Category Archives: Poetry

Redemption

There’s nothing Fixed that can’t be Broken

Praise Jove, for without them, the Broken
And all the Hope and Possibilities for which they allow
There is nothing Redeemed
There is nothing made New Again

Beam of Sun meet Fall of Rain

Alas, mourn not the absence of the Sol
Rejoice instead for the cool quenching of the Aqua
And the Unbounded Inactivity for which the Downpour allows
For it is that, the Inactivity
And the Idleness, the Nothingness it requires
And the Silence, the Stillness it provides
That allows for the Divinity of the Dreams
To Shine forth Anew
And Redeem the Soul

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Devolution, Baby

god’s creation
procreation
fornication
population
isolation
mass migration
and starvation

revelation
supplication
congregation
holy nation
manipulation
inquisition
forced conversion
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Emily Dickinson on Daylight Saving Time*

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Presentiment – is that long Shadow – on the Lawn –
Indicative that Suns go down –

The Notice to the startled Grass
That Darkness is about to pass –

 


*Admittedly, it’s highly unlikely that Ms. Dickinson while sitting alone upstairs staring out her pondering window penned this pensive poem about Daylight Saving Time; that being said, it’s time to throw open those curtains, spread sunshine on those foreboding winter-fouled floating dust mites of presentiments and drag those lagging Clocks for-ward and on-ward to-ward that Fresh Breath of presentiment-less and Carefree Air affectionately known as Spring, yo!**

**What’s with all the “yos” lately, yo?

 

Poetry is for Girls

humor-image

I may occasionally write the junk, but rarely do I read it.

And it is not because I don’t like it that I rarely read it…

It’s because it, the really good stuff anyway, is so durn hard to read.

I’m talking Poetry here…

Poetry with a big, bold capital P.

And it is so hard for me to read (And by read I mean read. I mean really digging into the poem and fighting through the initial confusion and the complicated and often archaic words. I mean, not just reading the poem, but studying it and trying to close the gap in time from when the poem was written to when the poem is being read by learning about the poet and where and when and why and how he or she is from and where and when and why and how he or she lived and then coming to my own understanding of what I think the poem means and then trying to apply that meaning to my own life and where and when and why and how I live it. That’s what I mean by read.) because it takes more than a little bit of effort to read it.

I certainly don’t have time for all that junk.

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