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"lofting" poems
The birds don't care about the internet. Their anger is with the ground, the place where the green goes, the fields of the hunt and the roots of the trees. Their hearts pound in anticipation of flight into the blue, a lofting of the body high. Their cries herald freedom, the warm sun on soft feathers. It is their exhilaration breaking forth, like the promise of soft lips that by rights are not your own, tender in the night welcoming you. i was going to write to you, the reader, about joy and its mysteries: something sacred, the pins and needles felt throughout our human-shaped boxes, the shadow where we hide our hearts for others to steal. i long to tell you, dear reader, if only you can promise to hold that secret close ... Can you? Can you keep this secret? ... (yes)... So can i.
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Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
Why the Robins Sing
we tracked her gyrations on the weather channel for days eyeing the graceful pirouette of her cyclonic spin incessant bulletins of the exploding super storm on a collision course with home, piqued fear, kindled fascination drove fatigue the day before Sandy arrived I followed the flight of clever birds lofting away to the safety of inland hills the foolhardy mistook hubris for intrepidness lifting beach front margaritas to the roiling sea unaware their jolly libation begets tomorrows sober realization that folly’s miscalculations have calamitous consequences The Doors Riders on the Storm Oakland 10/29/13 jbm
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
Waiting for Sandy
The now has left my body. My mind is emptying Of all thought of today. The moment is receding; I feel my feet lifting My arms are floating As if in a pool of light Like water, buoying me With untouching caresses Lofting to evanescence And I know it is fine This feeling of pleasance Of no worries in me No hurrying to be done Nowhere I have to be No reason to run. I am centered in this, A feeling of completeness; Of needing nothing else, A spiritual sweetness, A relaxing kind of comfort Surrounds and enfolds By singing unheard songs Deep into my very soul. I am happy here, smiling, Somewhere in the self Where not even I can see, That I am someone else. I am someone loving And kind and caring. I love this feeling so I wish I were sharing The sense of a world Where everything is right And everyone is floating In the same golden light.
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Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
GOLDEN LIGHT
Lofting in the breeze Her scent, So subtle An Intoxicating allure Hints of Rose and lavender For my love, she's the cure Her supple red lips, plump and ready A most delicate treat So luscious, so beautiful Eagerly awaiting for Both of ours to meet Her eyes, so bright, so deep Gazing with everlasting affection So deeply entranced, encapsulated In our powerful connection So close now, I see my reflection Her skin, so ripe, so smooth So lustrous and silky My longing for you does not make me guilty Truly a masterpiece, a work of art I've fallen in love Never again shall we part
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Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 9:33 AM UTC
Attraction
bridge to heaven, apex of the earth and sky; west by north, corner of a nation. where the ocean deep and blue, rises from its depths to join the hands of sea blown grass, together reach for cotton wisps, the cirrus clouds aloft to clasp, teasing curling locks of hair in a brilliant sapphire sky. garden where the angels visit, stoop to touch the darkened sod; swoop to give a breezy nod, a soft salvé from above; joining sailing boats with colors flying, their wings of sheets catch winds offshore; waves collide in dance, splash at bow en-trance, curtsying like a curtain call, here at play they soothe, enthrall; transporting, lifting, cavorting, gifting, on breezes light with gentle lofting, Zephyrus sends them over yonder, ever distant, ever stronger, ’cross the strait to reach her border. port of angels, home to men, bridge to offer sweet descent... this, the end of jacob’s ladder, dream of angel’s softened laughter, listen close you’ll hear their whispers, words of grace in flowing vespers blowing down from snow-capped ridge gently ’cross the angel’s bridge.
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
port of angels
Rift rafters fall for the love of their sinister lives that continue long after the setting sun, Breathers lay out their arms welcoming peace with a deadly knife, Sought after visions lie but for a just cause, Simple villains turn tides when truth proved to be theirs to gloat, Lips of curves softly calling for the ears of new found kings, Lofting lost but on the path that was sought when no path was given, Crain the neck to see what is alreadyinfront of you, Suggested laughs at the subtle sight that was born from the head of a baby, A free fairing fan fiction frantically falling for free franks from Fredrick's farm facility featured February Fifth, A test to the cure that causes our noses to run amuck, Fidget in our seats when words of conversation repeated for few sentences know their bounds, A long lost rambling mind, tastes silver in the blood of night
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC
P0e9
Sympathetic empathas saying words, That are read from a script, No one knew how to write, It's early and cars, Driving to, Another paid bill, Or whatever Thomas said, Expierences fulfilled by fuel, Maybe they aren't driving, Or drinking, might just be, making babies in the, Basement, Or whatever Keats said, Distantly dancing, To kindergarteners and, cancer patients, Just another Thursday, With mystic music, Lofting around, The empty dance halls, Falling up, With Christopher Robbins, To the stars, The bus is on time Or whatever Dylan said.
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Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
Just Some Notes
What are dreams but kites we string, thoughts we stress, sometimes obsess, with tails and tales of fantasy, that we run a field with overhead, seeking to find a bit of lift, a warm and rising currency, that buys us time, time for us to bide our wish, like lofting balloons of lunacy, but serves us well, that we do dwell on thoughts of things that may yet prove veritably impossible, least we lay a plan, and execute.
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Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
Dreams
I think some move lightly through each other and some just gush through I've always thanked God for those-whom I love on earth at the same time Cognating under the same sky Breathing the doublet droplets of air Lofting under blanket cloud cover up high Residing under matching hemispheres Roused together and awake during unexplained times of day So much eminence of loveliness I sometimes feel fate.
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Thanking
Cheesesteaks and grimy streets with a broken bell walled 'round by glass over cobblestones trod weary feet and love is born and hope is born Strong fountains sweep in summer heat sparks blaze in artful air at night recalling every future song when love is free and hope is free Autumn ripeness sewed the flag lofting parchment highly penned before Billy ever stared us down til love became and hope became Cold souls all hunched in grand salons broadly fluttered civil strifes two hundred years were faded long but love remained and hope remained Reborn of blossoms freeing most Who stretch on Spring Garden to South And tumble past down to Navy Yard until love grows until hope grows Once wise as Ben struck under tree If ever Delaware George had crossed —If this Republic we can keep— it’ll've been by love and a little hope.
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Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
From Philadelphia, 2016
a statistic RIP don't know how; i go from mourning to night, (a quick little flight) but i come back down mutually taken give away before - what - the poison reached, was it even wanted? revisiting the place it started; the smell of the stale air of that room, still holds dear open 24 hours like i was for you, both time and heart. where did you go? you were just here where you even here, sad ghost i loved? did i? the answer will not be found nor should it ever be. but i still fell your calming hand on my back, lofting. still haunting, like the beginning; however, a new way. less alive, truly ghosting.
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Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
here lies
I'll tell you my dream come true. I want to be in love again for that love to be my last. I wish to run home to her waiting arms every night make love to her till I can't breath. Forsaking for her all others I'd feel her sweat pour over me, like a waterfall. To have those rains wash away my sins baptizing me in tears of joy. Fall asleep to the beat of her heart, all the while her whispers caress my ears with "I love you". Play on the beach sharing our deepest fears and grandest joys. Wake not knowing where I end, nor where she begins. Drink of her love till I drown. Look at the moon each night I'm away, know she’s doing the same. Close my eyes, feel her heart touch my soul, and know she has shared with me something precious. Walk hand in hand through the park at 85. Stare into each others eyes not seeing the years gone by, but the priceless love within. I want to die in her loving embrace from a life well spent. All the while the lofting sounds of laughter, pour through my window, as grandchildren play hide and seek, in the fallen leaves of changing colors. To the sound of the lonesome whistle down the river the steamers would roll. I dream my last words to be “I love you". The last sounds I hear to be the new life crying down the hall echoes of the child that will take my place. A loving tear from my beloved wife and son, I'd pass from this world with a smile. Tate This is the only prose poem I ever wrote. The original poem for my wife http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/447640/
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Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
My Dream
I'll tell you my dream come true. I want to be in love again for that love to be my last. I wish to run home to her waiting arms every night make love to her till I can't breath. Forsaking for her all others I'd feel her sweat pour over me, like a waterfall. To have those rains wash away my sins baptizing me in tears of joy. Fall asleep to the beat of her heart, all the while her whispers caress my ears with "I love you". Play on the beach sharing our deepest fears and grandest joys. Wake not knowing where I end, nor where she begins. Drink of her love till I drown. Look at the moon each night I'm away, know she’s doing the same. Close my eyes, feel her heart touch my soul, and know she has shared with me something precious. Walk hand in hand through the park at 85. Stare into each others eyes not seeing the years gone by, but the priceless love within. I want to die in her loving embrace from a life well spent. All the while the lofting sounds of laughter, pour through my window, as grandchildren play hide and seek, in the fallen leaves of changing colors. To the sound of the lonesome whistle down the river the steamers would roll. I dream my last words to be “I love you". The last sounds I hear to be the new life crying down the hall echoes of the child that will take my place. A loving tear from my beloved wife and son, I'd pass from this world with a smile. Tate This is the only prose poem I ever wrote. The original poem for my wife http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/447640/
Continue reading...
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An empty house, no walls or doors, Cold wind blows and chills the floor, A single window in the corner, She's so lovely, how I adore her, She's been asleep now for a few hours, Sound asleep after her shower, Blood-red stains on a perfect veil, Stillness flows over skin so pale, Sleep well, my love, Get down, it's growing closer, Put down the four leaf clover, Gray skies and falling stars, Locked doors and mental scars, Dreams die and life will fade, Mothers beaten, children betrayed, You'll go just as you came, With red-stemmed roses on your grave, She wakes and stares into me, Can't wait to lie and use me, The smell of flesh, lofting, haunting, Blood-stained blade, enticing, taunting, The master butcher, I am sin, I'll make you pay for what you did, One cut, two, the floor is gone, What once was right, turned so wrong, Sleep well, my love, Get down, it's growing closer, Put down the four leaf clover, Gray skies and falling stars, Locked doors and mental scars, Dreams die and life will fade, Mothers beaten, children betrayed, You'll go just as you came, With red-stemmed roses on your grave, I'm so cold, here in an empty nest, Friendless, freezing, hardly the best, At anything, no one's here to, Keep me running, keep me focused, So cold, dark, damp and empty, I tell myself, 'I can't leave completely,' Just enough to see over the edge, Just enough to know it was all for the best.
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Sleep Well, My Love
if i could do anything be anything you'd find me way up with the clouds i'd be a fearsome sight! all tawny-brown, white-speckled feathers backlit by a rising sun oh yes, the dream of my childhood was to have wings was to fly unstoppable, i'd soar in a low-pressure sea of blue my wingtips carving clouds into the most beautiful sculptures adrenalin, epinephrine sixty miles an hour rising, diving, rising, diving, loop-de-loops and barrel rolls death-defying stunts blink and you'll miss me i'd drift so gently so effortlessly free to move with the stratosphere as my stage each powerful beat of my wings lofting me higher, faster, higher looking down, everything so small below my dangling feet giant leaps from treetop to roof to treetop wings casting the prettiest of shadows long feathers feeling the wind ebb and flow my back aches with longing, sometimes. you can never really be rid of the dreams you conceive at twilight the dreams you imagine with a young mind in my dreams, i can fly.
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Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
a child's longing
Another sunset tries to survive, as it drifts beneath the earth and dies The dreary dawn awaits for it's alter ego to stumble through the night In theory gone, she baits the line, and casts our soul into another fight A leery pawn, a game of fates, it's time to know, what feels just right An eerie yawn, opens the gates, the perfect dream walks into the light The sunrise comes with haunting cries, shining down on tearful eyes Darkened skies remind last night's broken promises are Today's lies Thieving Gray clouds shade the grounds as my head pounds and Throbs Weaving Stray crowds of worried rats scurried about chaotically to Jobs Leaving an unbearably noxious musk wafting throughout the surly Mobs Deceiving another day until the dusk comes lofting like a thief and Robs The morning's glory, came and went, and not a moment too soon The mayhem and the havoc hellbent, clamoring to stay high noon Tensed sheople just making life's rent, until the stars begin to croon Incensed at the blanket time we spent, chasing the tranquil moon
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Aug 5, 2023
Aug 5, 2023 at 11:12 PM UTC
Night it Up
Cheetah flying through the tall grass Hawk lofting on thermals The wilderbeast dragged to ground Doesn't feel victimized. Mouse scampering under an elephant's foot Monkeys swinging in their jungle playground The lion sunning himself in the wilderness Doesn't feel superior, Doesn't feel special. Human dropping a test tube Bats hiding their secrets in caves Are we all creatures with souls or not? So when a virus crosses a few boundaries Why wouldn't it?
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Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 11:50 AM UTC
Not So Special