"ackerman" poems
We were in the fourth grade.
Richie Ackerman was having
a birthday party.
There were the two twin sisters
so exceptionally cute
blonde hair in dresses.
We played spin the bottle.
First kiss was regular mail
kneeling or seated.
Second kiss was air mail
standing in place.
Third kiss was special delivery
in the hallway.
In the circle of players Richie spun first --
his birthday after all.
Must have been my tenth time around
before a regular mail kiss
with one of the twins.
She smiled a welcome.
I was shaking.
Right on the lips
very short
very soft
she smelled so good.
The game proceeded
we experienced more kissing
yet that first kiss
lingers on.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
*LISTENING
Poetry is so strange;
like a stiletto sharp moon
it shines our hearts
with midnight wonders.
And, by its glow I read,
**"our deep cosmic loneliness
and our starboard hearts
where love careens,
we are listening,
the small bipeds
with the giant dreams."**
***
*Yes D.A., we are listening
to the pulsar songs
played in the universe.
We are listening
for others,
who just may be listening for us.*
***
*Seduction is like this you know;
subtle, uncertain,
even fragile at times;
yet irresistable as Lilacs
beckoning the moon.
Seduction is also a
summer down pour
we willingly get caught in,
jumping greedily
in puddles,
laughing,
just happy to be together.
We listen to the patterns
water splashing made;
listen for others
to hear what they have to say,
even if they were many galaxies away.*
***
*We listen.
We wait, but not idly.
We listen, write poetry
sharp, like a stiletto moon.
And, under its midnight glow,
hold hands.*
*NOTE: the bold quoted lines are from a
poem called "We Are Listening", by
Diane Ackerman found in her book
entitled "Jaguar of Sweet Laughter".*
Aztec Warrior
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
I live my life in defiance.
I defy you with every preference, every decision, every passion.
I refuse to think like you, to dress like you, or to eat like you.
I don't believe in a religion.
I reject modern western values,
I refuse to care for money or for power.
I listen to indie music an electronica.
I read Nietzsche, Walt Whitman, and Diane Ackerman.
I dance to the sitar.
I'm politically liberal.
I ingest psychedelics.
I frolick buck-naked in the woods.
I make love.
I thrive on love,
I rejoice in novelty,
I exalt in sensation in
My defiant existence,
But I eat unorignality.
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 10:58 PM UTC
I should remember the color of your eyes
All the time swimming hypnotized
Lost sight of surface tints and hues
Drowning in the deeper parts of you
Twirled your hair around my index finger
Things you wouldn't think I would remember
Shivering embraces desperate in afterglow
Restless and naive but even so
Sure enough how we had conquered love
Or likely more how love had conquered us
Fingers tracing lifelines, mine yours, yours mine
Telling wondrous stories of all we looked to find
Then the day I watched you fall out of step and down
How I tried to join you when your body hit the ground
How they held me back and swore you'd be okay
Sure enough without my help you got up and walked away
I hear this song and I always think of you
Fragile music we once liked making love to
Invisible reminder of things that used to be
Fuel for the fire of our union's memory
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
In the name of daybreak
and the eyelids of the morning
and the wayfaring moon
and the night when it departs,
I swear I will not dishonour
my soul with hatred,
but offer myself humbly
as a guardian of nature,
as a healer of misery,
as a messenger of wonder,
as an architect of peace.
In the name of the sun and its mirrors
and the day that embraces it
and the cloud veils drawn over it
and the utmost night
and the male and the female
and the plants bursting with seed
and the crowning seasons
of the firefly and the apple,
I will honour all life –
wherever and in whatever form
it may dwell – on Earth my home,
and in the mansions of the stars.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 7:40 PM UTC