"arrhythmically" poems
“**Few people know how to take a walk. The qualities are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good silence,
and nothing too much.**”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
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A late-in-life walker, the words above resonate in my mind,
with a check, check, check, check and a voluble ding, reading
and nothing too much”
many a poem mine labored, birthed arrhythmically walking,
eyes see verses, verses fill the mouth, mind desperate as
the feet unceasingly trod round new corners, new visions,
Emerson’s words remind my well worn weary path daily renewed, a vocabulary child re-newborn, and how to keep all this forever,
until tomorrow, and nothing is everything all too much carried over
and nothing too much”
speaks to an openness in every orifice, be prepared scout-boy,
to adapt to nothing too much as hours earlier now recalled are ancient history, mind staggers at the minuscule differences tween yesterday and this exact moment in this exact place that has been reimagined, deserving of recording, notating, and my desperation struggle to
semi-successfully delineate, report, on all these
mini-magnificent miracles countenanced, overwhelms…
the brain furnaces/furnishes a thousand thoughts, a million worries,
slew of infinity-sized emotions like love of children, so it’s confusing to window-peeking strangers watching for the walking man with tears pockmarking his cheeks, unaware that his each stride is a story, a unique grace forward and too, backwards, history mine, reviewed, graded, and the comfortable shoes, the old sagging clothes well worn and beloved, fit like gloves, whispering in the good silence,
a lamb sacrifice to the
**good silence,
“human, your foibles and deeds, admixture of
blood inherited, a morality crafted by ancestors,
so the next step is
alway$*
and nothing too much” and everything…
Sat Dec10 2023
Shell Beach, Central Park, in my mind, and nothing is perfect
Dec 10, 2022
Dec 10, 2022 at 8:02 AM UTC
Where are those words which only my heart can speak?
Those which would bring you closer to me?
To outpour my heart into your ears, into your eyes,
To captivate your senses; but not just the five...
To tip you off balance and upsweep your feet,
Bring your head to my chest so you can feel the beat
Of my heart which is pounding so arrhythmically for you
Which it will with no doubt for the rest of my life,
My sweetheart do me the greatest honour... be my wife?
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC
The clock is not ticking.
The hour hand is severed from the mechanism,
The minute hand suspended forever at three minutes
Prior to whatever hour you’d like to supplement.
The second hand shows signs of life
Arrhythmically jerking to the right
When no one is aware.
The flow of the meter is dance-like,
Compound time with no boundaries
To measure beat.
There is no year to speak of
No influence of culture
No place to hurry to
Or reason to worry about
Allowing your heart to keep
The natural rhythm to measure your life.
The clock has been broken
For who-knows how long –
There is no reason to fix it.
Your time is measured in breaths,
Your worth is found in the Lord.
Not lost, nor slipping away,
But rather finally alive.
Jun 21, 2011
Jun 21, 2011 at 6:25 PM UTC
Withdrawing to an empty room
I shut out light
and breathe arrhythmically
Childlike I warm myself
with dark vibrant blankets
as I fall deeper and deeper
into a dream
within a dream
A madwoman's fingertips
skim down the side of my head,
an old man's remains
are lowered
into sacred ground,
darkness smothers
a snowman mourning
in the blue night
of winter
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
What is a father willing to do?
bleed arrhythmically in preparation for you
search relentlessly in preparation for you
fail unflinchingly in preparation for you
eventually, when the time is right
provide the seed in preparation for you
build a nest in preparation for you
This is a universe in motion
Now his mind stretches as she grows you, and
he gives his heart as she nourishes you
Apr 7, 2023
Apr 7, 2023 at 2:38 AM UTC