The stream (all workshops)
One poem, three different forms
Western Classic
Two suns circling out in space
seen so many times by Hubble,
locked in gravity's embrace
without planets or other rubble.
Some so close they exchange mass
each thus gaining from the other
as their shared times slowly pass;
never alone, they've one another.
We have a love which is binary.
Where does one begin, the other start ?
Envied by all those, ordinary,
we two who love and stand apart.
She steps onto the balcony, gazing
Far unto the edges of her reign.
Moonlight radiates strands of auburn hair
Eschewing from beneath her night bonnet.
The night is young, as she
What wanting and needing
Stirs within her about him
Knowing not whence he came.
Gently a cool breeze brushes her cheek
She closes her eyes, and cocks her head
Leaning on a palm which is not there
Eyes slit open and she sees her lover
She inhales and smells him
Opening her mouth tasting him
Like a snake would senses its prey.
I sit
with an emptiness
that fills me up -
a longing so deep
the well
has dried up.
I cry
with a sadness
that says: 'Don't go"
a melancholy
so dark
it destroys the soul.
I come
from a place
called "never enough"
There's hunger at the table
There's thirst in the cup
a need so great
no feast can fill up.
BjR 29 November, '10
.
.
Once in a while my thoughts turn
to everything
intuited
imagined
felt
manifest
and not.
And it is as if my mind
opens
widens
expands
reaches
to give a tangible glimpse
of something wonderful.
And a wave of joy
delivering a fluttering truth
excites my heart
lifts my soul
and I almost
almost
perceive it all.
But the enormity is too vast
and before I can grasp it
it is gone.
beauty and long sleep
walk sacred paths of winter
'til new dawn of spring
I yearn for this island,
That is so far away,
Drenched in darkness,
Where foul things play.
A haven for souls,
That have come undone,
Where those of black hearts,
Come to gather as one.
There is a great garden,
Filled with shadows and doom,
And buds of black velvet,
You can relax in the gloom.
It's right place to be,
If you shun the light,
They frolic in evil,
Embracing the night.
day was a rasher of bacon
sizzling in too hot a skillet
judge said -- thirty days
next case
I was a greasy spot --
a turd on the tarmac
I felt like ashes.
.
I no longer attempt to jump the moon,
touch the stars,
nor kiss the sky
trying to get beyond
being
a man
earth bound
"out there"
...IS
"in here"
mind
tailored of
Mobius strips
of heart and soul
designed especially
to see
all that need be seen
by man
as man
earthbound
and grounded for life
She stood on top of the crest of the falls,
As sunlight danced within the rushing waters.
Hands spread upwards in meditation,
Speaking to the inner powers to appear.
Her full-length emerald green cloak
Whipping in the wind that burst forth.
As she stood on top of Kaaterskill Falls,
The wind gushed, throwing her hood aside
Letting loose a wave of waist length auburn hair.
Her green eyes flashed as she chanted.
Dazzling rays of prism light
Danced forth from her right hip,
Her powers, being flocked together.
I wish I were a bird;
could soar above the clouds
and touch the moon
fly faster than the speed of light
and hear the planning
of tomorrow
take wing against the march of time
and listen to the voices
of the past
or simply be;
glide upon currents of air,
observe the beauty of steamy tropic forests,
feel the icy cold of snowy mountain peaks,
perhaps, taste the tang of wild salty seas
and then perch, nonchalantly,
in a favorite tree.
11.28.2010
© Tonya Greenlee
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