"passings" poems
They gathered by Williamson Road at sun-up
from neighboring spreads across the Tioga valley.
They came with carts laden with lumber stacks -
with saws, adzes, hammers and sundry tools.
They gathered with the homesteaders bond.
to co-build their neighbor's' dreams.
Sweet music of community echoed off the hills.
Chisels clanged into rock, shaping the foundation,
saws sang into boards to frame a timbered skeleton.
The staccato syncopation of hammers fastened walls
that soon would shelter plowshares, stock and grain.
A smithy leaned over his fire and forge -
chiming iron into sturdy latches and hinges.
Children scurried about mixing squeals and laughter
with exuberant fetching and lifting whenever called.
In two short passings of the sun the deed was done
and a handsome new barn, decked out in a wash of red
was silhouetted tall and proud against the fading light.
Homesteaders gathered at a celebration table
to share a hearty meal adorned by the music
of fiddles, grateful smiles and easy laughter.
Then one by one they steered their wagons home
gazing back at what their labors had wrought -
knowing to the depth of their communal souls
that we are more together than we are apart
Listen up, America! This is the music of community.
We are more together than we are apart.
© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 10:16 AM UTC
Addiction's innocent cousin ***** needling into my veins
infected me seasons ago
the ache I once felt still strong as mast's girth
From wind to wind sea to sea we internally roamed
in my mind the map was a treasure trove for exploration
i never was bound to lake shore
wind whipping tide tussling rousing mornings and dusky
nights
My mistresses my pleasure gliding goddess
drift lazily and let me sing praise with shouts "Boom"
but coy or not I coil spry
aged not with time
but lessons learned
The youngest have yet to grow
knowledge of the mystery fables tell
of beautiful passings
Land's unreachable without proper direction
rudderless a hair's breadth magnified out of reach
cool autumn leaves fall on my skiff
She tugs at my heart and at your golden hemp locks
they have all my love stolen from your deck your bow
your stern your timber your core
but let us sail evermore
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
You should hear Her speak of the time
When love had struck Her, left Her blind;
The intuition in Her breast
Was left ignored with just one request:
“Please, love with care (with no hate);
This may prepare you for your fate.”
Then, a One-Eyed-Monster dared to peep
At this starry-eyed Girl with a soul still asleep.
The Monster's nature, as it strove with pleasure,
Pleased Its infinite fervor, which nothing could measure,
As It Schemed, and found, and mostly destroyed
Her love-struck spirit that It yearned to employ.
These reckless hits made by this Daring Dart,
Un-mended the Girl from Rosebud to Heart.
Not believing all the Monster said,
The Girl sought the truth, but found it with dread.
Upon seeing this Monster's very bright colors,
She drowned in sorrow, but refused another
Hit by this Dart, as It still carelessly slaughters
Other Hearts, like Its future Daughter’s.
And then came a time, much later in life,
When the Girl understood love’s unending strife.
Many One-Eyed-Monsters, She now bears in mind,
Aspire to love, but still cannot find
The passion They hunt for and ache to sway,
Because they zip Themselves up when love comes Their way.
Confusion They feel, and this does not die;
But, what can They see with only one eye?
These perilous passings on love’s sojourn
The Girl does not dwell on, nor does She mourn.
Instead, She has found new ways to see
Love’s ultimate beauty, unexpectedly:
A journey enGENDERED with Ladies of taste,
Where only Her own *** can love back without hate.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
A Pesky Pensee Of Two Leaders
I knew
Gerald and James
One took the world by storm
One took a nation gone wrong
Both on other side now
Tanstaaft 1
Godfather Brown
President Ford
Closer to Lord
Tanstaaft 2
President Ford
Godfather Brown
Now in the ground
Quinzaine
Gerald Ford and Ol' James Brown
Who has more guests
At their rests
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
joey
left today
the radiance of a
summer sunshine
gone dark
an icon
of jersey shore
memories
lost to the
rumbling
breakers
a joie de vivre
crested
ebbing waves
flow out
ushered off
by friendly
on-shore winds
the day bespeaks
a perfect symmetry
departing life's shores
on Sandy’s anniversary
marking momentous days
of passings and arrivals
may you safely arrive
on the seaside shores
in the place of eternal
summer sunshine
vaya con dios
mi hermano
for joey
Fleet Foxes:
Grown Ocean
10/29/30
oakland
jbm
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
Po-hymn
**To whomever you pray to,
And if there is no such icon,
Then I hymn-hum to you, this tribute**
Let all my mistakes, my typographical errors,
Like writing poem and getting back po-hymn,
Bring delights to keep, to grow ancient on my face,
For from every accident, we grow and bend,
New tree leaning towards our collective inner
Sun Ra.
I am no David, psalms and hymns,
Unreadily exist, so dug deep Lord,
To write this prayer, for my brethren.
Just one day, someday, let heaven
Grant only poets births, no passings took.
Give us goodness and grace
All the poems of our day.
Shed special light all about our faces,
From our shoulders, rise up insight inside our heads,
Brighten, enlighten, give us eloquence and sanity.
Let our missives dismiss the gloom,
Polish, remove the tarnish, we cannot secret
From the all seeing confessions taker,
Honesties writ daily but never published.
Give us meter, yes, give us rhyme,
To make sense of the grey days,
The black hole invaders,
Given iris-shine be our responsibility,
But a sweet nudge, prithee,
Enhance our impoverished ability.
This Sabbath day your fog-hide
Your gift of bay and beach
So quiet implore, beseech,
Keep the sailors safe,
And your poets saved.
I ask much.
But I ask for all of us,
There are so many such
That are booster-chair needy
That I am succumbed, overwhelmed,
Enormity fearsome needs help even from a deity.
Small words, big hopes.
If you cannot grant it,
Won't wait for intervention,
Do it myself, answer prayers one and all,
Best I can, starting now with this
Po-hymn.
July 13th for always
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
If I were to paint my words
Long strokes of
Purple
Harsh indent where pen meets paper
And
Dark Blue
Jagged lines, interrupt the pretty pattern
Beautiful flowering blooms of
Magenta
Signify that through times of
Indigo
Passings, hope shines through.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
you do not know art, like i know Art.
though you paraded your passings in public
it was i who, Art, trusted with his secrets
it was my window, that Art, tapped when the arguing began
yes, you may have enjoyed a dinner or engaged in conversation with him
but he never trusted you with paintings of the english language
or pictures worth a thousand songs
you didnt get 6 stitches, with Art, when you tried to climb the tallest tree
to reach out and touch heaven but still fear the fall
you didnt find Art trembling in a bathroom from what he saw
that day. You didnt find Art in broad daylight dancing
to some invisible meter, some transparent beat
you didnt see the patterns left in the steps of his feet
and while you may have gone to the cinema with Art
it was i he forwarded the scripts
to reenact a lifetime of moments
because we, Art and i, wanted a silver lining
something vague, something inspiring
to keep this momentum going
and while you claim to know this being, Art
you have not participated in a drunken brawl
with Art, involving a few rotten Connecticut men
and things not in our control
you haven't discussed eternity and death
with Art, or any of his close friends
and though, i'm sure you may have wish you did
you do not know art, like i do.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
Ring around the rottings
Of the burning bodies
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down
Ring around the masses
Smiling through the ashes
Fire, fire, we all burn in Hell
Ring around the decayed
Tiring games that we played
Silence, silence, no one is alive
Ring around the whispers
On all our mouths are zippers
Gruesome, gruesome, ways to die
Ring around the darkness
Which fills all of our hearts
Eyes sewed, eyes sewed, eyes sewed shut
Ring around the stumbles
the trippings and the troubles
Crumble, crumble, we're all trapped
Ring around the newborn
As we are reborn
Sightless, hungry, we eat all
Ring around the children
Hungry once again
Eat up, eat up, before they're gone
Ring around the parking meters
They will never leave here
Never, escape, fully alive
Ring around the insane
For we've eaten their brains
Gnawing, gnawing, at last full
Ring around the trashings
Of the goings and the passings
Time is, time is, falling down
Ring around the table
Not to pray, we're unable
Stabbing, ruthless, together now
Ring around the fires
Smoke goes up in spires
Ashes, ashes, more children rain down
Ring around the ashes
We pull out our secret stashes
Flesh of who we used to be
Ring around the old flesh
Stretching over the rest
Children, children, you'll be reborn
Ring around the needles
To sew the eyes with beetles
Stitch, stitch, sew, sew, you're all beautiful
Ring around the knives
to stab and slash children of all sizes
Soon, soon, you'll be like us
Ring around their blood
Bubbling and hissing into the mud
You won't need that anymore
Ring around the whispers
The reborn all need their mouth zippers
Hold still, it won't hurt, see? Now, it's done
Ring around the embers
We now have more members
Of our insane democracy
Ring around your street
Your house is pretty neat
Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll be next
Ring around the gallows
Hidden in the shadows
Tying, tying, you'll choke now
Ring around the findings
You didn't leave a sign of
Struggle, struggle, or bleeding out
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
You are alive
Yet not at all, it seems
As though you are of living dead
A skull with a beating heart
Dreams of death, despair, decay
Surround you in your passings
I feel them as you go on your way
And look on with helpless wonder
How did you create yourself
The way you are
Born from golden promise.
Now known as the ruiner of tradition,
An iconoclast of her own
In the negative connotation.
You are elusive
Futile
Miserable.
Each breath you take should be
A nicotine filled dream
For why breath free if you're already dead.
I encourage you no more to live,
I ask you to relent
You're strangled by the joy of life
And happiness is your cancer.
Goodbye, once friend I knew so well
I know you no more and
For that I say
Goodbye to the living dead.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
It took effervescent,
Everlasting,
Highway road sign passings
To get to Colorado
Now I walk
Brooding in the surreptitious snow,
Its gleaming,
Giving meaning,
Trying to reflect back the fact of why were here
The stars are screaming the purpose of life
But we can't hear what isn't near
Light years away is how I spend my day
Reminiscing over you
Under a sky of blue
Durango dreaming of brunette nights,
My final destination's with you in my sights
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
The most fascinating desires and activities
are often times prohibited,
they demand us to love, to procreate and
then, detach us from this thought,
a need which we occult bellow a
tender, gruesome shade of indignity.
They demand us to work, and gladly we do it,
we are unsatisfied, yet no effort so far has succeeded
and not submitting to the voice is appropriate so long as
you remain unnoticed.
For then you'll be dragged into their cages of insolence,
Are not all but one single being?
How many degrees and efforts are required to rule over
another one's heart?
The heart is its own,
it knows better than anyone else
the solemn, perpetual voice,
amongst the others, escaping breathlessly,
uttering madness.
Yet, after the world has sunken into
a frigid state,
it is there - beating;
even if you try to silence it,
its presence prolongs.
No one is capable of ruling over a mind or heart,
or whatever terminology pleases you,
so long as it is that pure grasp of
eternity's profound breath under your caved chest,
that feeling, that very one,
the one that holds the truths and passings
of existence, yet it remains silent.
Though undecipherable, it is understood,
It is felt.
It does not follow the reproaches of
the mind, for rather,
it governs it,
and entices it in such way,
that it allows it to be free,
the latter speaks a language of its own.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
I see patterns heavy,
I see patterns light.
I see the circumference
Of warm, summer nights.
Of dialogues listened.
And shows, all but seen.
I see such collections,
Of coincidenced things.
I feel all the passings.
The futures of taste.
We'll dance in full patterns.
My hands on your waist.
We circle the knowing
And outskirt the norm.
We cling to an Earthwhile,
In gravity warms.
Aug 29, 2010
Aug 29, 2010 at 7:20 PM UTC
Grief on top of grief... Ill never forget these passings. You gave up on me, he never did. He showed me unconditional love, you showed me what isn't. Every morning I hurt because things will never be the same. Both of you are gone. He will never return. If you do, you will be dead in my eyes as he is, which is maybe what you wanted. Selflessness and selfishness hit me hard each day that passes. Forgive, but I'll never forget.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
I know I must forget you
Our spicy little passings
The hope, dancing on the surface with nervous energy
ripples across the water
It must end
A trail that leads nowhere
Off a cliff or into a pile of rocks
It only looks like it will lead you to your destination
The destination, a mirage
you see it, but your hand passes through
Again and again
Excitement leads to dissapointment
an endless circle, rolling across the hot pavement
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 10:00 AM UTC
(happy belated first birthday, po-hymn)
To whomever you pray to,
And if there is no such icon,
Then I hymn-hum to you, this tribute
Let all my mistakes, my typographical errors,
Like writing poem and getting back po-hymn,
Bring delights to keep, to grow ancient on my face,
For from every accident, we grow and bend,
New tree leaning towards our collective inner
Sun Ra.
I am no David, psalms and hymns,
Unreadily exist, so dug deep Lord,
To write this prayer, for my brethren.
Just one day, someday, let heaven
Grant only poets births, no passings took.
Give us goodness and grace
All the poems of our day.
Shed special light all about our faces,
From our shoulders, rise up insight inside our heads,
Brighten, enlighten, give us eloquence and sanity.
Let our missives dismiss the gloom,
Polish, remove the tarnish, we cannot secret
From the all seeing confessions taker,
Honesties writ daily but never published.
Give us meter, yes, give us rhyme,
To make sense of the grey days,
The black hole invaders,
Given iris-shine be our responsibility,
But a sweet nudge, prithee,
Enhance our impoverished ability.
This Sabbath day your fog-hide
Your gift of bay and beach
So quiet implore, beseech,
Keep the sailors safe,
And your poets saved.
I ask much.
But I ask for all of us,
There are so many such
That are booster-chair needy
That I am succumbed, overwhelmed,
Enormity fearsome needs help even from a deity.
Small words, big hopes.
If you cannot grant it,
Won't wait for intervention,
Do it myself, answer prayers one and all,
Best I can, starting now with this
Po-hymn.
July 13th for always
Pohymn. Such are prayers born
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
How many warnings taken as possible lies
shall we dare, if
first time, we were right?
Feel it? You know?
Not dying when, you know,
you could have, you know what dying is,
and
this
feeling,
that's life. Wanna risk it? What if we agree,
whatever we imagine is possible,
together, nothing can defeat us. In the most
straight-forward intuitive way you comprehend:
whatever we imagine is possible,
together, nothing can defeat us.
Virtually impossible to let such an idea free,
safely.
I'm good, three score and ten plus a few extended
journeys through
history and myth at the speed of thought
brings us here, just short of where we'd have met
in the final analysis
which
takes ever and a day
during which passings of times we breathe,
peacefully.
we troublers of our own house,
heirs of the wind and all its
princely powers,
subject
to right use, our
bhering
clear answers, affirming ever
oboroborobo oboe riffs on electric bass\
backed by Feynman pounding Djembe
drums through NAND
gates tittling jots of
rythmic swirls
in
backward 720s, time
and again,
as Sisyphus
ever rolls, happishly,
random
rocks,
laughing at jour yoke of yesteryears job titles.
Our final task, in every mortal moment,
breathe peace, and pass on.
Or that's my plan. Y'think it'll fly?
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 7:51 PM UTC
Stop making my nose water
I am already feeble
I talk to you expecting response
O great life nothing
You overlook me without realization
selfishly expecting me to cut you slack that
others oblige literally as I once did
I flee half-heartedly
my scythe too dull
A lively current has entered me
A bramble sided stream
teaching me fluidity and unworthiness
and that reaching to the thorny stems
may be a test of my strength
All the drawn blood
markers to restep my past
All the fresh wounds
trials to test O great life nothing's silent passings
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
Her curiosity slipped in,
in silence, viewing
the clear, clean canal, exploring
the slow passings of time,
the wear and tears of years
of rough passage, ready to excise
any hint of a foreign body.
And his body lay, foetal,
while the nurse stroked his hand
assuring him the end was in sight,
but he kept still, his eyes tight shut
until she re-emerged,
and he could blink back into the light.
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 6:53 AM UTC
Caldies Park. Wet & Grey
A just-want-it-over kind of day
Retirees with dogs blather & jabber
For little we know when a week turns sadder
Long time ago, little girls laughter
A life of plenty, much sought after
Sands of time count down the years
What once was joy, turns now to tears
Doggy Church Warden smiles & chats
Talking inanely of old womens' hats
When valued souls lie close by
And loved ones ask a lonely 'why'
Always be cheery, always be kind
You know not of that man's mind
Sat over there with coffee, words amassing
Mulling forlorn on friends a-passing.
Go swiftly out into the damp garden
Bump an elf & utter a 'Pardon!"
For we never know when this race is run
So strive only for justice, love & fun
And then, then you can say you're done.
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 7:44 AM UTC
Under the shine of the moon,
Hand in hand on the strand,
Listening to the subtlest of sounds,
Of hearts and minds entwined,
And lives tangled together,
With the moon's passings.
A glance, a wink, a blown kiss,
A mist, a vapor,
Disappearing time traces.
Brief fleeting things,
Brought to memory,
In times as this!
A touch, a rub, an embrace,
Whispered words loudly heard.
A sweet mash of lips,
Leading to luscious heights,
With throes of ecstasy,
While standing in dreamy repose.
A fresh love grown old,
Tempered like finest steel,
Against life's arrows and flames,
A love to press on,
Till breath is gone,
And the shine is no more.
© 2016 Jim Davis
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 7:25 PM UTC
My life is my behind me
And I'm looking in a mirror
A year passed by
But did I do enough?
Circumstantially, my life became hell
Death and tragedy were glaring me in the face
And yet, my response was
"Bring it on, *******
They did
And for a short time
It seemed they were winning.
I was assaulted and lost friends
Due to events surrounding it.
I lost loved ones
To death's spearhead.
I was sad
I was lonely
I was anxious
And I had every right to be.
An eating disorder had drawn me in
And lured me with his lies.
The end seemed to be approaching
As my abuser came back to work
And I could not even speak of
What he did to me.
However,
The fact that I could choose
Whether or not to care empowered me.
I stopped giving him what he wanted:
Control.
I took that back
And it feels spectacular.
My bulimia is almost gone
One more month until I reach remission.
This was done because I made a choice
A choice to stop the madness
That controlled my life
I took that back
And it feels delightful.
As for the tragic passings
They linger with me still.
They remain like a bad taste in my mouth
But I don't want to spit them out.
I remember each individual
As more than a tragedy, but a person
I remember them in life
Rather than in death.
I finally can control my memories that I replay.
I took that back
And it feels incredible.
So, in reflection
I took my life back
And it couldn't feel better.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Deep passions and divine passings
You will never speak from your inside, out.
Mistakes linger here and there
But you think it's fine, you have it made.
Take it from the worst of them all
This is not the decision, it's not okay.
When you trip and fall
Into strawberry poison
Don't scrub off the deep stains.
Someday you will understand
But I hope you learn from my messes
That this is the time for an outburst of your most prized oragan
Precious ,though you were, I let you sift through my fingers
And once you loose that precious sand
It's hard to gain it back COMPlETELY
By picking it up
Grain by grain
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 6:37 PM UTC
here
in between the day-dream filaments
and textured passings of seconds
the immovable you, shining
a rendezvous for blinking thoughts
and shadow-bubbles of sensation
slow-floating filters
shifting by
a curtained room
the weaving of sheets
a meeting unattended
and waiting
you were there all along
when light is bended
it changes color,
when it breaks it becomes them all.
it's all right to stay unmended,
embrace your weight
than let it fall.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
Beyond the quarter moon's melody,
Reminiscent of ****** passings
The Edge deflecting certain ends,
A Look into the Child's goddess,
And the warmth from beginnings
Like eternal lamentation of nocturnal
Dreams into sudden arms,
A cry for that crystalline
Where time has no rapture
And The Edge seems a return,
I dive deeply and willfully
A certain fate after interwoven years
Life I bid you.....
A fall to be reborn.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC