"commencement" poems
Imagine that
I could write a salve,
compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal,
even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh,
just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our
fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far
another bruise joining the cast like a floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability
imagine that
where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction,
borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years
from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters,
children,
return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain
imagine that
the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be
imagine that
a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in,
in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up
and the stony chest is breathing lungs free
imagine that
and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing,
knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken,
they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver
sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed
imagine that
you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical,
cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret
I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins
when
we imagine that
for this how new healthy cells are born
quiet-now, go, imagine-that, now*
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
Go on with haste and fly through this undawning memory of love,
What is the moon looking up at, perhaps a dance of pulsar stars ?
What is the sun looking down at, perhaps the life growing from light?
An eternal sinner wanders under their light, with no aim, no goal,
All he carries shall be the pride in his heart, with undying love burning as bright as a hyper nova in the nearby young nightsky,
Lingering sadness seeps it's way through, to the surface of the moon, forever to be bound in an orbit, overshadowed, shining in lesser light,
Yet does it oversee, what beauty it brings to the night, or what it would be if darkness reigned supreme without it and the stars to rise?
Enlighting the darkest of nights for us, forgotten it keeps up his duty,
For maybe, even if just one is touched by his luminosity it would be enough to keep going, until the time comes to greet the break of dawn
The milkyway alike a river of stars, each with their own story to tell,
Stars stand with their secret hidden, an orbital parent to many planets
The sky is the eternity in a land of pure fantasy and hope after all,
A dream which knows no death till its termination draws near,
But isn't waking up the commencement of something far greater ?
~ Umi
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
I never felt like I belong here.
No matter how hard I tried, I never belonged.
Could it be I'm destined for something greater than life on this planet
Or am I doomed to spend eternity with the latter?
I wander across this land in search of who I am but it seems there is no answer no where in sight.
Am I suppose to quit this journey or continue to walk in denial?
How long must I endure this nightmare til I finally wake up and face "reality"?
At the night's commencement, memory of this life drifts away into the forgotten stream.
I can taste the answers but the moment I begin to relish in its delicacy, it fades from my grasp.
What is left for a king whose kingdom has fallen?
Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
Yank myself out of bed
Peel the film of sleep from 'round my head
It's 4:00 AM
And all the world is dead.
It's 4:00 AM and all the world is dead.
From the streets every man has fled.
But in hours it again shall be
Brimming with potential; energy set free.
I assemble my appearance.
Staring into the mirror,
I say to myself: "One last time.
"One final tour."
The door is open, before it I stand
To face morning's faint chill
Surrounded by paling blue.
There! The first bird's trill.
The air is sweet
And free of smog.
The faintest fog
Is draped on the trees.
The empty street beckons
And freely I obey.
I have things I need to do
Before the commencement of the day.
I pass the playground on the corner,
Where I wasted time as a child.
Where many a battle was fought
And we had adventures in the wild.
Past the playground and to my left
There is the river bank
Where I went fishing with my father
And my friends and I made our mothers mad:
Where we lit our little fires
And we had our first drinks.
Where we shared our first joint
And came to talk and think.
Our school is down the way.
We all can safely say
It's the place where we first learned
Classes and books have less to say than the real world.
We became:
Artists.
Athletes.
Academics.
Our achievements
Are scrawled upon
The stone walls
That lined that same river.
A little further on,
And there's the little store
Where I kissed my first fleeting love
Just outside the door.
I keep walking, I keep walking,
Until I reach the shore.
I put my back against a rock
And rest on that sandy floor.
The life that I'll soon be leaving
Lies behind me asleep
While I watch the sun lazily rise
Over the mysterious, unexplored deep.
I built myself in this town
And it built me as well.
But I cannot stay much longer:
In a few hours I will bid it farewell.
Will I ever make it back?
Will I ever return
To trace the scrawlings by the riverbank
With bare fingers full of nostalgia?
Nothing at all is sure.
Therefore I must take this last chance
To make my final tour.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
And in the end,
You begin to realize who your true friends are.
The ones who stand by your side
Through thick and thin
Trial, error, and sin.
In this day and age,
Not many stand the chance
In nomination
For the sacrificial commencement of honour.
Nature plays its part indeed.
Because it is only in time
The veil is lifted.
Root by root,
Seed by seed.
Humanity reveal their true colors.
Next thing you know,
You've been cursed by a plague.
A whole school of fish
Swimming to discover their own island.
That is only for thyself.
You've been contaminated
By the human race.
Look at the social media blow up.
The narcissistic selfies,
The I, me, my's,
Gaining daily acceptance
All in disguise.
The public audience is their show.
It's needed for everyday approval.
Nobody really cares about you
It's all about
"Look at me!"
"Look what I can do!"
"You are so cool."
"Thumbs up to you!"
I'm going to abuse the word "love."
Forget the hoopla
Here today
Gone tomorrow.
Everyone feeding off of
Self loathing attention.
There is no more room for pitiful sorrow.
Truth is
Sheep lie among the prey
Victims...
Don't be another
"Nodding Acquaintance"
A distortion of the facts.
Don't get fooled.
Not by social grace
Not by exploitation of the face.
You'll just be a bargain commodity,
For their convenience.
Stand true
True to yourself
Because in the end,
Nobody else really cares.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
Well before the commencement of the spring
The British cuckoo or the Indian koel starts singing
With its sweet and natural melody
Some fools and children try to make a parody
It does not care somebody is listening
Or some others enjoying its singing
Or some fools and children start mocking
It goes on singing and singing in response to the mocking
Some fools think the koel suffer from some mania
but the fools suffer from xenophobia
They don’t like any thing new or sweet
And are not ready to give their hearty treat
They suffer from their foolish pride
and which they can never hide
You can’t become great by mocking at a cuckoo
It betrays your inner sick view
Among the seasons undoubtedly spring is the king
The melodious cuckoo or koel invariably does sing
Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 12:32 AM UTC
Offshore Oil Exploration
Months of preparatory work,
Permits obtained.
Maps explored, sited,
Ground and beneath scanned,
Each contour drawn, plotted, named.
Equipment assemblage.
Platform designed and towed,
Pre-commencement government inspection
Constant.
We test. Slowly, the loose, easy dirt,
Gives in. No rejoicing yet, premature.
The diverter in place, functions well.
The deeper the bit, the harder the resistance.
The camera's eyes monitor until
We reach depths too deep for their functioning.
The derrickhands order about the junior roustabouts,
Check the mud pumps, check the pH levels,
Do this, do that. The pecking order on board clear.
The kings of the rig, the drillers, in charge.
Then, disaster.
Oil spill.
Worse.
Not only smiling,
She has
Opened her eyes and
Ceased purring.
P.S. This would as is my custom be,
Re-entitled properly:
First Poem of the Day: Offshore Oil Exploration
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
Education gave you knowledge
Opportunity will be your honor of privilege
Your life will focus on achievement becoming an accomplishment
You achieved making your first step being “EDUCATION”
Applaud yourselves Graduates
But let me applaud to the Parents, Family Members and Friends in giving you the necessary encouragement to continue and stay the course through education and you too graduates should also applaud
Learning was the objective
Concepts with principles became subjective
Connectivity brought you to adaptability
The whole element was “PREPARATION”
You entered your own portal that started you on your way to knowledge
You will now exit with education in showing you how to step out, and test the waters of all your future endeavors having a destination
You are ready to go out and use what you learned in actual reality
No matter what your endeavors are always follow with “Proceed leading to Succeed”
Easy enough
But the task will seem complex, as you will have to cross numerous hurdles in getting to your destiny
Remember, Education wasn’t easy, but prepared you with tools in knowing no hurdle can stop you in your journey of success
Education gave you the formula in turning complexity into simplicity
You will run into a dilemma but have the necessary resources to formulate a remedy
You are ready for the challenge
You were tested through education in going beyond the limits
Knowledge was succeed to conquest
Yet learning will always be ongoing no matter what whether you are pursuing another Degree(s) or career aspirations
You should be inspiration beyond
But don’t let negative vibes around you derail your opportunity
Opportunity and Commodity are within you and it is because of knowledge within education
It is up to you to grasp and conquer
Seek out and just explore
Negativity simply ignore
Like my Grandfather once said to me, “LIVE AND LEARN”
This I instill in all of you
In order to gain, you must pursue
Let your footsteps be movement
Leave a mark you personally established
Be confident and assured
I can’t stress this more, “Thank the Almighty Lord
Think on encouragement from
I am proud of all of you graduates
I know it wasn’t an easy task
Concepts you tackled but it is preparation gained
Remember to keep up with Technology and new approaches
Your learning should never stop
But be a step ahead with continued learning in helping you climb to the top
Your Teachers and Professors are proud of you
Your Family and Friends waited for this proud moment in sharing your excellence in accomplishment
As you walk out the doors to your new frontier always remember where your education was given in knowledge instilled
“Climb every mountain and pause for a moment, and continue to climb until you reach the top”
Thank you and your opportunity a waits.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
Commencement of goals
One build to forge many more -
Let the fire begin!
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
She's my pretty city country girl
She's something I can't lose
Is she livin' in the country
or the city, she must choose
You know I really love her
She's the one I really want
But if she moves off to the city
It's my heart she'll stay and haunt.
When I first saw her smiling face
It was a good old summers day
She had moved down from the city
And I hoped that she would stay
We played games out in the haystacks
We ran races through the corn
Turn left and hit the river
Turn right, you're lost till morn
She's my pretty city country girl
She's something I can't lose
Is she livin' in the country
or the city, she must choose
You know I really love her
She's the one I really want
But if she moves off to the city
It's my heart she'll stay and haunt.
She occupied my dreams then
And still does to this day
Back then I hardly new her
I just hoped that she would stay
Short shorts and Gingham dresses
made her look the country part
But high heels and silk organza
Tugged the city in her heart
She's my pretty city country girl
She's something I can't lose
Is she livin' in the country
or the city, she must choose
You know I really love her
She's the one I really want
But if she moves off to the city
It's my heart she'll stay and haunt.
We'd go to high school hoedowns
And dance like no one else was there
But when she heard Big Band Music
She was dreaming of Times Square
She loved to go out touring
In my pickup through the crops
But in my heart I knew she missed
The sounds of taxi cabs and cops
She's my pretty city country girl
She's something I can't lose
Is she livin' in the country
or the city, she must choose
You know I really love her
She's the one I really want
But if she moves off to the city
It's my heart she'll stay and haunt.
She stayed here all through high school
But I knew deep down it had to end
I knew if I tried to say "I Love You"
she'd say "I love you like a friend"
She knew I'd never leave here
And I knew she had it made
If she went back to the city
And stopped her country masquerade
She's my pretty city country girl
She's something I can't lose
Is she livin' in the country
or the city, she must choose
You know I really love her
She's the one I really want
But if she moves off to the city
It's my heart she'll stay and haunt.
It was two weeks past commencement
When I told her what I thought
Then I dropped down to me knee right there
And I showed her what I'd bought
I looked into her smiling eyes
And prayed that she'd say yes
Would she choose to stay in Daisy Dukes
Or go back to her chiffon dress
I'll let you guess the answer
By the way I end this poem
But I'm still here in the country
And she's waiting now at home.
She's my pretty city country girl
She's something I can't lose
Is she livin' in the country
or the city, she must choose
You know I really love her
She's the one I really want
But if she moves off to the city
It's my heart she'll stay and haunt.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
Success can only take place if you have fulfilled achievement
You must think positive in voice
Later incorporating your own concepts being your choice
The Graduation Cap being your thinker
Your Graduation Gown being the Copper and Gold Ticker
Education that took time
Research, Lectures and Concepts that were all combined
You learned discipline in what it takes to succeed
It’s all up to you in how you will proceed
Education gave you the tools of solution base
As you leave the school for the final time you have become the institution trace
You are the pride and honor of any school
Yet you will be the asset and the fine tool
Your eye on endeavors
But it’s no time to sit back sliver
This will be your time to deliver
Think wise and be clever
However, there is no word being never
Step up means step out
Always hold your head up
Dignity being your pursuit
There will be times when struggles come through
Education and Education alone would have shown you in what to do
A moment being your time
Having a smile will be just fine
But never forget during while
Your life has just begun, but think theory and beyond
Education was like an endless mile, but it involved understanding during while
Remember, education is an continuing entity in being ahead and sustaining the learning process
Knowing when
Establishing how
But use all the resources from education
Careers are chosen categories
But you will become the new success story
Your far off has reached today
Yet these will be the words you might say
“I have achieved even when I had doubt, but education helped me see my potential, and I know I can excel”.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
an old familiar,
an adversary of the first degree,
when we wrestle,
me and this god
disguised as an angel disguised as man,
the door to where we tangle,
clicks shut with a perceptible oval sounding,
a trumpet announcing commencement of the festivities,
that we are
Occupado
no stray observers permitted in,
the room entrances locked,
someone's two hands upon each temple,
(cannot be mine, for)
inside we combat literally,
"mano-a-mano"
hand to hand,
word to word,
gradually, continuously,
up close and personally,
one on
One
over the course of a lifetime,
each battle named,
famously borrowed and thus recorded,
Agincourt, Waterloo, Gettysburg, Leningrad, Ðiên Biên Phú,
for the record keeping purposes of our unforgiving ******
historian
the rules of engagement somewhat flexible,
biting, choking, eye gouging,
kicking when down, not just legal,
encouraged, no holds barred,
when we wrestle,
the dirtier the
better
take turns declaring a victor,
for that matters little, truly,
just a record keeping notation,
the battle and its aftermath,
the waves of pain inflicted,
the casualty count engorged,
is the greatest glory,
dans une manière de
parler
though sent away the children,
our earthly goods,
designating them purportedly,
non-combatants observers,
yet 'no rules' meant
they could be accidentally drawn in,
non-combatant status does not prevent them
from being freely captured or
killed
the conflict ongoing,
no one ever calls for a truce,
for both unequal adversaries know,
no quarter will ere be given,
and though the tide shifts,
each individual battle produces as always,
a winner and a
loser
noisy affairs,
long after the battle,
the slain yet scream,
perhaps I am confused,
perhaps it is the day's survivors,
announcing that sadly,
they are still
alive
it must be the latter,
for here I am writing and recording,
and though alone,
I hear an ever growing louder,
gouging sine wave scream piercing,
daring my soul to leave my wracked
body
for though mortal wounded,
I am therefore
both dead and alive,
but which more so,
none can surely
say
this conflict remains
unconcluded
the pain in my hip, now
everywhere,
my Jacob, now, Israel,
marker
so visible even if itself,
unseen
3:59am
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime Enchantress—to assist the work
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise, that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself )
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,
Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,
And in the region of their peaceful selves;—
Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty
Did both find, helpers to their heart’s desire,
And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;
Wcre called upon to exercise their skill,
Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!
2.9k
She is like a flower
One that begins to blossom
At the commencement of spring
I want to love her
Shower her with affection
Nurture her with laughter
Make her shine like the sun
She is the most beautiful
As she blooms in the midst
Of our love
She is so graceful
The way she opens her heart up to me
As if she were flower petals
Soaking up every bit
Of every spring day
She is like a flower
Yet she is something different entirely
Something more
Something like I've never seen before
Her beauty goes unrivaled
Her authenticity and her passion
Are of something I've never witnessed before
She's the greatest I've known
Her love is something I cherish
Her soul, her heart, is like a bouquet of perfection and beauty
One of a kind
I'm so happy she's mine
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC
<!>
Four Irises tall & gallant, looking though
slighted worn out, a tad bedraggled
they are springtime survivor stragglers
of the Great Spring Weather Battle.
living in an open trench, battle conditions,
wind-whipped by constant strong breezes,
raked by intermittent machine gun rain,
familiar weapons of the “handover” season
loyal guardians of their pinpoint position,
remaining on duty, standing at attention,
dignified amidst the serene, nearly summer, now,
accepting quietude & gratitude of surround soundings
arrow-straight, in dress uniforms of royally purple,
four lead a cohort of unbloomed green fellows,
protecting their charge, an ancient marker of time,
rusted-green bronze sundial, symbol of continuity
these four, boon companions to human and animal,
shall persist long after I cease to dabble in this art,
they greet their admirers in full regalia, every year,
long, long may they live, die and be yet reborn!
here, in place, when we arrived four decades ago, a tiny forever,
changelings heading a processional of the summer season,
greeting all with a simple story of constance of change, of beauty,
leading our Summertime Commencement Exercises
May 26 ~ 27, 2023
May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 4:55 PM UTC
~one more for the r man~
almost Monday
and its weighty five day oppressive lead poisoning on the horizon,
is but a thirsty thirty six minutes away from its fortified Sumter, first shot to be fired at midnight, how we love to mark the commencement of hostilities and killing
but I am already wounded, a casualty of having spent evening with pleading, pleasing timer eating, reading of your work,
r
the sounds of inestimable admiration and infectious jealousy
make this old man eager to discard a lifetimes work and
begin fresh, but only as a copyist of you,
r
I know you’re thinking "what in the hell is he blubbering about?"
so I willingly will my confessional offering in the dark of the
holy bedroom; for you make me eat my words, and
spit them out as wastage, in dumbfounding humility
god you and yours, make me frail and blessed that I stumbled
upon your abbreviations of the human life,
r
shut up and accept my three r’s
reading ‘riting and rising
up to sing hymns of praise
for a man with a historical perspective and
whose few occasionals
are carved in the granite bench
of what makes my life
worthy of load bearing;
more than bearable,
all are soul-enlightened by
baring our humility, our admiration
11:24pm 4/15/18
nyc
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
<Sun May 14 5:00 AM PST>
Let us be smart about this departure,
time unscheduled, yet leaving inevitable,
the sound of fabric torn, a rent performed,
a ripping, a release of the gripping, connecting
tissue of weft and weave tying parent and child
*(All of us poets, all of us comprehend,
there are two points, two buttonholes
that offer escape or farewell, when we
commence on something new, when we
pen our chest’s demands to exhale, cease the hammering*
*Perhaps, here, just after the third stanza,
the brick enormity of our selected task, on chest,
weighs heavy, boulder difficulties ahead, now fastened
and faster and faster realized, begs us, quit this essay,
return to placid, from an arrhythmia of imploding loss)*
So many fabrics, so many tears, wet and dried,
but upon commencement, the only finish line,
is another commencement, when the (mine-own) rendering
is finalized, beyond repair, when guilt gulfs overflows, flooding
plains of forever pain officiated by signed scar, “here was”
So many separations, varied and variegated,
surficial shallow surgical or plunges, widths of trickle,
depths of deadly plunges, records of inches, dates,
names, new heights inscribed, measured on a door jamb,
lost, erased, when child’s door closes permanently
Came today to the West, to Pacific Ocean entrance,
to celebrate a good boy’s ritualized threshold crossing
over into manhood, both symbolic and and realized,
but tear-up seeing the small child-man leaning in and on
his father’s larger frame, a coinciding giving & taking
no bonds are eternal, for such is life, the weft must be
warped, sundered and separated, so many reasons,
experience speaks, scars are like bandages,protecting
but deceiving, what they cover can never be excised,
a space created, that only oxygen can touch both sides
but never, ever be reperfected, mended,…or finalized
2023
San Francisco
May 14, 2023
May 14, 2023 at 10:07 AM UTC
<•>
too oft, so oft, the absence, the imagining, that
no such comfort exists, that remorse may n'ere complete its course,
when a time for love is beyond beyond, is a bridge too far,
a notion so fraught, a vision unwrought, that we do not
recognize the why and the wherefore to step forward
even for for the next breath small, the in of inconsolability,
a deeper welling
so consequential there is no seeing a piercing light
*then come to me, come to me then, when words can be
a symphony of violins, an orchestrating examination of
thy wounded chest, and caressing slow repetition
deep moaning, understanding waves upon the shores of my arms, my shoulder, my chest, any piece that can be yours,
a shoreline of relief, and listen with great care as the subtleties change, the pastoral comes in an ever ascending
crescendo of lifting, a stabbing, resurrecting but not fully repairing,
restoring but replacing sensation, for inconsolability is a disease
difficult to defeat, deserving of being memory-recalled,
but the ability, the cure, the rhyme of
hope and upward slope of open eyes will penetrate surely as the potion of the music of my words lay you down and rise you up,
and that is enough, to begin the renewal,
the campaign of commencement, the possibility of clarity,
it is the journey,*
***the changeling we call the
destiny of our designation,
which is forever the next destination***
9/17/17
7:20am
<•>
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
When troubles build up mountain-size
Clouds and fog obscure the peak,
You cannot see the pathway up,
The future’s looking bleak,
When there aren’t enough hours in each day
Or enough days in each week,
You’re in a boat without a paddle
In a swiftly moving creek,
Your friends have faded into black,
Your whole life has sprung a leak,
Fate just punched you in the face
So you turned the other cheek.
When others have inherited
What was promised to the meek;
Faith alone can give you strength
And the solace that you seek.
When the morning sun defeats the fog
And brings the light to day
Illuminates the pathway up
And the clouds are pushed away
When the hourglass is full of sand
Each grain longer than a day
Your friends are in the audience for
The commencement of your play
The curtain rises, they applaud
The black has turned to gray,
You fight toward your own ending
Despite what critics say
If virtue is its own reward
Then all will be okay
For the faithful have their just reward
When comes the Judgement Day.
pwl 5/8/15
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
I'll walk towards you in stilletos
Naked as the day I was born
and fold myself across you
anticipating as the day is long
I'll bend my knees upon carpet
as decadent as your punishment
and hold my breath until blue
waiting for your commencement
Waiting for your roaming hand
to just simply stop it's caressing
anticipating that sharp sting
upon flesh so eager for addressing
Up and down the fingers splayed
beginning the real torture
wiggling brings a sharp reprise
and a whispered
what have I taught you?
*There is no escape, essentially,
as you bend so enticingly
across my knee there is no escape
from me*
and crack across my buttocks
brings pleasure to both of us
and an unspoken entreaty,
hips raised in motion
please...
More for me
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 5:21 AM UTC
The Process
There is the notion, the urging.
The first spilling, the self-congratulatory
Commencement ceremony for
The process.
Then there is the first short-pause,
a quick-freeze hibernation. Then,
The bubbling,
The querying, the special fear,
What have I started?
Where is it taking me,
Am I properly undressed for doing
T he process?
A new vocabulary,
an arm extended, but distended,
Words are all angled puzzled,
Capable of unity, but first,
Unshaped but swollen,
By the process.
Hatching, head-aching,
words arrive rushed, but disordered,
Confused by the process.
*{The exception has it own character.
One kingly, run-on sentence birthed,
After silent labor, a full poem, fully dilated,
A shocking head of hair, full developed,
So fast does "it" fall onto the paper
The obstetrician arrives too late
To process.}*
The exception, exceptional.
The normal, normative.
Twenty four hours of labor,
False starts, much screaming,
Painful joys, hardly seamless,
This process.
Distractions the enemy,
Compulsion the master,
As you choreograph the work,
In loving servitude to
The process.
You the doctor, insert probes,
Looking for the tumors, the out of ordinary,
For normal flesh is not of interest as part of
The process.
Finally, you do exhale,
With unique the pleasure, of the longest sweetest
Female ******
The breathing less labored,
Tho whole, sensing a diminish-meant to convey
That completion is the end of part of you,
The near-end of the continuum, lessened but continuing
The process.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:51 AM UTC
After Pamela Sutton’s “Forty”
Since when are words lost, numbers dominating?
Until today, it was vernacular, not mathematics.
All changed at 18
when numbers engulfed my life like a tsunami.
1 life.
1 drive to school, traffic on the 405, 25 minutes;
10-minute parking; first class at 8.
8 dollars per hour x 3 day work week = no shopping.
Under my parents’ life insurance,
for now.
One life.
One dream of commencement, a sea of black and gold;
students as adults, graduating, growing up,
careers: the only things that matter now.
One dream of wheeling a patient into the OR
and he grasps my hand.
One saved life.
66 specialties for a nurse.
8 stories in CHOC Hospital;
279 beds.
One goal for everyone; nurses, patients, families—
disease-free, healthy.
One hospital specializing in children;
one in Orange, thousands of facilities.
One late night in Riverside the kitchen fluorescents
slowly brings the eyes of two, one father, one daughter,
to a close.
58 notecards, handwriting messy and smudged.
12 prefixes, 37 roots, 9 suffixes.
44 years: 1 student: Dad.
The point where my future was clear.
One goal, one career,
one life.
The subtle hum of the white lights lulls us to sleep
as the room slowly darkens.
September 2013
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
Hey Yalie, Diurnal Rituals Yield the Best Poetry
A Yalie jogs before dawn, her senses being exercised,
semi-aware there’s layered poetry out there and it must
be retrieved, for the eyes observe the diurnal arousing of the day,
and this too, must be recorded, part of the ordered duties of living, as the skin cells shed sweat droplets and
words of living, parcels of breathing, a diary of notations,
to educate the brain in ways and things that
professors cannot teach…
every sense operative, interactive, sound off neurotic synapses,
are acrackling, as you lay out the day ahead, calendar and
assignment checks, but the senses don’t care
about that
trivial minutiae of living
nope
the words are now coming fast and you hope your best that
you will retain, retrain the memory to savor save, those
combos of images encapsulated in new word combinations,
that are yours alone, unique, proving to no one but
yourself, that education, science et. al. is a seeded embryo &
you the valedictorian of birth commencement ceremony
so put them trainers on,
and by dawning daylight you are awondering,
now becoming a pondering, and the
question never spoke aloud but oft posed,
is this, this is,
this is why I exist,
and
my identity?
***I am an institution in my own right,
in my own write.***
Saturday Nov 4
8:01am
nyc
Nov 4, 2023
Nov 4, 2023 at 8:12 AM UTC