"caput" poems
3
“Sic transit gloria mundi,”
“How doth the busy bee,”
“Dum vivimus vivamus,”
I stay mine enemy!
Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
Oh caput cap-a-pie!
And oh “memento mori”
When I am far from thee!
Hurrah for Peter Parley!
Hurrah for Daniel Boone!
Three cheers, sir, for the gentleman
Who first observed the moon!
Peter, put up the sunshine;
Patti, arrange the stars;
Tell Luna, tea is waiting,
And call your brother Mars!
Put down the apple, Adam,
And come away with me,
So shalt thou have a pippin
From off my father’s tree!
I climb the “Hill of Science,”
I “view the landscape o’er;”
Such transcendental prospect,
I ne’er beheld before!
Unto the Legislature
My country bids me go;
I’ll take my india rubbers,
In case the wind should blow!
During my education,
It was announced to me
That gravitation, stumbling,
Fell from an apple tree!
The earth upon an axis
Was once supposed to turn,
By way of a gymnastic
In honor of the sun!
It was the brave Columbus,
A sailing o’er the tide,
Who notified the nations
Of where I would reside!
Mortality is fatal—
Gentility is fine,
Rascality, heroic,
Insolvency, sublime!
Our Fathers being weary,
Laid down on Bunker Hill;
And tho’ full many a morning,
Yet they are sleeping still,—
The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
In dreams I see them rise,
Each with a solemn musket
A marching to the skies!
A coward will remain, Sir,
Until the fight is done;
But an immortal hero
Will take his hat, and run!
Good bye, Sir, I am going;
My country calleth me;
Allow me, Sir, at parting,
To wipe my weeping e’e.
In token of our friendship
Accept this “Bonnie Doon,”
And when the hand that plucked it
Hath passed beyond the moon,
The memory of my ashes
Will consolation be;
Then, farewell, Tuscarora,
And farewell, Sir, to thee!
2.6k
__I.__
Old flame; a spark of love,
Conflagration—a great deal for a crush,
A touch, a rush; all too much,
Tear filled eyes, after ashes rise from the dust.
Throttle neck, coughing like an exhaust,
Love to be a ride from coast to coast,
But we only spoke love just to boast,
We often did more than the most.
__II.__
Smoke from the chimney box,
Your eyes burning red—a fiery fox,
A scent in the springs of kisses phlox,
Our charred hearts swallowed the crops.
The land is grey in a colour of soot,
Something pretty is afoot underfoot,
For après—tragedy has a beauty take root,
Something grows ahead futures; by it's caput.
__III.__
A rose from the ashes—reminds me wisely,
That we gain a superior from former chaos,
Braved to awaken eyes; searching love blindly.
You've found that love, that one!--_the one_
Making two, to be loved and love!--_that's four_
For you're in love now, after another love.
__Tears of ashes no more...__
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 5:06 AM UTC
“Have a cup of tea, it’ll all be OK”
No matter the problem, that’s what they say
Whether you’ve lost your cat, your keys or your Nan
“What you need is a brew”, not some help or a plan.
Got a paper cut?
“I’ll make a ***
Laptop caput?
“It’s nice and hot..”
In massive debt?
“All soon forgot.”
Mourning a pet?
“It’ll help a lot.”
It’s as if that milky brown solution
Held inside the resolution
To every problem ever cried
And yet it tastes like a bare-faced lie
“Have some tea, it’ll be OK”
Will it make all my problems go away?
Will it fix the famine or end the war?
Will it house the homeless or feed the poor?
You’re telling me dried vegetation
Is the answer to my agitation
“I’ve stubbed my toe!” “I’m going blind!”
Drink up, cheer up, never mind!
If it were true, can you even dream
Of a world where tea can fix a melted ice cream?
A cuppa here, a cuppa there,
The end to all the world’s despair!
But we’d eventually run out of space
There’d be a great big global tea-growing race!
The cost of tea would go sky-high,
Only the wealthy could afford to buy
The medicine, the wonder drug
Your future secured in a polka-dot mug.
I simply find it hard to believe
That a soup of steaming boiled leaves
Has the unlikely power to relieve
Even the very most naïve.
But don’t you worry,
Don’t dismay,
Have a cup of tea, it’ll all be OK..
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
poppies and chamomile bloomed roads,
covered in warm dust... such a pity
that these are the only ones left
to be pointing towards the eternal city,
where marble and stone still stand
on places gods used to walk bare-footed,
where belief was more than just demand,
until cassocks have had ancient ways sooted.
A place where manner was turned into art
And polymaths emerged from genius creation,
where Latin blood spills from heart to mart
In a continuous state of vibrant elation.
where green is the colour of oils and lust
and the sun can burn to a lemon flavour,
and the sand on the front of the boot is black
and the wine is more than a bitter-sweet savour...
There, where a walk through square paved markets
is bursting with hand-made stories,
where scratching through history's pride
would always end in timeless glory...
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
Ozzy or my uncle Ozzie
some say his name was misspelled and wrote down as Osiah I don't think it was an accident at all
Osiah means the expression of number 7
He was the Seventh Son
Of a 7th generation
Born with a veil of skin over his face
this is a caul, a veil...his glistening hood
He was born almost all Native American
He was able to play seven instruments without ever being taught
Violin, Fiddle, harmonica, ***** guitar, banjo & the mandolin.
There are a lot of mystical qualities associated with 7
The seven deadly sins
Seven days in a week
Seven colors of a rainbow
Seven notes in the diatonic scale
7 circles to form the symbol of the seed of life
The opposite sides of a dice always equal 7
The Seven Dwarfs
In Japan there are seven lucky gods
There are seven continents
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
We are able to identify seven objects immediately without needing to count them
Hindu wedding celebrate 7 walk around the fire 7 times
While the priest says his Mantra and then they take seven steps and say vows
together 7 times
The Big Dipper has seven stars
Seven dials in London is an intersection
Of 7 streets with a sundial in its Center
7 is the smallest number that gives you 1
there are Seven Wonders of the Ancient World
I am sorry that you were so misunderstood Osiah
I don't believe that you were lazy
you just saw everything in a different way and it all was a little too much for you
your heart was weak and you left so young
You were a kind and uncomplicated soul
I so wish I had known you better I was just a girl
You looked so much like my Father
so Native American ...our history
He spent much of his time alone with his instruments
Many might have seen his life is sad but I don't think it was he won a lot of fiddle and violin contests
though none of those instruments exist anymore or his trophies
gone with his caul
and the clippings of his first hair
A lot of things I don't understand about numbers I see certain ones all the time
7 is not my number but I remember to keep looking they're here for a reason
I guess I will just keep looking
watching
learning
hoping
praying
I have a call too.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
age is catching up
with me that's for sure
as it takes me hours
to sweep the floor
ten years ago
I was nimble of foot
but of late my speediness
has gone caput
the old legs just
can't keep pace
and they wouldn't
be in the hunt
to win a sprint race
these days I have more
in common with a snail
inching very slowly
along the trail
zip and zeal
are no longer
in my vocabulary
sluggishness
is now the core word
in my dictionary
as the days pass
there is less vim and vitality
within me
and in the near future
my motor will become
completely stationary
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
I'm sorry.
By nature my writings are cruel.
They speak of angry things,
Abused animals and beaten children.
Brother killing brother,
Families splintered.
I can try to soften them,
But the euphemisms only last so long.
Metaphors sharpen themselves,
Turning into barbed hooks.
The truth is that's all I've ever known.
War, death and heartbreak.
There's a reason I'm more comfortable
In a shadowy corner with a knife,
Than I am on a sunlit street holding hands with the girl I love.
It's because she's not there anymore.
She always leaves,
And my knife hasn't ever left me.
It's dependable,
And always sharp.
A man's knives should always be sharp.
Hie par in tenebris est et in tenebris caput meum
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
Scio hunc non
Scio quod durum
quid per illa verba in occulto
et optima sunt
Non *** Latino
haec sunt idem
Im 'non boken
posuerunt in monumento
Non sum abierunt
ego autem mortuus sum,
capti a verbis victima
in caput meum
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
unravel it like always, I'm surrendering this time
the gloating conman cutting at his own mind
snatching prints we would have trusted fully
and you're filching fragments from the squandering entirety
between the mess there's paradise
between the boxes I have to check
and at the close a prologue thrives
and now the end is the beginning
the flames lick, conspirators are awake, still
we won't leave soon, not for seasons
if by hour the tower's drop down,
the ground glistens like a lake
why is the end now the beginning?
rewind the film for her
and at the close a prologue thrives
and now the end is the beginning
-c.j.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
Pages turn,
chapters end,
books are finished.
With resolution, and head
held high, I'll
fly away to somewhere
safer, where there's
less pain.
I try to love you,
but you just
push me away.
The heart is a
silly dreamer.
It sees life as it
should be...could be,
and not as it
really is.
The head sees what
the heart doesn't.
Emotions can be as
treacherous as a
rabid dog or a
razor blade.
I wish I were a
redwood or a rosebush,
or even a dandelion
just
swaying in the
breeze.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 8:24 PM UTC