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Robert C Howard Aug 2013
Shall we pause to consider
the shudder of a butterfly's wings
that sets the hurricane spinning
or the descent of the final raindrop
that breaches the groaning levy?

Shall we ponder the moment before
a chorus of "maybe's" morphs
into the vain eloquence of history?

Roiling in the broth of chaos
a cluster of causes startles the surface -
unfurling a queue of effects
that dot the timescape
like rows of teetering dominoes.

Typhoons twist villages to ruins,
armies rise to victory or
succumb to the despair of defeat,
or a medical miracle is born
from the agile mind of a doctor
conceived in a Chevy's back seat.

So here we stand on the ridge of time
ourselves both caused and causing,
cradling the sphere of chaos in our hands -
uncertain what effect will be our being
after all our causes are enumerated.

Time will surely tell - as soon
as we tell time exactly what to say.

*August, 2013
Included in Unity Tree, published by Create Space available from Amazon.com in both book and Kindle formats.
Robert C Howard Aug 2013
at the fete du bons vieux temps - Cahokia, Illinois

White clouds of rosin dust
Flew off Geoff's fiddle strings
As his earth dance
Soared above the pulsing
Of friends on bass and guitar.

Tuniced men bowed
To their bonneted ladies
Bedecked in colonial frocks.
In turn each pair sashayed
Down and up the line,
Whirled and laced their way
Through outstretched hands
Of family, friends and neighbors
Shaping an arch at line's end
For all the rest to pass beneath.

All across our country's timescape
Countless bridal pairs
Have sealed their sacraments
Spinning in the whirlwind
Of the Virginia Reel -
With each interclasping of arms
A blessing upon their unions.

Geoff lifted his bow from the strings,
And bowed with his band to receive
The applause rippling the air
Like the patter of ancestral rain
Nourishing the sweet soil
Of our common earthly essence.

February, 2007
Included in Unity Tree published by Createspace and available from Amazon.com in both book and Kindle formats
The Seventh Floor
By Otuogbodor, Okeibunor

He just saw her downstairs seated
She saw him pass by but noticed him
He went up to the seventh floor
She breathes the air of freshness
Freshness from home, freshness to school
His mounts of the stairs mounts hope
She sat solitary savouring that air of hope
The university,the hope shaper
The dream comber, ivory tower,
A monumental hope to mount.
One hour past, from that height
He looked down he saw her
She looked up she saw him
Eyes  locked in seconds
Hearts lost to hope
He held his heart lost
She looks her hope not sure
He dare called she dare answered?
Clutching her bags she mounts the stairs
The university stairs to mount in years to come
He stood there on trembling feet waiting
She climbs on and up,on n up
Up the height their  hope clingy
He is up there she mounts up to him
At the seventh floor to  meet  him
As she makes it up all eyes on her trail;
Noticeably slim model of freshness
Admirably everyone to behold
She climbed up to him
Before him she stood
His call she dare answered.
Transfixed! He took her bag
Willingly  she gave him
The floor quakes! The feelings of not just two
The feelings of an age quakes
The hope of many quakes too
The seventh floor quakes!
The waiting room quakes
She enters with of all but him!
He Leads  her to a chair
Her tired Legs grateful.
A sachet of water he gave her
Her thirsty soul appreciative.
He loved her immediately!
She sips the water genuinely thirsty
And She saw the eyes!
His eyes  beholding her.
Her nerve quakes the water pours
Pouring on her chest her white shirt dampen
The chest thumping reveals her Breast
A beautifully moulded set of young Breast
Breast shaped by only the Almighty!
Breast only can be possessed by a Goddess.
Adorable set of gem like diamond points at him.
He looks on. All in the room looks on.
He breathes hard like he just climbed the stairs.
In shock he brought  out a brownish white handkerchief
Dampen  the  chest staining the wet area
She felt his hand. He touched her soul.
The seventh floor quakes the more
Quaking the very foundation of hearts in the room.
He looked her in the eyes , kissed her forehead
She quakes inside of her
His very soul sincerely stared
Her very innocence quakes.
He mutters this lines;
    ‘Be mine sweet Angel’
Her soul heard the lines from a distance
Transporting further the very quake
Whose after shock will last for years.
He was in his third year fed for himself
She was in her first year in daddy’s shadow.
Tortious was the climb
Broadlynarrow was the road
Choice was  a task
Trust…! a life bet
Two hearts-dice juggled
The quake was seconds still
Single mindedness was the decision
The mindful was n is the after shock.
Her friends bemoaned her
His friends fearful cheered him
Her mother cautiously careful
His mother hands off n up in prayer
Her father tearing n threatening.
Thundering his nerve to the brims
She remained obstinate n focused
He remained supportive n sacrificial
Sacrifices of an umbrella in the rain
She appreciated him. He protected her.
He provided the hanger for her  grip
She stretched her arms like the pumpkin tongue grips
The vow of  protections as a service  after graduation.
A service not to a fatherland but for truth
Truth of two souls in opposite divide.
The protection from unspoken facts
Facts only known to one n whispered to the other.
The bet on Trust not Love?
And four year stroll  past
For time crept in to birth a newness.
A new birth n a new day of destiny berthed
As fortune of two set sail
And another two stuck on the hyacinth.
She mounts the podium
He watched from afar in tears of joy
She was the best in the pac
He made it happened
Her mother esthetic n jubilant
Egoistic  father puffy with pride
The pac applauds success n true work
She worked for it. He saw to it.
A synergy of trust for result seem unattainable
Impossibility made possible
Success he desired but archived in her.
She is rewarded for excellence
He is rewarded for steadfastness
Her mother is rewarded for unspoken fear from shame
His mother is rewarded for daily travails in prayer
Her father is rewarded for money spent on trivialities.
The reward of one pervades a whole lot
Avalanches of rewards open n secrets.
UnOpen secret between father n daughter
Shared secret between him n her.
She collects her award admits ululations inside of her
He feels n knows her pain admits the atmosphere
Her mother is carried away like the gele she is wearing
Her father boastful in an atmospheric  blindness for his money's efforts
Her hearts inner workings is detached from the day's euphoria
He standing at the distance transmutes her experiences
Experiences of a father who knew only his desires
Desires bought n explored from every available mode.
The university was a safe heaven for her
He provided the guard and guidance she lacked at home
Her encounter of him n the journey to the seventh floor
Shaped her to today n assured her of tomorrow
True  love stands like strong pilar  
He longed n gave love he wanted n  never had
She believe n trust for him save the climb
She is a daughter her father only knew  in the dark
He is a friend who is a true father n never had one.
Drives n ponderings of the hearts
The podium is for gallery elicit joyousness
Joyous celebrations into the night.
The night comes with  it's sounds
Darkness comes with it's secretes
Tides n storms in dark hearts alleyway
Lighten flashes schemes it's way in the dark tides of time
The heart thunders in ‘tick ****’ motion of time
Tale  trail to time
Quest of two in timescape alley
Time: a healer n a judge?
Time n space bridged reward
A collusion of hatred n love rewarded.
The reward of time is unquantifiable  
And timeless is its weight.
The weight of love prompted a search
A search for his father
A search for her true father
A father who constantly seek n desires  daughter’s nakedness?
A mother whose silence at the face of such shame?
Truth bound by time  rebounds in space
Complicit of two self lying marriage between man n woman
Rebounds in  two young honest lovers
The happiness of youthful individual being sacrificed?
The weight of a DNA is  love for him and her
And hate for father n mother .
Her mother was shameless n still is
His father was irresponsible n still is.
The early light dispels darkness
Darkness of the heart under a fretsaw
Patterning  in style  actions of the dark
Every secret did have open reward
She was n is her mother from a man she refused her knowing
He was his father Who absconded 33 years ago
Hiding in the arms of another woman bewitched?
Likes begets  likes in a mate of two deluded snakes
Living in the dark holes of there night
Orchestrating symphonies of lies n lies
And now likes dogs leak their  poisonous venom.
At dawn light gains its penetrations
Penetrating the very marrow of truth….!
As Morning dawns with it's dews
A climb to the seventh floor was the dew.
And light melts away this dew
Shining in the life of two young fellows
Who loved from their souls.
The poem is still a work in progress, will like to make it better.
amber agha Oct 2011
Through the haze of a lost timescape
I see the eyes of one who led me, loved me and left me
And now in this new dreamscape I wonder who is the dreamer and who has dreamed

Into being
The separate realities that collide
Reveal an existence that has always lived in me

And outside
In the new scape we navigate
I see the boundaries left to cross

For two people
In their new terrain, with no marked pathways
Only the yearning of something once known

A scent still lingering in breezes and forest fires
A familiarity that finds
The heart in a state of oneness with itself and all around

Copyright Amber Agha
Vyiirt'aan Dec 2017
A brief gander out of the window sills
The dim candlelight flickers ever so vividly and lingers through
The fire awakens and its children, embers of the future withdraw
They take off and flow with the midwinter breeze

Amongst the ample tracts of land, amongst the foggy scenery of ice and snow
The amber extract of lightwaves pierce through the nocturnal blanket
The lilac sky merging with the cinnabar, umber and indigo
The soldiers, clad as such, marching through the grassland

And thus spoke the soldiers
Embedded in the gloom, marching through the dusty carpet
Consolidating rigid blocks amass
Caressing the cold, serene scenery in all its idyll

The sparkles dwindle at dusk
A solemn encounter between life and death - the soldiers collect them all
Many sparkles accumulate and dissipate when heaven takes in their children
Flourishing in tufts that lit the charcoal sky, a glistening canvas

I found myself amidst the elation, as I gazed amongst the starry abyss
The future stared back and smiled as I found myself frozen in time
The timeless idyll is ever so frightful, but a bliss as it fills my locket
Moonlight pass, timescape halts, landscape falls, shadows conquer

Time is ever so vague when the silver arises
The mirror of the soul, the children of the dim candlelights
They flicker ever so lively into eternity
They flicker and return home.
Dr Peter Lim Jan 2021
Tomorrow's architecture
     is planned and constructed today
     its  every shape and size I'll picture
      allow no detail to slip away-

       then follows the next chapter
       the future and the further of the future-
       every life-book awaits an author
       hopefully it will therein contain my signature.
Hank Van Well Jr Oct 2014
Futile ?

The hand , it trembles 
As it lay out another timescape  atop the outstretched parchment 
What is  the reality ? 
Is this just another argument within oneself ?
Another map ?
A destination in the waiting ?
Or a trail left for another to follow 
The black ink,
 it drips from the quill like blood 
Puddling into a mirage 
Images of insanity ? , 
a conversation with oneself ?
Or recollections 
Is this a craft ? , or a crutch ?
A consuming addiction 
A way to torture an already broken heart 
Or a soothing elixir , for which it is to be dipped 
Fingertips growing numb 
Is it the lack of blood flow
Concluding another segment of a repetitive tide 
Or a commencement to an eye opening ode 
A recipients revelation , and an excepted invitation to Eden 
The waning inspiration behind the trembling hands, and the ebbing of the ink within the quill brings forever to the forefront , the question that has been looming over these runes , if they are in fact , and have always been 
Futile ......
Writing to me is all those things , and then some
Anita May 2020
Exampli gratia:

Here, in the sun, looking straight forward over the green lawn onto the bacciferous frondescence
The space between the building where psychopathology was taught and the building where our intelligence was tested
– buildings made unsafe and marred and subjected to presence –
Here, I just am; there is no absence
As far as my eyes can see, the “where” is here and the “when” is now and I am alone, listening in to today

A bee flies by and draws my eye to the peripheral timescape
Inside the dark window to the left we sit in silence and wait for a pre-school class to walk past so we can continue a lesson that ended a year ago
Behind me looms the auditorium where we partook in curiosity
Beyond this greenth, you own the space
But on this bench, there is no absence
Here, I can breathe, lone as I am
A poem of finding spaces where the presence of one's past feels less vivid in its absence. 20 May 2020.

— The End —