"panned" poems
Across the road
A J-K girl,
Skipped and laughed
On her way to school.
She was strapped
To a big back-pack,
Looking like
A pink pack mule.
Behind her strove
Her drover,
Directing her to quarry
All the stones of learning.
By three o'clock
My minature mule,
A little slower
Trudged from school.
The pack was filled
With rules and tools.
She had panned
The ores of knowledge;
She'll assay them
In days to follow.
Each day my mule
Will turn the grindstone,
Crunching numbers,
Sifting fine poems.
She's mining all the hidden gems
To fill her back-pack
Once again.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
To my dear son, Boaz in distant Idaho,
Saturday nite, the whole of New Zealand waited in apprehension for the All Blacks rugy team to play the resurgent Wallabys @ Fortress Eden Park.
The previous week at Suncorp Stadium in Sydney, in driving rain, the All Blacks muddled through a painfull draw with the Wallabys, 12 points each with no tries.
The Wallabys had fancied their chances and had wanted an emphatic win on home soil.
Both teams took that score as a loss and the gauntlet was thrown for the second match…..
A brilliant evening, clear and fine , 50,000 people crushed in to Eden Park and you could feel the apprehension, the rest of the country sat in front of their TV willing the team on.
The Haka was given a brutal rendition, you could feel the determination, the passion emanating….the Ozzies glared their defiance back…it was all on!
10 minutes into a titanic struggle with the score three all Captain Ritchie McCaw had a brain fade and was yellow carded off for ten minutes by the French referee.
The crowd roared…then murmured their worry like you’ve never heard before.
The Ozzies mustered a huge scrum which the All Blacks countered with one man down…. The counter ****** pushed the Australian scrum back 15 ft.
Every man in New Zealand was on his feet roaring, you could feel the spirit of nationalism soaring….the moment was a watershed.
The All Blacks counterattacked showing a brilliance in attack and defence we have not seen for years… and from that moment on the game was won.
Final score 51:20 The Bledisloe Cup was ours.
As the match finished the TV camera panned across the solidly black clad crowd…. I have never, ever in my life, seen so many, simultaneous, sets of white teeth grinning!
The trip home to Australia would have been… a very subdued affair.
Thought I should share this marvellous moment with you Boaz.
Luv Dad.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
"io sol uno."
-Dante, Purgatorio
There I was,
the comic-tragic star of my own motion-picture,
bold beneath the springtime Italian sun hung high
--a heavenly fixture,
illuminating the gold-leaf enframed frescoes in
kaleidoscopes of colours,
baking dry the pigeon droppings upon the flagstones
they smothered,
where I, in all my self-serving recreation,
posed proudly in a costume of my own creation,
an operatic villain clad in a billowy blouse of black,
the Campanile Tower like a sentinel behind my back,
as movie cameras panned and zoomed,
paparazzi photographers capturing me
and freezing me,
in all my wicked, medieval glory,
floating and gloating in the dank aroma of the Venetian seas,
*"I'm the shining star!
--Look at me, look at me!"*
-the super-special star I always knew I'd be,
a painted parody,
a harlequin of displaced passions
for all to laugh at and see,
before slipping silently
into the ornate basilica,
dim and dark as night,
thanking Mother Mary (for nothing) as I sparked
a votive candle's light,
not really sure or caring
where my life would lead,
just as long as the Azure Queen
shed Her Grace on me,
me,
me,
...until I fell
and fell
to the mockery of a home
I made in Hell,
hard and forever and fast,
the only fool left alone in my solo cast,
adrift with no direction,
****** and lost,
me and my frivolous theatre,
squandered an an extravagant cost.
_____________
"io sol uno" means, "I, myself, alone."
This poem is a true-life story.
__________
See the Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy:
http://www.carfree.com/design/pix/sqlg110venice_piazza-san-marco.jpg
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 11:01 AM UTC
never been addicted to the pursuit
loaded the gun but i would never shoot
i like where i am, i understand now
just had to see how it panned out
escapist oasis, touching land now
swam in muddy waters, searched for myself
thought i knew better, looked outside myself
follow the river into the ocean’s mouth
swallow my pride and shut my mouth
observe and serve
discern and curve
Sep 30, 2022
Sep 30, 2022 at 6:09 AM UTC
If sleep is the cousin of death then all of your dreams must reside on your breath
But death is as constant as the rain
So Like a lions mane wear your dead dreams sewn together proudly like a grass skirt in a luau in Maui
I see, and i know that no one is perfect but was jeopardizing our entire way of life worth it? I know i just discussed dreams earlier on in this piece but please allow me to indulge and talk about this elephant in the room.
Why is it that you thought that a man who is of African descent and a woman would lead us to our doom?
See, like Kennedy a lot of us had dreams of going to the moon and making a difference in the world more impactful than taking off the rest of the day at high noon,
Soon he'll be in office and i can't change that but let's face facts
We stood by and allowed your ignorance an audience we built your hate filled echo chamber that is certain parts of the information superhighway internet
O-bummer? Classless? Slime? January 20th the end of an error?
We all saw the comments on all the news pages and while those despicable words enraged us we know free speech is a part of what made this country
We have to take the good with the bad but, i do have one request.
Don't expect me to give him a chance as he panned and pranced all over the people who built this country off of our ancestors backs...
Don't expect me to not take him to task lyrically because maybe it'll be all that i have.
He. Is not. A president.
So like i said, sleep is the cousin of death.
But wake up friends...wake up for the mistakes we have to correct...
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 8:08 PM UTC
Dear Newborn,
Hi, hello.
Welcome.
I hope you’re enjoying your stay here on planet Earth.
I’m sure the drive in was a little difficult, a little painful,
perhaps a little ****** (or a lot ******
like moving from the darkest cavern to the brightest….
well, place. Area. Location.
I can’t think of anything superbly bright right now.
Oh, oh, I know.
It’s like living your whole life floating
at the far reaches of outer space and then
catapulting directly into the sun.
Great analogy.
Regardless, welcome.
I said I hope you enjoy your stay,
the key word being hope, because, well,
you may not enjoy it.
In fact, it’s guaranteed that there are parts of life
that will be near-torturous,
that will make you wish you had never been brought
into this world.
But with that also comes moments of happiness
unlike anything you will ever experience,
intense joy that makes you feel as though
you’re weightless once again,
floating out in space with no restraints,
no boundaries, just peace.
The good will be great,
and the bad will be horrible,
and sometimes the good will be good
and the bad will be just bad,
it all depends on the day.
A word of advice: treasure the time you have.
You won’t understand why this is important until you're older,
but do it anyway.
Life fades just as quickly as it is brought to fruition,
and there are people on this Earth you will want to treasure
like they are the finest gold ever to be panned out of any river.
There will be moments like this, too,
moments you wish would never fade,
and they will fade,
but never let them escape your memory,
and seek to make more of those moments every day,
even when happiness seems like an impossible dream.
Life is the most difficult journey you will ever go on,
but has the possibility of being the most rewarding, as well.
Allow the pain to be felt just as vibrantly as the happiness.
Never stifle your emotions.
Never limit others.
Never forget where you came from.
Never stop dreaming,
But never allow yourself to be tied down by those dreams, either.
Be free,
do what makes you happy,
be compassionate,
travel,
drink and make merry
(once you're legally allowed to, mind you),
and just be.
Exist to the great capacity you possibly can,
and die knowing you lived
Wishing you the greatest of luck,
A young dreamer
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
Dead crocs and rabbits
being worn and stepped on
as rugs and carpets
and furry trench coats
Panned, sluiced, and
now shiny gold toilets
All thanks, to your
10-year old laborer
Fancy Ferrari cars
Lavishing clothes
and mind-blowing ***
What else could you wish for
with that stone heart of yours?
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:08 AM UTC
We rang in the new year
On a mattress thrown on your
Living room floor
With the ball drop
On a desktop computer screen
The sound was lagging
Behind the images
And we were laughing
At how we always end up
Stuck in the past
You threw your arms around me
And let your kisses land
Carelessly wherever
They fell
And I outlined your jaw bone
With my pointer finger,
Threading it through
Your beard
And looking into your
Lazy eyes
You counted the times I said
"Like okay" at the beginning of a story
And by 5 AM , you announced
We'd reached a healthy twenty
You kept apologizing
For the way your dog
Was relentlessly
Licking my neck
But honestly
Even with her slobber
And yours
Dripping over my collar bones
And even with the night air
Tingling on my thighs,
Just a little too thick,
Just a little too warm,
Even with my straightened hair
Curling at its ends
And your brother's girlfriend's
Faint moaning sounds from behind
A locked door
There was nothing I'd rather be doing
Than watching your eyes expand and contract
To the rhythm of your stories
Before the blue light of television
Overlapping moon lit window sills
And dark spaces
You are the yellow light love,
Symbolism with a pulse,
Saying "it's officially 2017"
With a begging grin
And an undercurrent of
Gentle laughter,
Standing for change
And growth
And warmth
And simplicity
You are transparent
And in the palms of your hands
I see the year panned out
In blue veins
And freckles
And it is kind hearted
And it is forgiving
And it is kissing my forehead
And letting me breathe
I know this is going to
Be a good one
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
On yonder strand
In bridled land
A motley band
With vigor fanned
Across hill, lowland
With self righteous brand
Seeking brigand contraband
From each licentious hand
To forthrightly remand
Every highway spanned
Tolls, tribute to demand
Each pilfering cleric did reprimand
Then every bloated collection was panned
Every royal vestige scanned
Gratuitous coffers to expand
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
An illness, it plagues me
It causes great misery
My screams go unheard
I hope Death comes to claim me
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
The Demon came one night
And to me, it spoke;
"Come make a pact with me,
And your pain I'll turn to smoke"
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
You walked into my house
So generous and kind
Of how innocent you were,
So innocently blind
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
The transformation completes
Oh how good it feels
To be free of pain and suffering
The bell of liberty peals
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
A day is not long,
I must start acting
If I want to stay,
You must be dying.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
Alas, you have struggled,
Valiantly played.
But you cannot win me,
The pact gives me aid.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
Give it back?
This body, I will keep
They say "finders keepers"
Leaving the losers to weep.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
For a day, I said.
For a day, you'll stay.
But not if you die,
Not if you, I slay.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
This is the final leg,
Your power abates.
For all the love I've missed,
Ahead, it awaits.
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
Goodbye, my dear friend
You've helped me a bunch
Your body stays with me
And with mine you leave
*You're such a good friend
I know you will help me
Come to my house,
And help set me free*
The Demon behind
He waved his hand
Laughed, and left
When the camera panned.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
On our bikes, day after day
Wheeling along the West Country Way
From Georgian Bath, that Jane Austen knew
To Glastonbury Tor, our challenge still new
Where are we now, is it this way or that?
Another cool stretch on a railway track
No one fell off, no one got hurt
Except now and then by a few cross words
And so over Exmoor, our longest day yet
It was football, not cider in our Somerset
Sea views and fresh air in Westward **
We could have stayed longer but on we go
The hills are getting longer, tall hedges either side
Our legs are getting stronger now we've found our stride
The Eden project was on our route
So we had to stop and see
The scene was complete in a bio-dome
With David Attenborough filming for tv
Past holes in the ground where they dug the clay
Along old canals our journey panned out
Then over a beer at the end of the day
Out came the map for the mileage count
On through the ancient landscape we go
Past the odd castle or stately home
Past sheltered coves and beaches of sand
And on to the end -Lands End-
Where we ran out of land
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
I feel as though life is like a levetating elevator
You're trapped in a confined space unable to control the direction
You can only use the control panel provided
Without the panned you have nothing
Just a confined space
A space in which you are trapped in
unable to stop it's levitation
It'll take you up as far as it can
To a world you may not measure up to
To a place where only kings can rule and where the empty will fall
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
"In Modern Drama we turn a critical eye
into the conditions of real life and morality." --- Arlen Rambush
Modern Drama 101
Her life had become an Ibsen scenario,
cloaked, as it was, in furtive AOL chat rooms,
seeking the romance no longer orbed in marriage,
rather to be panned from the internet wellspring.
It wasn't so much inconstancy, as it was whimsy;
more a channeling of Deneuve, than profiling Gabler.
And she found they flocked to her,
pigeons to be shooed away, should they get too close.
Soul of the house, everything to husband and family,
yet, it was in cyber tryst where she flourished,
that informed the powerful intellect at intervals
with mother and a carte blanche ingénue.
It's possible she sought to reform them,
tear them down --- or no --- it was conquest.
It was not she that needed men,
it was she that absorbed them in hedonistic pleasure.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
There’s something about the post-punk silence of nighttime that makes me doubt my soul. That makes me define things in terms of what they follow instead of what they are. Someday, I hope my life will be as interesting as a rock-and-roll portrayal of history. Something to be envied. Something to be admired for its brilliant art direction and cinematography, but panned for its lackluster script. In simpler terms, something boring but pretty. But I’ll only be in it for the costumes. And the one critic who will understand and say, “Her story is strange. At night she levitates above her bed. She’s over the age of sixteen, but she’s still not a witch yet. Kudos for not succumbing to clichés.”
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 7:31 PM UTC
Tap tap tap and ye shall find.
I sieved and panned for nuggets that shine,
Searching for those elusive lines
That transgress space and transgress time
Or soothe and calm like favourite wine
Or send a shiver down the spine
I chanced upon a wealthy seam
I tapped and from it gushed and teemed
A geyser of emotion
A tide of wisdom
A planet of experience
Hello Poetry, how do you do?
I'm very pleased to meet with you.
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 8:37 AM UTC
As he sat the trash can back down gingerly
He sighed Well, it’s a long story.
We were drinking beer in my backyard at four in the morning
On one of those sticky September nights
Where sleep was more rumor than reality,
And, as I noted the time on the clock for the umpteenth time,
I heard a song outside my window;
Not some drunken caterwauling of “Danny Boy”
As rendered by some stray tabby in a Dublin alley;
This was…singing, like you’d hear on a CD
Or, perhaps, Live From The Met,
And at first I thought some poor sot with an artistic streak
Had pulled off the main road to sleep it off,
But the singing was punctuated
With the clatter of can-lids and the occasional grunt,
Until I understood that baritone and trash barrel
Were part and parcel of the same man.
As I handed him a second bottle,
He recounted how his lifelong dream of riches, glory,
And a glorious career on the world’s great stages
Came to a sudden halt after a Manhattan debut
(*I sang my *** off that night*, he recounted)
Was met with mild praise, the odd bit of outright scorn
And a healthy dose of apathy.
I ‘spose, he said between sips, *I could have done all right
Givin’ lessons, singin’ bit parts here and there.
You’re on the road a lot, but the money ain’t bad*,
But one day, just before an audition for a supporting role
In a regional production of Carmen
Up in Binghamton ******* New York,
He simply left the theatre, got into his car,
And drove some sixteen hours
Until he hit town here, and then he stayed.
But, I countered, why not go back?
The years of lessons and Julliard,
All for celebrating our refuse and squalor
With roadkill requiems, arias for rats?
Well, some days it’s a hard way to make a living,
He said, stroking his chin thoughtfully,
*But it does give me a venue to sing,
And, to date, I ain’t been panned by no **** cat*.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
In you lies Zeus. You’re your own God of thunder.
Striking lighting that Peirce through hearts. I wonder!
The world believe you have it all panned out, it sometimes forget you have blood too
Its notion of you, unintentionally gives a standard as high as mountain
Society views you as fearless, it forgot the boy in you
Asking you to man up and keep your tears,
I ask aren’t they humans too?
My love,
Tune out the cruel noise and listen just to my voice
For you are my king, the Igwe of my clan so I call you EZE
The eyes of the gods in you I find EZENMOR
You are the Ohi of my land so come home to me OHINOYI
The hand that gives never lacks what do you say? ADEIZA!
As a woman I love to dream and I know we have an empire… of which you’re SULTAN
Our sons learn from your steps they are our little YUVRAJ
My audacious husband, an aggrandize doer.
Mighty is the Arm that I find comfort, for you are the most uxorious man I ever met.
A gregarious lover…
For days you find the fog too thick, take a break
Catch your breath
Think again.
Remember you’re Cheesable too
And you are loved with all that comes with it.
@BELLAH
Nov 18, 2022
Nov 18, 2022 at 10:37 AM UTC
Once the depression becomes routine,
Happiness never really feels comfortable again.
It comes around
now and then,
like an old friend.
You laugh and drink
and reminisce about all the plans you had that never panned out.
All the hope you invested,
in the jobs, the relationships, the dreams and goals.
And you laugh at how foolish you once were for ever having such ideas.
But the laughter dies out
And your smile fades
And you know in the back of your mind
that soon, your happiness will be gone again,
and you can never quite forgive it for leaving.
You cant blame it,
All you ever did was hold it back.
Maybe somebody else could make better use of it.
And the depression,
Well the depression is no Stranger.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
Moonlighting this Dreamscape,
the Eye that gleans panned...
indelibly placed as to overcome,
meanings unmoved
till they mean.
For the sake of: here to here...
a head shakes in fluid agreeance.
As if to understand stars cannot
pepper what they've issued from.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
I tried really hard to be mad at you and blame you for the way we panned out. I did. But then I realized that you were ******* beautiful and honestly one of the greatest lessons. I don't need you and I never really needed you, I wanted you. I spent so much time breathing for you and trying to figure out why you couldn't love me but I know you did and that's why we weren't gonna work. You can never invest yourself into someone when you are dead. I'm dead and you are dead and we never had a chance to heal. You just need a chance to heal. Maybe love will never be your thing and maybe it's not real at all. Love has no definition and love can't just be spoken and it can't be acted and its not a real emotion let alone an essence. I enjoyed being with you, like physically around you and that was love when we were together. Outside of our bubble when we were home sitting on our phones writing about each other or just pretty much anything that was completely different. And maybe we weren't meant to actually be together but we were meant to teach each other. So yes. I understand now that you aren't healed and you have every right to want to be your own instead of being claimed as someone's. "You're mine" is a statement that can be so scary when everyone you ever let call you theirs completely ****** you over and left you thinking that everything ends badly so why begin it. So I get it and I thank you for giving me a chance to be vulnerable and let my walls down for once.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
I heard my life in mono before I met You
We became stereo
Me: channel left
You: panned right;
A cohesive strengthening of sound
A mutual clatter of turbulence, with such underlying beauty
Only we knew the clamor was best for Us, though no one believed
As the cacophony grew, Your speaker buzzed and squawked
I played unaware, loving the crescendo
-
Eventually, as stereos do, You
Shorted out
Grew weaker and weaker with each
Note; melodies were crumbling
I fiddled with the wires,
Hoping, wanting both sides of our discord to stay true
-
Then you were silent
Eerily and I kept screaming
Roaring with a clatter that could have blown my own side of this
Disquiet. You were muted, hushed
Now I hear but half of my life
The left remains;
The right, You, are not even
Static, and I pray for mono
Again
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
Spooked
Driving along on my scooter seeing the familiar
landscape there was a time disturbance
the landscape was the same but the trees small
and there were fewer ploughed fields.
mystical shadows and a murmur of voices sounded
as an echo and I felt spooked.
I stopped and waited perhaps I had a funny turn
slowly the warp panned out and I was back at
my own time, yet I sensed an unease I should not
come back to this place that had layers of old time
that had yet to melt into the clarity of a white water
that has no story to tell.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC
the lonely man drives
searching dirt roads to find the river’s gold.
passing passengers and dancers;
he held the best conversations
with those who didn’t speak his words
a tumbling terrace of homes,
twisting trees hugged by a wreath of children resting,
fingerprints faded onto a crinkled map
along the road, the shining smile lured him away
from his paper destination
the galloping hills whispered promises of piling gold,
but the truck driver was lead only by his toes.
turns out the faded map held nothing but memories
an echo of of turquoise laughter and crooked smiles soon to be forgotten;
the gold had been spun into his twinkling travels,
and yet he continued forward in a million different directions,
searching for something he had left behind.
the man who panned for gold,
found it slipping through his fingers.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC