The stream (all workshops)
Death of a Poet Laurette
''In the hearts of men
there is compassion
poets are a living example
so was
Seamus Heaney''
Disperse the prism of reflection
Colours Crystallized refractions
wane
Warping the silken pad
Pupa dreams
Only a delirium of fruition
Moth to flame
Left to languor
Upon the befogged
Wishes now musty
Mutations insoluble
Wings of shattered want
Flutter not
Nor float upon the breeze
Extinct heart
Dawns its reality
Eyes wide now unshut
No cocoon exists
Confined to heartbreak
And its dissipation
Flying high disrobed
Mating now forsaken
fragrant drench
coiled sleeping
the dampness
leads
drop by rolling drop
the concourse rivers
full of detrius droll
evolving slowly
a bright and tinted flow
If I knew
the pressed
and ready
buried depths
between margins
how we lived
against our
contexts
and breathed
the spacial sighs
while snow
walked against
a mirror world
night waited
and wolves walked
snow globe parcels
of niche crept minutes
television
cholic
Gluttonous loneliness chews and grinds
upon the lifeline of borrowed time
sumptuously feeding all day and night
beyond drawn curtains of human sight.
Remorseless persistent depression
invades
accompanied by pantomimed dark
charades
silent suffering voices fear to
speak
from rusted armored shells so paper
weak.
Dying shadows of displaced memories fall
across haunted eyes reddened and dull
Reason is imprisoned behind bars of pain
as the death masked warden executes your name.
dumb deaf and blind
They say I am blind
I don’t mind
They insist I’m deaf too
How can I deny the truth
Then they say I am dumb
Now that’s being numb
If I were so
how could you know
what I say
but alas it’s the laptop
by the researcher’s way
they can guess I am so
and
so I now confess
dumb I’m, but no woe
But so was Helen Keller
she did not consider these as handicaps
nor Mahatma Gandhi of India
he had three kind mice
It all started one lovely May.
The sun there wove a golden way,
the stars, the moon in no delay
begged us a hey, begged us a hey.
We thought we'd have our life-for long
to play tunes that never go wrong.
A stream of passion keeps along
with every song, with every song.
We were words, those printed to hold
a story written deep in gold.
Yet misty shadows blew to fold
a tale been told, a tale been told
Single breath poetry
I do recall
your name after all
you were on call ,
but then your poetry was,
not, that isn't now,
as invaluable as this ...
I read your self eulogy too
and
share with you
that I too have had four fatal falls
but as there was no place in heaven
God kicked me once for all
and said
stay there till I call
Sex is my weakness
as you say too,
you have a prescription
my spouse says no, to,
A stormy whirlpool spins.
Words chomp and churn, in capital bold type!
The swirling library of jagged edges
is swallowed whole.
The words disjoin and fall apart,
crumbling into oblivion.
Only to be regurgitated then re-chewed,
into black ink bile,
The ruinous fluid is gulped down.
Its constituent parts mix in the gut.
The bitter wormwood slowly evaporates
into the time shift of love.
shine light
the thin reasoned crawl
crept in a sweep
the minute hand
shudder wind
leans a shoulder
and a thousand
beads of rain
shivers
radiolight glows
and an ashtray is
lonely with the
carapace
of thoughts
drawn in
thunder of buses
and a red eye
turbine stitchs
a beating pulse
red in the mists
approach
tentative the touch
pulse
the shoulder of
a turned aside
memory
THE SWING
On wings of wind I flew
feet high into the sky
ecstatic vertigo
seeing the world swirling
below
free as a soul
in flight
leaving it all behind
closing my eyes
to see...
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