Posts Tagged ‘writing



27
Jan
13

Body and Soul


realitySome among us achieve their dream goal, I’ve come to believe it’s because they’ve realized the secret of connection to:

Body and Soul

The human body, open to suggestion,
Given by cerebral mind projection;
Will by this, achieve wanted perfection,
Gaining ultimate skill, given by their connection.

The impediments to attaining this desireable goal
Are often taught by formal education, its potential price toll
A system structure that can alienate body from Mind-Soul
The true secret to what makes a human whole

Few in life realize the gift of this wondrous understanding,
Their achievements reflect it by perfomance outstanding,
More the reason all humanity should be commanding;
Reform to enhance education, with loud voice demanding.

27
Jan
13

Unyielding Hope


sunrise

Pursuance of lofty, dreamt life goals
Falling as casualty to whim’s realty,
Forgotten to past time domain
Yet, given chance, can be resurrected,
To again see light of promise
Transcended by strength of unyielding hope,
That tomorrow bares fruit; to see a brighter day.

20
Jan
13

Wintery Gale


Image

the winds howl, lightening followed by thunder roar,
the house shaken violently to its foundation  core.
snow laden pines sway to wind’s unabated force,
this wintery night is taking a viciously charted course.

sparkling crystal droplets of moisture reflect street lantern light,
their unbridled, swirling dance making for a wondrous sight delight
offsetting the harsh storm drama being played out this night,
abating even a shaken pet cat’s spontaneous fright.

cast in frozen watery cocoon of snow and ice,
all nature’s creation left clutched in winter’s vice,
defying its foreboding the picture created being visually nice,
it remains an experience not want to see happen twice.

14
Jan
13

Voyage to Fate


A dedication to those who died alone on the
fateful Costa Concordia pleasure cruise 01-13-2012

ImageUpon entering Cabin 612, an eight by ten room
Little did I know, it would lead to my doom
That water would seep from every crack
Then the thought arrives: ‘Will I ever be going back?’
Alone I wait for help to arrive
But none will come, I’ll struggle to survive
As the last of lights finally flicker out
I’ll be over come with fear and try to shout
But no one will hear, for they have all gone
I nervously start to hum my favorite song
The water will rise leaving just a pocket of air
How much more of this will I be able to bare
With a sudden surge, water filling the room
I now know, it has become my tomb

Times like these suggest life is guided by fate
There seems little room for counter debate
Innocent, guided by optimism and pleasure
Life itself offering up so much to treasure
Then, unbeknownst, unannounced
From out of nowhere, death does trounce
In less than an instant, all is lost
For no matter of reason, no matter of cost
Times like these you know life is guided by fate
There seems no room, for counter debate.

 

13
Jan
13

Podcast – A New Series Feature


This is the first in a series of Episodes of narrated poetry.

This first is titled: A Reader’s Tribute

Enjoy!

 

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):

time

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:

Image
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.

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.




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