"artic" poems
born in the artic snow
she chromed
her heart
in steel
flames could
not
touch that heart
always a half a step ahead
sure
a few stumbles
but never a fall
and moonlight is just
a heartache in disquise
till one day
leaning out a car window
a scar upon his cheek
and the luck of the draw
was the jack of hearts
and the queen of diamonds
had
never met
anyone
quite like
the jack
of hearts,
black-haired blue-eyed
her beauty inspired
stupid men
to commit foolish acts
and as he smiled
the queen of diamonds
thought she had
the jack of hearts,
blue sky shimmering
in her eyes
jack became
the brightness
of her day
and the jack of hearts
saw a flame
flickering in her eyes
that he had never seen
in any women's eyes
before ...
act. 2
... a strange destiny
was unraveling
and one long poker hand
was over
and the snowflakes came
down like ashes
under the street light
and then
the jack of hearts
walked away
a pale spirit fleeing
a graveyard
into the wall of night
and the queen of diamonds
cried
the sea into sky
with eyes
like twilight
waiting
to eat away the day
Mar 16, 2022
Mar 16, 2022 at 2:39 PM UTC
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram
FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band
King Khan and the Barbeque Show,
Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys
Florence + the Machine
Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr
Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant
*** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Bob Dylan
Young the Giant, The ** Ugly Casanova,
Modest Mouse, The Doors
Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones
Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins
Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley
Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes:
all gnarly
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
Hello, winter
With your frozen charms
And sparkling ice
Your lacy snowflakes
And cold, howling wind
Whenever I breathe
Your artic air
I can see my breath in puffs
Hello, winter
Welcoming snowdrops
Under cover of ice and snow
Hello, winter
I put on my jacket
And race outside to welcome you
~Marian~
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
She is the artic of midsummer
Who feeds on the way you burn
For her.
Jan 23, 2022
Jan 23, 2022 at 12:45 AM UTC
meadows that stays so green at spring
and so bared in autumn
magically white in winter
scorching and gold in the air of summers
perennial.
how do they do that?
to stay the same on the foundation
yet ever-changing on the surface.
what difference does it make really?
what kinds?
of the surcoats of hazel and acorns
or the blankets of snow on the slender branches
of trees?
don't they, even once
feel weary of all the undercurrents,
of shifting shapes of shadows?
and stand their ground
and shouted their demands
and push at intractable walls?
and flop down
and sift like flour
and grate like mozzarella?
to toss the gauntlet
say
'enough!'
doesn't anyone ever muses then
of whether the slideshows of nature
being flagrantly displayed and paraded
before their soon indifferent eyes
would feel of their performance.
but oh,
those poor meadows,
those poor meadows,
those pitiable meadows.
continue with your acts and scenes
that shall never pauses nor halt
oh no, no.
for you are impressive actors
on the forested stage
and the eyes, belligerent
yes, they are
will be watching the other way
never straight to your eyes
your artic, chilled
encasing a turbulent, melting, whirling
hot caramel core
yeap, right there on your irises and pupils.
so go on
go on
my delectable
my neglected
my pushover
my poor meadows.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
My love, my love these shaky Isles
Abandoned in the vast blue seas,
Born in Mesozoic times
When sedimentary oozes ease.
From far Antarctic mountainsides
To windblown dust from Austral plain
They lay in layers thick and deep
Beneath the Tasman Sea's domain.
A thousand million years of ******
Of plate tectonic shear and drift,
Mid oceanic larva seep
Determines continental shift.
Deep magmatic plumes arise
From down within the planet's core
To burst asunder from the crust
As mountain God's volcanic lore.
Ash and larva from the vent
In pyroclastic feirce display,
Obliterate the cold blue sky
Explosively in massive way.
Rooster tails of feiry ash
And bread crust bombs cascade about
Vulcan roars his rage to all
In violent, vast, volcanic route.
Ignimbrite flows from the vent
In sheets a hundred meters deep
The incandescence, from on high,
Would, watching Angels, cause to weep.
Like quicksilver, it cloaks the land
To cover all in burning flow,
To last a million years as sheets
Of sharded rock where 'ere you go.
So the land was born of fire
And bent and twisted by the force
Of upthrust from the great, beneath
And earthquakes felt throughout, of course.
Earthquakes of unearthly fear
Wrack foundation's very base,
Sudden as the artic gale
Unpredictable to face.
So the shaky Isles were born
Here to lie in ocean's vast,
Clad in forest lush and green
Snowclad mountains, rivers fast.
Well kept cities, well kept towns
Population proud and clean,
Beauty all around is felt
Perched atop creation's dream.
So the Shaky Isles exist
Perfect in their place in time,
Perched atop subducting plates
Perched in ignorance sublime.
What's around the corner now?
Who's concerned, who really cares
For Kiwis make the best of now...
The rest remains as chance declares.
Marshalg
Celebrating a love affair with my beautiful New Zealand.
31 August 2012
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 9:32 PM UTC
Born in blue ,died in white.
From far off seas she cried.
Fathered by winds from tropical hills.
Mothered by artic tide.
So off she set ,sisters in tow.
They dance, they chase ,they play.
Fishermen fear their shouts and their cheers.
Their boats they shake and sway.
And as i float not far from shore.
My paddle close to hand.
With one last breath.
I hear her voice.
As she sings to bag-n-bun sand..
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
when aborted day
is given chance to rise
sun being blood red
life giving way for dead
with seas boiling over
and the artic becoming
a lush verdant green
your senses don't betray
leaving would be keen
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 8:49 AM UTC
You’re a storm in summer,
So fast-moving and out of the blue,
You’re like the first day of Spring,
Blooming and slowly rising,
Amongst the decomposing earth,
You’re like a shifting darkness,
Hard to tell where you start and begin,
Filling the space with your whole being,
Your firelight flares up like a firefly,
So bright and fluttering through the twilight,
Your eyes glow with a glace of gold and rose,
So fired up on adrenaline,
Running through the countryside like a wild fox,
Your depression is like the deep artic sea,
When it gets so heavy you crawl into your shell,
So desolated with your own thoughts
You’re like a broken violin,
So beautiful but splintered with visible scars,
From the lovers who had misled you in the past
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 4:59 AM UTC
Like a sweet hymn of orchestra
The wind blew and the night was soft
Pearly snowflakes falling gently
into a winter land
She walks out of the house
with her gleaming eyes
Her blonde hair drifting in the wind
while the white dress clings to her
like an artic flag,
basking in the fine hour
She looks up and sees the snow falling
down her face and hands
And she searches for warmth, her arms stretched
toward the frost-bitten sky
Slowly dancing and spinning
Following her own rhythm
A silent poinsettia garden, blooming
Tracing the shape of her tender smile
That was warm in the midst of winter
Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 9:20 AM UTC
My collarbone was damp cotton
as shuddering turned to heaving
and his limp neck sighed.
I figured the only advice
I could give was my
favorite handkerchief
and the repeated whispers of
“It’s going to be all right. It’s okay.”
In the artic air the puddle
on my shoulder
froze over and my coat wouldn’t
stay put without the silk
sliding around and folding
into origami cranes
that were pecking at my
head, asking incessantly
as to why I didn’t stay
in the garage and help
him on his half-finished
car. His heart was breaking
and for the rest of the
night my shirt was wet and cold.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
~
*Strange how
my feet won't touch
the ground.
Strange how
my bags are packed
with sadness.
Plight is
my fellow passenger
to Osaka sun,
or Artic chill,
or some volcanic
love nest.
Strange how
my jet-setting eyes,
they see paradise only
on satellite tv,
yet they see the once
beautiful people
and all their utter dismay,
as they pass through
the metal detectors.
So strange
that I can hear
their strife
their suffering
well above
the engine's roar.*
~
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 2:37 PM UTC
Skeleton trees,
stripped down to the bone,
live naked within the walls of winter
Icicle boughs,
and branches buried deep in white
Conical conifers draped with ****** snow,
a blanket of diamond dust
They now enter my frozen world,
like life would now exist
inside of a snow globe
The drifting slopes
add white dimension
to this winter world
Frost upon the windows,
designed like crystal upon the glass,
sends shivers down my spine
The mass exodus of flocks of birds,
migrating south
for their seasonal vacation,
have gone away
These are the images embedded in the hynotic halls of my mind
The aging calender
upon the sunless wall
will soon give way to another year
The polar atmosphere
will have to surrender
its icy grip
but it is in no hurry
once January rolls around
In wintertime
we become like
weary, winter warriors
as we are manned with
shovels and plows,
battling the barrage of shellfire
of continuous cold, snow and ice
Shielded with scarves and heavy apparel,
shoveling and scraping,
salting and sweeping,
we are at war with
the fierce elements
that make us slip and slide
The salt trucks look like
army tanks on the move
Playful adventurers laugh at the scorn
The mammoth artic tundra
is their playground,
the ultimate winter utopia
They shall master
the slippery landscape
on skis, sleds and skates
in their pleasure
to conquer the frozen land
Winter is truly a wonder,
but soon my
Spring and Summer dreams
lie captive
I find myself
a foreigner of this wintry wilderness
My fair, flowery fields are gone
Barren are those beautiful images,
for Spring, Summer and Fall,
fables to my wintry world,
have slumbered all too long
Soon I am pondering.....
If only I can thaw
these stone solid feelings,
as the land soon melts
into Spring tears,
and can light a lamp within,
defrosting the sub-zero
feelings inside of me,
I will fully embrace the dreams
of warmer times,
and I shall find myself once more
A woman who knows why
she endures such a season,
shoveling my way through
the stormy periods of life
to thrive amid
the firsts of Spring
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 8:17 AM UTC
It was a dream,
To explore the wines.
The Cabernet Sauvignon.
With a bold fearless taste.
Aged only a few decades.
And in a glass,
The smell of charred cedar,
Baked currants & Satin pulled sage.
Which was the dripping spirit
of the grape vines.
The passion would be the Saxifrage.
Snowy herbs,
Caught from the coldest flakes,
Of an Artic storm.
The aromas of violets & sweet basal,
Made a home in the burgundy tint.
The dark density spiraled from
The acid in edible fruits.
The golden gooseberry's were a surprise,
A leather flavor,
Which kept you sleep longer in the morning.
The Diamond Creek is a dream.
For dinner, a medium rare, prime rib,
Topped with plum skins
Thick smoke,
& mushrooms from a forest.
I didn't want to leave.
But I woke up anyway.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
I sit here,
Staring at your name,
And I don't know how we went from Lunch to the coldwar
in a heartbeat.
And I keep wondering was it that kiss goodbye?
A kiss that said to me, in soft sultry tones,
'hey see you tomorrow'
And to you? To let go?
A move to fast? for those who like to move slow
No matter how many times I look back to try and see,
Inside your mind, Through your actions,
Read you reactions,To the things that I said
To the way you held me in bed,
Nothing,
Nothing explains this,
Only that misplaced kiss
Your artic stares and cold shoulders,
Do not render my resolve to resist,
But they hold my heart in a glacial grip,
And it hurts, That something so wonderful,
is over.
That memories made from our early morning escapades,
Will always remind me of us,
Hand in Hand,
and unafraid,
of touches, embraces, and kisses goodbye
somehow in that final night our fire died
That misplaced kiss goodbye.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 12:51 PM UTC
Have you ever experienced the touch of death ?
I have..
Ive felt her thieving hands run through my hair.
Ive felt her abandoned palms hold my skin.
Had her frostbite fingers trace the paths of a thousand winters across my face.
I watched as she stole everything from me.
Helplessly watching as it all disappeared.
I hid my tears amongst the April showers
Watering the flowers for the funeral in May.
The numbness of her artic touch has made my life eternally blue.
But we continue to smile because that's what life expects us to do.
~p.w
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
Lessening my steps, walking in the breath of my own soul
Faded, guided by her voice a midst the night’s artic scowl
Absence of calming pulses to divert my alert listening
But Weakened, cold, yet continuing
All that follows is, being glad to see you smiling
Forgetting about you, why can’t I just be your friend
There is too much to account, too much to loose by this trend
I don’t’ know where this may end before I come to mind
That someone, elsewhere by serendipity will be my godsend
Inside you know, and though that maybe so
I cannot say nor imply because you are not clear also
Being beside another is enough to relate to another
But being at their side in there time of need, and somber
Is enough to consign emotion in wanting to be their significant other
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 8:22 AM UTC
One release that rivets me
A nature's siren call:
That silver maple melody
That shimmers forth in fall.
Imbittered wind, imbued with hints
Of coming artic air
Sings a solemn, sweeping song
That strips the branches bare.
The treebone fingers snap and sway
In cadence with the breeze
The clatter castinet of leaves
Refrains forth to the trees.
Summer sonnets circling
Like vultures in my head
Take their leave upon the chill
And quiet in it's stead.
The gentle wash, smooth caress
The wind's voice strokes my ear
It twines around my puckered skin
And draws me ever near.
Away, anon, good riddance precious
Spirit of the green
Be off to slumber, underground
Until the coming spring.
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC
*When the final leaf, of autumn falls
Bare it leaves, its branch and trunk
Brown the mood, along its veins
Crumpled by grief, the sun is gone
Clouds cover, every inch above
Dry roots, that feed it life
Barren and cold, the soil cannot
Hold on to rain, and keep it moist
Days will come, when wrinkles cover
Tempered bark aged in barrels
Of snow drifted, to its side
By artic winds, from mountains frosted
And if, that day comes to be
Each creek will fill, with pebbles called
One by one, their names in glory
Under a bridge, with planks of wood
From these same trees, standing tall
Digging deep, into our earth
And so the seasons, come to be
With change in, water and in winds
But trees and pebbles, still remain
From the ground to up above
In each tree rests a forrest
Just one name unites it all
It is the forrest, of our life*
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 9:04 AM UTC
I no longer dare to take a breath, can't provoke me, I won't breathe
Finding it too risky under the pressure of a thousand seas
Plus, you see, I must conserve the air for my self-righteous pleas
To produce more I planted the forest I can't see through the trees
Gods speed please, I've already been brought to my knees
By the artic breeze off a shoulder so cold it threatens to freeze
This house of cards I call a home sheds support beams with ease
From the inception of my very first organic thought
I've been largely ineffective at controlling my plot
Have I earned that first breath I got or not?
Probably not
The gut shot is how obvious it is that everyone at my table agrees
©2024
Jun 9, 2024
Jun 9, 2024 at 7:33 AM UTC
World's shrouded in grey
The enemy now laying in siege
Blades and broken steel covering the earth
Rivers now red from the blood of the dead
In the fortress stand the survivors
Their rage is hotter than the blood of the earth
Hearts gone cold
Colder than the harshest artic wind
New plan daring and bold
Down now they go
Much like the 700 before
Into the night they leave
Armed with Fire's wrath and Ice's cold
Now they take the field
With their companions broken steel they march
Vengeance now personified
Few now charge
Letting loose the unholy screams of anguish
courage against fear
Broken now is the siege
few now stand among the newly dead
News quickly spread
Enemy hurriedly fled
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Over and over again
the ongoing psychosis named reality
throws at us the vile complications of existence
like a rigged tax funded snowball war in which you are forced to enroll
when you are born among proletarians
and concrete orphans more twisted than Oliver Twist
like ghetto kids with knives and narcotic nights
men that walk the same sidewalk as you
the same asphalt dreams and latent ambitions
trapped in the same staircase of materia
causing the universe to circle reason
and stomp the ant man with work boots of international negligence
like something out of an Ingmar Bergman film
as the saints will prevail like the flickering candle in an artic snow lantern
battling it’s ice ceiling like flying intifada rocks in glass houses
while the chess game of psychoanalysis continues
like the sorrows of young Werther
in the blood of your martyred nightmares
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 5:37 AM UTC
A *** bottle slowly imploding in on itself for a universe – you told me that was how you were born.
If Man wants to be soothed, Man avoids the trampling, follows the drumming
thrumming beats, and Man finds peace in a glass bottle full of itself. Artic ocean
ease in a cupped hand, press into a paper and find release.
Snap, there’s a picture, Man takes it to a pin and lets it sit for the world, meaning
nothing to Man other than perhaps an igloo or self-royalty dream.
I’ll take all the dark parts of your heart for you, She said with a kiss, knowing full
well that he would have nothing left.
That boy talked to Man and they had a good conversation they could drown in.
Spectacles skewed and clothes everywhere, a swarm of self pity breathing fresh snow air.
Man said, sorry, I can’t feel.
“Who are we?”
Man said, shhhh, you know I can’t hear you; I can’t feel.
So just miss me hard.
http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/human-qualities.html
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
There is no rhyme or reason
Xmas is the season
My hearth aglow with lights
My kitchen smells of sweet delights
I wish to share the joy
With kith and kin
And strangers, ahoy
In the midst of the faces
I adore
My thoughts are also
on those not ashore
May this season
Bring, A rose,
a ring,
For that Matter
anything
That warms
my heart
And gives me wings
To fly
like a dove
spreading the
message
of peace and
of love
From Artic to Antartic
From Africa to America
From Russia to Asia
From Europe to Eurasia
Let us all join hands and pray
That God bless this planet Blue
And bond our hearts with his
Special glue
So that we sing in unison
We are one, we are one!
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 6:29 AM UTC
radiating out of the hollow hole inside me
where butterflies used to thrive
is a saddness so enveloping
so thorough, that it is filling me up.
and drowning me from the inside.
suffocating and sobbing and begging for air,
it beats at my eyelids and bursts out of my eyes.
this icy saddness which freezes and burns my throat
and makes me curl up like a sinking body in the artic oceans.
as if im protecting the frozen hollows of my heart
against any onslaught of unrequited love i might suffer next.
everynight i find tears on my face as i chide my sobbing
into a quieter tremble of my body,
i cannot let anyone see how torn you've left me
the mask i wear is perfected, self created of shame,
i wish i could show someone
im not as unbreakable as i pretend.
but though i ache to be loved
and i miss you
and i have dreams of kissing you
circumstances demand
that i suffocate and sink
to the coldest darkest place
that i have ever been.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC