"piccolomini" poems
I wrote this after reading some John Ashbery and James Cavanaugh, because well, I wanted to-- and they are different writers offering many options and feelings or no feelings at all.
“I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us.
We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content.
We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret.
– James Cavanaugh
Solution to a View
What does it mean
To wander into
concrete places
or an open field
To dangle time
like the wizard of waste
something floats
all around me
and is serious
but it could be
nothing
To be selfish
And lonely
Searching
Through hills
And
unsure
of the surprises
in a melted state
over
discouragement
And
bewilderment of
why I even cared about the
View
after it rained
and after it
displayed
open access
to death
or
a dream
or my future
noticeable and
unwanted
and unsure
chills
run through my veins
and aching bones
of the likelihood of this
memory
To these hills
hands held high
look down now on
empty streets
broken and mended
like details of a
mirror
and out of respect
for the view
©copyright 2016, Peter Piccolomini
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
In autumn
while dreaming
you will see that
i will follow you
with chilling winds
and dark
northern clouds
surrounding me,
i evolved.
looking into my
darkness
was a reminder
of where I’ve been,
of how powerful
a season can leave
so much hidden in
the subconscious
shadow
searching
for meaning,
i have awoken
to see
my imbalance
and a heart
that needs healing.
I chose to run
once lost at love
knowing there
is hatred in the world.
Forgiveness
to make it right,
searching
for meaning
in definition
i will heal during
life-changing events,
confirming that
i will not break
in a world made of glass.
© Peter Piccolomini, 2016
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
Would a voice in heaven
sound beautiful
and inviting
or serious,
constant
and still
maybe sounds of a harp
possibly playing atop
pristine
waters
or Pavarotti singing
up in the mountains
or would it be a moan,
with intention
and focus
maybe just a recording
over loud and annoying
speakers
with instructions
and a schedule
maybe if I am lucky
I would hear
My father’s voice
telling me how great it is
but sounding nostalgic
and homesick
a plea for his soft leather chair
wearing his hounds tooth hat
smoking his hand crafted pipe
if death could speak
what issues would it bring up
rehashing troubled times
would this voice
guarantee pearly gates
willing
It beckons me,
conflicted with temptation
when your soul knows
that this is
a voice not
from any place
but from
the best place
where Jesus takes us
to reach
for something
knowing doubts exist
that you would rise
to be with us again
July, 2013 (RIP Dad) In memory of C. Dan Piccolomini
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC