"overcasts" poems
Can I write you a love song
I’ll sing it softy in your ear all night long
Blow gently without words on my saxophone
Diamond and Pearls behind the throne
A beautiful ensemble meant for only you
As I give credence too
Take my hand
Cross this journey with me as I sing about faraway lands
Past Egypt pyramids shifting Morocco sands
Lay back my love, allow your mind to silently drift
Feel the enchantment of my piano keys as it spiritual uplifts
I’ll sing love songs of old
A cappella chorus echoed from deep within my enlighten soul
I’ll sing to you about the blues, society’s injustice, and elements of darken storms
Keep your heart warm, while playing my French Horn
Enrapture foretold from this dedicated symphonic poem
A music sheet of percussion, woodwind, brass, keyboard, and strings
Harmony carrying the mind away as the joy of coming spring
I’ll hum your favorite beats, can you feel the crescendo now
Fiddle from the heart by the sweat of one’s brow
Submerge your cerebral cortex, lose yourself in the sultry tunes
Harp sounds bathe of light kissed from the illuminating moon
Destiny overcasts in the lyrics
Fate floating stratospheric
Karma of others handled in the eyes of satiric
Opera, I give you so grand in its grace
French Creole dialect murmured among silk and lace
Sounds of my flute resonant to face
Allowing my Cello sounds to thoroughly embrace
Can I write you a love song
Body and soul serenading soprano to keep you standing strong
My guitar stringing your philosophies along
An equal equation, one plus one equals two
Emotions, feelings, sentiments, its tenor expressed only for you
No compass to my heart, my seasonal love found in hidden melodies
Trombone guiding back and forth breathless as it please
Orchestra sounds
Ascending minds, bodies, souls, pass the opening clouds, divine and profound
The last note sung by me as we gradually come down
Beautiful music embraced, needs never to make a sound
Shh, close your eyes
Meditate on the music for a little while
Hush sweet baby don’t say a word
My heart softly tweets to a mockingbird
If that mockingbird don’t sing
Can I write you a love song created only for your being
As minds are sightseeing
Hearts fleeing
Timpani drums guaranteeing
Entwined of our divine wellbeing
Emotions freeing
Crooning of bodies heard as the day is long
Can I write you a love song
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
A surface gleams its slick ripples,
Solid liquid covering varied depths,
Frigid water held strong to the reflection of sky.
Held steady in gray by overcasts,
That hide the blemishes on this day.
Crack a warning, glints of sarcasm pierce the eye.
Somewhere below live antique creatures,
Demons of yesterday encapsulated.
Slow with slime and cold with sleep,
They dream of spring, dream of a thaw.
When sunshine blasts the sound of life,
Screams an alarm none dare not keep.
The slow shift strains patience,
Green bubbles from woody mottled arms.
Here and there come the arthropods,
Beginning their feast upon new bounty.
Finding themselves delicacies to another,
The flying predator of the mighty worms.
Singing sweet songs that bring dismay,
From April to June sometimes beyond.
Summer arrives in time to sear,
Tears from this repressed eyesight,
The cold winter from the dark water,
Which breed parasites unknowingly to pester.
Teasing sanity of forest dwelling fauna,
To fester in the skin as a tick or leech.
Drawing life out into the open plane,
Whittling down strength for another day
As we lay out the bitter harvest,
As we find another season of complaint.
Reed Bass
January 5, 2008
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 3:06 PM UTC
*Friendship – a seamless sky
Far too complex to gauge or delve.
At times like the early rays of morn
It fills one with joy.
At times like a gentle breeze
It cuddles and cossets.
At times like dark clouds
It overcasts the mind.
At times it comes blowing like a gale
Sweeping us off our feet.
At times it sprouts like a seedling
Growing out into a tree, giving shade.
It blossoms like a Night Queen
Diffusing in the air, a heady scent.
At times like the plaintive notes from a flute
It saddens the soul.
Like a rainbow it may swiftly vanish
Or remain like a beacon
Guiding us when storms rage.
In darkness, it burns like a candle.
In loneliness, a sweet presence.
At times so silent
At times so very eloquent
Finally like an unfinished tale
A fond memory
A lingering scent
Like the life – sustaining breath
It remains…..!*
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
When the pall of gloom overcasts my mind
And at cross roads bewildered I stand
I tell myself
This shall pass
When my mind is full of fear
And I find no single soul to share
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When darkness invades my abode
And there is not even a ray of light inside
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When my burdens weigh heavier than I can bear
And when no one around seems to care
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When storm clouds gather in the sky
And my tensions rise high
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When the road ahead stretches strenuous
And the distance makes me nervous
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When those I love and trust let me down
And look upon me with scorn and frown
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When misfortunes flow in torrent
And am caught in the eddying current
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When the cycle of seasons keep changing
Life, from sorrows to joy will surely be shifting
Let us wait for the pendulum to have its full swing
And let our hopes heavenward steadily wing!
Love will again fill the air
Doves of peace will coo in pair
The wintry chill will lose its frosty bite
Spring will come on wings like a sprite
‘‘Nevertheless, the hilltop hour
Would not be half so wonderful
Were there no dark valleys to traverse”
Helen Keller’s words resonate in my ears
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
A reflection on birthdays, friends departing this world, and surveying ones life
~~~
this one poem is not lurking,(1)
turmoiled bursting,
shaking, quaking,
release aching
write it in droplets,
my chest speak squeaks,
each thought, a stanza,
each moment, a bonanza
of the doled, muddled mix
of tremblings on this my extravaganza,
renaissance day of birth
upon this earth
sixty five calendars,
this space,
so gulf and so narrow, (2)
for what profit this man
for himself, others?
a Judgement Day of sorts,
where the man~poet is efficiently
prosecutor, defender,
judge and jury,
as is he not,
his one true
peer?
let his biases be betrayed,
his fault lines be paraded,
let his deeds be the unlawful legal coda
by which he is remanded
if found guilty of a ledger imbalanced,
more sins than glory,
only one sentence permitted,
life imprisonment
even the NYC weather
clued in and deity cooperative,
wakes me up to this advisory:
Overcast.
Slight chance of a rain shower.
High near 65F.
High near 65.
what portent this oracle,
a warning guide to this morass
of a contradictory, crevassed man
full of mea culpa poetic messes,
his old is his high...
or are these just winking,
birthday instructions from
an observer on high?
this space of years, this life,
so gulf and so narrow,
engulfed, yet so sparse is his barrow,
his first minutes of the day
a lean inventory taking,
for better or worse
as he overcasts a full review,
plus a bonus (!)
a forward progress prognosis
there is a fresh formed
Cain mileage marker upon his brow,
a check-mark scar,
resultant of his self-checkup
upon the tree rings of his tiring body
weeping only because a mistrial is declared
and no verdict returned
and he rises for coffee,
promising himself someday an honest resolution
before...
these the acts of
sixty five calendars,
of this, his-space,
so gulf and so narrow,
subjected to a now daily interrogatory:
*for what profit this man,
his actions, his loved words,
for himself, to others,
to this world?*
October 1, 2015
~~~
(1)
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1417203/there-is-a-poem-lurking/
~~~
(2)
*but I can't stop
for each hour of the last 72
has witnessed a new poem
in-between
minute one and minute sixty five
written for you,
writing for life,
writing of this moment,*
this space so gulf and so narrow
*in and between
the unity of
us*
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1413760/for-ernesto-l-gonzales-aka-the-dedpoet-the-in-between/
~~~
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Laying,
looking to my right
Overcasts
of stunning delight
Velocity
rise, we get lost in ties
Existence
only in adjacent eyes
Love,
we gather, without word or touch
You
and I feel our lovely rush
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
in traveling letters from you I feel that we too
could visit Barcelona, or a far off European museum
filled with righteous Athenian romances layered
with Greek sculptures. In lieu of studying
the curves of their form we’d rather find ourselves
taking in our bodies, yours being far more interesting,
forever, than those all beautiful, ivory, and headless.
When I receive Frank O’ Hara in mornings over coffee
rolling off your tongue and into a black roasted cloud;
I smell even the greyest of overcasts—- our bodies
pressing against solemn and still in some bright yellow
cab wedged between the bustling bikes and buses
of New York City. It is only appropriate because you are
as aesthetically striking as a skyscraper, because your mind
is as vibrant as every neon light guiding me like a
moth straight back into your shape.
When I receive Frank O’ Hara in our first apartment,
may it be ideal or busted, begin with one block of prose
framed against the entrance wall as the eggs cook
contrarily, its yoke the orange color of evening light.
Warm near the ashtrays centered for our guests filtering
to and fro. Small in pacts and lovely like neighborhood flowers.
We’ll press our bellies side by side, the corners of our bed
holding and map Madrid, or even further to Japan, with our
fingers tracing like constellations upon the rest of the empty
spatial plaster. Left that way for only his words and the rest
that is left between us; all that is naked and unspoken.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 1:38 AM UTC
You don't want this,
And I'm telling you
Just like it is
An unsteady tower when the wind comes in,
That's what I am
Made of marble and glass and covered in sun
I'm at my best when the nights are long
But by the sea,
Temperamental place to be
I fear overcasts just teasing me
Yes it's the best,
I will admit
Just listen sailor, please
A beach house is perfectly
Troubled as can be
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
I pick apart the marigolds petals in my hands
wishing for way back then.
Why did you leave me?
When our future looked so bright together.
The garden wilts everyday.
The thorns overgrow on the cliff we used to sit on.
We had forever
Why did you leave me here.
When the day passes noon
There is only silence to keep me company
Your shadow still overcasts the empty spot to my left
Your eyes still tear through the running creek water.
The sun has never been the same
I thought we would get through this together.
Now I am here, overgrown, exhausted, and desperate
This garden will burn along with me.
I sit in the same cliff, letting the crackling of the flames keep me company with its twisted disharmony.
I pick apart the marigold in my hands.
At least its not silent anymore.
-Kore
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 11:56 AM UTC
you are the warmth when
the sun overcasts the sky
and i will for rain
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
Some things remained close because they were never meant to be open,
not all is starlights, high tides and bright nights in each moment
but it is not to say that they won't appear or have appeared before you
the exit sign is still lit, your smile is cracking but the glue is before you,
I know I have said it many times before, how I urged you to stay strong,
to listen to a song, to meet people and get along but I was wrong...
sometimes staying strong isn't enough to keep you smiling or happy
and something is always lacking, so please listen to me;
you will make it, because bending and not breaking is your style,
and teddy, that smile, will arise before you as the way it has before
so you can choose the exit door or just hold on a little longer.
stand a little stronger, build yourself firmer, because you won't break,
there's a space filled with opportunities, chances, so without haste,
what is your sign? Is it a Leo, Capricorn or cancer? What's the answer?
It doesn't really matter, because signs don't define you, they define route
and the news that you aren't happy with the you, the you that you are,
is like lighting a burning star on fire just to wish of it from afar.
Take your signs, the exit one is still lit but so is the building
because you are not crumbling, not while I am here, friend.
Take a minute off your mind and don't mind the minute details,
they're like emails, trash boxed and binned, forever stuck in junk.
I know it's not about fun, it's heart and soul, tears and sweat
each moment could be a laughter packed with imminent regret
but you better not forget that I am your friend and I have hope
that you know what is the better road to take, the path to make,
the sea escapes my eyes like a wave clasping onto the shores
and before you, I see a strong piece of solid gold amidst the waves
never changing shades, always floating on as the sun overcasts a light,
and it reminds me that maybe that is enough to see in humanity
the flicker of light, a spectre of sight, a tiny bit of 'I'm probably not right-
but I don't really care', and to be fair, that's all is required.
Take the path that you wish to tread because what is walking a thousand miles for someone worth, when you're walking alone?
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
I like the light overcast
Its not too sunny or too dark
Its just right
The perfect amount of coverage of the scorching sun
I hope you get the best of this and gave fun
Because I know I will.
Overcasts make everything much cooler
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
So take a deep breath
the wave is hitting
it's a new beginning.
I've fallen so far
that falling stars are nothing
but dust tossing in the air
just praying on prayers to save the day.
Blink, because my heart is still there;
the air I breathe are still memories of them
like how often I found myself lost on thoughts
nothing to break away from all that I've felt.
The mistakes costed relationships like an iceberg,
as fights burst, trying to survive the titanic.
A didactic tone to reassure my mental state
that this rental hate is just driven away
by her smile, her warm personality and her presence.
The essence of her ability and her personality...
I watch the waves crash against the shore
skies tumble and fall as thoughts of her emerged,
perverse the course of how things were meant to be.
I dare not watch her say goodbye, nor choose life without
but clouded doubt still seeps between the crevice of my brain,
afraid that the same mistake occur like two doves in one stone
leads to a dove-less world.
I'm afraid of speaking my mind,
blind to how my lips must move
or do I choose to motion words
that hurt not only me but others.
I'm afraid of speaking my mind,
the silence binds my lips sealed tight
and at night I hear the echoes of wind
win a one sided fight against the trees,
the bees and the birds missing in flight
as a lamp-light overcasts a broken shadow
of a man hugging himself in tears.
I hate to confess it
but my honest guess
is that man is lost....
because that man is me.
I'm a monster and I shall be slain like one
so as lights gone, please someone swing
a ring that weds me to the eternal end,
pretend that I am nor human nor soul
just a hole filled with nothing but decay
and mistakes left to rot...
But don't slay me, for I have so much to see
so much green left in nature and life,
a light almost vanishing yet clinging on
so swing along with the flick of a switch
that enriches the darker colours with light.
For tonight, I love and hate myself.
So help...switch on or off the light,
for I dare not ask...
who am I ?? A star or a monster??
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
do you ever notice,
how i won’t stop making jokes,
just to make you open the curtains,
let your teeth open the blinds,
as they peel apart, crescent moon shaped
letting your natural light flood over us,
even in the dark of mid-morning bleariness.
(brightness,
creating brown eyes glazed in honey,
my morning coffee).
but then somewhere above,
a cloud overcasts the rays.
minor eclipses, everyday
stealing the moment from me.
the sky has a way of telling you to look away,
i think.
but i’ve never been a fan of reality checks,
i don’t think.
as always, it’s bittersweet,
to see you in grey one more time.
a sepia photograph reminding me,
always,
that sometimes what’s for you,
does goes by you, with the wind
never to be had or held again.
but instead of dwelling on it,
i weave these dulled threads into a blanket,
cotton, familiar, protecting,
to put over my heart.
because every time you look at me,
as the light comes in,
i can see exactly what she’s falling,
drowsily, wholeheartedly
in love with.
and i won’t tell a lie, old boy
it hurts.
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 12:50 PM UTC
When the pall of gloom overcasts my mind
And at cross roads bewildered as I stand
I tell myself
This shall pass
When my pain is more intense than I can bear
And no medicine seems potent to cure
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When my mind is full of fear
And I find no single soul to share
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When anxiety invades my inner abode
And there is no trace of comfort inside
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When storm clouds gather in the sky
And my tensions rise high
I tell myself
This too shall pass
When the road ahead stretches strenuous
And the distance makes me nervous
I tell myself
This too shall pass
As I lay pinned to the bed in pain
I got a newer insight of all those in deeper strain
My debilitating state gave me a lot of time to pray
And I earned the grace to overcome all my dismay
When the cycle of seasons keep changing
Life, from sorrows to joy will surely be shifting
Let us wait for the pendulum to have its full swing
And let our hopes heavenward steadily wing!
Serenity and sweetness will again fill the air
Doves of peace will coo in pair
The wintry chill will lose its frosty bite
Spring will come on wings like a sprite
‘‘Nevertheless, the hilltop hour
Would not be half so wonderful
Were there no dark valleys to traverse”
Helen Keller’s words now resonate in my ears
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 7:29 AM UTC
He's not coming back.
Leave it alone.
He's not going to call.
He's not going to text.
There will be no ringing of the doorbell,
No knocking of the door.
He's not coming tomorrow.
He's not coming next week.
He's not even going to come next month.
Years will go by you won't see him.
You're not going to hear his voice.
You're not going to see his face.
He's gone.
Just like that.
With a blink of an eye and and a twinkle of a star.
Flash of light.
Gone.
Seasons will pass but he won't pass your house.
He is now a fiction of your imagination.
He never existed.
He's a replayed cassette tape of a vivid once had.
A chapter you've folded a crease on to reread again.
He's nothing but a memory.
A ghostly wind that overcasts you.
Broken clock stuck on 12 o'clock
He's never going to show his face again.
He's out of existence.
Let it be.
It's over.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 11:28 AM UTC
I am the darkness.
You've given it to me.
It overcasts my moves.
It taints my blood like boiling water.
I did not ask for the darkness to come.
But I asked it to stay.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC