#skypoem - Hello Poetry

*“Up above my head I hear music in the air I really do believe I really do believe there's a Heaven somewhere”* --Rhiannon Giddens *“Is that all there is?” --Peggy Lee* An old philosopher told me this: “About heaven. Let’s say there’s more than one. There’s the one where souls are lurid with perfection, piled into bliss, dreaming of change. “There’s the one people search for to fit the story they tell themselves. I looked for it. I watched the sky. I found only words. Blue sky is a blank page. Clouds are garish metaphors. “Then there’s one that follows you. Don’t look for it. You can’t find it. It’s not a place or a path. It dances at the edge of things like old photos or a young face that lives remembered in its older one, an eternal moment always at hand trailing like a thought balloon, a shadow cast by nothing, forever unfolding, never now.”

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Jul 3, 2016

Jul 3, 2016 at 10:08 AM UTC

david-adamson

Reasons for Watching the Sky (#11)

*“Up above my head I hear music in the air I really do believe I really do believe there's a Heaven somewhere”* --Rhiannon Giddens *“Is that all there is?” --Peggy Lee* An old philosopher told me this: “About heaven. Let’s say there’s more than one. There’s the one where souls are lurid with perfection, piled into bliss, dreaming of change. “There’s the one people search for to fit the story they tell themselves. I looked for it. I watched the sky. I found only words. Blue sky is a blank page. Clouds are garish metaphors. “Then there’s one that follows you. Don’t look for it. You can’t find it. It’s not a place or a path. It dances at the edge of things like old photos or a young face that lives remembered in its older one, an eternal moment always at hand trailing like a thought balloon, a shadow cast by nothing, forever unfolding, never now.”

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#6 After the casseroles from anxious neighbors And the flowers stopped arriving And a last aging aunt blubbered goodbye, I left the silent house, Drove to the foothills And began to climb. Atop your favorite peak, I opened the urn And gave your ashes to the sky. Will I ever stop wondering where you’ve gone? The light was changing As I descended into The mountain's immense shadow.

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Nov 17, 2015

Nov 17, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC

david-adamson

From "13 Reasons for Watching the Sky" (#6)

#6 After the casseroles from anxious neighbors And the flowers stopped arriving And a last aging aunt blubbered goodbye, I left the silent house, Drove to the foothills And began to climb. Atop your favorite peak, I opened the urn And gave your ashes to the sky. Will I ever stop wondering where you’ve gone? The light was changing As I descended into The mountain's immense shadow.

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#9 In the garden hard with frost sits an old man with furrowed eyes staring at old decorations dangling from branches overhung with snow. His forced breath sinks into fog. He cannot feel the rising of a warmer wind or the furrowed ground beneath his feet poised to ooze life. I am afraid of his eyes. I turn away when he looks up at the waves of geese returning, thawing the ground with their shadows.

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Jan 6, 2016

Jan 6, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC

david-adamson

From “13 Reasons for Watching the Sky” (#9)

#9 In the garden hard with frost sits an old man with furrowed eyes staring at old decorations dangling from branches overhung with snow. His forced breath sinks into fog. He cannot feel the rising of a warmer wind or the furrowed ground beneath his feet poised to ooze life. I am afraid of his eyes. I turn away when he looks up at the waves of geese returning, thawing the ground with their shadows.

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#4 Through pinpricks In the vault of night, The desires of sleeping souls Seep upward into a second sky Where they flare into infinitude Like our longing for God.

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Oct 6, 2015

Oct 6, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC

david-adamson

From "13 Reasons for Watching the Sky" (#4)

#4 Through pinpricks In the vault of night, The desires of sleeping souls Seep upward into a second sky Where they flare into infinitude Like our longing for God.

7

The course of a cloud is not my course. The void of the sky is not my void. The shifting wind’s not blowing in my direction. Life is no longer up in the air. Today the lines in my hand are my map. All roads lead everywhere. Today there is no walking away, Only walking.

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Dec 25, 2015

Dec 25, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC

david-adamson

From "13 Reasons for Watching the Sky" (#8)

The course of a cloud is not my course. The void of the sky is not my void. The shifting wind’s not blowing in my direction. Life is no longer up in the air. Today the lines in my hand are my map. All roads lead everywhere. Today there is no walking away, Only walking.

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