"convocations" poems
my breakfast of thesaurus
and chorus.
as to not miss
that quick bliss,
moment
of genius.
forcing wit; i’m done with it.
i lay in bed and moan:
"mouth was a blue sash of rain
raining convocations of flesh."
like Sonia Sanchez said in her poem
to Nina Simone.
“owls coo, only see blue,
and through storm windows,
they yawn like nothing’s new."
what did my words just do to you?
i hate all the rhyming
all the timing.
the
whining.
all this meditating
and levitating.
but if you don’t swat the fly,
you become the fly.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
I am a pilgrim of divine , rugged convocations with my maker . Longing to trek the swaying fields of Newfoundland ..
At the rock encrusted deliverance with countenance eastward , overlooking the living waters of Norse legend , with mirrored thoughts of exploration and homeward voyage .
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
Peremptory forbearance, propounded.
Heaven promiscuously recoiling
in Secret, assoiling attainted diffidence;
Perfidiously?
Effusive wanton idolatry forcibly
motivating outwardly,
The cruelest ugliest creation that survives.
The most beautiful creature alive
inwardly putrescent- cascading
relinquishing Evil; turning
away casting, aside Hell.
Eleete j Muir
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
*Kindred balsam trails
Red rose convocations 'neath
Chestnut Knights
Swallows in Tangerine sky
Late night fires mingle with
Loblolly leviathans
Stellar captivations
Coonhounds bay for twilight
recognition
Where Mockingbird musicians trill
reverent evening chantey* ..
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
the plot of my dying son’s dream includes an alien technology meant to isolate what makes us inhuman. he is unable to ascertain the holder of such a patent as his disorder wakes him before his time. I direct his attention to the youtube video of my injury. it’s the first time I’ve seen myself sleepwalk. as with all my children, I get his attention by waving the rolled up catalog his mother failed to sell. I keep it with me at all times and have been caught using it to spy on what I cannot provide. in the video I look surprisingly fit. my oldest daughter is sitting on my shoulders and her hair is on fire. I am running through a sprinkler in a front yard I don’t recognize and am taken at the ankles by some animal the darkness hides. here the video stops but I’ve heard there are others that go on a bit longer. when my stepfather was very sick his memory convinced him he had traveled more than once to a foreign land. the most valuable thing he came back with was his father’s gentle nature which he uses often when guiding me to clear a path for EMS.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
i listen to all these
dying cadences, these internal convocations that i,
dazed into the fullness of flesh
and realness of bones and their
fantasized congregations on
my body,
these whispers recollecting
sobriquets that in oneness,
shall unashamedly endure ---
this tough call
singular in silence and in tenderness,
that in this readiness
you will give back what is mine
to own
these sudden and indelible
thrusts, these nebulous stares
that pulse with the life of
stars, and the ineffable echoes
of your caves that summon
my foolishness - these vibrant nightingales in hiding!
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
*Across a looking glass pond -
facing zephyr music revelry
Atop paint-by-number artworks , leaves
in brotherhood with perfect rainbows ,
shine on midday tall 'Lantern of God' ,
ruminations of a change in season , of
eventide convocations with the North Star
and frosted narrows , October operas of
wind carillon and songbird , golden bottom
land misty coming of nightfall , the sconce
of The Little Dipper and Orion , of woodland
diapason , timely Whipporwill and Thrush* ...
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC
*Sticky , cedar sap , candy cane little red hands
Toddlers leaving cookie crumb trails
Warm cider and holiday bells
Hickory embers with Christmas tales
Tinsel , gluhwein , spiced apples and caramel
All is well this evening as tree decorations are bright ,
reflecting across the family room ceiling tonight
Convocations of enhanced spirituality and reason , all is well this winter season* ...
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 10:13 PM UTC
*Concoctions of morning Blackstrap Molasses , Apple blossom honey
Afternoon Sugar Cane treat Sundays
Catfish feeder pond thrills
Stirring Bobwhite Quail wood line hideaways
Plentiful , native green grass runways
Kerosene lanterns , john boats o'er -
Black Crappie midnight waters
A thousand new songs rippled the moonlight -
causeways
Lakes melting into night
The warm , thick air of first light
Mockingbird chirrup , Killdeer call
August morning star convocations of -
Crape Myrtle with butterfly epiphanies*
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
All thoughts, a blur.
A string of words, a nonsensical slur.
Nothing is straightforward or simple.
Because all I keep seeing are those deep blue orbs, oh and that gorgeous dimple.
I miss you more and more each day.
I miss how you would just lean against my door and then announce your presence with a soft: "Hey."
I miss waking up in your secure hold.
Sheltering me from the cold.
I miss the many ways in which you could make me giggle.
Especially that silly eyebrow wiggle.
I miss our late night convocations.
These usually included you smiling and laughing at my long-winded explanations.
I miss watching you think.
Being apart, it just makes my heart want to sink
I can't stop re-reading the first note that you wrote, my fingertip tracing the dried pen link.
It reads: Hi I'm Lindsay,
I'm in 26B.
If you ever need something or just want to talk, please
come and find me. ***
I hate this state of unwanted separation.
It makes me feel so helpless. My current and on-going mood; desperation.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC