"stacatto" poems
white clouds swell up
anvil bloom
a lowering gloom
scuds by
stacatto drops
on the windshield
punctuate
powerline sway
radio crackle
sparks
sheets of tenor sax
and blunt
gusts of cool
I lower the window
and steer
into the storm
Tom Spencer © 2018
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
I want to be a sparrow
Not a worry in the world
Just a song to sing
A song of vacillating notes
That comes as natural to me
As breathing
I want to be a sparrow
But instead I'm a crow
Cawing calling to the night
Not a beautiful song with stacatto notes
No music for the soul
But a warning
I am a crow
I am not beautiful
I am not lovely
I am not something lovers write about
Only mythology
A stigma surrounding
A mystery
When I long to be understood
I want to be a sparrow
Because people understand them
A dove, a pigeon
A bird of paradise
An eagle, a hawk
A falcon
But I'm a crow
Misunderstood
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 1:42 AM UTC
You can't see it
You can't taste it
You can't feel it
Or smell it
But it doesn't mean you
Can't sense it
Or
Know it.
A breeze of moments
A one way street
A steady river
Always the same
Always in a state of change
Only moves in one direction.
Youth and its expansion
Age and its contraction
Time swirls around us
Through us
Dragging us along
One moment taking forever
The next moment
A fading light in the distant past
No wonder of endings I think a lot.
Yesterday 10
Tomorrow 80
Seems like forever
But never really is
In stacatto bits
Of memory
Flashes
Lies
Some true
Some false
Some recovered
Some not at all.
Continuity of self and I
Until
We are
Eventually
Slipping
Into
That black hole
Of
Time
Like a galaxy
Spiraling
Down the drain...
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Some squawking and stacatto squeeling a retched
Cry and there you are.
Small bundle covered in a heated bassinette.
The race is on.
One more sent down from central casting.
Two eyes one nose. Two ears two hands and feet. If all is a go.
Make your. Mark son.
Girl interrupted.
Blue as a berry. 6 weeks early.
Premature delivery
Could not be more girly.
My son. My daughter
Two more limbs on the tree.
Up the beanstalk you will climb
To see what you can see.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
There is struggle in every beginning.
What to write in these blank pages?
We get stuck in every white space we see
We stop in every blank space
We stare
We try to start
Words don't come easy
We struggle for ideas
We fumble for words
The thought process stops.
Catharsis.
The ideas flood our brains
The ideas pour
The brain leaks of ideas
But we struggle for structure
For there is none in these blank pages, white spaces
There is none.
We try to achieve form and flow
But there are none
All we have are fragments
of thoughts
of words
It's a stacatto of ideas.
Without rhythm
Without melody
Without harmony
For there are none in these blank pages
There are none in these white spaces
The words
are just lines
are just dots
are just strokes
that will never make sense
In these white spaces
In these blank pages
This beautiful mess.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
My words make magic happen
Creating potent spells
That conjure the ineffable
And fathom poxy hells
Syntax refines meaning
Meanings deep as wells
Stacatto sound in symphony
A music that appeals
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC
Lyrics that tell the story just right,
Drums that beat along with the heart,
Piano that appeals to the soul,
Guitar that lights up the dark,
Singer that gives the poetry a voice,
Dancer that sways to the sound,
Sound that shares every emotion,
Violins that call to the angels,
Harp that shares the love with everyone,
Flute that hits the highest pitch,
Symphony that's perfectly timed and tuned,
Melody that takes the lead,
Harmony that is depending on the melody,
Crescendo that's sent to the farthest places,
Stacatto that throws the crescendo back,
Forte that is big and bold,
Pianisimo that is nice and calm,
That is the sound of my dream,
That is the feeling of joy,
Happiness,
Comfort,
Love,
Music that influences all,
All that influences the music,
Where would the world be,
Without all theses glorious sounds?
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
Existence in its fullest bloom
Sings sweetly out to me
Awakening of Spring a tune
Which knells out merrily
Birds beget stacatto sounds
Their transcendental song
Which rings across the Earth, around
Its ways, up and along
And if you strain you’ll hear the work
Of solitary bees
Vibrating in the background
At a most peculiar frequency
Sharing their sweet treasures
As they circle flowers' girth
A contribution too vast to measure
For they do the work of earth
When thunder shakes the firmament
It riots through my brain
Only stopped by lightning
That heavenly refrain
Where nature dwells songs do swell
The sounds are in the plenty
Ranging from the rancorous
To the sweet and to the dainty
Crescendo of the summer
That noisiest procession
My sad ears dote on its gay notes
Which rise in supersession
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 6:27 AM UTC
Black clouds hide the very sun
aimless in darkness we run
until, a wonderous sight, we see the light
and waves of growing pain
become stacatto drops of happy rain
somedays down at the beach
the ocean makes a mighty speech
water glistens, people listen
and put away the moment's mind
to ignore the voice of time
come with me
friend of mine
what we cant quite look for
we'll surely find
some nights, silver dreams of silk
from starry skies above are spilt
into a place free from space
where creatures of art are wild
somewhere man becomes child
come with me
and what we'll see
we won't quite know
until we're free
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
You were my quiet chaos
Calm storm in the heart of a girl
You led me skittish
Ungainly beautiful
Like a newborn fawn for you
Lose me in this wilderness
Reminisce that kiss
Lips parted never met
Would you have lingered
Hot and sweet in my mouth
Like green chile praline brittle
Your idiot savant I played
serious for you
Danced in my dreams to your beat
stacatto pulse alone together
But like real magic
You disappeared
Rumors of you
Sleeping under your daddy's truck
same jeans and tees
worn at the knees
Curls tangled around your face
Your eyes that fevered chill
Where earth...
and stars...
and forever collide
I could see beyond infinity
Yet you'd look at me
Soul empty the well dry
was it the **** the speed or the need
Casual intimacies
I was totally partial to you
Wild inside but you never knew
Left me parched in the pouring rain
The last day
Breath on my cheek
Words you didn't speak
My skin craves you hugging me fierce
Dreams broken they slip away
Aching for a second chance
Stinging question lingers in my brain
Will you kiss me
You'll never ask again...
TL Boehm
091409
for Chris Martinez
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Encased
In: is taste
Adventure and pain,
Mal...
Anthraxian paste.
-
Entreat. What a treat
Treat take, speak in slur
Speak high pitched, and poised like verb.
-
Speak,
And be a being-
Taste the granules my good sir.
-
Why in place
Of talk and words
Can leaves appear, and usurp their roles?
Incontent.
-
Unconnected, perfected in posture
Stand tall as statue in excellent valkra.
-
Moulding our children
Our wives and women
Our sons-
And silent heathens we hold within.
-
Capped soul,
Capped soul.
Effect: brushed with steal wool.
-
Biases become belief
Dreams- reality
And still reliant upon it.
-
"It" is the driving force in our lives
We cant let go or compromise
Always controlling, for joy- for pain
Pulsating fever, in brain
Pulsating stacatto
A memory always wiped away-
(Or manufactured, for a brighter day.)
-
Mercy on us
Another arrives
To cure your new self/served alibi.
(White coat wizard
Bless me I tell...)
Bless me I tell...
-
All of my,
Feet are sick
From walking these plains
These cold hard ******
The road is rough
In this city white...
This city so stark white...
-
Inside, they all seem alive!
But its a waking dream
Glazed over eyes.
(Vertical dismemberment,)
No more trash pail
This whole land is a landfill.
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
It's a seldomly funny story
You went toe to toe
With me, perceiving me as a foe
But your efforts turned out like the desolate terrain below
Barren and forgotten
All this brovado
But you couldn't accumulate a following like Demi Lovato
I'm going in Stacatto
You're still out of tune
It gets deeper in June
In my eyes it's always Noon
I biffercate the time of day
But I act the same
I'm a beast people attempt to tame
But they just blame
I saw them before they came
You can be won over and think I'm lame
But I don't need to worry
I got my own story
I wish people would stop trying to plagiarize
It shouldn't take a lawsuit for them to realize
It's not right
These minds aren't as bright
As they tell themselves
They barely know themselves
I get it, it's easy to lose yourself
Just don't take it out on me
I'm simply existing
Finding my own way to the brick
Without being a huge *****
You think you know it all but you don't know a lick
I try to stay silent and slick
You come up with retorts and insults quick
But it doesn't make me upset or sick
I just laugh
I've seen this over and over again
Rinse and repeat
Not quite the the deja vu I wanted
The entertainment factor wears off fast
I knew it wouldn't last.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
Chaos...the order undeciphered
Pain and pleasure
Our way of life
That tint we can't wash away
So hold not my hands
For physical touch is meaningless
Touch my soul,
See the colour within
Hold my heart
As you listen to it's stacatto rythm
Let me dwell in your gaze
Let our locks to sanity break loose
Follow my lead
As we go through our unchattered path
Guide my step...
Through this trail we hold dear
Fear not 'coz of the darkness,
For me and you...
In our silent convo
We shall make the dance
Our first dance to our world.
©Joy
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 2:52 PM UTC
Female Conversations
She talks in stacatto, stenographical bent
Flowing along without pause
Her mind flits from one thought to another
Avian style in a birdlike frame of ideas
Rapier fast in her intent
Before I can tune into her words
The subject’s changed again
Lost in the progress of the process
I frown in puzzlement
But she’s moved on
And when I finally comprehend
She speaks of something different
And now I’m totally lost
But laugh at her commitment
A lateral thinker to the last
I feel as if I’m drowning in
The ocean of her mind
But she is swimming fast to shore
She’s left me far behind
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 4:43 PM UTC
Born into
a dying moment
dry breathing
and distant sounds
the Echoplex
of stacatto reverberations
as Causeless care
is Shuffled lightly
each dealt
a sovereign play
of words - deeds
becoming seeds
planted
below
the Flatline screen
the rooted vein
of blood -fed
abberations
averted versions
by abbrogated
participation
in colluded
Instituted falsification
declarations
leaving each one
only the thinnest
of self- satisfying sanctuary
within
those deepest recesses
of absolution
that place
that never sees no sun
rooted deep
entangled
by rote remote repetition until received - until believed there was nothing... Nothing nothing ... nothing we could have done.
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 12:29 PM UTC