,
a debt of gratitude owed,
for you refracted
from your soulmate
words that made this trying world
such a better place
I too,
at loss
how to say goodbye,
this imperfect poem chile of mine,
for I am inconsolable and ashamed
the overt poverty of my words
that offer but a weakened console
so with pride
I will borrow some
patty-words,
hoping that's ok
~~~
**Beware,
life is never fair,
a trap, a clap trap happenstance
leading me in rapid dance
perchance enhanced with vibrant hue
dispensed in advice I'll give to you;
run don't walk with backward glance,
hide desire wrapped away
and concentrate on dragons to slay.
Rejoice in thoughts if once set free
would join the world
in unity,
but you and I
can never be,
this I say with certainty.
then sigh. . .
as I softly whisper
goodbye.
This poem has a story. A few months ago, inspired by
the response from patty m to one of my poems (quoted below,)
I started this poem and never completed it. Stumbled upon it, and asked for permission to post, when I realized the why of the absence of her voice from here, the passing of her beloved, Joey.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1195106/for-the-love-of-my-life/
It changed the poem.
for Patty M.
and Joey,
who I only knew through
the eyes that loved him
~~~
"dayummmm this is amazing.
I love your foreplay,
the wanton ******,
your words tipping words in
refractions of vivid emotions"
patty m
~~
she hits me
sweetly, unknowingly
with a best shot,
a four lined stanza
of expresso appreciation,
while
shhhhh,
I'm at work
everyone, observing,
looking at me,
cause I am instantly
floored
instant cognition,
emotional reverberation
disturb, perturb,
by her phantastic imagery
a language, a phraseology
"refractions of vivid emotions"
slow conniption,
her phrases,
never didactical,
cause my reactionary words
to refract my emotions,
light rays now reflecting,
breaking off pieces of me,
all scattered about the universe,
and I'm learning me a lesson good,
be careful what you read...
grab the cell only to hear:
"currently, none of
Humpty Dumpty's men
are currently available,
so please stay on the line...
you're caller number one,
expected wait time, well,
ha ha ha ha ha..."
fix me woman!
tape or glue,
won't adhere
where you words have cut me,
sutures cannot close caverns,
reverse magma flows,
can you,
is even possible
to bring me back to whole?
you've tapped some
deep watered notions,
split my atoms,
you have refracted me,
vividly
I have here
writ me
down
newborn needy,
requesting more of her words
to patch
up
and heal
me
~
so I search for a refresher course on
The Poetry of patty m,
and am twice trashed,
thrown twice over prostrate to the floor,
her voice gone quiet,
lost from loss,
sometimes loss makes makes the best silence,
sometimes loss make the best poetry
Oh, this wanton ******!
her news upends,
her words tipping words,
each word,
a companion to each tear shed,
and I cry copiously
a last poem, this time
of an endplay
absent he... absent foreplay
my pal Joey,
though our eyes never met,
a debt of gratitude owed,
for you refracted
from your soulmate
words that made this trying world
such a better place
I too,
at loss
how to say goodbye,
this imperfect poem chile of mine,
for I am inconsolable and ashamed
the overt poverty of my words
that offer but a weakened console
so with pride
I will borrow some
patty-words,
hoping that's ok
~~~
**Beware,
life is never fair,
a trap, a clap trap happenstance
leading me in rapid dance
perchance enhanced with vibrant hue
dispensed in advice I'll give to you;
run don't walk with backward glance,
hide desire wrapped away
and concentrate on dragons to slay.
Rejoice in thoughts if once set free
would join the world
in unity,
but you and I
can never be,
this I say with certainty.
then sigh. . .
as I softly whisper
goodbye.
"For Patty and Joey: Refractions of Vivid Emotions"
Started April 2nd 2015,
Finished June 27, 2015
~~~
How it all began.
On May 12, 2014,
I wrote:
Patty M (Read the new poets here)
I have never been published
or won a prize,
except, yeah, yeah,
the one in the
Crackerjack box
but from that cheap plastic surprise,
much was learned even as a young boy
cull the chaff of life
from amidst the wheat
plant it well and deep,
then forget all about it,
except where,
t'was seeded
when eyes yellowed,
hair turned a color Disney repackaged as
frozen
white,
normally a gift of a hairdresser,
called mother time,
and your pink skin scaled smooth
now kin and kith of the kitchen grater,
then time is in,
cull your plantings
go back into that yards,
pull out the weeds,
uncovering what only time
can provide -
poetry planted and born from
the summary addition of thousands
of days of life,
well felt,
well received,
well recorded,
drawn from earth and water,
well lived
sometimes my nyc sidewalks uneven,
cause a toe snagging tripping,
this loss of balance,
adrenalin hot flashing,
similar to tripping upon a new poet
every time I say no mas,
I must choose tween
left or right,
one can
read or one can write,
but not
both
a voice on I stumble,
making me ever so foolish,
ever so humble,
ever so confused
so at 12:31am
at it again,
reaping what others have sowed
this woman by her own confess,
Trouble with a capital everything
T.R.O.U.B.L.E
only a grownup chile
writs me a poem
re crackers in her vegetable soup,
a naval battle akin to that of Midway,
that makes me crackers with delight!
saucy, that poetess
you better love her well,
she tells you outright
or she'll sell you, the reader out,
for the next one cruising along,
hence this poem, her good graces sought!
but to get certain memories I want,
but can't recall for I never had them,
she, for me doth record:
*Imaginary space within a dream
floats in a subconscious sea.
Our affection grows from
tremulous beginnings
its dramatic unfolding
vestige of the soul whispers
and lingers in twilight and ice
Shared breath,
in time our leisured rhythms
savored sweetly match kiss for kiss.
Words in parody drop,
one by one.
enmeshing me in rippling sorrow,
once again you've moved
just beyond my reach.*
curse the teachers and the genes
and my plain vanilla simp vocabulary,
that don't let me write like this,
but to my backyard I go,
where I cull what other's have planted better,
and harvest the new fruits of
crackerjack superior poets
Started April 2nd 2015,
Finished June 27, 2015
~~~
How it all began.
On May 12, 2014,
I wrote:
Patty M (Read the new poets here)
I have never been published
or won a prize,
except, yeah, yeah,
the one in the
Crackerjack box
but from that cheap plastic surprise,
much was learned even as a young boy
cull the chaff of life
from amidst the wheat
plant it well and deep,
then forget all about it,
except where,
t'was seeded
when eyes yellowed,
hair turned a color Disney repackaged as
frozen
white,
normally a gift of a hairdresser,
called mother time,
and your pink skin scaled smooth
now kin and kith of the kitchen grater,
then time is in,
cull your plantings
go back into that yards,
pull out the weeds,
uncovering what only time
can provide -
poetry planted and born from
the summary addition of thousands
of days of life,
well felt,
well received,
well recorded,
drawn from earth and water,
well lived
sometimes my nyc sidewalks uneven,
cause a toe snagging tripping,
this loss of balance,
adrenalin hot flashing,
similar to tripping upon a new poet
every time I say no mas,
I must choose tween
left or right,
one can
read or one can write,
but not
both
a voice on I stumble,
making me ever so foolish,
ever so humble,
ever so confused
so at 12:31am
at it again,
reaping what others have sowed
this woman by her own confess,
Trouble with a capital everything
T.R.O.U.B.L.E
only a grownup chile
writs me a poem
re crackers in her vegetable soup,
a naval battle akin to that of Midway,
that makes me crackers with delight!
saucy, that poetess
you better love her well,
she tells you outright
or she'll sell you, the reader out,
for the next one cruising along,
hence this poem, her good graces sought!
but to get certain memories I want,
but can't recall for I never had them,
she, for me doth record:
*Imaginary space within a dream
floats in a subconscious sea.
Our affection grows from
tremulous beginnings
its dramatic unfolding
vestige of the soul whispers
and lingers in twilight and ice
Shared breath,
in time our leisured rhythms
savored sweetly match kiss for kiss.
Words in parody drop,
one by one.
enmeshing me in rippling sorrow,
once again you've moved
just beyond my reach.*
curse the teachers and the genes
and my plain vanilla simp vocabulary,
that don't let me write like this,
but to my backyard I go,
where I cull what other's have planted better,
and harvest the new fruits of
crackerjack superior poets
(M/nyc)
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