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Atoosa Oct 2020
Mistakes are the path
Flagstones of experience
Moving forward NOW
Never regret, but squeeze all the learning you can out of the happenings of life. You made the best decision you could. I came, I saw, I may not have conquered but I learned.
There will be a moment when

all the mountains you have ascended

that tried to bring you down under torrent and hail

will be over your shoulder

There will be an instant when all you have learned,

all you have fought for,

all your mistakes, your pains, your cold,
your love, your light,
all of it,

melt together

and you know, finally; you have arrived.


In this
a new fear will arise

telling you
you don’t have
enough time

to complete your painting,
your sculpture,
your chapters of verse,
your photographs,
collages
and
mosaics

All you want
in this newly arrived
way of Being
is to
have the time
to
witness it all to creation’s end

To catch
The impossible weight of sand
at the bottom of the hourglass
with plenty of time to
watch the paint dry.
Poem on the curious things that happen to an artist after surviving death.
Zywa Oct 2020
I read your poems

until the lamplight went out –


now I feel the wind.
“I had read your scroll of poems by the light of the lamp” (AD 815, Bai Juyi)

Collection "Em Brace"
Slime-God Oct 2020
Staunch, we bear the wind.
In all it’s whirling fury,
we are unmoving.
I can feel the ground burning beneath my feet.
I wish I could keep all the promises,
Predict every consequence.
The ground dances, glances at my eyes,
Fills them with water,
I wish I was bolder so that I could shoulder
Insanity, that feels a lot like vice.
An unfinished story fills the space —
Is that a phase in which I face all the glory
That one day may ruin me?
It is a clue I need to set me free,
Accidentally, it is right beneath my feet.
The burning ground. I’m stepping down
In fear of being overwhelmed,
I may prevent the ruinous and furious glance.
It stands with me from rhyme to rhyme.
It breaths and sets my feet aflame — it’s nothing but a childish game,
In which I’m destined to resign.

The ground burns, it’s right on time,
So that I whisper —

Make it rain.
Andy Chunn Aug 2020
Hot
Summer sun scorches
The breath still.

Morning wave
Buries its hate
In scratching grass-sounds.

Floating yellow
Line of sight bends
In brain-sensed tease.

Echos
Empty canyons fall
Beyond stillness.

Caution winds silent spirals,
Soaring distance -- unswerving sight.

Melted minutes
Sultry stares
Torrid tease
Andy Chunn Aug 2020
Bang!  My lips turn down to frown
Windage and elevation, it didn’t feel right.
Turning the turrents, two left and two down
Minute of angle accommodating my sights.

Both eyes open and steady hands
Acquire the target and slow the heart
Breathe, and lets the bags of sand
Steady the path as the bullet departs.

Still high and right, the target would say
Turn left and down adjustments are made
Bang, and another shot on the way
Near center circle, the lead had been laid

Now the world was leaving my vision
The target grew bright, in focus and clear
The shot required not a single decision
No hesitation or thinking, no doubt and no fear

And just for a moment, I was alone
No thoughts or distractions, no notice of the world
No intrusion for me, immersed in the zone
Laser precision about to be hurled.

Bang, the shot rang clarity clear
Point of impact is justified now
Slowly I come back to those who are near
They never knew I was gone anyhow

Maybe engrossment, or perhaps a trance
It’s hard to discern what is what
Just like the dancer is really the dance
I am the shooter - I am the shot
in the zone
Andy Chunn Oct 2020
For a time I’ve wondered how
A boy as young as I
Could understand and even now
The question still is why

The rope hung from the beam so high
Impossible to master
But every kid would give a try
Just waiting for disaster.

So my time came and struggling hard
I tugged and strained and failed
Then quickly I set up my guard
For the teacher’s shaming tale.

He was fat and smelled a bit
And loved to let us know
About our failure as we’d sit
And listen to him blow

Soon it was my time to hear
About my effort bad
His rant and rave increased my fear
It seemed like he was mad

Climbing higher, I worked each day
And extra time was spent
I told him I was on my way
My message to him sent

And then he spoke that crazy phrase
“You can put lipstick on a pig”
And with a deadly, hateful gaze
He said “But it’s still a pig”

I was stunned, and lacking words
I turned and walked away
The words he spoke, that I had heard
Meant nothing on that day.

When I got home I asked my Dad
What the pig phrase means
“Appearance will not change” he said
“The way true nature’s seen.”

In other words, the looks may change
       But rarely do you see
Nature move to change it’s range
Converting what will be.

The gym man was telling me
My efforts had no worth
I could not change nor better be
No way in Heaven or Earth

As time went by I gained in strength
And soon I was on top
It mattered not the rope’s full length
‘Cause up the rope I’d hop

Of course I was much older then
And never got to tell
The gym boss what I thought of him
That day when he would yell

But life goes on and soon forgotten
My adventures in the gym
And healed was my memory rotten
Of my rope climb and of him.

Many years later on semester break
My college senior year
At a bar I stopped to take
Time-out and drink a beer

The pub was empty except for one
Sitting alone in the dark
Into the gym boss I had run
So on the barstool I’d park.

I spoke and said “How are you friend?"
He did not recognize me
I said, “Tell me how you’ve been"
He squinted hard to see

Soon we were in a full-on chat
He talked of how his life
Had turned and pinned him to the mat
He’s lost his job and wife.

But he was going to turn around
His life and all his loss
Cleaning up his act he’d found
The problems and the costs.

I told him that I wished him well
Those changes would be tough
I said that I once heard a tale
How change was really rough

But trying and effort are a must
Your change will be so big
I said be sure you’re not just
Putting lipstick on a pig.
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