Dimensions of Love

I thought to analyze this basic stuff
that is existence...taking love apart,
identifying every alias
that I could name. There was compassion and
humility; there was romance in all
its ages, and upon its fringes lurked
desire. But that must now be cast aside
as faithless, though there was compulsion deep
within, that may not be denied.

My vanity in such an exercise
was clear enough, although there was a man
named Paul who wrote a letter to his friends
in Corinth--could as well have stopped it just
as greatness loomed to crown his song about
a word, for with unconscious eloquence
he crowned himself with need of nothing more.

Old Paul knew how to say unlovely things
and seldom held his tongue,
but in this thirteenth chapter there emerged
the poet's saint, a mortal's dawning of
creation's mortar--quintessential truth.

In those post-lightning years he was no less
irascible, but bore within himself
an overflowing heart sustained by that
one ineluctable constraint that holds
us all together in a spirit sea.
~

Listen

Paradox is singing
sometimes, when you choose
to be alone.

If silence is ineffable,
there is contained within it
sadness, too...never understood,
but nourishing, feeding on the quest--
as if to widen its dimensions,
color it with that most proper dress
that makes solemnity a mode apart.

Perhaps it is the hovering
of that unconscious self
which rules us all, reaching back
to distant moments when mortality
first introduced itself...
a calm, insistent friend that we
were not yet ready to accept.

It is only now, it has become
a well of resource never dry,
the sweetness of regret
and who within its reach
escapes unbound?
~

Dream Ocean

The breathless seas expire across the shore
as if still more to dramatize decay,
as if the spirit realm were threatening;
unseen the children of the day who swim
within reality you cannot touch,
who bear no name, who are the aliens
encamped upon a planet floating in
a world of dreams.

As such, it is illusory to read
the ink upon a non-existent page,
for lucid reverie is ours when we
can touch this fleeing fantasy of skin,
and see just how it molds itself around
our skeleton, creates the apertures
that let us see and hear, the brain that lets
us stop and wonder, and the tear that takes
the moment into memory.

In such a night alone, the love we share
is just a gentle brooding shadow of
beneficence that hovers over all
the stones, the souls in flight, the messengers
of light. It is the commonality
to which we cling, and some of us
will call it God.
~

The Grace of Cowardice

Finally
I sent it off, and knew

you could ignore it,
set the piece aside, and just forget.
You could skim it, dutifully,
perhaps become enraged,
or only choose to be amused.

But no, we chose to stand together,
you and I, among the others,
in our silent tribute
to the shivering emperor

and to the noble walrus,
to the end, discreet.
~

Author! Author!

Ideas gleaned from poetry and books
should be for sale in little boxes, that
were optional at extra cost--and I
would find inside, the little people there
that I could set upon my desk, and shake
my finger at them, questionning without
offence their origin, or their descent.
And as a gentle Gulliver, perhaps,
remember to remark upon their zeal.

Of course if I found feedback from the air
that bears my voice, or from my friends who care,
I would. But yes, it is too much to ask,
and much too little to depend upon.
No wonder that the wee ones live for us!

Beware, my tiny leprechaun, for we
are scavengers who would invade the night
to capture you, for you are rare indeed.
Within your packs, the wonder drug, insight
to know, to understand, embrace, believe!
~

Look to your right for a moment

You will see that the Iraq war has now cost us over Two Hundred Billion. Do you think we have our money's worth?

Last full measure

There was Mike's famous creeping smile
and then the punch line
spoken slowly, in his style...
we laughed, and felt the pressure
in our chests, saw his hands thrown up,
and in an instant, saw him die
and that was it, no interim,
not a single second of respect
to get us ready.

Then when we came home
we couldn't say to anyone
that he was more a hero
than the rest of us; you know
it doesn't seem to be
quite fair.
~

August 16

Ignition...on
and in an hour, it was over.
One slash of time made ridicule
of caution, for the silence that he chose
was not enough; he hated it,
chose death instead,
and that without regret.

I wonder just how long it was
the engine poured its fumes
into his ambience,
and he beyond a care...
how many passed just yards away,
how many chronicles raced
past the brute unconsciousness
of the undead, as they sped by.

It was a double silence that prevailed
upon the darkening day--
a double irony as that frail candle
smoldered when its destiny
was light.
~

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This is a blog for poetry, opinion, and discussion of current issues. It is not for the promotion of someone's commercial blog. All, of course, are welcome and very much encouraged to leave their comments here, and visitors make it better, and more interesting. However, of late, some have left commercial "hints" publicising their own money-making activities. That is not what this site is for, and I hope this shameless activity will be ignored whenever you come across it.