"amazement" poems
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time
called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up
he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office
and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,
we met on the street,
he rolled down the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone
I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:
*"No sir, no no, not necessary!
Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"*
to which I replied,
*"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"*
and with an equally, beaming smile I continued,
*"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was*
Inshallah!" ^
something he could not dispute...
or my knowledge thereof and it’s
proper pronouncement,
nor
his amazement,
to disguise!
we parted ways
each believing,
each receiving,
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
You lay in a field of flowers counting each bird that passes overhead.
You've erased concern and decided to live for the moment because you always would say, "we might be dead by tomorrow."
Flowers grew from your heart and bloomed across your lungs,
creating a garden that sang the most beautiful hymns,
while my garden was withering.
Each breath you took was never wasted,
but I couldn't help but count mine like they were birds passing overhead.
Every night you would view the stars and moon with pure amazement as if it was your first time seeing them.
You gave all your love to me and each kiss was coined in my pocket.
You fell in love with me every night and I fell for all your hymns.
Soon enough the world would pass us by but I wouldn't blink because I could live off your touch for the rest of my time.
You showed me there is more in life than just one color,
but instead, the world is a whole painting with colors that can't be described.
You showed me just how beautiful the world was.
You taught me how to grow beauty from my eyes but lately, I've been dreaming and falling for stars.
Imagining what it'd be like slow dancing with the planets, getting lost in constellations.
But I'm just not ready to go yet however I do not control time.
You showed me that dying can be beautiful.
That we'll be okay because when we leave we all become one with the earth and one with nature.
So love, love me until time runs out,
until I become one with nature.
And many years later as time starts to fly by and you slowly start to watch your clock tick down, you'll know where to find me, my love.
I'll be up with stars.
Somewhere lost in the cosmos.
I'll be spinning with the planets dreaming about what it would feel like to be able to walk on flowers again.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
The joyful heart is the buoyant heart—
empowered to rise above its circumstances,
unweighted, unburdened, unbound,
tied only to that which would lift it higher,
untethered from anything which would
pull it down, pull it under or suffocate it.
It's the free heart, quiet and at rest
yet jubilant and uncontained,
the celebrating heart, the praising heart,
the thankful heart, the heart set on pilgrimage,
bent on adventure, journey and romance.
All the while it's a waiting heart
because it's a yielded, led heart—
a heart which doesn't run ahead of the LORD
but willingly, quickly to the LORD—
a heart that though eagerly anticipating each
twisting turn, next horizon and changing path
keeps its eyes fixed not on the scenery
but forever on the Shepherd
because it's a heart persuaded
that He alone is the Great Reward
for which it has always been looking.
True joy is only ours when we find an endless
source of satisfaction, and of these I know only One!
The secret to all joy is to crave Him above all else.
The joyful heart is the one addicted fully to Him,
desperate for Him to the expense of all else,
willing to sacrifice everything to have that craving satisfied.
Joy and idols, I have learned,
do not easily reside together in the same heart.
So if I find that joy is chased away
the most likely culprits are my own desires.
What am I wanting more than Jesus?
For if intimacy with Him is the supreme goal of my life
then nothing can arise which I'm not enabled to bear with joy.
There is, I suppose, nothing so reliable as suffering and loss
to expose all of the hidden idols within me.
It's surely those who have suffered the greatest
and most frequent losses for Christ who are also
most capable of knowing the deepest and most abiding joy.
For it's when we've been stripped bare of everything else
that we begin to know for certain that our joy is based
not on the temporary blessings of our circumstances
but only on the presence of the Eternal Blesser Himself.
Sometimes He offers to us all that is in His right hand,
but for any with eyes truly opened to see
the most precious of times may be those
when He offers to us only the intimacy of His right hand.
Rivers of sadness can open up
into wide gulfs of endless delight and
are often the very courses needed to carry us there.
When all is lost, we find to our amazement
that, even so, we still have ALL
and no one can rob us of it.
When He takes everything from us
He proves Himself to be EVERYTHING to us.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
Plagiarism of worthless ideals,
that you so ignorantly hold high.
Shaking in amazement,
how can you call your self alive?
Totalitarian, lethargic lifestyle.
Ignominious displays of disaffection.
Constant contradictions;
out of your mind.
Caught up in the clouds,
cognition of mania and level debauched.
Up to high to realize, you're an “open mind” with locked doors.
Maslow, Skinner, and Darwin alike, turn in their graves,
over your lack of evolution.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
you are may
i am december
kisses exchanged
during the bluing hour
child like
staring at you
in wonder and amazement
frosting night
falling snow
flakes in your auburn hair
i walk you home
in the cold frigid air
holding your hand
dreaming of you
you are rare
a beacon
a lighthouse
in a storm
in my daydreams
you are the pixie, the fairy inspiring me
at night
you are the siren, i surrender to
a trifecta of youth, beauty, personality
you are refreshingly young
spring in my wintered life
preternaturally beautiful
perfection come to life
your femininity bewitching
your youth intoxicating
your mannerism seducing
i would do anything for you
oozing sensuality
innocences
of a woman on the cusp
you hunger for sophistication
to be worldly-wise
seeking passage guidance
from an experienced traveller
the trade, the deal, is timeless
refined by evolution
i am humbled
to have been chosen
the ultimate champion
of your ****** selection
in turn, you are my trophy
the spoils
of a never ending war
i know our time is short
the span of a bloom
a season at most
i know the outcome
seen the devastation
the problem is
we think we have time
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
The Kingdom of Morocco has a rugged mountain interior which reminds me of the British meal of mince and potatoes. But hold that thought, and examine our seemingly superior Western legislation. Just like the pickle, the dynasty of death is a brazen festival percussionist who is celebratory in her bitter and gustatory inevitability. Jizyah is that taxation which is imposed upon those who fail to conform to those expected societal norms. Although we have the status quo, one cannot help but wonder what happened to the rectitudes of individuality and paradoxical equality? So, where do we go, oh navigator of the great and mighty West? Marrakech or Rabat? I have no concrete awareness of where solace is to be found. I am lost! Therefore, I can only offer the following direction: Contemplate the ever-changing intricacy of the dunes in anthropological amazement and acknowledge the sky at night. Allow the celestial pole of the North Star to speak to your deep uncertainty. Our purpose is openly displayed if we simply open our heart in the midst of our Bedouin oasis. That, my friend, is the essence of being psychosocial.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
Your heart is like a candle
Slowly I drip in your love.
Your smile is like a fragrance
These butterflies won't stop...
My hands won't stop shakin,
Your eyes make me melt.
Your hair looks amazing
I'm in amazement.
I truley adore you,
I lose myself in that.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
10k
There is a face in the mirror intently staring back at you
Attempting to recognize the one it views
You are spellbound for one quick moment, in such wonderment
As your eyes meet, and you both realize that it is you
Was it not just yesterday that you were young and naive
Without the wisdom you now hold in your eyes
Now a stranger is boldly looking back with an unflinching gaze
Brazenly daring you to try her on for size
You briefly pause in sheer amazement at these eyes you see
Beaming back at you with a strength unknown
You smile in appreciation and accept yourself as your own
Sit up proudly and put your makeup on
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 10:41 AM UTC
*she's a corrosive story
Hidden within a mirror
Never to be heard again
As I gulp down my favorite cheap *****
I wondered with amazement at my ignorance
And the vicious adage that crippled me
love is blind
You were a ruthless callous soul
and still
remnants of your cold heart still linger in my thoughts
loving you was devastating*
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 2:10 AM UTC
Oil paints...what a ******
My mistake
A spill on canvas
I wipe and wipe to fix the "inspiration"
Before I know my eyes are fixed and fixed on...nothing
The painting's gone, my over thought of simple things
Has stormed again and taken from me
That that I saw, and saw as a need
A force so convincing
Has broken,
shock! and gone a splintering
And now
In wide eyed amazement
I stare at beauty staring back at me
From a chance meant
To be
A happy accident
A smile
Relief
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Vague is the feeling, dark is the delight, feared is the memory of your cold dead sight.
Your love was killed by the twisted moonlight.
I remember hazel brown eyes reversed into a song, a Melodie of skies.
I can see the colors now burst in the air and up above so tender was the forbidden love.
I now ponder in amazement towards the moonlight sky.
An embrious scatter of stars lay in the earths bound movement, slowly, cautiously I begin to wonder.
But only to the moonlight dancer.
I have heard your voice and I have seen your face, but only for it to bring back a tattered trace.
I remember when all was good.
I remember when you use to love me the way that you should.
I watched you walk away slowly with these words only a trickle on my tongue.
With a "good...bye" your voice had rung.
Those words lay pasted down to my heart and glued.
Moonlight dancer come back to my hand, moonlight dancer take me to your rythmatic land, moonlight dancer take my hand.
Her coldness piercing my heart, her absence tore me apart, and now her funeral to only end me.
Please come back and defend me.
Slowly the blade slit across my wrist in a song like structure.
I let the music flow down from the wound, and now my mind it will consume.
I'm lost and in love by moonlight dancers song.
Where else could I have gone wrong?
Moonlight dancer come back to my hand, moonlight dancer take me to your rythmatic land, moonlight dancer take my hand.
Moonlight dancer just please breath once again.
Moonlight dancer?
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
MY COMPUTER IS INFECTED WITH A VIRUS
FROM SURFING TEEN AGE **** SITES LATE AT NITE
SOME OF WHAT I'V SEEN, IT LOOKS QUITE NORMAL
WHILE OTHER THINGS THEY JUST DON'T SEEM QUITE RIGHT
I'D JUST STARTED CHRISTMAS SHOPPING
WHEN I LEARNED THAT I'D BEEN HACKED
THERE APPEARED BEFORE ME QUITE THE PHOTO
OF A REINDEER WITH **** ELF FOLK ON HER BACK
AS I LOOKED MORE AT THE PHOTO
AND I LOOKED DEEP IN THE TREES
I SAW JUST A HINT OF SCARLETT
THAT LOOKED JUST LIKE MRS. SANTA ON HER KNEES
AS I LOOKED MORE AT THE PICTURE
SHE HAD A LOOK, BUT NOT OF PAIN
AND I SAW WHAT SHE WAS *******
WAS NOT AN ALLANS CANDY CANE!
AS I TRIED TO LEAVE THE WEBSITE
A NEW PHOTO CAME MY WAY
AND I STARED HARD IN AMAZEMENT
THINKING, CORR I NEVER KNEW THAT ELVES COULD BEND THAT WAY
ONE WAS DOING **** GYMNASTICS
WITH HER *** HIGH IN THE AIR
SHE HAD SOMETHING IN HER "OUT" HOLE
AND I THOUGHT, "I DON'T THINK THAT THING BELONGS IN THERE"
SO I SHUT DOWN MY COMPUTER
AND THE SCREEN FADED TO BLACK
I THOUGHT I'D LOST ALL MY FILES
AND THERE'S NO WAY IN THE WORLD TO GET THEM BACK
I'D BE OFF LINE WELL PAST CHRISTMAS
AND THERE'S NOTHING MORE TO SAY
I'D BEEN BURNED BY SURFING **** SITES
SEEING THINGS YOU SHOULDN'T SEE ON CHRISTMAS DAY
WHEN MY HEAD DID HIT MY PILLOW
I SWORE FROM **** SITES I'D REFRAIN
BUT I WOKE UP EARLY THE NEXT MORNING
AND FOUND A HALF SUCKED STICKY CANDY CANE
I COULD NOT HELP BUT WONDER
WHO HAD LEFT IT HERE BESIDE
BUT I KNEW DEEP DOWN IT CAME FROM
SANTA ON HIS ONE NIGHT YEARLY RIDE
WHEN I TURNED ON MY COMPUTER
I KNEW I'D KEEP IT TO MYSELF
NO ONE WOULD BELIEVE IT IF I TOLD THEM
OF **** SITES FULL OF DEER AND NAKED ELVES.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
You come running
looking stunning
as I see your face
my heart begins to race
Your lips form a smile
"why don't you stay a while?"
your eyes crease
your smile does not cease
I have seen so much in those eyes
confusion
happiness
amazement
lies
But right now
all I see
is a smile
I hope it stays for a while
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Walking through a field,
Bountiful with flowers,
Their aroma caring my senses.
Green grass in plenty,
The sun shining down,
The ultra violet rays lightly touching my skin.
With so much beauty to scan my eyes over,
I’m not entirely sure where to begin,
Within a few steps Im paralyzed.
What I see is absolute bliss,
A single lotus surrounded by wildflowers,
By roses and tulips.
I’m set back by the luck I have to come across this.
Unsure of what do first,
I stand back and gaze at the perfect and breathtaking natural beauty.
Yes there is a few broken leaves,
Yes there is other lotuses in the universe.
However, this lotus has come into my life.
At a time where im walking alone,
Where my mind is flooded by screams.
I decide to take a step closer,
And another,
Then another,
Till finally the lotus is within my reach.
The screams have ended,
In their place is a beautiful song being sung,
Overcame with joy I lean down and smell the lotus,
At that moment im sent through the galaxy,
Witnessing pure amazement,
Simple pleasure,
My heart swells and my throat tightens.
I feel a single tear leaving my eye.
I begin spending moment after moment admiring the lotus,
My eyes transfixed upon it,
I forget im even in a field surrounded by other wild growth.
Then I notice the sunset,
The moonlight shining upon the lotus,
Revealing that within its broken leaves there is light and color.
I’m entranced.
I reach out to touch the lotus
But stop.
I realize I cannot pick this flower for it would stop growing.
Instead I go day after day,
Watering and caring for it.
Watching it grow,
Watching it become more gorgeous by the minute.
With every hour spent my happiness grows.
With every second passing,
It’s my heart I surrender for the lotus to hold.
Several years pass,
Still I visit this magical field,
Still I care for and water the lotus.
Learning patience,
Gaining strength.
This lotus is conforming me into a better man.
I’m growing older now and soon my life will end.
When that time comes I hope to be buried in that flowery field.
Next to the lotus ive surrendered my soul to yield.
With hopes that I can spend forever with it by my side,
Sprouting into something as blissful and breathtaking as the lotus.
To my lotus, for taking my heart.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
I ran up six flights of stairs
to my small furnished room
opened the window
and began throwing out
those things most important in life.
First to go, Truth, squealing like a fink:
"Don't! I'll tell awful things about you!"
"Oh yeah? Well, I've nothing to hide ... OUT!"
Then went God, glowering & whimpering in amazement:
"It's not my fault! I'm not the cause of it all!"
"OUT!"
Then Love, cooing bribes: "You'll never know impotency!
All the girls on Vogue covers, all yours!"
I pushed her fat *** out and screamed:
"You always end up a ******
I picked up Faith, Hope, Charity
all three clinging together:
"Without us you'll surely die!"
"With you I'm going nuts! Goodbye!"
Then Beauty ... ah, Beauty—
As I led her to the window
I told her: "You I loved best in life
... but you're a killer; Beauty kills!"
Not really meaning to drop her
I immediately ran downstairs
getting there just in time to catch her
"You saved me!" she cried
I put her down and told her: "Move on."
Went back up those six flights
went to the money
there was no money to throw out.
The only thing left in the room was Death
hiding beneath the kitchen sink:
"I'm not real!" It cried
"I'm just a rumor spread by life ... "
Laughing I threw it out, kitchen sink and all
and suddenly realized Humor
was all that was left—
All I could do with Humor was to say:
"Out the window with the window!"
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
*Tazaad-e-Jazbaat Mein Ye Naazuk
Maqaam Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**In contradiction of these emotions if that
Delicate moment unfolded - then what would you do?**
*Main Ro Raha *** Tum Hans Rahe **
Main Muskaraya To Kya Karo Gay*
**I am weeping and yet you are jolly
But if I smiled - then what would you do?**
*Mujhe To Is Darja Vaqt-e-Rukhsat
Sukun Ki Talqeen Kar Rahe **
**To me at this time of farewell
Instructions of tranquillity you are offering**
*Magar Kuch Apne Liye Bhi Socha
Main Yaad Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**But have you any thoughts for yourself?
If you recalled me - then what would you do?**
*Abhi To Tanqid ** Rahi Hai
Mere Mazaq-e-Junun Pe Lekin*
**For now there is criticism
On my state of madness but**
*Tumhari Zulfon Ki Barhami Ka
Sawaal Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**If scattering of your tresses is
Questioned - then what would you do?**
*Tumhare Jalvon Ki Roshni Mein
Nazar Ki Hairania Musallam*
**Within the splendour of your light
Is complete amazement of sight**
*Magar Kisi Ne Nazar Ke Badle
Jo Dil Aazmaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**Nevertheless if someone in return
Tested your heart - then what would you do?**
*Utar To Sakte ** Paar Lekin
Ma Aal Par Bhi Nigah Dalo*
**You can disembark across but
Take a glance at the result too**
*Khuda Na Karda Sukun-e-Sahil
Na Raas Aaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**God has not made a peaceful shore
If nothing suitable appears - then what would you do?**
*Kuch Apne Dil Par Bhi Zakham Khao
Mere Lahoo Ki Bahar Kab Tak*
**Take some wounds on your heart also
Season of my blood until when?**
*Mujhe Sahara Banane Vaalo
Main Larkharaya To Kya Karo Gay*
**Those in need of my support
If I show hostility - then what would you do?**
*Abhi To Daman Chura Rahe **
Bigar Ke Qabil Se Ja Rahe **
**For now you are leaving my hand
And you are parting away from Qabil**
*Magar Kabhi Jo Dharkano Mein
Sharik Paya To Kya Karo Gay*
**Yet sooner or later within your heartbeats
If I became a associated - then what would you do?**
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Poet Qabil Ajmeri, Sung by Sabri Brothers
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
"Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold." - From an essay by W. B. Yeats
Big heart,
wide as a watermelon,
but wise as birth,
there is so much abundance
in the people I have:
Max, Lois, Joe, Louise,
Joan, Marie, Dawn,
Arlene, Father Dunne,
and all in their short lives
give to me repeatedly,
in the way the sea
places its many fingers on the shore,
again and again
and they know me,
they help me unravel,
they listen with ears made of conch shells,
they speak back with the wine of the best region.
They are my staff.
They comfort me.
They hear how
the artery of my soul has been severed
and soul is spurting out upon them,
bleeding on them,
messing up their clothes,
dirtying their shoes.
And God is filling me,
though there are times of doubt
as hollow as the Grand Canyon,
still God is filling me.
He is giving me the thoughts of dogs,
the spider in its intricate web,
the sun
in all its amazement,
and a slain ram
that is the glory,
the mystery of great cost,
and my heart,
which is very big,
I promise it is very large,
a monster of sorts,
takes it all in--
all in comes the fury of love.
5.6k
Far away in ancient Jerusalem
Stood a garden, long, long ago
Home to giant oaks and figs
And plants and shrubs of every kind.
On every season, from time to time
Merrily they would burst into bloom
Filling the air with fragrance sweet
And fuelling the hearts with joy and cheer.
Amid the riot of flashing shades
Where Poppies and Pansies held their heads
In a corner, there a Lily stood,
Sans scent and sans grandeur.
A poor loner never once noticed
Nor skilled to steal the show,
Those, brilliant in shade and shape
With contempt openly quipped
‘It’s such a shame
She grows among us
With such pallid shade
And nothing to rave’,
‘Lilies are such lazy lot
Giving only seasonal blooms’
Rang aloud their haughty comments
Rashly blurted out and blunt
The poor Lily wilted in shame
Wishing she had never been born.
Late that evening, through the garden
Into the newly dug up grave
A band of people came with lights
Bearing someone cut and scathed.
With blood oozing, drop by drop
From wounds, left by piercing nails
The body, carefully wrapped in linen
Was the body of Jesus - Son of God
The one who bore the sins of the world
And courted the most accursed of deaths.
The body embalmed was laid inside
And sealed with a giant block of stone
Soldiers posted to guard the tomb
And every vigil so prudently kept.
Early by dawn, three days hence
While it was still very dark
From inside the tomb had come
Rumbling sounds and a blinding light.
Flowers en masse blinked their eyes
Beheld a man, gently walking out
The wounds still fresh on his palm
And the linen that swaddled, lying behind.
As they watched this queer sight
In awful amazement, they did see
A host of Lilies, white as snow
Far more beautiful than any of them
Bowing their heads in reverential glee
And singing Hosanna to the Lord of Life.
All the flora in silent shock
Sighted from whence the Lilies came
They sprang unforeseen in those spots
Where drops of blood from his body fell
Then onwards, without fail
April sees the grandeur and grace,
Of snowy lilies - those delicate blooms
Sprouting suddenly from the crust of the Earth
Joggling their heads in whiffing breeze,
And giving delight to all who behold.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Drunken pirates sloshing along
a martini sea, looking for papers to roll some angelfish ****
Then on to Giza to gaze in amazement before we tackle
the Gates of Hell and raze it.
Swashbuckling demons we branded our feet. A duel with
the devil we had to concede
before sailing back up to our Martini sea.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
NAKED BUS
She catches the London bus
in her fist.
Gnaws it...then throws it
through the window.
Lucky the window wasn't
closed.
She chews it when
teething.
Chews its redness
- off.
She is amazed to see
the real thing for the first time.
For her
her toy has grown into a giant.
Then she discovers double-deckers.
Counts: "One double-decker bus...two double-decker buses
...24 double decker buses!"
It is unbelievably so!
Doesn't know she is counting
the same bus twice!
And now to add to her
amazement she
encounters a green bus!
Will the excitement never end.
"The bus has changed its clothes?"
she says unsure that this can be so.
But now confounded by a bus
all in white!
Even we have never seen
a bus in white.
It looks like it has taken
all its clothes off.
A **** bus!
But to her it's worse
far worse than that!
"The bus has taken
it's skin off!"
She refuses to go on
this skinless bus.
We wait for a "normal"
bus to somehow appear.
And appear it does
busy being a red bus.
The world of buses
restored to its proper order.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
I
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?
II
'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'
III
So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'
IV
The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
The Mustard-pot climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.
V
The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
(Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.
VI
They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away.--And they never came back!
4.4k
The surprise
As the cake comes toward me.
The amazement
As I gaze at the number.
Sixteen. Sixteen candles.
The embarrassment
As people surround me and sing.
The disappointment
When I make the very same wish
That never comes true.
The wonder
As my mother stares at me
The sadness
As I know I feel
Without my father here.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
the trouble with poetry
(and this poetry site) is its
facilitation
awoke in a strange bed, my own,
in a different city, with my old eyes
renewed with, by loving amazement
at the beauty of so many souls experimenting
with edged, loving, dangerous compo-notions,
that make me older than King David, who loved the
love of life and this world, for here I am, falling too
for the life & love potions
of words of my fellow humans across
vast oceans
and I stoke their and stroke their
heated words, pretending that
the cool warmth of my tablet
is both their gorgeous skin and
alluring verbal twists that arouse
my innermost, and break my already
broken heart, and heals it at the very
same time...
all too, so easily
this communication is at levels that
descend, transcend,
grips me with passion and consternation
at my own desires, my open body & mind
stirred, chilled, shaken, stirred and soothed
by the busting out contradictions of us, me,
so well hidden, so well revealed in the marvy
ability of so many to share their essences,
their own scents, just by words upon a page,
and here I pause...
to consider the duality of the word
f a c i l e
for poetry shared facilitates this burning,
" " " " " tumult,
and yet comes to me so facile, that I worry,
that the words themselves are facile, cheap
& easy, but then I am reassured by the very
real drops of my body's fluids upon my cheeks,
that confirm, that poetry is too so real, so living,
and I guess you know me by my real name,
my real face, and my realized words here,
and wonder if I need cease to wonder why
wonderful is...
a thing
my poetry is written by silent night, or early morn,
so very differing, and laugh out loud at myself,
for I am a differing man, at differing times,
of a potpourri of contagious contradictory
conceptions, that I traverse so easy, this facility
is my blessing, and poetry my well worn skill
at...facilitating this absurd admixture of
human~you-man~a man~amen.
and here I leave you...
for I have left
the sunroom too...
@
3:26 am
Thu Sep 4
someplace else
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 3:35 AM UTC