"ursa" poems
.
***Ancient games
tell tales of dust. ||| A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.***
~~~~~
It's the wits that **** not Queens of ivory or ***ink. ***
Charged with coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into* lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
*rule the moon.
~~~~~~
***Shoot on command,
C
h
e
c
k
m
a
t
e***
~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a downfell,
Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
*Just
by
throwing
s
t
o
n
e
s
.*
.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
What's usually blemished considered a sin
Your accent marks on porcelain skin
Each crafted by caring clean hands
Crafted like a Persian Carpet
Each imperfection intended
So imperfectly perfect
Rich, pale, silk tapestry
Lily pads that dot a foreign river
Falls last leaves on Winters first snow
Paint splattered on white canvas
Each inch speckled
Every crevice freckled
I'll find each one you wear
The Astrology of your body
Making constellations with my finger
Your back is Gemini
Orion on your shoulder
Leo for your inner thigh
Serpens, Sextans, Ursa Minor
Late night skies for lonely eyes
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 4:09 AM UTC
I spend every waking moment
sleeping in your memory,
for here I feel less alone
and more like other wandering souls
trying to find their way home
Orion, Cassiopeia, Ursa Minor
if I met the constellations,
picked the stars from the sky,
perhaps they might match
up to the sparkle in your eyes
Watch fall phase to snow;
wonder why sadness stays
while seasons go
Leaf, flower, fruit seed oh
wilting rose, dead tree
silence takes its toll
See, I tip toe around your thoughts
while you drown me whole.
(A.H.Z)
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:51 AM UTC
In your world there are magnetic lines that draw your needle North. Polaris and the Great Bear guide you home from clear moonlit skies, so that you may stumble into your hearth at night. I was told that in my heart was a compass rose, with a needle like yours, pointed and true. But my directions are undifferentiated. Ursa hides behind dark clouds and the magnetosphere is interrupted by the fiercest of solar winds. The needle fights to find North caught in an endless loop. The way home is unknown. But somewhere I know you are waiting for me to arrive, for the storms to pass. You would wait a thousand years. And though my compass is broken, I am reaching out my arms to find my way through the brush. And someday I will find you.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
Oh enchanting stars
Speak to me of your stories
Tell me of the Bear's scars
And how he earned his glories
A family torn apart
By the love of the eldest sister and a bear
The father killing the bear causing them to depart
Enkindling her to turn herself into a bear and causing despair
Youngest, magic one, save your siblings
From your once beloved sister
Shoot your arrows in the sky and end the killings
Turn each one of them into stars spawning a blister
As any can see with an eye
The story is forever imprinted in the sky
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Pleasantries aside, did you feel that tremble?
Not earthquake, it was heaven's shake
when you took me
by hand
led away
deep in wood
STOP...
and stood
Pierced constellation's reflection
Eyes sent soul's orbit
Forbidding further speak of
Harking horror
for it is tomorrow
and I still don't know your name
Or...
why your grizzly ways
Turned me into bait
Ursa Major I hear Ursa Minor
He pines for your return
...because you weakened him
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
I was greeted by
unearthly
midnight
or stellar light
I'm hypnotized by
the evening clouds
I espy
the busy
passers-by
or the silly
vagabonds
The round
earth doesn't pause
Proxima Centauri
doesn't pause
Ursa Major
doesn't pause
Colours change
The game
continues
I close my
eyes
This is how I can perceive
the sound
of silence
This is how I meet myself
I'm neither
a nihilist
nor
a hedonist
I'm simply
a monotheist
A gust
of wind blusters
My gossamer
scarf flutters
I open my inquisitive
eyes
I discover the mysterious
scene
Jun 16, 2022
Jun 16, 2022 at 10:08 AM UTC
In the dark we marked tattoos of
disintegrating constellations
on our rib cages,
our fingernails filled with ink.
We were told they would last
forever on 19 year old skin
when carved on the night where
each fallen brother of Sun kissed
our mid-August goosebumps.
The weight of our bodies
cut into the grass.
We came back the next evening to
watch these human Grand Canyons
sink deeper to Earth's liquid center
underneath flashlight flickers of an
approaching thunderstorm,
each bolt echoing on the hearts
of Lake Michigan fish.
The trees fell inside our craters
as we walked backward to my car,
fearing for our lives, but
immobile from each reaching meteor.
Perseus fell through Earth's granite throat,
parabolic melting of night sky.
Collapsed Big Dipper and Ursa Major
illuminated our chests
over shadow of dying white pine.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
i studied your body like i would the sky,
tracing constellations into your skin as you hummed
what sounded like the clouds would when they move.
andromeda on your throat, aquarius along your collarbones,
canis major covered your chest, gemini on your right shoulder.
i didn't want to leave when you told me that you loved me.
leo graced your left shoulder, just slightly down your back,
your stomach wore lyra, lopsided, like your smile.
sometimes i couldn't breathe at the thought of losing you.
orion on one hip, pisces on the other, my lips on both,
scorpius, dangerous, starting on your inner thigh.
but it was that loving you that scared me more than losing you.
taurus, ursa major, both on your calves,
body trembling as i traced virgo onto your ankles.
i couldn't hold on, i couldn't breathe, i couldn't understand.
i always saved libra for last, a balance scale,
over the entirety of your back, my safe haven.
breaking the scale when i leaned over, lips against your ear,
we can't exist together.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Moonlit sky
Why
Do you try
To lie?
I see through
the treacherous
waste
of time and space
Saturn and Jupiter
make you look
stupider
You talk through Uranus
Milky way
You say?
Maybe
Some day!
Satellite
saddle bright
ride the horse
Ursa's delight
Universe
Witche's curse
Hide dark matter
In your purse
Atom, quark
In New York
Higgs-Boson
Keep your nose on
Big Bang
Big Crunch
Do not mention
The 12th dimension
Let's all send
our cars to Mars!
Maybe the aliens
Will choose ours?
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
we built a teepee in the woods out back,
hoping for a fortress where we could avoid
my parents' calls for us to come inside
and out of the pitch black of a tangled forest.
it wasn’t perfect – there was no hide
with which to cover it, decorated with
red and blue creatures of the earth, dancing
upon geometric patterns.
some of the branches we used to craft this teepee
stuck out, thin, pliable fingers
with budding leaves instead of nails, gently swaying
and conducting some silent melody in the breeze.
these branches were leaned in a circle, supporting each other
with circles of young, green sinew layered beneath their bark.
we bound them together at their peak, unwinding a ball of string
that would fray and disintegrate with every rainstorm.
we failed, also, to consider our chosen place for this Indian home.
rather than soft grass or spongy moss, we sat
uncomfortably and shifting, on layers of dirt
and dead, dry leaves, decaying beneath us
as we stared into a leafy ceiling,
framed and outlined by the gold sunlight,
before the fiery sky turned to purple and red, and
mosquitoes bit at our ankles, driving us from the forest
and into my home.
there we lay, staring up at glow-in-the-dark stickers
mimicking Orion and Ursa, Libra and Gemini,
on my plain and darkened ceiling.
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 3:15 PM UTC
Ursa Major: Aren't you going to create anymore?
Tesla: What's the point? They'll steal it from me, and then use it to destroy me, I won't survive...
Ursa Major: You've brought Light to the World! They'll surely remember you!!
Tesla: No they won't. And it will be someone else that takes the credit...
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go. You go about your routine that lassoed my heart into you, you who prance around the vastness of my dreamscape. I come to recognize your presence only in my sleep, at the very least that's what I know.
In that hazy, twisted world of subconscious shuffling, we find ourselves sitting cozily, face to face, at a table outside that rustic coffee shop. Honeyed words and laughters sprightly echo from that very spot where only a vase of freshly cut chrysanthemum sets two bodies and heat apart, longing.
Sometimes, we glorify sunsets at the shoreline. Sometimes, we sound our inane daredevil yawp at a cliff. Sometimes, we simply stargaze and draw across the skies Cassiopeia and Ursa Major.
We embrace the beauty of chaos we often find ourselves walking aimlessly along that busy thoroughfare before we head back home; normally we exchange random thoughts about school, my fascination with Rand's objectivist framework, your addiction to Cobain's craft and story, my weakness over falling in love too fast, your resilience and hope in times of defeat.
We are wired to each other in a special way, so special that it all has to be in lucid dreams. Feelings are intense. Kisses euthanize the butterflies. Midnight cuddles are soulful calisthenics. Holding each other's hand is infinite.
You present to me a self that is nurtured by its soul. I think I love you in my sleep. I feel happy with everything that goes with closing my eyes and letting dreams of the world I created creep into my consciousness. In such a realm I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go.
Do you see me in your sleep, too?
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
In ancient times long long ago,
when Ptolemy looked up into the firmament-
with wonder and amaze, to see the heavens glowing there-
he little knew of how the Gods did sport and play!
When Cassiopeia ope'd her ***** and let forth her music in the heavens, with joy the stars did dance and planets in their fundament strove to eclipse each other vying with all their might to illuminate-the heavens more bright with their ethereal light and splendor.
Andromeda began to dance, then Sirius and Betelgeuse,
Virgo too with Capricorn- Herculese and Aquila-Regulus with Ursa minor, all the planets danced but one,
and that with angry stance, refused to join the dance,
Mars with red countenance stood aloof feigning reproof,
Look carefully, and you will see,
the stars still dance for you and me.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
The sound of small plastic wheels
On the ridged metal lip of an escalator
Bookends each trip between home and birthplace.
The first two uptempo, eager
To race to the smell of marble and leather,
Perfectly cooked fish and pastries with blueberries
The next two, piano, as I cross back,
Result of exhaustion, arms full of clothes and sorting small bottles into bags.
But on exit
Not due to vents, air conditioning, or the sensory assault of shopping under halogens,
Home smells of rust.
Of dirt and smoke - burnt.
Home smells more damaged and ****** up than its neighbour
And it's apt position on the map
Behind our back
Peering over the shoulder of the small ursa, overbearing and controlling.
But it's not the smell of burning petrol and tissue in glass,
Nor riot shields and plastic armour,
And only slightly of over emphasis on Northern Irish poetry during exams.
It's the stench of friendships, bouquet of break-ups,
Awkwardness and overconfidence,
Fake tanning and too much tea.
And like bonfires and cigarette smoke,
Burnt wood and tobacco embers,
It's the one perfume I can't get out of my clothes.
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 9:25 PM UTC
While you are asleep,
While you are only dreaming,
Ursa Major and Ursa Minor,
Forever they are scheming.
While you are awake,
you may think the world is one,
but Orion is still there,
in the sky he runs.
The stars may be replaced,
with puffy white laced clouds,
but Draco is till slinking,
far away the ground.
Even after all these years,
Cassiopeia is still vain,
still looking down on you,
through a window pain.
As the stars all swirl,
around the magnetic north,
Gemini still sways,
switching back and forth.
For even if we're sleeping,
even if we are awake,
the stars will always swim,
in a pitch black lake.
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
*hard skin of life to penetrate
soften that piercing stare*
1.
seems a shot spiked with kindness does the trick
that’s how we button up the moon’s sides with silver thread
to keep its seams from splitting solemn sides
and spilling all its jolly secrets: whorls of fingerprints sinking steadily into luna-grooves
like a neat domino-stacked roll on a never-ending trip into black holes
not far from Ursa Major
2.
to grant a delightful hop up and throw seeking eyes over the orb’s gentle curve
take a little look-see
the tiniest peek into Tucanae
where tidal forces push small clouds
and outstrip the western winds
towards cunning straits
to subtly tie into bows
cut ribbons of fate
drink a dram of mercy from a well-behaved thimble
yet poems don’t pay no bills now
when words tinker with heart’s mettle
3.
wonder if sagacious rue repays in full
or satisfies the exceeding cost
of the hankering in a vessel
caught eddying in giant nacred jetsam
while casting minute gems before the moon’s eyes
it’s nigh impossible to hide behind the sun
4.
best be ready with prêt-a-porter life-pennies
and be
wise to always carry a pocket full of sorrys
*stitch 'em seams together now
it all comes together
nice and neat*
S T, Moonday, 15 July 2013
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Let's bury the lovely inconsistencies
Leave the intimate fallacies to mystery
Then my perception of your passion fits with me
Red brick to mortar
you laid your deceit in a building order
Despite the inherent wrecking ball tendencies you chose to utilize
Blind to my youthful eyes
Let's brush the displaced fervor for lust under makeshift throw rugs
Void of emotion until you know no love
As exhilarating as the love you left long ago as leaves of dogwood trees in a late Pennsylvanian november
Rigid structures that wait a season to return to the lively form they remember
Bare white bark and dead extremities
Bare as your stockpile of passion meant for me
The surplus became a short supply when I left your graces
Amidst the sea of faces
You encounter in the places
You replace me to fill the voids and spaces
My memory laced with traces
Of your gentle touch, a cool spring breeze to my sun soaked skin
Recalling the ominous climb before the downward spin
We always seem to find ourselves in
Perhaps the fact the rush of the climb washes my mind of the inevitable collapse
I all too often push the moment from thoughts of past
The sinking in my stomach peaking the point of no return
As I set my eyes to the horizon and watch us burn
In the setting sun of an Middle eastern summer
Your lightning fast decisions to leave never compared to the rolling thunder
That swept over my soul
When you tore the hole
In the hazel eyed sky of my perception
with your ill fated rejection
Casting projections
Of your likeness in the constellations
Trembling fingers wait patient
Making comparisons and relations
Between every aspect of you I savored
To Orion's belt, cassiopeia, ursa major
Every slight shift in its luminous glow
A subtle reminder to me of the love you will never know
Intergalactic representations paint the stage for supernovas
Expunging the lovely aroma
I grew accustom to
Coming to harsh realizations there's no reciprocal paid in full for the love I loved for you.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
My Life is a Scratched CD (OR Blue Collar Lament- The Little Napper Remix)
Lines taken from poems by JM Romig (Ursa Somniculosa/CD Skipping Down Route 11) and Ryan Kinney (Blue Collar Lament)
It's long drive on this highway
The window creeks
- its jagged way down
I breathe in the new air for the first time in months
the CD starts skip-skip words
Hopping over - lines
Reminding me
Of finite fuel
repeat-
finite time
With work looming just hours away
repeat-
Death, just decades away
I spend most of my week
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
on repeat
in a semi-conscience trance
watching multi-million dollar machines work
repeat
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
is a constellation of dirt, chipped paint
and cobwebs
forming the shape
of a bear
lounging in a hammock
skip
They are more alive than I am.
Monday at 3 PM I click off my brain,
switch on automatic,
repeat
automatic
skip
- the countdown:-T-minus 40 hours.
Each minute that ticks by
in the dull monotony slowly steals my sanity,
bit by bit
Each minute closer to Friday
slower and slower,
until on Friday they seem to tick
backwards--
skip
I have coworkers
who insist that it's a monkey,
trapped in a net
Each day blurs into the other
making them indistinguishable.
Repeat-
My finite time
Monday,
the entirety of the previous week
on repeat-
T-minus 40 hours.
skip
they are wrong.
It's clearly a bear
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat-
Death - just decades away.
The dictator they put in charge of the asylum
barks out commands on cue,
just to remind everyone that they own you.
skip
The desperation for dollars
are the shackles that keep me here.
I often welcome sleepwalking:
I think of Emerson
On repeat-
Skip-
I think I feel like his transparent eyeball
repeat-
His eyeball-
I begin to understand
I begin to feel like I'm one with everything
skip-
everyone is love
repeat
love
every-Everyone is me
and you
skip-skip
-the impending coma
In the few instances the machines malfunction
I curse being awakened.
At least as a zombie, I don't feel
my mind rotting
repeat
the rotting constellation of dirt,
chipped paint and cobwebs:
Ursa Somniculosa
No matter where I am on the floor,
I can see him hanging there in his hammock
on the weekends I love life.
I shed the identity the uniform has forced upon me
and my true self emerges--
repeat
my finite fuel
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
repeat
the desperation for dollars
I truly only live two days a week
repeat
my finite time
I'm dying the other five
skip-skip
I think of Ursa Somniculosa -
In the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
enjoying his perpetual vacation
maybe sipping on a nice tall beer
soaking up the sun -
NOT being a trapped monkey
like all of us down here
on repeat
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
***She's been leaving for months
sitting still long time gazing ahead
between woodland graves of companions***
*one whose habits came hers when she died
( we saw the transmission take place
when nestled together one night )
greeting each visitor in the driveway
and hunting
my garden cat
Lately all night under stars or clouds
no coming in for man lap naps
exploring high places indoors for daysleep
then cuddling in small low cocoons*
***Our connection deep by departure
assured her long job was complete***
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
For Theresa. Rest in peace.
Every star shines on you
Tonight.
Polaris, the North Star,
Will be your guide,
Reflecting your aura
In the smile
Of the Atlantic’s waves.
The silent forest
Looks to the skies
Where Ursa Major twinkles back
The light held in your eyes.
Sleeping bruins dream
About ice and glowing
Blues and greens
Dancing above;
The Northern Lights.
Every star will shine on you
Tonight.
The North Star, Polaris,
Will be your guide.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
there are hidden constellations in your skin
Andromeda shines in the curve of your wrists
while Ursa Major and Ursa Minor dance in the shadows of your eyelashes
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
A lonesome voice began a mournful air,
As bowing low, it moved amongst the trees;
Its booming tones exuding sad despair,
Disseminating, on a wistful breeze --
A soft sweet voice came drifting down from high,
As bowing swift, it moved with fluent grace;
Its ringing song effusing endless joy,
As two lost voices shared a first embrace --
Their unity, a ringing pack of bells,
And canon drawn midst Ursa's watchful gaze;
Their song a tune that nothing ever quells,
Its tempo strong until their end of days;
Oft’ times, the canon booms, the bells will ring,
As two more lonely voices learn to sing
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC
High up on the far back wall
in the back of the factory
where I sell my free time
is a constellation of dirt, chipped paint
and cobwebs
forming the shape
of a bear
lounging in a hammock
I have coworkers who insist
that it's a monkey,
trapped in a net
but they are wrong.
It's clearly a bear
Ursa Somniculosa,
or, as the layman may call it
the Little Napper
No matter where I am on the floor,
I can see him hanging there in his hammock
enjoying his perpetual vacation
maybe sipping on a nice tall beer
soaking up the sun -
not being a trapped monkey
like all of us down here
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC