Speaking to the
Tongue of Tides
I stand before where naught resides
The nautical depths of the heart
Where nary flies a bird
Nary comes a cloud
No land, no measurement
Only that which is...
“Wanderer,” they ask,
What of a poet’s words
Could turn our hearts
From bombs, from hunger
From loneliness?”
I felt an answer to a question
One night
Cuffs clamped tight
Around my wrists
And knew my course had changed
So, I looked at the stars
Like I used to as a child
Like I used to when I was freely wild
Laying on the trampoline
Listening to locusts in the night.
“There must be a better way...”
And, ah, what would follow those days....
There is no world which we
Have taught ourselves
Through fear and the wish
To be separate
And few wish to hear this
Fewer seek to know it
And fewer still have lived it
She came with her cane
And crooked fingers
A book to preserve her memories... her long life
And I saw what I have seen
In the eyes of those
Who’ve walked this earth
An era or two.
In a Mind of Minds
I honored all she had ever been
And ever will be
A thousand times again
Terse snippets and frustration
Poke like rusty daggers
Through passing eyes
As a populous incessantly seeks
What is it we are seeking?
I set my sights upon the horizon
In the rousing dusk
To seek the seeker’s end -
Where no viscera was ever spilled
Nothing contained, nothing restrained
Nothing within, nothing without
Only truth to place its mouth
Upon the light
And kiss the wounds
That fill in time
Our Secret Grove
My dream streams lucidly
As I confront unconscious symbolism
As it begins to rise again
I see a thread before it is spun
And I speak these things to no one
“Under the spell of heavy eyes
The sun bore down upon the stone
And writ upon Elysian skies
‘No one builds a dream alone’”
I could tell you of the world
That lives within the scratches
Of my journals
The blotting out
The, “No, not this...”
A simple line drawn
And the world on either side
Here lives the tangible
The unknown
The ephemeral
My questions
My answers
The unspoken
The observations beyond what was seen
And how it felt to observe it
The way it felt to watch a leaf
As it fell and asked not why it had to
The way a candle flickered in the dark
And changed our tone of speech
“Clear vines line
Chameleon skin -
Go deeper within.”
Be genuine
And say it like it feels
It flits across the surface
But thrives where depths
Are measureless
How should I recall the number
Of days that this has covered me
Like a lead vest
Sitting on my chest?
I stand a human with
Rights in question
And a world cannot seem to sleep
Does the woman who cried
From the corner of her interjection
Know there are more listeners
That catch in silence
What a world of sound is deaf to?
There is always a frantic threat
Of looming anything
So love now
Lone Wolf! Lone Wolf!
The poet cried into the night
The stranger said,
“Get out of your head.”
She called me Ippiki Ookami
A word dripped from the balcony
And ribboned down the ancient stones -
Dripped like wax from the candle
That flickered atop the bar
Where I heard and spun my fables
To the murmur of lively tables
That listened from afar
I closed my eyes in a quiet place
Watched by hatching serpents
I am Breeze, the whirlwind tamer
The swayer of trees
A shifting disclaimer
Feel me in the breath of earth
Where era meets era in vast rebirth
I give my love to know what I am
To see right through this hologram
Though siphoned I rise to answer the why’s
That ever plagued my thought
In the mighty gale - I soar, I sail
For whirlwinds cannot be caught
The sunset streamed down the road
Lined, aligned, and bearing
Filtering transparency through velvet petals
I walked a crowd that grew and grew
And found my way through feeling
What is it that lives in words
That draws us to take them in?
Is it the stepping stones within our minds
Leading to a place lived once as is
And again in many forms
Together we find our home
Rising and falling
And rising again
Until we rest the wearied wings
In a thought that was never touched
So, love yourself
And love another
Love the dawn
And love its other
And truth will kiss the wounds
That fill in time
Our Secret Grove
I honor all you have ever been
A thousand times again

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Robert L. Martin
casi 4 años

Very deep as usual. I love it.

Barb Clarke
casi 4 años

Nice to read one of your deep and beautiful poems again.

Preferido o celebrado por...

Cory Garcia Parker Jennings Barb Clarke Mr Moonlight Vic

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