"dovetailed" poems
Fading chorus
to a sing-along rapture
a laugh of clarification
a hasty placement of hands
and knees, dovetailed
yes, those eyes
~ still lit and power-surged
but give her a moment
(...)
for all the sudden
it tickles
May 30, 2022
May 30, 2022 at 7:58 PM UTC
Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem. Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water. I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it. That makes it worse. So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news. Here it is:
I Like Facebook
I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why.
I like looking at the pictures,
Friends I’d never meet another way.
I like friendly messages,
Passages of verse I’d never read
If not for Facebook’s lead.
I like Likes and Comments kind,
Find in comments rich expressions.
Possibly I’m one of few - or few new millions.
I’m inspired when tired, fired up.
Even when I’ve written ‘crap’
No one’s there to trap me.
Some reviewer always sees my views,
Understands.
Someone always sends
Me praise; ends with a Like.
I’ve never had a spikey word;
Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard.
Commonality forever somewhere, there
Where someone wants to start a group.
Always somebody to whoop de whoop:
Somewhere folk who populate;
A troupe with common passions.
Then there are the monthly Happys:
Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters…
Never had one word rescinded.
Reminded gently daily:
Classmates, playmates
I’d forgotten, dovetailed,
Blazoned on the psyche;
Friends and places,
And of course, the faces -
It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee,
A source of history.
As for weaknesses I’ve read about –
Never think to route them out,
Going ‘bout my business,
Focused on creativeness,
The lofty and the small.
I like Facebook.
Happy Facebook to you all!
I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Invested in you
I find our better angels give ground
******* by our egalitarian feelings for each other
Trumpeted by Gabriel’s miscast players
Bedeviled, we take what are yours, mine, and ours
Accumulated wealth protected from predators
Gives in to charitable impulse
Gives out, a gated community against colored encroachment
My bias against the opposition
Dissolves in your arms
We resolve to devote our energy
Toward getting off on the best footing available
Place where we care and don’t simultaneously
Then make fun of our foibles laughing at each other
The same way black and white grays as we mature color blind
Loggerheads whipsawed and dovetailed
Until we forget why we ever came together in the first place
Then remember this location, this smell, this touch, this taste
Karass, storm's eye, held center, Kane's rosebud cathected
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
with a love like mine
you'll never need another
our hearts will align
and our pasts it will smother
we'll forget all the bad
and find comfort in us
our love is ironclad
and not at all superfluous
i'm the pea to your carrot
the wind in your sail
the medal to your merit
simply put: we're dovetailed
with a love like mine
you'll laugh while you sing
we'll be okay, not just fine
and overcome anything
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 6:37 AM UTC
Words spun at her mercy
like flowers around vines,
They longed to be
pieced together,
Dovetailed into a crown
that would adorn her,
embellishing,
augmenting her.
Words flowed like rivelets
in the valley of her conscience.
She befriended them.
Basked in their sheer beauty.
She was the enchantress.
Her words,
Magic!
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet— over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 1:06 PM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet, over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
Thoughts like twisted metal
Decayed and rust pitted
Remnants from a forgotten world
Where gild was the norm
A world that has moved on
But not forgotten the sickness which
Lay beneath the veneer of normalcy
So, what is normal?
Worker Bee?
Family man?
Taxpayer?
Citizen?
Church goer?
The artifacts of that lost civilization
Tells us normal is chaos
Normal is war
Normal is stalking the hunted prey
Normal is vivisected torsos and
Entrails in my sand box
The monster is alive and gnashing
With ferocity against the
Dovetailed timbers of
His prison
No need to do push-ups for this one
He is insidious and ever lurking
Bowie knife at the ready
Slashing his own throat and
Strengthend from every self ******
He waits and dreams
Of devious schemes
In which I give him back the key
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet, over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 12:32 PM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet, over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet, over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 9:26 AM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet— over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet— over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
He came here, and said, in passing,
“The town meeting was adjourned
due to the tower.” The expanding
image of the tower, and the shadow
of the adjournment creped and dovetailed,
until dissolving perceptions at the periphery
changed into what remained of the familiar
and washed away in diminishing September
twilight tributaries of great modern rivers, now
adjured, now forgotten. But, despite adjudication
and adjustment, a question remained, became a
void in the forest, flattened its shadow, biding its time.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC
You worry me.
Your eyes dilate
as though an extra sorrow
enters them.
What is their colour?
You have told me
but the quirks of memory
forewarn the image
of my search
until a resurrection
seems impossible.
Perhaps I’m colour-blind.
Today I caught a conker
falling from a chestnut tree.
It dovetailed to my hand
and lay quite still –
a little stained but perfectly intact.
The surface shone translucently:
a brilliant, brown-red gloss.
Perhaps you’ll disbelieve me
but I thought : this colour’s like Anne’s eyes.
A little later wings of blue
persuaded me to change my mind
and then a blade of grass began a long interrogation.
Shyly and involuntarily your eyes appear
like music fading to a silent close.
from "Poems People Liked (2)"
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet— over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
Lent from completion, there was
nothing left...the heart of the
Heart dovetailed earthward,
for the express purpose of the
Express Purpose.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
( Sonnet )
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet— over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 5:06 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet— over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC
I saw a hunter by a country road,
In tandem with me he sailed as I drove.
His hoody-head set monkish to the soil
Conjured up music so soundful, sacred,
And I unmoving over a tired flesh—
Coloured vehicle felt naked and dead
For he so saintly robed and dressed to ****
In the colours of the sky prayed with wings,
My harrier, his eyes cleansed purity and gold
While mine unsightly piebald pale and blue.
But want of food dovetailed two craving
Creatures, yet— over fed I felt rusty
Below his steely hunger and what saving
Grace God might offer either mice or men.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
Monday, January 27th, 2020
The crux of spiritual efflorescence originates from the seat of the soul. The self is the nexus to transcendence. Humanity has historically looked outside of itself for the change it hopes to sire.
We must ameliorate our ailed cognition before our words can wax healing. When we genuinely ease the suffering within, light shall exude & emanate from our entities. Therefore, introspection, a spiritual mandate, is enquired from the firmaments.
Though pain can at times burnish a fervid sting upon our sensory crux, we must allow this to penetrate us fully. Before the healing can genuinely burgeon, angst must take its course. Moreover, layers of hurt must be processed before reaching our luminescent heart.
The Heavensward loves us aeonically so: Jah, the Cosmo- Plexus of Empyreal Love. Therefore, trust that in the silence of solitude, our spirits will be dovetailed with the Most High God. The Great Apothecary knows our maladies. The God of Freedom is also conscious of the instant upon which to unfurl manumission.
Liberty, or much of freedom, finds its inception upon the Mind's Sky. How can we be free unless we truly fathom it to be? What a fallacy, a probabilistic impossibility! Without awareness, one cannot seize that which is rightfully —their birthright.
Trust that you are free and always be just so. When you do, no soul will be able to expostulate otherwise. Belief, therefore, is power, is emancipation.
Love endlessly. Liberty never leaves the one who bathes in the Baptistery of Esprit d' Amour. Know your worthiness to honor, heartsease, what's more, the grace, the virtue, & the excellency of life. Carry on, surrender naught, fight the fine fight, run fully the race. —Se' lah.
Rise Heavensward,
Transcend fear & doubt,
Banish all hesitation,
Elysium is Within,
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 8:46 PM UTC
It sits alone now
Derelect, long neglected
Empty except the transient shelter
Provided to fox and deer
And swallows cliff and barn
The roof collapsed, the shingles succumbed
To a thousand windstorms
The south side sinking
Drowning in the earth
Yet from it's bones you can see
How it would have appeared
Had a century not unfolded
Timber walls hewn by hand
Corners locked and dovetailed
The craftsman's pride disguised now
Behind the ravages of time
Reflect upon the family
Those pioneers so strong of heart
Who built and grew and loved
And carved a life beyond existence
What hardships felt and conquered
What anguish never overcome
Can we imagine now
From our comfortable perspective
The priorities within that fold
Of time and circumstance?
rc
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 8:15 PM UTC
I surrender to your chest
and press my face against it,
as soft as wool
clipped from a sheep
who couldn’t say
I suffer.
I dread the day
I’ll make you say
I’ll leave you. But that is
what I do. I find
angel boys and postpone
their holiness.
I teach these boys
there’s a space
between blood and bone
to store prayers. That
the whistling pressure that
sequences our next heartbeats
are disappearing acts.
I make them
piggyback on me
as I kneel on all fours in
glass shards and make them say
they like it. They learn to.
They ask if
it could be them kneeling
in pain next time. It is
around this time
when I call it quits.
I said I delayed holiness.
But some of them
Never claim it back.
There’s a river of discarded objects
under the skin of someone
who’ll die for you,
and those they want back.
Between blood and bone,
prayers are stored, yes.
Yet for now, the chest;
rising and falling,
my face against it.
The lung beneath you
a universe-ordered shape
as perfect as a handhold
dovetailed into prison rails.
Beautiful angel boy.
So soft and warm.
Do you hear how loud
it gets
when the moon pulls Earth
and Earth doesn’t say
I suffer.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 1:40 AM UTC