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Still Crazy Jan 2016
"Who am I? I'm a poet."**


from “La Bohème” by Giacomo Puccini libretto

~~~


"My business? Writing.

How do I live? I live.

In my happy poverty
I squander like a prince,
my poems and songs of love.

In hopes and dreams
and castles-in-the-air,
I'm a millionaire in spirit"
Still Crazy Jan 2016
~~~

how to cook a poem/poetic theology

so many ways,
but one favored

after oh so many trials
after oh so many errors

taste tastings, plenty,
some good, some feh

some inspired, some liared,
but it's the process

the methodology,
that becomes your
poetic theology,
of

how to cook a poem

slow simmer,
as if it was
a hearty filling stew,
with the red wine,
you flavored,
for style unique

stew
over it,
add pinches of
contradicting adjectives

icy hot,
bland spice
and not everything nice,
bitter herbs,
fatalistic flaws

make it
to
make the left and the right
side of the brain
argue and engage,
let it taste of the foment,
of unease, disease,
and the
coming to terms
with the
alternating au courant currents,
of fashionistas

don't forget
the final seasoning, the finishing
reasoning,
the perfect certainty
of momentary
peace

uncovered, derived, home grown,
after a thirty years war,
and the
perfect uncertainty,
you still aren't sure,
which side won
and why

some fry in nastiness,
some broil,
flaming to burn away,
some boast to roast
of the average angst
that breathing
seems to
require

some peel,
some imbibe the raw,
all get sorted

for even what
writ in haste,
all sourced from ingredients,
taking years of seconds,
in the assembling
the trial and error
the preparation,
required for living a life
cooking poetry
1/17/16
east coast
  Jan 2016 Still Crazy
Nat Lipstadt
~~

First & Foremost

~~~
a friendly competition,
not of erudition,
more a contest of
speedy eruption

who will be first,
for quenching their thirst,
on not any but only
every,
day of their togetherness,
to declare, swear, affirm,
that their love for the other
is the greater


a race
where both win,
by crossing the
ever-moving forward,
the unfinished line

a never static series,
much more than merely being
a claimant of a trite first place,
more akin
to momentarily being
at the head of an unending
mathematical
progression,
(1 + 1 > 2)
solvable if and when
leap frogging
over each other,
extending their combined reach

when one is
first
to pronounce
this daily blessing
at the
beginning of the
new awakening twenty four,
of their joint custodied
imprimatur,
silently implied,
I love you
with a simple syrup summary



first and foremost

one, if by pillowed whisper
two, if by text

a succint messag to the other,
their love is coming fresh direct,
with an invading intensio,
deserving recognition
that a new edition will be
published
on this very day,
with the
same exact
freshly steaming coffee'd,
bannered headline,
that my love for you,
my darling sweetheart is


first and foremost

condensing with a
yellowing smiley face,
in these illiterate days of emoticons,
unacceptable,
yellow carded,
though summarizing acceptable as

F & F
or
1st/most


formats
that have been adjudged
to be
an A-Ok entry,
in the contest
without a foreseeable ending
and

that no one,
but only both,
can possess
the winning record


~~~
6:21am
Jan. 9, 2016
nyc
  Jan 2016 Still Crazy
Left Foot Poet
Closing Love Letter Salutations*

~~~

Hugs, kisses, and broken fingers,
Love you now and forever,
Always and truly,
Forever,
I'll love you always,
Longing to see you again,
Thinking of you, unabashedly,
Missing you every moment,
You are My Best,
My heart belongs to you always,
Patiently yours

Patiently, us,
Remembering, us,
Remembering us the way we were,
Written hopefully,
You have all my love,
You know I love you,
Your darling,
Your devoted lover,
Your endless love,
Your eternal,
Your love always,
Your loving,
Yours always

Yours and only yours,
Always...


~~~

http://www.writeexpress.com/letterclosings.html#Love-Letter-Closings
poetry is wherever you find it, take it,
and then,
make it...
Still Crazy Jan 2016
never made it past my bed
never made it past my head
never got past pj's
ennobled by a ditty bathrobe
making ditty poems from within
a tequila shot hungry hangover

just past noon,
day halved, brain salved,
with leftover
breakfast shooters

the hairless dog
did not bark in the night,
gelid Angels chanting hymns,
maybe it's just my frozen nerves,
or the eyeballs hi ding ing
under the covers

don't think I'll accomplish much
less than more,
cause I am
never gonna get past my bed
~~~
Jan 10, 2016
Bedtown
  Nov 2015 Still Crazy
SE Reimer
~

dusk brings a chill
o’er the ocean,
this secret stage
where twilight fades
in regent haze;
transformed, replaced
with slow drift,
swirling, mist
softly rolling in.
above, the sand,
a salt-washed beach.
a brimming tide
awaits release
of curtain rising
far above, and there,
like bio-luminescence,
she shimmers in the ether;
ancient existence,
always with us,
seldom seen,
her light serene.
a fresh emergence
each moonless night,
a shimmering of colors,
like a nightly bow
an arch of
color-filled delight.
though this night rests,
not drawn and taut,
exuding peacefulness;
her horse in all its glory,
feeding in her pastured stars.
drawing, telling
children wonder-eyed
of her richness,
of her treasures,
loving, storied skies,
light years in the making.
her curtain lifted,
these moments served,
to but a few.
a sacred showing
to our breath-taking,
memory-making eyes.
hovering in her milky skin,
she dazzles, beckoning;
her adieu at sun’s return,
at our rising disappears.
awaits another
night's re-appearing,
her celestial flow
like a river of
imagination, rippling,
much to our surprise,
a gifting
to awakened eyes,
never captured,
only living on...
in memories,
in moments raptured.

~

*post script.

inspired by Mathew Newman,
of Mathew Newman Photography
who captures the night sky so skillfully,
of the milky way rising above the pacific ocean
along southern oregon's secret beach.
his name for the photo that inspired this,
"Celestial Flow", of course.

sorry, i am not permitted to include links
but simply add www. to both these below and you will find what inspired me:

facebook.com/MatthewNewmanPhotography/
or
matthewnewmanphotography.com/wp-content/gallery/gallery-1/CelestialFlowWeb.jpg

  Nov 2015 Still Crazy
ogdiddynash
~~~

early Saturday morn marked,
looks as if it will be a as-scheduled,
chill fall brisk one, a November blend,
sun wants in, but clouds say,
uh-uh, no way Jose,
yet the yellow star insists, persists

the bed so coy, suggests a ploy


stay with me, stay with her,
ready steady in this hearts hearth,
let this Saturday be an Ogdiddynasherday


*the blonde deep sleeps,
covers up to the nose,
she doesn't know
and never will

that the edges of my eyes filled with tears,
watery from amniotic fluid,
a byproducts of this days first time ever
birthday

a moment morning marked, colored by
early morn re-readings of prior poems,
of darling love mended with tender,
writ expressly for her,
over the years of being
together~tethered

soon that other pair (of eyes) will open,
in a new way,
anew the day,
a whole new world,
a seventh day resting,
unaware of my steadfast guardian,
over-watching protection

will inform her of the Saturday menu,
stay in bed with her obedient server-man,
performing continual catch up
on who we are and why we be a we,
with out ever thinking
that's a good idea,
just like this poem came unplanned,
just an unscheduled day in bed,
woman and man,
with a new poem snuggling
in between
November 7, 2015
7:02 am
nyc
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