"helens" poems
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,
What words could never speak
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud
Two of us, alone, as one
Rapt in the spread of wings.
Later, alone we dine in the Café
Campagne. Our conversation
Deafens a burgeoning crowd
Coffee was nectar, our words
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed
By your tears. I have always
Known you.
Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin
Your slender legs, columns that taught
The Greeks in Helens age, touched the water
And the sky. I saw the milky way that night.
Síneánn, I am your Pablo
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone you are the hinge
To my casement world. Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes
I hold your skin, my Selkie
Sweet Niamh, I have lived
One hundred years this week.
It is warm in the distance
In the country of the sun
We end at the house in Umbria
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.
At the great table we feast
With family and friends
And I am not alone with you.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
Humans think they can move nature aside,
The earth laughs, it mostly will hide,
From people, pollution, and the mess we make,
Every now and then, nature's wrath we must take.
The wrath I speak of, comes in many forms,
A powerful hurricane, run fast from the storms.
A foot of water, the storm may send,
Fences and houses, you may need to mend.
Sandy's her name, just visited New York,
The day after, everyone's eating salted pork.
She flooded the streets, and turned out the light,
Happy she's gone, we bow to her might.
Speaking of storms, here's one that instills,
Fear of death, down your spine feel the chills.
Look here it comes, from over the hills,
A tornado, is swirling, better make out your wills.
Destroys anything placed in its path,
Nature is laughing, now feel her wrath!
Many other disasters are waiting for men,
Happening all of the time, we know not when.
Look at its flash, a brilliant light,
A billion tons of earth, taking flight.
Heat that will turn, your body to dust,
Before you die, to see one a must.
Can you guess of the forces, to which I speak?
An A bomb? Next to this, an A bomb is weak!
A volcanic eruption, its power has might,
The sound of explosion, causes many a fright.
Boiling lava runs down the side,
Don't get in its way, nowhere to hide.
St. Helens erupted, many years ago,
Thought she was dormant, then decided to blow,
The billions of tons of volcanic ash,
Covered 2 states, car washes made cash.
Missing people are listed, in Washington State,
No bodies to find, disintegration was their fate.
To close to Mt. Helens, during her blast,
All families have now, is the memories of the past.
These are just but a few, of nature's way,
To show all you people, who's the master today,
And tomorrow as well, never shares the spot light,
Nature's in charge, her power burns bright.
When the awesome power of the planet is displayed.
Hope today she is quiet, and catastrophe delayed.
Visit poemsbypaul.com
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
Your hands have seen the inside
of a carborator. You took apart a
hard drive and called it procreation.
They've been blackened by grease and
bloodied in your desperate attempts
to clear the clouds out of your head.
Seattle is our ocean, water all around
to drown away bad memories and forget
the sunshine of our conception.
Rain can cover up scars, hurt, and spilled
ideas, take them far away to different oceans.
But never our own foreign lake, somewhere
close to Mount St. Helens, or so we thought.
Could our hands ever touch such a pure,
uncorrupted pool as holy as the depths
of your eyes? Would it wipe clean the
slate, dirtied over years of poor decisions?
Your cloudy eyes tell me different.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
From shelves and racks, or lying in stacks, Books,
Of all ages and epochs—adolescents and youths,
Aged and venerable, and e’en those in decrepitude,
Much eloquent, but in all silence, share with us
Experiences wide ranging, emotions well pent up,
Passions, love and hate, and joys and sufferings,
Triumphs, failings, histories, biographies and maxims.
A pat or stroke, or appeal in awe, or in supplication,
They’d unleash to you, in varied moods and temper,
Their stories, in letters, words, phrases, sentences;
In prose or verse on folios, or in acts and scenes,
Of Helens, Quixotes, Falstaffs, Holmes and Othellos,
In the highs and lows of their pleasures and pathos,
Of Lears, Tristans and Isoldes, and procrastinators.
Of the plucks and spirits of Arjunas and Achilleses,
Of the failings of the ill-fated Kareninas and Bovaries,
Of the unwavering faith of Jobs, Noahs and Abrahams,
Of the lovelorn Sakunthalas, and Sitas under Simsupa,
Of God’s Garden, and of the wisdom of the Himalaya,
They speak in silence, of the real and the imagined,
As mighty godlike genies waiting for our summons!
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
On a bright and sunny day
On the 18th of May
An earthquake resulted in a landslide
That unleashed a massive force brewing inside
The eruption removed the upper 1,300 feet
The magma chamber burst- rock & gas blown at supersonic speed
Within 8 miles, all was instantly wrecked
With a shockwave so big, what could one expect?
As the north slope collapsed down
All life forms began to drown
Every tree in sight swept away
19 miles outward; a ruinous ashtray
Silence breaks as ash falls like snow
The once mature landscape now just an embryo
What had become a lifeless terrain,
Now shows us what 35 years can attain.
After the volcanic cataclysm
Biological legacies determine the pace of new ecosystems
The following colonizers proceed:
Lupines, pearly everlasting, alder shrubs, and fireweed.
The coniferous forest was replaced
The deciduous Alder trees won the race
The new forest attracts grasshoppers, birds, and ants
Larks, gophers, sparrows and deer mice take a chance
Out of 256 species alive prior to the eruption,
86 are now in production
20% of the surface is covered with grass and legumes
Struggling young trees that endeavor to bloom
Ecological gaps begin to fill
Strong ecosystems form, production is uphill.
Elk arrives to munch on grass and bark
The thick forests attract birds, like larks.
Fallen logs create nutrients and feed biofilm to the lake
Floating ecosystems now have plenty resources to take
Elevation affects the rate of recovery reports.
The higher the colder, which means the growing season is short.
The loss of trees means more room for sun
As the lake warms up, there’s increased production
More insects and bigger fish, like rainbow trout
Salamanders are scarce now, not many about.
Lupines deserve their own stanza, those purple legumes.
They help make a pumice landscape suitable for others to bloom.
Lupines create essential nutrients the pumice is low on
Other plants are thankful for the rare space to grow on.
All this information hopefully to inspire,
Life pulls through in situations most dire.
Mount Saint Helens’ destructive wake is seen clearly today,
The eruption that obliterated had also paved a way.
May 18, 2022
May 18, 2022 at 11:31 AM UTC
From shelves and racks, or lying in stacks, Books,
Of all ages and epochs—adolescents and youths,
Aged and venerable, and e’en those in decrepitude,
Much eloquent, but in all silence, share with us
Experiences wide ranging, emotions well pent up,
Passions, love and hate, and joys and sufferings,
Triumphs, failings, histories, biographies and maxims.
A pat or stroke, or appeal in awe, or in supplication,
They’d unleash to you, in varied moods and temper,
Their stories, in letters, words, phrases, sentences;
In prose or verse on folios, or in acts and scenes,
Of Helens, Quixotes, Falstaffs, Holmes and Othellos,
In the highs and lows of their pleasures and pathos,
Of Lears, Tristans and Isoldes, and procrastinators.
Of the plucks and spirits of Arjunas and Achilleses,
Of the failings of the ill-fated Kareninas and Bovaries,
Of the unwavering faith of Jobs, Noahs and Abrahams,
Of the lovelorn Sakunthalas, and Sitas under Simsupa,
Of God’s Garden, and of the wisdom of the Himalaya,
They speak in silence, of the real and the imagined,
As mighty godlike genies waiting for our summons!
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:51 AM UTC
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,
What words could never speak
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud
Two of us, alone, as one
Rapt in the spread of wings.
Later, alone we dine in the Café
Campagne. Our conversation
Deafens a burgeoning crowd
Coffee was nectar, our words
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed
By your tears. I have always
Known you.
Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin
Your slender legs, columns that taught
The Greeks in Helens age, touched the water
And the sky. I saw the milky way that night.
Síneánn, I am your Pablo
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone you are the hinge
To my casement world. Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes
I hold your skin, my Selkie
Sweet Niamh, I have lived
One hundred years this week.
It is warm in the distance
In the country of the sun
We end at the house in Umbria
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.
At the great table we feast
With family and friends
And I am not alone with you.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
I name you Prometheus, for your eyes
And Aphrodite, for your smile
From your fiery sons, great wars shall arise
Your daughters Helens all the while
In love, you bring us the fire of the gods
Your children light it on the earth
Dare we, mortals, fight such terrible odds
As would then be brought by their birth?
Better, then, that your beauty perish
Or better that the world be torn?
Your face is a gift that all should cherish
Your fate, Pandora, cannot be borne
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 9:52 AM UTC
April- I could have let it be a one night stand but your body was magnetic.
May- On my birthday I only wished for you.
June- Our first big fight had us erupting like Mt St. Helens. I drank a bottle of cough syrup and spilled my guts. " I love you " I said. You said it back.
July- I found out you were talking to another woman. I was devastated. I'm with another man; maybe that is how you felt.
August- The discussions about me leaving him are becoming more serious. You are moving back in with your mother soon. Ultimately, I decided suicide was my only option.
September- I did it. I left him for you.
October- Arguments are frequent, and one got me so heated that I went upstate for a few weeks. The first night I got there, I gave myself away to another man. It only made the pain stop throbbing for a moment.
November- My dad wants to strangle you, and he says you are no longer welcome in the house. Myself and my family are now concerned that one day you will hurt me; and not with your words. I would still love you so.
December- Some nights you are my heater, but most you leave me in the blistering cold.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
We enter the room,
the flower wall paper makes me feel funny,
But I ignore the feeling.
We begin to kiss,
Passion and lust start pulsing through my veins,
I cant think straight and my body,
My body,
My body! It feels like a new high!
I rush violently torwards the bed,
Rummaging through a land of stuffed animals.
I arrive, and what I saw, what I saw was glory.
As she laid on the bed,
Sweetly humming a simple innocent melody,
I came closer till I could almost feel her breath.
I laid down next to her,
Filled with this uncontrolable feeling,
I began ripping, tearing her clothes off,
She smiled at me with the oddest expression,
Almost as if to say, "Come get me."
***********
It is almost as is the sun and the stars were singing the same beautiful melody as she.
And then, then came this new sensation,
She reached up and pulled me down closer,
The pressure built faster and faster,
I began to sweat and quiver!
Nails in my back like a scalpel in flesh.
This it happens.
An eruption equivilant to that of Mt. St. Helens!
Im done.
My body tingles exquisitely.
This girl, this lady, she is missing.
Where could she have gone?
Was this real?
Am I real?
****
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 2:05 PM UTC
at an unknown tavern
the drunken hobo
claiming to be the blood relation
of the sun
murmurs
while vomiting violently
O mother this is my heart
the love I could never deliver
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 2:01 PM UTC
If you just want to be love...
Why dont you love me????
If you just want to be felt....
Why dont you hug me???
See wouldnt it be lovely....
If "ME" and "YOU" could be in a relationSHIP...
And not me you her and him and them....
Cause that would be just a crowded Ship....
See I want our love to be big.... Gigantic....
But I dont want it to sink.... Ummmm.... Titantic....
So dont bring the ******** aboard....
Just bring your Love and your Trust
And your pain if you must....
Me and you can heal together....
As we build together....
And What we build no one can destroy.....
My momma always told me to watch out for those Helens of Troy...
Cause the Beautiful ones in the end will only hurt you....
But momma Beauty's just a virtue....
And your beauty is so true....
You can be my honest mistake....
Cause if I'm wrong ill give you that chance...
See I was lost at first glance...
And Im in Love with your stance....
Your body speaking to me girl...
And it's getting to me....
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 12:45 PM UTC
I played your game.
I followed your rules.
From the beginning of time.
Your world was all I knew.
I thought it was just you.
Just you and your world.
Your world was all.
So I followed its rules.
I got a girlfriend.
I pretended to be mad
when she ~broke my heart~
I would freeze solid.
My arms and body, stone.
Every time that question;
that silly silly question,
was asked to me.
Everybody knew.
Nobody cared.
I cared.
I was angry.
It was my Question.
It was my Answer.
Sure, it was true.
But, it was not some toy.
I am not a source for entertainment.
The spine and brain are first,
but, I had no spine
until That Day.
An inner evil,
foreign to me,
erupted from within me.
I pitied her poor soul;
My explosion was more,
more than that Saint Helens.
That beautiful destruction I caused?
I reveled in it.
I had finally grown my spine.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC
it was exactly a week ago but it feels like
Waters have paused to ask directions from air and lava
And lava, in it's lost hots, slinking its way down Mount St. Helens
Couldn't hear water
yellin'.
It's still as if
there were no Mexico
and as if
you ceased to swallow the clanks
of arachnid 'where'd-ya-go's'
in favour of
where the wild river flows
This oval prose is not a rose
It's cheaper
and I'm tellin ya
Count the rocks connected on the second front of sidewalk and that's how you might forget
how much
it costs
to miss you.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
grit muddy tree
shards caked into skin
golden days of fall
and the violets
quiet questions seeking
comfort the casual nothing
dirt trails
and the violets
stuff of earth
swept up into hands
flung at heavens
you disappeared
from the bookshelves
to park benches
and the violets
in my window sill
you are dust
you are the dust of earth
cast from my hand
ascended to the stars
dust of galaxies
and cars after Mt. St. Helens
wicker chairs and
neon palm trees
particles in shafts of light
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
I want to be like Mount Saint Helens,
Strong and firm, quaking every couple years in the faces of the helpless.
I want to make newspaper headlines and magazine articles for being fearless and tall,
Sputtering and spewing at those who've wronged me.
I want to be the conquest men dare try,
Out of fear of being swallowed whole.
The deadly concoction of pure beauty and viciousness,
Threatening those who taunt from below.
Unpredictable and dangerously violent,
They still will want my picture and tell their children of me,
Mount Saint Helens glory will never fade,
For her might is much to strong for the common man.
But I,
I will keep on,
I will conquer and cast my plight willingly
And when they see me, they will tremble because they will know of my unpredictability and daunting grace.
A deadly concoction,
That Mount Saint Helens might find idyllic.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC