This is the first in a series of Episodes of narrated poetry.
This first is titled: A Reader’s Tribute
Enjoy!
Archive for January, 2013
13
Jan
13
Podcast – A New Series Feature
13
Jan
13
Defiance Reward
I have the enjoyment of some entertaining and stimulating dreams. Last night I awoke from a dream that had a visceral feel about it that I wanted to capture in some way. Hence this:
A caged room of men with nowhere to go
Captured by one disturbed with virile power to show
The gun in his hand-made sure this fact to know
The tension made palpable by not knowing when he’d blow
An anxious cough came from the back of the room
The man’s villanous eyes scanned looking from whom?
Coyly waving the gun in defiance – suggesting one’s fatal doom
No one dare stir knowing one of them is to die soon
Sadistically pointing the gun from one victim to another
Each failed pull of the trigger making the room shudder
Cowering in fear with nowhere to take protective cover
Some cried the lord’s prayer, others last love for their mother
The mad-man stalked about absorbing all his generated fear
He had some twenty men that moments ago toasted his cheer
Now they sat quivering not knowing if their death was near
Save for one standing in defiance, to make the point clear
Approaching the man standing, gun pointed to his head
The simple pull of the trigger, in seconds, the defiant one would be dead
But a strange thing happened, something else instead
The mad-man embraced him knowing a true brave man he’s bred.
12
Jan
13
The Watch
The following was in response to a challenge to create a piece that did not use the same word twice (including the Title):
The Watch
This symbol of life lived bequeathed for safekeeping into the future. Its workings represent passing seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years endured until energies expended denote an end that has been charted long before birth. Tarnished gold casing, cracked crystal measure toil, hardship and pain suffered through life’s enduring past brought forward in rewarding peace.
Grave markers symbolize forever what shall be given to lives remaining as memory’s keeper endowed by material possessions gained, accumulate, box stored, preserved, weathered-age signs showing.
Cemetery gate’s embrace quells past turbulence beneath soil demarcating Souls’ light risen, body’s deep sleep.
12
Jan
13
Blank Page
Feeling compelled to compose something of substance I could only come up with the following due to a strange sense of mind:
A blank page lays before me waiting to be blemished with markings representing some semblance of meaning in the form of words that will express my thoughts in a fashion of form and order that will with luck and exposure, conjure a response within the known and ideally yet to be known, spectrum of human emotion (I would include aliens but they’re not suppose to exist) yet to know exactly what those words ought to be is not exactly clear to me so my intention from this point forward is to basically put down the words as they manifest in that part of my brain responsible for such activity with the hope that I won’t forget what those words are by the time they reach the finger tips of my hands that take on the charge of pushing the keys to the keypad with further hope that I don’t misspell or misuse any specific word such that it throws off any potential reader from realizing the relevance of this piece that appears to be materializing to my astonishment, right before my eyes and further, that the imperative of proper grammar and punctuation is appropriately emphasized and not over done as has been known to occur in past writings that unlike this writing were constructed with a premeditated thought of purpose guiding its development be it a poem, prose or even short story that I am known by those who know me, to have written and several of them I may add, though much of them have yet to be widely distributed for critical review, a review that may prove too harmful to my fragile psyche were the critique to be less then flattering potentially giving rise to not writing anything more – full stop.
10
Jan
13
Enveloping Fields
Enveloped and consumed by electronic technology’s gain;
More compact, faster wireless communication the inventor’s aim.
What cost is acceptable for this modern expediency to our earthly domain,
As an intrusive sea of invisible electric fields make greater claim?
Cellular constructs of all nature’s creation
Are not designed for this modern state of infiltration.
What mutations will arise by this unexpected habitation,
Will it ultimately result in Death’s untimely consecration?
Future generations are left the burden of this uncertain result,
It will be to their fore-fathers to assert source of the fault.
Is this a legacy in history desired for the future to consult
Or, is there still time to bring this selfish madness to a halt?
AUTHOR’S NOTE: To put this poem into context viewing of the linked video will serve to enlighten the reader as to the impact modern wireless technology may be having on all that inhabit this planet: RESONANCE
06
Jan
13
Winter Country
The brilliant white florescence of new fallen snow
Transcends an otherwise grey day to magically glow
Pine trees heavily laden, their branches begin to bow
The wonder of winter country, so few get to know
The crack and creek of ice, the lake hardens to the freeze
Snow drifts sculpted, carved by mild wind breeze
Chimney smoke rises, dancing above barren trees
A wondrous sight, does nothing but please
Though the fallen temps chill to the bone
Nothing beats a snowy walk, with friends or alone
Only to return to a hearth warmed home
To a cup of hot chocolate, a raspberry scone
Winter, a brief season that comes but once a year
A time of dread for some, others gleefully cheer
With warm woolen mitts and scarf, the cold’s not to fear
It’s a time to be alive, to be thankful you are here.
06
Jan
13
Nature’s Gift
Meandering through the mystic haze of fantasy’s delight
My mind takes to a joyous and wondrous flight
Maneuvering the senses through whimsical, playful light
Making this mental journey a spectacular sight
Animated characters of hallucination’s invent
A creative response to suppressed emotions intent
Allowing the expunging of suffering to gain content
An experience not lost to time of moment spent
Over the counter and cannabis do not prevail
Oxycotton, crack destroy this freedom sail
Onslaught of artificiality does imagination curtail
One need only freshness of nature’s air to inhale
This nurturing gift is there to freely imbibe
To enrich the body Soul, to know it’s alive
Taken oft for granted that by it all do survive
To destroy it, death to all, it surely will derive.
Living in a small rural lake-side community in Southern Ontario, many who live here year round are often of modest means including myself hence, some have found interesting ways to augment their meager incomes by pursuing a practice of Dumpster-diving. Though I have heard this term referenced some time ago, I never thought that I would ever experience the practice; at least not til the other day when I was invited to join a neighbor friend to do just that. This compelled me to write the following poem to honor this new experience and one I most certainly intend on repeating:
Dumpster-Divers: A People’s Revolution
The refuse of others is there to be had
What is consciously wasted can drive you mad
But we dumpster-divers, we’re mighty glad
Our best of hopes is for this to go beyond just a fad
From clothing to computers it’s there for the taking
The bounty of goods is the land-fills forsaking
The practice proves environmental change in the making
Even still, some societal laws we are considered breaking
A new era of impoverished peoples is overtaking the globe
The gap between have and have-not is alarmingly beginning to unfold
And like the garbage, the poor are being mercilessly left in the cold
Possibly the roots to a People’s Revolution, future generation will be told.
04
Jan
13
Poetic Lethargy
Embarking upon this new year 2013, after decades of writing and amassing hundreds of poems, prose and a variety of essay on a spectrum of topic; you might say my `muse to the moment’ so expressed, I have decided when warranted, to provide a preamble to what is posted with the intent of adding context or background. Ideally this will add a touch of `color’ to better illustrate the reason or understanding to the posting’s content.
To this end, here is the first of the 2013 series:
As any writer, author, I experience from time to time a sense of frustration stemming from the seeming inability to attract critical attention to my works. This garners a sense that what is being written is inadequate, superfluous, non-relevant yet, for some unfathomable reason, like an addiction to recreational drugs, I continue to spoon out page after page of material. This frustration from time to time must be expelled by expressing it in written form – a catharsis if you will. Hence, the following:
Poetic Lethargy
Much to write, much to say
This my life, has become the way
Yet, not one heeds the words wrote
Let alone, the words spoke.
There is no special wisdom or insight to behold
But to transcend what my consciousness is told,
The unknown words of thought brought to the light of day,
Leaving to others to interpret what they have to say.
So what becomes of this poetic lethargy?
How to release the creative energy,
To dispel the thoughts, those that come to mind
With want only to make see, the literary blind?
02
Jan
13
2013
2013 purported to be a magic-marker, the embarking into a golden-age yet, at the strike of midnight, all is found to be the `same old way‘. Will it not take more then the change of calendar dates for humanity to alter its destructive path, to recognize all that preceded December 31st, 2012 was, is, of its choosing and doing?
Increasingly immersed in the flood of technological gadgetry to mask the pain, suffering and emotional detachment, individually the collective grows blind and calloused to any promise of correction to the apathy that has metastasized the human consciousness.
True this brief diatribe sounds pathetically negative but, it is born from disappointment and frustration that what has yet to unfold in the promised days of 2013 is more likely then not, to be an amplified replay of 2012 and decades preceding. Should this pessimistic projection be ultimately proven wrong, no one would be more pleased then myself.
This all said, all the best to any and all whose eyes and mind encounter this posting.
naykdpoet 