"dippers" poems
Gemini in seasonable evening,
serenely swirling in Septemberous
ferris wheels
reeling in the vast domain
of lonesome leviathans
and witch-fires;
nowhere bound in the boundless fecundity
[ the feral joys of creation... ]
twins
meander in gravity's
well of souls,
swollen with unknowns and proteins;
golden rods in pointless foam
brewing the elixir vitae
in the Dippers cup. the Milky Way,
a wayward gush
from an ancient Mother Goddess,
plump and shameless, pumping teats
to nurse worlds
infused with divine rays of gamma and x...
why set dark apart
from firmament burning
spheres?
dragons
must clutch eggs in the void
as much
as fork tongue white dwarfs.
of course, the Source
unfolds
as Love does. it's purpose,
in thrall of fearless veracity,
spinning yarns for glad garments
to clothe the naked dread
of such fearful symmetries
as roam the wild delights
of the infinite
meringue.
the Pi
on the window sill,
tempting the circular frame of reference
to square with the sublime Will.
another Fibonacci in your
bedpost,
to better hobnob with
broomsticks.
everything annihilates hatred.
from within,
we sojourn to sovereign super-continents
of opulent peace.
profound realities surge serpentine
with Meaning.
we are outdone on the inside by small minds
and farcical
hearts.
so at night
look up.
Love's Tongue Is
Love's
Word.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
In her dream, a cataract torrent
Crashes to effervescence,
Force and verve, vivacious apparent,
Shoots arrowed iridescence.
In reality, a rivulet meanders,
Blind to mountain, fountain and fell,
Downhill she flows, barely seen,
Pebbles 'n stones part of her scene.
Here she circumvents boulder and rock,
There gives way to shout and shock,
Hiding her head between her knees
She longs to lose herself in the seas.
I knelt down close to hear her cries,
Allowed her tears wash over my eyes,
Caressed her soft water with my hand,
Sprinkled her sweetness o'er the land.
'Sweet stream', I whisper'd, 'The waterfall you dream,
Lives through its awful roar ‘n terror,
But life lives not in its awesome scream,
Life lives not in its horror.'
'Without you, doe could not parch their thirst,
Frogs would not breed or dippers immerse.
Heavenly daughter, jeweled traverse,
One silent ripple is an angel's universe.’
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
The start of the day look so bright, who would have belived it would end in a fight.
The clatter off glasses and the shout of "Who's Round?! All drinks were picked up and swiftly downed.
Moving on to the next watering hole, get there quick to watch the match winning goal.
The lads want more dancing, ***** Stippers but not before we stop of for Chicken Dippers
Intoxication is power or so we belived but a fight with what we thought were ninjas brought us down to our knees.
We picked up our injured and clean up our wounds, then move on to the next place so we could re-group.
Our ego's in tatters our wallets all spent, I think its time we bring this epic night to an end
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
so it begins when it begins
blasé grass serrates
past herds of carabao dreaming anxiously
of the day's toil;
the countryman stilts through
mounted in gray mountain
with dippers, casserole, mirrors
with imprints of ******** clad women
and women who are (really ******** clad) ready for bathing work,
collections of red days and even
tenderly the ***** sing attenuated songs of rooming-houses —
the crunch of basil over the afternoon.
waft of a pasture's death my eyes well
up rivers and ponds of elation. dog days, feral nights limp behind rusted
kennels and makeshift asylums
there is nothing left of the world
(this small world
that only rises when bellows
of festivities harangue the many streets
bending in them, the curve)
men moving from neck to neck
of bottles — (in the north there
is only four corners of bottle: gin,
pristine brook; in the Visayas is
the redolent Vino Kulafu of the same
potency) plucked out of the vermilion
and on benched careening on half-painted gates crooning Sinatra
gets stabbed, bloodied on the floor,
named after elegies; native chicken held
upside down and beheaded as many blacker days stifled; what do you make
out of this?
carabaos, equines, hens line up
the slaughterhouse behind the
TODA; you know a fine day when
it happens — breaking eggs
against the lip of the kaldero. crumbled
archaic sensurround, barrage of
simmer round the clock cycling
before the child wakes and wails to suckle
our mothers, faster than repose
of milbrightlions of stars falling asleep
to silent radios, leaving windows
open revisited by the eve of cold.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
Close your mouth,
it's rude to stare.
Don't lick your fingers!
I despair.
Use
wooden dippers,
if you're tasting honey.
No! Don't you smirk...THIS isn't funny!
AND
get your feet from
OFF...THAT...TABLE!
You'll get spanked hard.
(I'm more than able)
And suddenly...
the elusive please word heard
...un(miss)takable.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
I used to need a submarine
to visit the dark depths of my soul
To where the bottom feeders feast
on the dead and feces from the shoal
A completely inhospitable, light-less,
savage, alien underworld
Where the spineless slimy sea cucumber
writhed, wriggled and curled.
Now I prefer to scuba dive my soul
or gaily use snorkel and flippers
Among a rich vivid abundance of life
Up and down the aqua big dippers
But I admit every now and then
at certain dark times of the year
I swim above that unforgiving trench
and can not hold back the tears
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC
The moon cracks and blooms.
Its grey nowhere to be seen,
It shawls itself with a bleak cloud.
The floating pearl biscuit
Busily dictates orions and dippers.
One travels, and people start wishing.
They are hopeless: the people and their pretentious wishes.
The jackfruit tree bears only death: dead leaves, thorned fruits.
Under the nocturnal skies,
It is the great witch.
Silent and black. It is voiceless.
Shalini Nayar
© 2002
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
We can close the three-hundred and some odd mile gap
and stand silent for a second with our
brainwashed gazes, glassy and glazed.
I’ll drive five hours to find the boy with the tired eyes—
the boy who made me promise.
It’s for keeps.
We can spread a blanket and I’ll show you
the big and little dippers in the soil sky
(they’re all I know how to find).
We can touch and whisper in a composition of exhales
and our two tongues that hide behind our four lips—
yours that mask the gap I don’t mind,
mine that I bite until purple and bleeding—
will drip with nectar, syrupy and saccharine,
which we will cup in half moon hands.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
A scurry of munks
Are eating my garden;
To you they're cute,
But my heart's hardened.
They chirp at the trough
Of my labored crop;
Like double-dippers
They pouch and they run,
They sound like they're laughing,
Like they're having some fun.
I curse and complain,
But the munks keep returning,
Like a recurring refrain
Of free loaders and hoarders.
Should I feel such disdain?
After some thought,
We're much the same.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
Time is filled with false promise
Pain does not erase forever
The sweet momory of a face
Interwoven lives in golden haze
Amongst memories of dead tomorrows
Lined up alongside shimmering woods barefoot with grass
Ghost like ribbons of unproven tomorrows
Floating images spent on quiet ponds
Periscope eyes yielding dippers, into dreamtimes of effortless passion
Vast vaults of time smooth with summertime sleep
This is what I see as I look deep
Long slender fingers pressing down
Keys black and white
Lifetimes spent... Sacred Sound
Notes carved from your heart sent heaven bound
You lived four score and ten
You name unwhispered in other hearts
Nor was there one who greeted you at your door
You called out, cried out long into the nights
This lifetime spent alone and lame
No fame or recognition
But poverty and hunger were your daily bread
A single cover for your bed, not even a pillow for your head
Ink a few sheets of paper, candles some wine
You spent your all, to own a mistress, of wood and bone
The candle you burnt was at both ends
Without regret your heart was given in its purest form
Bliss is what you mastered wth your art you used the pain of us apart
So full and open was your heart that your music did not dim with age
I called for you one whole month and then another
Come to me come to me softly I whispered
Come rest you've done your best
Time to come home my Darkling
It is the end... this script... this test
Lay your head upon her ivory skin
Kiss her fare thee well
I promise you shall meet again. Come rest, the best is yet to be
You rose up from four score and twenty. Your room alive with warmth and golden light
Covered in Blue Stars you took my hand, a very bright light was burning
You grinned, you saw a youth
A boy of twenty in your skin
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
energy seeker reeking of leeks
taking a leak
streaking for weeks
freaks squeak
in bleak sneakers
Sneaking peepers
beat feet
pretending all fins were
dorsal
eating dried morsels
of old oiled kippers
flipping off
soup dippers
tripping off duped riffers
picking bent strings
singing “bling bling”
with gum-wrapper rings
Queens bring flare
ensnaring rarified misfits
quick to quip
“whadda jip” –
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Star light, star bright
where is my puppy tonight?
dancing across the stars,
joyful and free.
Surfing the milky way
galaxy through galaxy.
turning the heavens upside down,
Cassiopeia now upturned into an M.
lapping from the dippers,
drops splashing all around.
settling here on the earth as fresh dew each morn,
or the gentle rain falling down.
pulling Orion's belt,
Orion with his sword held high,
chasing you around.
Laughing and leaping,
Ah to be so free and light.
racing the moon across the sky,
catching it each month with delight.
a new moon appears,
the chase begins anew.
chewing the old moon
until it disappears.
star light,
star bright ,
will you perhaps bring me another puppy when it is light?
*penned with much love for all those friends who so dear,
have left us here. ~ 29 December 2012*
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 7:28 AM UTC
The long thin-handled edge
of the country, where many
have come to dip their
dipping cups and drink
from rivers diverted into
extreme long and lonely
farm-dedicated ditches,
from the pocketed geography
of blocked up Sierra streams:
how many ways we have
poured our water into
separate cups and worked
at ways to keep it from
its way of life-giving
and of natural flowing.
And now four spins
from the sweating sun,
our lake grounds cracking,
our ground tables slacking,
we must think how to suspend
our dippers, pour our
shared need back into
the source that kills
our thirst. Can we do
this as a people?
Share what is quickly
becoming scarce?
California, land that
brags of leadership--
can we show the world
a peaceable sipping?
All the rivers I ask
seem to answer never.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
There comes a point when one hot tub
Becomes too much and it's just so,
That anyone in must get out
And cool off before the overload.
Fools fastidiously test their fingers
To determine their further actions.
This is because they might be scared
Of heat, or of an overreaction.
Finger dipping won't be judged
Or looked upon more than at once.
And then the dipper may either shrug
And walk away, or take more chance.
But as it very often goes,
From all the dippers I have seen,
The fingers tell the nervous system
To go on and pursue safer dreams.
But should you dip your whole leg in,
Or your whole arm, or your whole self
This not only a greater risk
On your own body, but on everyone else!
Everyone else may judge variously
And hold the grudge and not forget
Because those who act in minority
Are expected to soon regret
Not walking the narrow line
And not living with expectations.
These expectations, they defy,
And then they may face isolation.
The body submergers, fearless divers
May contradict cultural beliefs.
But it is they who act with truth
That are granted, at night, better sleep.
Swimming pools, hot tubs,
Bath tubs, and ice baths.
Walk around and in my eyes,
Their water's not the right path!
Water makes me, water heals me,
Water let's me live more days.
Water taunts me, water dances
And then water washed away!
Should I dip my toes most places,
So often the story goes
Full of fear, I'm not complacent
With the temperature, so then I know
That it is time to walk away
And seek another body to enter.
At times, when bodies enter me,
I often feel their entrance then hurts!
It's either one way or the other,
A quick dip or a thorough swim.
And whether or not I like the swimmer,
Their endurance is a simple whim.
In the pool, they may frolic,
In the pool, they may be joyous.
That's until another water
Proves to be slightly more buoyant!
Slightly easier to navigate,
With more salt, the swimmers float!
Fresh water is such a drag,
So in the oceanic, swimmers go.
Day after day, swimming or hosting,
The water bodies keep swimming on
And ultimately, in this sense,
There's equality in this song!
Despite wanting to participate more,
Despite feeling like poison water,
I'm just a pool among the others
And my water's all I have to offer.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 12:23 PM UTC
This one is so going to be looked at
by the men in Black
so don't say
I told you
maybe ever the KGB who knows.
As neil steped out
the first words were not this one step ect.
it was neil saying buzz
got a problem
what neil
the elastic just gone on my dippers
and the installer liquid is tricking into my boots
at that buzz got onto nassa
Houston we have a problem
the elastic gone in neils dippers
**** drifting around
inside neils suit
and man do I have to live with him
all the way back
for we have no shower.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
ashes to ashes
when i see ur ashes baby girl
i wanna cry
scare to scare
when i see my scare on me baby girl
i wanna cry
i think of u a lot
i have my days when i dont want to be here
i think about all the things that i would all do w u
if u were here baby girl
when i see dippers i cry,
when i see baby bottle's i cry
when i see car seats i cry
when i see baby toys i cry
when i see baby girl clothes i cry
when i see baby things
r baby girl clothes i cry
i wish u were here baby
mommy love's u
mommy wishes u were here
i hate that i never was able to hear ur
first word
first walk
first food
first crawl
first clothes
first shoes
first everything
mommy love's u baby
stay safe in heaven
have fun w grandpa till i see u
ill be up soon when its time for mommy
(~ <3 to my lovely daughter faith hope moore-tuttle <3 ~)
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
The soft encasement of our footsteps on damp grass,
cold which slowly seeps into my cloth made shoes
eventually to carry up my ankles, through and through
we sit on the old trailer, looking up
to a sky of but few stars, most hidden save the dippers
and our small talk begins to chorus with
the symphony of the night while we grant ourselves
permission to bypass such warning labels that
we've been wearing for the past year.
The past is the past, or so I've told myself
you've endorsed this new policy of "no regrets"
and sweep your tongue not only over my neck
but across beliefs held close for so long
I know not what to do with you, for I am leaving you
to an unknown I've learned of over and over again
merely by walking the same path in circles with you
and those circles have permeated a spell around my heart
which tends to seek, and return to you.
The change that corresponds between us displaces goodbye
we've tried so many times and the word is not strong enough
to cut the stem that is our understanding of one another which
stretches out between us over a sea of all that is flowing forward
dividing our worlds, placing us on separate sands
though we sit so closely now that our gazes still connect
in the dark where the moon hovers in a cloudless sky
and you've missed each shooting star that has flown
for the entire time, you were looking at me.
In bodies ever so familiar, our recognizable outer shells
we relax there for a while
because in the name of human decency, in our closeness
you and I may be gazing up at the stars talking about cats now
but I know that this is how we are waving across a vast sea
and if all of this flowery talk
is to be swallowed up by the night's shadows
as the cold continues towards my core and drives us inside
as our steps are forgotten by the damp lawn
I know, for truth, that goodbye does not quite blanket our history.
Yet, may a good-night lay to rest such things.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
The stars reflect her beauty
While competing for her smile
Each one thinks her love is their's
While filled with blind denial
She continues to entice them
As each one feels her stare
Her love belongs to all of them
But none will choose to share
A falling star is nothing more
Than a star with a broken heart
Crippled by her rejection
It will suddenly fall apart
Whenever you see a twinkling star
It's just the Lover's dance
Dying for her attention
In its quest to find romance
The Dippers, both big and small
Were formed to quench her thirst
They stand in line to honor her
As they battle to be the first
The Northern Star takes precedence
As he points which way to go
His countenance is blinding
As he absorbs her radiant glow
So, don't forget to watch the stars
And smile each time they swoon
For now you know this love story
Between the stars and moon
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 1:13 PM UTC
The stars reflect her beauty
While competing for her smile
Each one thinks her love is theirs
While filled with blind denial
She continues to entice them
As each one feels her stare
Her love belongs to all of them
But none will choose to share
A falling star is nothing more
Than a star with a broken heart
Crippled by her rejection
It will suddenly fall apart
Whenever you see a twinkling star
It's just the Lover's dance
Vying for her attention
In its quest to find romance
The Dippers, both big and small
Were formed to quench her thirst
They stand in line to honor her
As they battle to be the first
The Northern Star takes precedence
As he points which way to go
His countenance is blinding
As he absorbs her radiant glow
So, don't forget to watch the stars
And smile each time they swoon
For now you know this love story
Between the stars and moon
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 3:38 PM UTC
Star light, Star bright
How will I find my puppy tonight?
Star light, star bright
Where did you go tonight?
It seems like a dream,
when billions of you sparkled
overhead each night.
Orion and Cassiopeia,
Pleiades and the dippers,
big and twinkling and bright.
Outlined across the dark sky,
creating such wonder,
bringing such delight.
The years creeped along,
the artificial lights growing strong,
Til one night,
you all but disappeared.
Billions of years,
you glowed,
strong & bright each night.
Wondrous, filling each with awe,
mysterious & sacred,
You brought to us,
every little being looking up.
Humans peppered the earth,
inventions spreading out.
Fires and candles,
torches and lamps.
Hardly 100 years have passed,
since Thomas Edison discovered
a new glow.
Now this new light,
casting an eerie glow,
obscuring the dark night.
Tis not too late
to reclaim our lost fate.
Gazing up in wonder,
with a flick of a switch,
or a shade drawn near,
brings back our precious dark night.
Star light, star bright,
don’t abandon us this night!
How will i ever find my puppy,
so high in the sky,
tonight?
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 5:57 PM UTC
Yes. He is Right. The ****** of the Foot
To clear your Cache from Un-Licensed Folly
For Season's Head be his; Though top his Cute
Keeps his Shirt within his Testimony
And why so, we ask? Though Shine's Tempting Phase
Smiles her Invitation for your Accord
Considering - your Ripened Fruit will taste
Sweetness from the Flesh; Sour from the Word
Yet till when must these Base Tenses beware
Task our Wild Syllables from Preconcept
If with Fingers shutter those who would dare
To **** your Virtue with such Misconcept.
Power to the Ball. The Kingdom God's Sport
As most Dippers fare a better Consort.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
searching the vast darkness for one star to grasp
grasp make it fall to me
so I might hold one once
Instead of endlessly counting mapping,mapping
calling them names seeing things
in their patterns
Aquarians, Big dippers, lions ,Leos, Scorpios,
Scorpions their tail ready to strike,
lighting the black with
figurines.
Figuring, that there is a pattern in all this meaningless,
meaning contrasts, revealing patterns, I
I only, see. That,
I I need to catch one.
Put it in my jar of hope, like I did with fireflies,
all those years ago and many dark skies,
skies, I scattered to and fro,
naming,
them. as they tried
tried to escape my
insanity.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 3:15 AM UTC
Autumn bluebell,
From a seaside meadow
I first picked you,
Or is it, you chose me?
Lost to twinkling fascination
I vaguely remember.
But I vividly recall
How shy you were
When your clothes fell away
On that sandy shoreline.
Then again, how remarkably
Bold your declaration:
This is me, as you can see
My individual parts quite ordinary
But all together lovely
Don't you think?
A shepherd moon
Was herding the sea that evening,
Where we raced to meet the foam
As skinny-dippers, you and me.
Appreciating the gift of you
Is so much more about
What's within, than
What I can see on
The surface of your skin.
Though that's pretty good too...
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
My walls, blue and green, filling with integrity, caring and soft, humble and kind, loud and crazy
don't seem to match up with you blank white walls
all they show is your ocean of ego that paints across them with black and grey blocking anything else of your soul, who you really are, from shining through
In the time I found myself, you lost yourself into the ocean of which I almost drowned in because of you.
And when each piece of your black wall crumbled down I couldn't take my wall, and piece by piece and break it apart again to help you float. To help you find the land in the deadly sea, the water in a scorching desert.
That they words that I paint across the room, showing everybody what I think
doesn't match up with your ideas, and what your black wall that shuts off everyone else thinks. That I paint a picture that shines bright through the minds of brilliant thinkers that you could be but your too shut off to see.
I'm different than you, that my eyes didn't hold the darkness and you can never see the stars shine the way. That the day only blinds you even more because you find the sun as a foe not a friend, you see the tree fighting the leaves where you could see them as letting the leaves dance to the tune the wind sings, that the lighting storms **** and punish the houses for sheltering the people or you can see them as the lighting storms that light up the ground making it easy for the houses to be loved as a home not a place.
That the constellations match up in my eyes and I see the galaxies swirling through the night because I know what it feels like to become engulfed in darkness of where I can't even see who I really am. Of where I blinding go through life, not seeing but only touching. But I can't take my stars and aline them for you. Make O'brien's belt and the Dippers shine for you, but I can give you the North Star.
Maybe you can follow it until you find the galaxy that is meant for you and the black walls you jailed in your identity can fall down in surrender and its not a cage fight to see who will win, will the darkness will overshadow your bright identity, it only can if you let it. Will You?
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC