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Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Poetry

Poetry

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Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Waiting.

The Spring wind buffers the wide shaking windows
A newspaper rustles with useless blues
And the night train rumbles hungrily under a tricky sky
Is it you?
That set these sounds to space?
What's the journey?
And why?

Maria Disley 16/10/13

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

The chill autumn breeze blowing
Leaves across the lawn.
Cuppa tea soothing my heart.
Thinking about Spring
And you, Little Poetess,
Far across the world :))


 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Spring there, Hi Maria... Autumn here, Hi Karen


Autumn

sunlight rippling in the
golden pond of fallen leaves
below the Eagling loft
where i sit with a Cardinal
and Sparrow
watching the sky
while pondering the riddle
of the Sphinx

Ed Meredith

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Who Wakes Orpheus a Poem


who wakes Orpheus
from the arms of Morpheus
to play his golden lyre
and salute the dawning of the day
with music and poetry
that charms the Muses
themselves

who wakes Orpheus
so he may sing to the world
of man and wild beasts
and coax the trees into dance
while his poetry
diverts the course of rivers

who wakes Orpheus
to sing his songs so beautiful
they persuads the Underworld
to return a soul

who wakes Orpheus
in his steadfastness
to never love another
and piss off the wild women
of Thrace who tear him
limb from limb…

umm... not me!
i slept in that day

Ed Meredith
16 October 2013

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

An echo to Ed' Poem

Senryu Perception

you are deadly wrong
flowers blossom everywhere
it’s clearly springtime

Thao Chuong
2013-10-16

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Viet you must forgive my error for i had mushrooms for lunch and...

conventional objects
were transformed
in time and space

representational and
calculative thinking
were undercut

and my visinary state of mind
called into question
the objectivity of all
my mental states…

Peyote Pete
today i think

 

Poe Ed

10 Years Ago

Sundry Thought of Reality

man puts his heart and his mind in what he believes
he even risks his live to fight for it
also he’s ready to kill for protection of
his own benefits
and his family
his nation
his god
or
anything else
as long as he believes he’s right

he tends to forget his reality is very perceptive
clearly
depending on
what
he sees,
he hears
he tastes
he smells
he touches

his eyes could be blurred
his ears could be distorted
his tongue could be numb
his nose could be frozen
his skin would be insensitive

also
he could look at things
from a different angle
at the wrong place
and not at the right time

how
and why
the hell is man so sure about his absolute belief?

Poe Ed
2013-10-16

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

Haa.. Ed. Since you've asked. Your ban from my tiny den is fully lifted, my friend. Enjoy your Fall


Senryu Confusion

my morning coffee
you still sleep soundly in bed
who says it's daytime?

Thao Chuong
,



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Spring is everywhere
look at the flowers shooting up around the post.

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

The Sphinx

Mystic Deity of a distant and exotic land.
Enigma of my ancient memory.
How many fingers have clawed
Your surface?
How many minds have deciphered
Your secrets?

Karen Newell
10/16/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Great to see you back Karen!:)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

A second verse echo to Karen's 1st verse.

The chill autumn breeze blowing
Leaves across the lawn.
Cuppa tea soothing my heart.
Thinking about Spring
And you, Little Poetess,
Far across the world :))


From a high window
forlorn on the sill
sits a maiden in muslin
fine fabric billowing in the gentle breeze
The screwed window latch rattling
A whisper across the moors
An image for the artist
A challenge for the conceptualist
to reveal the breadth
and strip the poetess bare
to uncover
the ordinary
the rare!

Maria Disley 18/10/13


 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Photography Prints
An echo to Peony and Thao Chuong's poem Sex, drugs and Street Art.

Be Her Mary Shelley

A cold wife
like a wet fish
on marble slab
needs a bolt of lightening touch
a kiss
to resurrect
the comatose.
Modern knight
Look beyond your visor,
the sex the drugs
and look more deeply
into street art
and grasp
her sleeping, tortured heart.

Maria Disley 18/10/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Ed, just re-read..well its the weekend and I can take things in my stride moreso.
Autumn

sunlight rippling in the
golden pond of fallen leaves
below the Eagling loft
where i sit with a Cardinal
and Sparrow
watching the sky
while pondering the riddle
of the Sphinx

Ed Meredith

Really beautiful sense of freedom of mind. Love the line, ' below the Eagling loft' it brought movement, stillness, nature and you together but invited the reader in also. Budge over!

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Maria, here is an echo :))

The Poetess

For hours she sits,
The Poetess,
Alone in her dreamy world.
Weaving a tapestry
Of consciousness.
Ink upon paper,
Curling clusters of words,
Waiting to be deciphered
By a wandering kindred soul.

Karen Newell
10/18/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The loose paper flittered through the air
as the poetess looked on in despair
some sailed back and forth
like a feather
and lay to rest
in some strangers nest
others soaked themselves in the lake
the ink left the page and swam with the flow
the poetess
had no hard drive
and from all the pages lost
recalled just one line
'I heard a whisper ride across the moor
and want to chase it evermore...'
She wrote it quickly once again
and another poem was born not much the same
for time had moved on
and she herself was new
her old self gone!

Maria Disley 19/10/13

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

Back On The East Coast In Fall

By body is cold and my bones ache
The darkness out ways the dawn
These narrow roads feel like long halls
The grey sky is holding me down
Reminding me of old wounds that never healed
I miss the big sky with it's high ceiling
The dry air and jagged rocks
The smell of juniper everywhere
Don't forget me dessert sand
I'll be back soon
I can't stay here
I'll spend my winter there

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

It Was Cloudy Anyway

The Lunar eclipse
Came and went
As I lay sleeping
Safely
On my side of the world
The pull of its energy
Still felt
On my Soul

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sell Art Online

Sell Art Online



I dare not part my lips
for fear of the wrong words escaping
and rearranging the beautiful chaos
of waves, deserts and night skies
of waiting, of sleeping, of aching
of artists shaping life
from
wonder and despair
evasive love and life
I notice, I feel
the bird soar
against the wind yet with the solar flow
like my soul
on hearing poets words
as I eat my egg on toast
and the light of day
reveals
some things to me.

Maria Disley 20/10/13

 
 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

Some mystical energy has returned

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Photography Prints


Lost In Space.


Is there any such a thing
as synchronicity in everything?
We all were spurned from that first cell
and seem to be always trying to re connect
Indirectly, separately...
From the fuzzy land line
to the text lost in the tunnel.
All aerials...
All antennae...
Are we...
Lost In Space?


Maria Disley 20/10/13

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

XO my favorite video of yours.....there is no ifs if time stands still but then we would also lose the magic of timing

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago


Thanks RJ!!! Good to see you back and all Great Poets of FAA...!!! You mean "The Magic" as "The Illusion"???

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

Yes it's all just a parlor trick XO

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

:-))

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

The Hanged Man

I shuffle my Tarot,
And read my destiny
Laid upon the table.
Is it truth,
Or only a
Parlor trick?

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Oxo, so addictive! I will just have to watch again as I am sure when one of the images paled it was followed with a sigh. Thanks for posting. So creative and inspiring.

I shuffle my solitaire pack
on screen
Can't get past three wins in a row
Truth is
I won't let it beat me!
This little lonely parlour trick
I'll be hanged if
it hasn't got such a hold on me
If
Only I could get four games in a row
would I stop there..?
We may never know!

Maria Disley 21/10/13

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thank you Maria!!! Yes, there is a sigh...

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I love that sigh! :))

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

And now I know


There was a world
and a world and a world and other worlds
all turning with mine
but I couldn't see them
only feel them
out there somewhere
somewhere
somewhere
some
were
out there

Maria Disley 22/10/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

It's.

The energy
that was there,
fighting,
resisting,
loving,
passion raging,
the moment of death...
such energy peaking
and dying
in a moment!
Spheres flying
under, around my steps
me laughing, crying
taking
photographs
capturing
energy
catching energy
The world's
a spark
a lark
a park
it's light
it's dark!

Maria Disley 22/10/13

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Haiku Echo of Maria's Worlds

the best of both worlds
looking in and looking out
one happy window

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Cool Video Oxo...

Lost Thoughts

if
i could think
i think i would
i think i could
be free to think
and speak
my mind
if
only
i could
find it

Ed Meredith
2013

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

If I could dream like dreamers dream
Would I be just as sad?
If I could dream like dreamers dream
How would it all end?
If I could dream like dreamers dream
Would I just seal my fate?
If I could dream like dreamers dream
I would just dream my dreams away in dream land?
If I could dream the dreamers dream
Would I become an empath?
Trouble is
I do not dream the dreams that dreamers dream
My dreams all pass

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

I falter
On my fearless path
And must push
To move forward.

Sleep
Is my opiate,
Eclectic, technicolor dreaming.
I am an addict.

 

David Lane

10 Years Ago

Twilight Approaches
Waves of memory wash over me .
Abstracts from my life.
tears ,
lost ideals of youth haunt me.

Sell Art Online">

Nostalgic visions flying past
warming heart and mind.
Barely remembered landscapes,
warped by time and faulty recollections.

Sell Art Online


Embarrassment for never growing up
gives way to stubborn pride
for not selling out completely.

Wanting to be petulant.
I've paid my dues.
Let me be.
Let me do the bucket list.

I only have the moment
can't count on more, so let me
so let me rejoice in what was, what is and what will be
Out damned spot! Out I say!

Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I have no choice
but to dream
it chooses me,
sets up its theatres
in my mind
I observe
with closed eyes
the troops
the landscapes
the morals
the warnings
all running in and out of each others stages
forgetting their lines
plagiarising
the bell on the till rings
I wake and
have to count the takings
of my life
but,
there's no total
dreams don't add up
they are too profound.
My dreams are me
I am of my dreams.

Maria Disley 24/10/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Swoon.

They arrive
like flying saucers
sauntering
and from the escape hatch
come
these wonderful words
like swarms of cicadas
or Kevin Callaghan's swallows
a force
that shapes around energies
we cannot see
close up
there's a million tiny brushes
painting pictures
with letters
their colour pours, drips, gels, clumps, smears, moulds...
Soul lit voices..
my spine chills
at their beauty.

Maria Disley 24/10/13

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Old man winter's crisp discipline soon to return
Some of which we have yearned
Each season we never truly learn to respect
Nor appreciate its healing effect
We will lalalala through the thick winter snow
So fast and so hard till we can take no more

Hot apple pie with whiffs and sniffs of nutmeg
Hot homemade bread to keep us fed
Memories of grandma water thee eyes
Up into the cold night we stare into the skies
Not a whimper or thought to cry
Simple grattitude for being fully alive

Craig Carter 10/24/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I'm really trying not to pick at poems and just let them speak for themselves...its so difficult with such great stuff :)))
Welcome Craig :)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

For one of my art units today, I have to show how much I understand detournement. maybe I will post my sculpture when it's done.

The city that does not sleep is like a poem of a detourned world.

Change.

The centaur stands at the kitchen sink
breaking plates
The light bulbs emit darkness
and the shadows are not mine
as I watch him from the open corner of the room
he turns and gleams a mythical smile my way
scrapes his hoof on the kitchen floor
Its all been done before
he says
Its all been done before!

Maria Disley

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

This little poem is my intro to this beautiful piece (to be read with the music on just after the initial humming). "Africa" a collaboration of Flamenco sounds by Spanish band Ketama and the African sounds of Malian kora player Toumani Diabaté...I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and so :-)

(Edit to add that I should also mention English Double bass Danny Thompson, who also does a marvellous job here!)

Come, divine light…
Be my morning sun…
Become…
Solitary path…
Become…
We’ll walk…
Never alone…solitary path…
You and I…
You and I…
Just You… and I…



 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

I peruse
My previous poetry,
Once so prolific.
My pen
Now feels paralyzed.
Where are my muses
Who help me to bounce
Off the walls
In a manic ballet
Of words?

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

I see the bee,
A sweat bee,
Not as sweet as a honey.
She is drowning
In my cider.
It is autumn,
Cold death is near.
I cannot help but lift her
Towards a natural death,
Alone in the elements.
She stings my finger.
Perhaps she wished to die
In her drunken stupor.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I remember the bees
spinning around my head
like stars from a fall
They got so used to me
I to them
no stings
but it must have gotten close
They were interminably active
I was interminably still
waiting for a macro shot
detail
determined will.

I'm over bees!
but love them all the same!

Maria Disley

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Honey

science
will tell you all
about honey
the properties in physics and chemistry
its constitution
nutritional value
and more

but to know it
be brave
dip your finger in
taste it
and you are there

=>))

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

She said, What do we do next?

I say, I don't know but the road will show us the way
It has rejected me and welcomed me back

But then what?

Don't worry the road has 10 weeks to make up it's mind

Do you know you've never grown up?

 
 

Jack Torcello

10 Years Ago

Interested in poetry? If you like, see my flipboard book

https://flipboard.com/section/poetry-__ZmxpcGJvYXJkL2N1cmF0b3IlMkZtYWdhemluZSUyRm0wSS1VaWNXU291eDc3T2pRcEU5b0ElM0FtJTNBNTIxMDA0NTY%3D

[Flipboard app for Android and iOS]

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Hi jack, so what is your job? Do you work for the Guardian? Some great reading.I like your choice of poets. Have you any poems of your own to share? :)

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/p480x480/1392694_10152063978809384_115212812_n.jpg

One more day

A journey started about a year ago.
two rings and a solemn vow
one life to share
for another begotten soul wish to bring

shared moon with the bees
from millions brethren he swam
winning his first race he'd face
settled and savor his own reward

altering hormones he was noticed
he was traced from the pee of his host
it can not be denied
nestled on the perfect site.

Heartbeats jolt the ebb of summer
but first a peak on his unlighted cradle
a sign of good health favoring the odds
against the unseen risk adventure.

Rain came and autumn heartily sings
the good news of his gender
fostering more jitters for excited viewers
he does not know already swelling.

Finally one more day to hurdle
for someone destined to be a prince
to melt hearts and master things
be it his day or our nights.

Tomorrow his cry will be surreal
slow-mo and moving poetry
on the glorious life formation he had
as we awaits him, finishing another race.

Oct 29, 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Beautiful! :)) 'Tomorrow is another day!' But not like any other.
You should play him Oxo's video as his first lullaby! :)

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Morning Blues please go away
Now is not the best time to nag
Today's coffee is medium not bold
Brew, sip, and swallow
Frantically, never becoming cold

Morning rays invade my serene
Before the light of day is permanent
Some things must not be told
Says my gray haired Aunt Sally
Always so sweet and never mean

Hastily stretching and fighting the aches
Was it wise to break the fast
Pause and not worry if its spring or fall
Life's infinite stages
Display greatness big and small

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

My mother, niece and her 15 month old little girl are visiting, though travelling Oz just at the moment, but Jason's tenderness poems are uniting for me, the new Elijah, my great niece, and deeper people ties, which I can only express in poetry or thought.


For Molly and Connectedness.


Tender, soft and unblemished,
came your wonderful small hand
upon my face,
such ephemeral grace
that was so new to picking flowers,
squashing their petals, rough to your touch.
Clouds settled in the deep brown of your eye's iris'
the beginning of an epic feature film.....
Little director. Tiny producer. Mighty seed.
Pointing your small waxen finger at the world
Choosing already
what amazes you,
when all's I'm amazed at
for a moment
is
YOU.

Maria Disley 7/11/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

My brother tended the broken leg of a pigeon with
a little ice-cream-stick-splint.
The soft-grey dove's eggs were murmering for the warmth of their mother,
my brother
hatched them with his nature's love.
Then built a loft from old furniture
and in, wings flew from everywhere,
he was our Saint Francis.
When I got the call to say
'our little brother, Joey's died',
all I recall is
pigeons, cooing,
suddenly strutting my fence
12,000 miles away
from where we last
held hands
from where I'd flown the nest,
from where he's lain to
rest?

Maria Disley 7/11/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Check out my first ever animation


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbpVr00U4aU&list=HL1383817797&feature=mh_lolz

you may have to copy this add into your browser. :)))

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Very cool!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Haha Karen you are too kind! We'll see if there is any improvement. It was hard work but good fun, another outlet for expression.

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

In a night's glow of bliss I can forget
The monster unleashed in sea
The lives led by a script
The lies believed for so long
In a night's glow of bliss
Tomorrow will bring back the pain
The failure to unblock it's reign
Knowing I've nothing to say
But not tonight
Tonight I can forget
In an erotic night's glowing bliss

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

:)

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Veterans Day

I lift my heart
To those across the world
Who have sacrificed
For their cause.
For everything they have learned
And everything they have lost
May we all
See peace.

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Acceptance

I dreamt we met.
Eye to eye
With a trace
Of confusion.
Then in recognition
We embraced.
My cheek to your chest,
Your arm
Around my shoulders,
A small, dreamy
moment of acceptance.

 

Bart Zalucki

10 Years Ago

My poem and my (poor) translation.

Rough-hewn mountains above me.
Closed in the four walls.
I think it's desperation.
Doubt undesirable.
Confidence frightening.
I think it's desperation.
Doubt too long.
Confidence too confident.
And the mountains are, they are and they are.
Closed in the four walls.
Out of thin air mahogany sky above me.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Bartlomiej,
Thanks for the poem. I didn't find that your translation was poor at all, either in the writing or the feeling expressed. If you want to talk about your poem feel free, otherwise let it just speak for itself. For me though, it felt tense, and there seemed a great need to escape, even to the treacherous mountains. I found myself trying to imagine a mahogany coloured sky and wanting to push against the four walls.

Karen,
I love to visit this thread and find old comrades here. Your poetry always give me something to think about. I think it is fair to say, the poetry I read changes my day in that I would not have thought about the thoughts and ideas exchanged. Its a powerful thing to leave an impression on someone after they have read your writing, and you certainly do that, either in writing or art.

The Blessings

I visit
am exposed,
exposed to,
am changed.
My fist of a heart
has blood turn cold or hot,
it runs at a different rhythm
through my whole system.
You change me.
I stop
in mid living
and feel the reverabations of words,
the handover
of something
to interpret,
the ghosts of essence.

Maria Disley13/11/13

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

A Cold Breeze

The breeze rattled
my open window
The blinds spoke
their rattled words
...from the chilling wind… . .. . . . .

But the words were lost
...blown away
Lost for another day
Lost in our cold
Lost in our dismay!

Was this a yesterday?
or still today?
When a different breeze had called
A vortex had come to say
upon an open window
To call our minds away…

Where people lay
Waiting in their sleep
For answers, truths
of this sorrowed, desolate day
When the night was all
the people held
Where words could never speak
Never say
This was the hell
Of all their days!

The winds were strong
So very, very strong
The tyrant wind of growing seas
They blow in the midst of oceans swells
and boiling seas
The oceans breath...

We feel

We know

This was the breath

That we all breathed!


©Jason Christopher 2013
13th November 2013


http://www.dec.org.uk/

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Bartlomiej, I don't know what language this poem was translated from but it is very beautiful as written!!
Jason, This was perfect for my moment :))
Maria, You are a blessing to me.

Blessings

The Blessings come
In the curve of your words
Like a tangle of twigs
That weave a nest
Around my heart

The Blessings come
With the stroke
Of his hand on my skin
Stoking the fire
Of our Home

The Blessings come
With the thought of our friend
So far away
In a land stripped bare
With only Blessings
To drive him forward

The Blessings come
To fill the hollow of my Soul
With Love

Karen Newell
11/13/13

 

Bart Zalucki

10 Years Ago

Karen,
Translated from Polish. My English is not very good but I tried. Unfortunately, I do not feel the subtleties of your language very well. I wrote this poem when I was 17 years old. Then it was published - many years ago. Thank you for your interest.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

An echo to Philips poem. this was a drawing a did a few weeks ago intended for an animation. a little figure was meant to emerge from a deep pocket of a dark coat to begin his day.
Sell Art Online

a black coat is drawn and redrawn from the imagination
no use, its difficult imagining all those ripples, that light and shade
so I drew from life

 

Kip DeVore

10 Years Ago


Where Eagles Soar
An Ode to the Holidays

Why is it going to the moon,
Is so relatively easy,
And landing on Mars,
So comparatively breezy?

Why is it that jumping,
The high hurdle sings,
As if we are eagles,
Mounting on wings?

Why is it we travel,
Hither and beyond,
The pedal to the metal,
As if we're James Bond?

But when we bow our heads,
At the table to dine,
And we offer thanksgiving,
To Someone divine,

That our diet controls us,
And we're helpless as doves,
We take seconds and thirds,
And forfeit first loves.


Kip DeVore
11/16/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

So true Kip! :))

 

Kip DeVore

10 Years Ago


thank you, Maria

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

The imagination is a wondeful place to be.. endless explorations... an echo to Phillip and Maria's black coat.....

re-edited


The Black coat

The black coat floated
A shark basked by yonder shallows
A black coat floated
As flowers gathered by

A black coat drifted
As eddies stirred the sands
As a lady was seen, still, tossing
her reef of flowers, one by one

Each flower floated
Each flower blossomed

As one by one, they drifted by... .... . .
As the sharks basked

The body.. ...
...never found

As the coat drifted…

As flowers gathered
By the eddies
Of a shallow grave
Where sharks basked

Content

No body
Ever found

Just a grave
of flowers

Such beauty
rises
always

Life
and Love
resounds!



©Jason Christopher
18th November 2013

 

Jack Torcello

10 Years Ago

Here is a flipboard book I did of some of my favourite poetry -
get the flipboard app at Goole Play or iTunes store.

http://flip.it/c80bQ

 

Bart Zalucki

10 Years Ago

One summer, and as far as I remember it was a time when I already know the girls in a conversation not difficult, and sufficiently loved the sad times of the day - I wanted pure beauty, which could not find in me, I ran away. Flow over the country of idiots. I've seen sunrises and sunsets sad understatement. However, I did not find anything that would not have intuited there. With a grim laugh, I declared war on weakness and sorrow. I fought with everything that was tempted my pure soul. In my struggles to forget my trip. Recently when my ship sailed around the Cape of Good Hope, again I wanted to feel the same-the same feeling that possessed me that summer one.

***

Poem published in 1997. Sorry for my poor translation.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

yes Philip, haha that sounded like the Joyce quote then...but I meant yes, the little green man was supposed to come out of the pocket. isn't that weird. I must admit I was a bit thrown when you wrote about a black coat.
I think I need to read Molly Bloom. Sounds Wonderful. I have read bits of Ulysses but not everything.Irrelevent but my niece's little girl is named Molly, a name that may be coming back into fashion.?
Jason's poem was beautiful wasn't it!
And I hope we hear more from you Bartolemiej, great stuff! Infact I was deciding something this morning and after reading your poem I came to a conclusion, so thanks!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

My mother, niece and her 15 month old little girl are visiting, though travelling Oz just at the moment, but Jason's tenderness poems are uniting for me, the new Elijah, my great niece, and deeper people ties, which I can only express in poetry or thought.


For Molly and Connectedness.


Tender, soft and unblemished,
came your wonderful small hand
upon my face,
such ephemeral grace
that was so new to picking flowers,
squashing their petals, rough to your touch.
Clouds settled in the deep brown of your eye's iris'
the beginning of an epic feature film.....
Little director. Tiny producer. Mighty seed.
Pointing your small waxen finger at the world
Choosing already
what amazes you,
when all's I'm amazed at
for a moment
is
YOU.

Maria Disley 7/11/2013

Sorry don't have a new one to post but maybe we could keep the theme of flowers going.

 

Bart Zalucki

10 Years Ago

Maria, I am so glad that something has given my writing. I put another one and go to sleep. As always, sorry about the quality of the translation.


We fell in love with great difficulty
We have spoken untruths of our future
We listened with deep and trusting gaze
We enjoyed carefully and with devotion
We were worried sorrows not particular
We hated each other beautifully and with passion
We forgot with memory and smile.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I wrote two different poems today, on two separate occasions and lost them!!! That has never happened to me before! not two in one day!

The Air Sings Unheard


When something finds a place to be
A flower in a pocket
a hand in a stream
a word in the night
a coat on a ledge
the air sings silently
otherworldly.
when something finds a place to be
a word in a stream
a coat in the night
a hand in a pocket
a flower on a ledge
the air sings silently
myworldly
when something finds a place to be
a flower in the night
a hand on a ledge
a word in a pocket
a coat in a stream
the air sings silently
yourworldly.

Maria Disley 21/11/13 (For Joseph)

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

The comet ISON comes
trailing its tail of cosmic debris.
One million mirrors
reflecting my countenance.
The fears I carefully buried so deep
now brilliantly revealed.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Love that poem Karen. The million mirrors make it so visual, the reflectons caught in its tail are wonderful.l said I wasn't going to comment on poems anymore but just can't help myself!:)

 

Philip, I am having a lot of trouble remembering things, but....thank you,thank you, thank you, for the Ulysses .... I remember!..And am transported , again...V

 

FirstName LastName

10 Years Ago

Apocalypse Door © Mark W Ballard

The Millenarian feigned watch over
man-sized portal in the vast dark wall.
Same wall, bisecting plane
between the black and light.

At portal's crown, and cast a-kilter,
an intricate, hand illuminated
sign of the times read:
"Exit On Entry."

Millenarian's staff, dust encrusted,
but for the palm-wide stride
of his doe soft digit's traverse
at posture's shift, once every odd fort-year.

{Visitor's voice}
"Say there, Old Timer," my words gave start,
no less intense than if Death himself
had danced into his dream.
"Might I slip through your portal?"

{Old Man's voice}
"This portal is not mine," his slow reply,
"It is only the focus of my duty."
He paused, as if more would come, instead,
"Only the focus of my duty..."

{Visitor's voice}
"Well then, might I for one brief moment
glide along with focus through your duty portal?"
His staff quavered on descent to horizontal.
{Old Man's voice}
"Good Sir, my task requires deny your passage."

Just then, across broad vista,
glimpsed through portal's bounds,
eternal night lit bright with flash
more brilliant and constant than sun's own.

Midst the lapse of his focus,
I high jumped clean above his dusty staff
and joined the specter flying free
beyond his failing vision.

Midway through portal,
every molecule loosed and flew,
enjoined to mingle
with this vast new daybreak.

Behind, corporeal self lurched on,
beyond the grasp of duty's keeper.
Inch by inch dissolved in cosmos,
burst at seams unseen.

As dark gave way to swelling light,
poor feeble keeper of the portal
collapsed and breathed his last,
His exit on my entry.

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Hey that was entrancing Mark!!.... new dimensions.........





meanwhile....
i hear its national hello day (lets make it international, universal, cosmic even...)

http://www.worldhelloday.org/

so if 10 people read this....

"HELLO UNKNOWN READER,
a vibe in the distant midst of uncertainty,
i have altered your equlibrium of being,
for the good i hope,
go forth and bring light to 10 others
feel the force
of HELLO"

.....the quota of 10 , for me this hello day, has been reached....

that sort of thing anyways...

"Hello!" ;-)

 

Charles Cannone

10 Years Ago

When you wish upon a shooting star
which is really just a meteor
streaking across the night’s sky so clear
burning up in the Earth’s atmosphere
Be thankful that mass of rock is small
too large- your wish won’t matter at all
Money, adventure .a lover’s kiss
Please be prudent and wise with your wish
Or just be content you still exist

 

FirstName LastName

10 Years Ago

"Hello" Jason (I better start counting...)
Thanks for reading :)
-Mark

 
 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

@Bartolemeij, I particularly like this phrase,


'We hated each other beautifully and with passion
We forgot with memory and smile.,

For me it sums up the human condition...the long journey of experience and getting things right( in an individual sense) with understanding in reflection.

Just another piece
you could not find
not a stable corner piece that sets the first steps
but the abstracted, distracted piece of sky
a shade of blue
unreachable
distant
true.
But,
maybe the last and final piece
the piece which brings
so much joy
a sense of uncontained achievement
exposure
satisfaction
Not looking at all like it would fit anywhere
but
was the finishing touch
and
completed the picture.

Maria Disley 23/11/13

 

Bart Zalucki

10 Years Ago

Maria, Thank you.
I read your poems. I like them. They are so ethereal, not literal. It is very good - this should be poetry. Mine are too heavy - explicitly stated. I would say that pressed too much. I do not feel no longer poetry. But I like what you write. Do not stop. And what poets do you like?

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thanks Bartlomiej,
Interestingly I aim to always keep a sense of reality in the poetry even though I somehow get set adrift into other planes because as I write, I get curious and distracted and experimental, but never want to lose the grip of reality, as it is for me, haha, maybe that is why it doesn't come through clearly, maybe reality is ephemeral for me. Thanks for bringing that to light for me.
Anyway, regarding poets, where do I begin....? When I was very young around 7 I could not express my thoughts very well unless they were humorous, made people laugh, or took the form of making things, drawing etc. When I was upset or apologetic, I couldn't say it except in a kind of poetry, a rhyme, and now that I think about it they were usually expressed religiously, as in Dear God,, if this was impossible I would just listen to music or write out the lyrics of songs, usually my grandmothers, so that's why I love Roy Orbison's 'In Dreams' and 'Blue Bayou' and The Sound of Music :)))))
I didn't take poetry seriously until joining a creative writer's group at a local college at around 29. I had read extensively felt a connection to poetry but not studied it. So, when I was introduced to the poetry of Thomas Hardy, I became obsessed. Then there was, Shakespeare, John Donne, Seamus Heaney, ee cummings, Carol Rumens, Elizabeth Baret Browning, Wordsworth, etc, etc, but Hardy, Rumens and Heaney are my favourites. What about you? What are yours? I also have many on FAA.

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

=) am being hard pressed by my wife...jealous on how I can make poetry and paintings from other things and inspiration but never felt good on any thing I dedicated to her..i guess that's the hard life definition for an artist being pressed would not do any good on artistic flow. When i was in college some of the natural thing just hit you in unexpected place; on a public ride, between groggy sleeps, in the midst of fun run, other place you wouldnt want to know lol=)) but never in those "conducive" place like museum, church, park, and triumphant events...some good individual, poet/poetess who reviews my works like specifically things just came out of my own experiences, exigencies and grit of daily life than sought ornate subject "pressed' to give an ordinary prose to an exact beauty to be justified and be called poetry... i think either I havent had that markmanship yet to shoot at any given time and hit the bull-eyes at any given day.

regards to all! ( am back in Jakarta)

 

Bart Zalucki

10 Years Ago

I was interested poetry a long time ago. I liked to write, read. I like French poetry - Rimbaud, Verlaine, Baudelaire. I like Guillevic. Great is also Russian poetry - Lermotov, Mandelstam, Pushkin. It's great names. If they could find you a poem titled Testament written by Lermotov ... Shocking - especially in the context of his life. Not boasting, in Poland there was a lot of good poetry ... It's probably the best thing we have with art. Galczynski, Tuwim, Lesmian - many great poets. Mainly from turn of the 19th and 20th centuries. And the first half of 20. I highly recommend it.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Yes, I have read some Rimbaud, Baudelaire and Pushkin. But you have suggested many more which I will look into, thankyou.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Saigon, I remember that beautiful marriage poem, a great keepsake and tribute to devotion

 

Charles Cannone

10 Years Ago

This moment is more than you and I
making the most of saying goodbye
taking account of space and matter
a cosmos shaped like the letter V
energy is the freedom of will
easier said- I'll see you later


this is an acrostic the title is the first and last letter in each line.

 
J C

J C

J C

10 Years Ago

My heart like an open book
Im bound to drift for a while
The past is just a goodbye
Mooching unintended years lonely in space
As I burn my dreams
Please help me balance on my little wire
My weakness will finally show
Like kisses in the wind
I think of the try which briefly had no belief
Casualties of everyones rights must find
Disjointed fragments become whole and clear
indecisively enough to contain
a slightest deflection of a frozen stare

 

"as I burn my dreams"...........there is an artwork in that ! kudos,Jerry

 
J C

J C

J C

10 Years Ago

Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I dedicate this poem to all the poems that can't be written.

I scratch the pen on the paper
dig it in til the paper bleeds blue
unearthing fibres
of once trees
of course the chemicals have stripped those fibres
of ageing sun rays
of weather
of halcyon days
of ancient backs that leant
against its trunk
and gazed..
of aped fingers that
picked at the termites:
the lunch break.
And couples that whispered into the soft wood;
absorbing their sentiments;
so strange these days....
so distant....
We can only disbelieve them,
like ours will be
one day be disbelieved,
as a future poet
tries to
capture
something
and
pin it to the page.

Maria Disley 26/11/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

new to this movie making thing so please be as critical as you like.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrHBISAuJxs&feature=youtu.be

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thanks Philip, I wasn't expecting such a response, there's a lot to think about for the next one, like a storyline etc, I forgot to mention that this particular photo has four generations on it. My mum, me, my niece and her daughter Molly. I think your observations of vulnerability and happiness is so perceptive and the essence of it all. The vid was made the day after they left for England, my mum is still here for a bit, so you're right its highly personal but also universal. :))
Your poem explains it all....the distance..that you embrace but that also chills.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The warmth is kept on ice
to be poured
when the addiction begins
the trickle is cooling and satisfying
before the flood
blood is thicker than water
there's no escape
only a tempering distance
like a long leash
licking hello
yelping goodbye
then getting on with life
learning to be
who you are
alone.

Maria Disley 1st/summer/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

She held back her hair, silver, against gold sand
taking breaks along the pier
the water cellophane blue
jellyfish at her feet
walking on shells
the surf washing us
the sun warming us
to speechless
smiling.

I'll look back on this one day...
and hold back my silver hair in the breeze
and the sand will still be golden,
and the beach bar unchanged,
the bikes tied up to the posts still,
and dogs forever panting
under a silent blue sky.

Maria Disley 1st/Summer/20113

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thoroughly enjoyed your video María, thank you for sharing!!!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sifting through some old poems I decided to post some. I don't normally like to post old poems but to keep on going fwd, but these will help me with a new project so I suppose they are part of a new beginning of something.. Most of them deal with sudden grief. So just pass over them if they seem too sullen.:))


The Messengers.

Joseph, I couldn't believe it this morning!
There were three pigeons in the garden!
Two of them sitting plump, waiting statue-still,
the other strutting the fence, cock-sure of himself.
I hoped it was you.
I told Dave that you used to breed pigeons,
And, here they are....! The three winged messengers.
I found some popcorn for them and lay it down on the crazy paving...then I
remembered us! Propping up a box lid with a stick, as kids, and tying a piece of invisible thread
to it, which we trailed in through the back room window.
We sat so still...
Leaning on the windowsill, watching in silence.....

I never did feel right about trapping birds...but to be quicker and more
accomplished would have been an achievement...then!
They were always faster than us but, we were more determined and tried and tried again.

Later they befriended you and you carefully and lovingly hatched orphaned eggs.

I'm staring out of the window now.....
The pigeons have gone...............
Where have you flown brother?


Maria Disley6/3/1999

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago




... i heard a humming bird whisper one Autumnal day as Winter came to slowly pass....


Of messages and messengers
and unheard voices
Of unwritten poems and unheard tunes...
Of journeys made, timeless eternal voyages...
Of journeys waiting, lost in time...
Of true love…
Of loves lost and love never found
and love so deep, love so very profound...
love so fleeting
love so eternal...
that love of love itself... am I u? r u me?
for i am one who loves that love of love...
and so, perhaps, r u...



Upon a mountain…


Noble Heights

Let us aspire to the nobler heights
A high land of distant unseen views
Where eagles land to breathe the scene
And lost angels watch in daylight hues

For the night skies are of constellation
Breathtaking heights of adoration
A land of the making before our feet
I watch in humbled joyous admiration

I spoke a word unto the sky
An eagle flew before my sights
I saw the galaxy in day light glows
And heard words sang with empowered might

A land so distant spoke true words
Such echoed through the rocks of time
I heard them capture all the land
As eagles swooped in agile climbs

Doves were seen to rise up high
And shine beyond the heights that glisten
Hummingbirds whisper unto the Earth
Amongst the silent, those who listen

I heard the grandest words so call
I heard chariots upon the sky
I knelt to see the Earth embraced
The love so sent to lift us high!

As these times are simply now
The way of love beseeching Earth
A shrill unto the souls of all who hear
See the lights upon the Winter’s hearth

See the glow in midnight starry skies
From such night, there comes the light
Angelic sheen in darkness hours
Forever! God’s almighty love

….that love of all, from His eternal might!

© Jason Christopher
2nd December 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Great stuff Jason! This last poem made me feel that I was in junior school again singing hymns in assembly, when all of those imaginings seemed so real and possible and hopeful. I think someone should put music to this. You took me on a journey with both poems. :)

 

Bart Zalucki

10 Years Ago

Heart. Populace says that it is source of all feelings. And if so is it really? And who then is more miserable? And do you know what happens to the heart when love so young that even unjustified dying? Supposedly, the heart then hurts. It does not hurt me. Just hard for me to swallow saliva and makes me want to cry.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

This is a topic that has often been discussed and is still interesting. What actually hurts when your emotions run high in sadness or pleasure?

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

hmmmmm...

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

hummmmm...

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

if u need to write outside the rules.... then u need to write outside the rules... are there rules? i didnt know them so i dont know what or how or when to break them

if u need to feel sad... u need to feel sad.... happy.. angry.. in love... rejected... what ever really.. just write it thats what i say...

but dont fall off the cliff unintentionally, theres enough people trying to push u off!! no really!! I will try and hang on there ... lol sorry bout that to everyone! oops

i was reading what u wrote earlier Maria, about keeping a sense of reality in poetry.. i prefer not to!! lol u probably gathered that.. yet emotions are REAL in or out of illusions.. its how u project from them... and people tend to extract what they want.. and of course.. who knows what is what when a pen makes it mark... the writer may have unleashed unknown from the deep... and yet these are still just illusions, of the deep... illusions of non reality.. and illusions of reality... and somewhere is reality... perhaps...just outside the poem


hum

i think poetry is about feeling the emotions for moments and enjoying being there ... some might disagree ..

but i think its about not staying in sadness if that is the emotion evoked...i guess emotions can become confused...i express deep emotions in poetry by feeling them but they are stories and journeys from the imagination.. illusions... and on that basis to get deep hurt is profoundly in error...therer can be beauty in sadness for fleeting moments...and sadness in beauty.. and to construct reality from these is again in error.... u need to correct your thoughts here..(do i? lol) feel the emotions as a bubble that rises and must then goes pop - distract yourself afterwards!!

i dont write biographical stuff but extract from experience and thoughts and emotions in different places and bring these feelings together... i was writing alot of hard emotions from the darkness earlier this year and last year as this is a place i was kind of in for quite a few years but created illusions from them.. and lately Im writing of passion.. overpowering emotions that can drive u mad... so hello madness... lol... one can enjoy reading of love and sorrow and lost love and passions that overwhelm without feeling crap... we hope... mind you i dont think reading more than a 2-3 or perhaps 5 poems a day is a good idea... one can become overwhelmed.. poets go mad... ARGGGGHHHHHhhhhhhhh! woahhhh and i bet a few others can do to!! so ... i should have said hello Bart' , Maria and nice to see u back Saigon..... all good i hope....

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

interesting reading Jason. When I write a poem I have either been inspired by something or someone, or it is very automatic, like I have no control over it whatsoever. which ever way it comes about, real thinking is mixed with either fantasy, idealism, melancholy, reflection, curiosity, creativity or the need for connectivity. Sometimes I'm just looking for answers so its a kind of therapy. Somehow it always feels real when I am writing it, with emphasis on the word FEEL. Now whether that is from the heart, who can tell.


Hand on heart

When he was pronounced dead
I asked for his heart
to see for myself
all those things he'd said
while holding his hand to that much advertised spot.
I wanted to see if there were any signs that words
had been given birth there
the surgeon declined
said he saw
a light
leave the body
just moments before
and if love abides anywhere
it was there
I still know
no more!


Maria Disley 4/12/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The poet Thomas Hardy's body was buried in Westminster Abbey but his heart was buried in his hometown of Dorset,in the grave of his first wife Emma Lavinia Gifford where his neighbours and friends said it belonged.


When I Set Out for Lyonnesse"
When I set out for Lyonnesse,
A hundred miles away,
The rime was on the spray,
And starlight lit my lonesomeness
When I set out for Lyonnesse
A hundred miles away.
What would bechance at Lyonnesse
While I should sojourn there
No prophet durst declare,
Nor did the wisest wizard guess
What would bechance at Lyonnesse
While I should sojourn there.

When I came back from Lyonnesse
With magic in my eyes,
All marked with mute surmise
My radiance rare and fathomless,
When I came back from Lyonnesse
With magic in my eyes!

by Thomas Hardy

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

My niece's daughter aged 7, said that she knew her grandad (my brother) was lovely but she didn't think that she loved him because she didn't feel it in her heart, as she had never met him.
This is innocence speaking..or is it learned that love is in the heart.

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Maria, that was a beautiful video . I am always amazed with the depth of your creativity! Funny how families are so similar in physical appearance.
I always love to read the words here :))

Ephemeral

In the Ephemeral
I see the Eternal.
Grafted onto the thorny branches
of this world,
I transform my reality.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

hi karen, nice to see you :)) funny you should mention branches, as trees were mentioned in connection with that video yet unintentionally. and I was about to return to a nwhole lot of poems where trees were dominant as a an expression when nothing else would do.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

"Poesía es la unión de dos palabras que uno nunca supuso que pudieran juntarse, y que forman algo así como un misterio. Federico García Lorca (1898-1936).

"Poetry is the union of two words that one never supposed they could be joined, and the form something so like a mystery". Federico García Lorca (1898-1936).

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

nice post Xo, nice to see the strays show up occasionally.. miaow lol oh hi Karen :-)

enjoyed your poems Maria, struggled with a retort. i mean an echo ... hehe er this got so mixed up ive stopped it and hacked the end of, here it is, this butchered poem... lol the mess on a plate... for the madding crowds...



The Heart Upon A Plate

So far this way
So far away

Far - For the madding crowd -
This heart upon a plate…
Requested by demand
Excised
Asked for, so brutally
They gave it to you
They cut it out
My heart of humanity
This heart now yours
No longer mine

Bisected
Dissected

Sliced
Fried
Tossed and
Diced

Seasoned so readily
Luscious red lips lick

You tasted it and bit hard
I felt that bite
Alive on your plate

And then you ate it
This heart upon a plate
Our heart

The fragile, weak and tender
Human heart

Forever
In Love

Near madding crowds....

(c) Jason Christopher
6th December 2013

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Meanwhile...

In the moonlight, out by the lakes.....

of true loves and lovers lost, of misty days and long lost paths, and winters chill... a breeze so blew...


The Lake of Swans


Upon the rippled lakes
Through weeping willow trees
A whispered song…
so caught the evening breeze
Words of beauty, mellowed this inner ear…
This place of swans within…

I dreamt a song within my soul
And from a breeze the music sang
A caress upon this burning heart
This enraptured sound
Subdued melodies, such great passion
Envelope this love, from eternal swans

A symphony
The swan lake of beauty
Moonlight at midnight
The changing hearts
The starlight gaze
The tranquil moonlight daze
A spell of moments, forever divine
Your love, my love

This love of dreams
This dream of love
This lake
of love...

Is
Of
You!

That which lovers dream...

©Jason Christopher
6th December 2013


 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Tributes to Nelson Mendela!! his words and poems and his life.... always ALIVE!!

http://www.thehypertexts.com/Nelson%20Mandela%20Poet%20Poetry%20Picture%20Bio.htm

"Hating clouds the mind.
It gets in the way of strategy.
Leaders cannot afford to hate. "

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

Nelson Mandela Alive

To Strive
Driven
Destined to win?
Hearts of fire
Passions of right
Human rights!!

The slaying of hate
By words of peace
Triumphant through words
Spoken with humbled might
Written in faith
Empowered by beliefs
Ignited by cruelty, seen and felt
Lifted by the people
Carried by truths

Now laying at peace

A mission accomplished
A job done well
Asleep but always
ALIVE!

A living voice
Can you hear him?
He stands proud
Silent
Watching

Saying the message!

SLAY THE HATE
by words of faith

©Jason Christopher
6th December 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Now I Know

A determined whisper rustles through the reeds upon the water
A presence speaks to guide us
forever on
in the right direction
Whatever our names are, they should include Mandela
so that we will never stray
Is love in the heart?
I feel it all around
it is not site-specific
Mandela has answered my question.

Maria Disley 7/11/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The body is just a tuning fork
buzzing from the movements of others
each step we make
others feel
each breath we take
can shake a heart
disturb a mind
feel cruel
feel kind.
The body is just a tuning fork
finding its rhythm
amongst the many
some have a similiar rhythm
some
have a long way to go
if my heart feels unease
it may just be because there is chaos somewhere
a change taking place
and so the heart beats faster
out of whack,
excited,
pained
a regular beat
means
nothing
absolutely nothing
and nothing
is nothing.

Maria Disley 7/11/13


 
 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Nelson

You came with a velvet glove.
Those seams so tightly woven
You meticously ripped assunder.
Now transformed,
Your power of Peace
is celebrated
throughout the World.

RIP

Karen Newell

 

John Haldane

10 Years Ago

Sell Art Online

 

John Haldane

10 Years Ago

Art Prints

The Devil's Courthouse
At the peak
Dark and cold
The Devil hovers near

Breezes blow
Silence roars
Shivers could be fear

Distant mountains
Start to glow
A red and blazing light

Fire rises
Flaming skies
Behold the ancient might

Alone to stare
At wondrous sky
As God reveals His power

A streak of white
Stopped in time
A meteor from a shower

The Devil flees
He met his fate
His case is lost again

For God is judge
A risen sun
He rules the hearts of men

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

Photography Prints

Summon to Nations

A call to peace
and for all the sovereign nations or at war
the road was endless
but only few numbered souls
walked the balancing act
for the freedom sound
over the belfry of common sense.

The selfless act
so seldom seen,
will not perish to seed the land
blasphemed in ages to rest in our hands
so that inequality may burned
to fertile all our sons
cleansing sinful forbearance.

©December2013

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Our days on Earth are numbered.
The finite sand of an hourglass.
Every tiny stone
a multi-faceted experience
running through our fingers
again and again,
as we polish each plane
to mirror our own Truth.

Karen Newell
12/9/13

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

:).

If the Soul is multi-faceted
yet our days are numbered
like grains of sand,
are there Infinite Possibilities?

 

Kevin Callahan

10 Years Ago

Traffic Jam in Aisle 13

Large ladies labor
with maddening slowness
in the lanes of the local 'Mart

Blocking all passage
pausing every few steps
to gaze into the maw of merchandise
as if each item held the answer
to the mysteries of the universe

When (I suspect)
they are thinking:
“pink or purple?”

What would Jesus pick?

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago

Jesus would pick me
or so i've been told
but here it is January White Sale
and i ain't been souled

 

Ed Meredith

10 Years Ago


i don't want the bread
i want the butter
i don't want the coffee
i want the sugar

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

An echo to Ed’s Poem

Wants and Needs

butter
without bread
must be awfully greasy
coffee without sugar
it tastes very bitter

forget
what I want
it’s Christmas time
gime
what I need
a soul without sins

Thao Chuong
2013-12-10

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

An echo to Kevin’s poem Traffic Jam in Aisle 13


Merry Christmas

birthday of Jesus is the main reason for the Merry Christmas
people joyfully celebrate the holy season
but at every house
of the Lord
it’s totally
empty

at
this
jolly moment
no spot left
on jam-packed parking lot
yet endless vehicles are still pouring in every shopping small
people are anxiously looking for gifts
oh the madness
of shopping
season

anything else
for Jesus on his sacred birthday

or
just
only the
Merry Christmas!

Thao Chuong
2013-12-10

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

I mourn the metamorphosis
of the reason for the season,
a Promise of Divine Love.
Now the merchandising moguls
have masked it
in multicolored plastic
molded off the backs
of Chinese laborers

Karen Newell
12/10/13

 

Viet Tran

10 Years Ago

Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

be proud of what achieved
and learn good lessons
from what already
happened in
the past

no
way back
for any change
it has been done
totally gone
for good

no
point
to regret for any bad moment
of yesterday

so let’s forget it completely

who
knows for sure
whether anything good or bad will take place in the future
why waste any living time to think of
or worry too much about
the unknown
that
would
possibly
never come

let’s
dream of
and hope for
better and the best
otherwise, ignore the rest
of tomorrow

breath every precious instant of the galloping time
and live the fullest
of today


Thao Chuong
2013-12-13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

One tree
in the corner of the room
glistens
beneath the ugliest angel I ever saw
and makes me laugh to myself
It's all artificial,
but I've learned
to have it make me happy
every single year since I first fell into this world
disturbed the atoms
my eyes go beyond the tinsel
through the glass
to trees that dance with nature
and birds flit in and out of
in their daily survival mode
I stand betwween the two
my distorted reflection in a silver bauble
alien
but I recognise myself
at least the image
as once again I hang from each branch
my wallow of memories
which somehow make me smile
as unchangeable as they all are
good and bad
there.....another star!

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

The blown glass baubles hang,
dainty on the evergreen boughs.
My delicate treasures,
some a century old,
see another Season.
I gaze into the convex glass,
hypnotized
by a myriad of possibility.

Karen Newell
12/14/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

HAPPYCHRISTMAS KAREN!!
Baubles nearly a century old! Any chance of a photo of one of them...if they are real?

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Merry Christmas to you Maria :)), yes they are real. I have been collecting antique ornaments for quite a while. Some are family heirlooms my Great Step-Grandmother brought over from Germany. Will post a pic tomorrow :)

 

Brian Wallace

10 Years Ago

Sell Art Online

 

Tikvah's Hope

10 Years Ago

Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thanks Brian and Roger for your illustrated poems. enjoyed reading them and thinking about them. Roger yours was uncannily like the essence of some of George Harrisons song lyrics, which I had just been listening to on a 1st episode of a series. I think it was called Material Things and it covered his time with the Beatles in the early years and his disatisfaction with all the money and materialism that they encountered, his meeting with the Marahishi of India and his beginning with meditation and spirituality, something of brian's work hits the note too but not as developed, I personally feel, as Roger's. Would like to say more but its late and last week of work so maybe either of you would like to comment and discuss??? if not have a great Christmas and new inspiration for 2014...:)

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Maria, the glass animals are my oldest ornaments, I have about 8 of them. They have been in the family for many years. I am always afraid I will break one as they are intricate and delicate. The others are passed down and collected.

Art Prints
Art Prints
Photography Prints

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Today I just felt like adding words to this piece that captivated me by Kevin MacLeod that I found on the net..."As I Figure"



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Very cool Oxo! The music was so Buble and relaxing. I liked the image of naked trees. It has inspired me to echo with something similiar but I have to make it first, so watch this space..and have a great Christmas with your family and friends. Are you in Spain or England?

Thanks for posting the baubles karen, must be lovely to handle them.:)) and feel the centuries. my eye was drawn to the Angel with the long icicle shaped body..is there a story behind that one?

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Photography Prints
Hypnotic was today's sunset
Lest you forget you worries if only for a moment
Rest your weary soul for every day is almost summer
In California we have it all
The sun, surf and snow caps for those who dare ski off that hill
The rich
The famous
The poor
The broken
We have it all and its 65 degrees post fall
Ah, yes its that much better than the rest
Live your own dreams and write your own
Or you can sing that song,

California Soul

 

Brian Wallace

10 Years Ago

Thanks for the response Maria.

Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I'm loving the illustrated poetry and audio attachments..its like we are all getting in party mode :)) thanks Craig.
Brian I was going to re post hoping you didn't take offence at my reply, but i see you didn't...that's good..as hopefully you know anything i say is meant as positive criticism. What i felt was..i wish Brian would stretch himself with his writing...in that, I mean, I like how you just write what comes to mind and the artwork also offers more than the words..but I FEEL that you have more....but part of the excitement is waiting and hoping that one day something amazing will be there...but you may not want to take the poetry that far...because it is obvious that your artwork speaks volumes...Roots is one of my favourite images of yours and I often feel like writing when I see it. It also fits with the theme of trees that i am slowly embarking on...

 

Brian Wallace

10 Years Ago

Thanks again for the response Maria. I am an introvert and one of the reasons for my photography, paintings, and drawings, is so I could express myself with a minimum of words. Another way of saying it is that I would like my images to speak for themselves. Occasionally however, I may end up with an image that is not that strong by itself, although fine in most other aspects and although I don't consider myself a gifted poet, I believe certain images become stronger with some prose to enhance them. For me, the two must compliment each other.

According to other threads I've read, many artists prefer the prose separate of the image. I purposely keep the prose short (usually), on the marriage of words and pictures for several reasons. Foremost, for a successful combination the text must be fairly large to be easily readable, the font must not be to fancy, and the font color and effects should enhance the text's readability. If the text is short, we can generally provide a larger font size to help make the text easier to read and I personally believe it makes a better "greeting card" layout than having a long poem.

I haven't done that many image/prose combinations but it takes a little experience to discover the more desirable approach to that kind of format. Speaking for myself, when I view my images sometimes a particular one will inspire or suggest an idea that I would like to try. Such was the case with the above works. Here is an earlier piece I did when perhaps I was still lacking experience particularly in applying text to the image...

Art Prints

The image was also an early exploration into digital composition through the use of Paintbrushes. The entire image was created by using Photoshop Paintbrushes for everything in the composition. Sometimes this may be limiting, but it also brings a certain level of liberation in the ability to compose an idea into an empty space.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thank you Maria! As kind as always! Settling nicely in the UK and gearing up to writing and sharing again...So watch the space too :-)!!!

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

I just couldn't let this Tango by Kevin MacLeod go by...



Text in Spanish...

Let me Dream
no more than one Dream
A true Dream
A Dream that all would call "Realidad" (Reality)
A when no one sees the madness...
Let me wake up!!!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Gorgeous sound, artwork and text. I wanted to jump up and dance but too tired after Christmas shopping :))) you are inspiring me to keep on with my animation work :))))

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

really great poem Brian, i find my eyes moving from the words, between the wordss, around the words which describe the image beautifully, it really is a balanced piece of work. can i just say, and I cringe when I say it, because i don't want to spoil the whole essence of the piece. I am often criticised ( and am quite happy to be) for focussing on the words that I use which sometimes deflect from the flow of a poem, and I can see some of it in your poem...the need to rhyme line endings....I feel that the rhyming is straining the flow..but I may be wrong...as sometimes i know rhyming sometimes just happens naturally without having to try. I would be really interested to know if you had to compromise other words for rhyming ones.

 

"Can you imagine
if the sky was pink?
If love rained down
from the sky above.
Healing and transformation
would take place,
a universal peace for all...
The human race
and creatures great
and small,
would live in harmony
forever more.
Just think for a moment,
indeed if this were true?
If love could cover all,
what a beautiful reality
that would be..."

"If The Sky Was Pink" poem by: Michelle LeAnn Scott

Sell Art Online

 

Brian Wallace

10 Years Ago

Maria,
As mentioned, I don't consider myself a gifted poet, or above average in the command of the English language, but I try to rhyme words since that's what I believe at least one style of poetry to be. If it does not rhyme, I consider that simply prose. For me, it is much more difficult to rhyme the words while keeping the continuity and rhythm of the message, but considerable thought and effort was put into that scheme. The rhyming helps to synchronize the passage but the right words and meaning or interpretation is still a powerful determining factor in the overall equation. Perhaps this is why I haven't done that much of it.

Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thanks for sharing wonderful images with your written unique interpretation. :))

 

Brian Wallace

10 Years Ago

The original message seemed to come automatically to my consciousness one day while I was at work. I felt compelled to write them down. Years later, I experimented with arranging a layout of the text to convey a message within a message. Some of the original text may have been changed a bit to acquire the finished result.

Art Prints

 

Puzzles Shum

10 Years Ago

Puzzles Shum I have valleys inside my heart but does that make me human. Every single one has its moments but it’s nothing to look down on. I wonder sometimes the value of life is base on money rather than the lines on your hands that predict future. It's no different than valleys inside my heart its things you look pass on because the heart is something you can't see. We as people as whole nation were nothing but water and blood, it’s the main elements of being human. So it's hard to ask the same questions that run through our generations as people there is more different then there as being the same

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

All of the Whorls on my Heart.

These are the life lines
of generations,
of friends and family,
of past, present and future.

Those are the lay lines of this life.
Unique?
Only in my own mind.

An Egos' snowflake
of mortal experience.

Karen Newell
12/18/13

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago


Thank you Maria, I have just seen your animation, I loved it, What a cute little character, and what a rebel shadow :-) A great relationship, funny, cute, lovable!!! Thoroughly enjoyed it and I am sure you did too!!!

Great to read you again Karen, you were so prolific earlier in the summer...Hope all is ok with you!!!

Puzzles, you really do have a poetry style of your own, great stuff!!!

Brian, there has been some debates in this threads about what poetry is, always in good spirits, including the world's smallest poems, silent poems... the lot. Not much rhythm and rhyme in most of those, and when I read for example Puzzles, at least in me, there is no doubt of its poetic substance...

Hope to catch up at least with the some of the most recent stuff...

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Time and time again…
I’ve seen their eyes…
I've seen them cry…
Their aimless walk…run...
Their fruitless search…

What the hell!
What could I possibly say?
No matter how much I yell…
They just race ahead…
Blinded…
More, more , more…the say…
Faster, faster, faster…
Elbows fly high…
Feet barely touch the ground…
head to head…
skulls collide…

I see them come…
Pass…
Go…
Nothing left, but a trail of pain…
Sorrow…

-What’s the point?
Towards the end I hear them shout…
-You missed it!!! I scream…-You went too bloody fast!!!
-Too fast??? How do I slow down???
-Too late to slow down!!! No breaking distance left, I often say!!!



Nothing left, but a trail of pain…
Sorrow…
Time and time again…

 

Puzzles Shum

10 Years Ago

thanks for your feedback

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Maria, The icicle Angel is just a retail trinket, but I like it too:))
XO, Ha ha, I haven't had a poetic spurt in a while, moving more in my physical plane right now :))

My dogs and I trek
a path on the snow.
The tips of their traces
leave a serpentine script
behind us.
The temporary journal
of our journey
Together.

12/22/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Haa Haa! well it will be someone's heirloom one day! I made this string of paper birds one year and i still love them even when they come out of the box all tangled up. I straighten them out and love seeing them on the wall. They are eonly paper at the moment but I was thinking of backing them with wood ...so that they will last a bit longer
thanks everyone for the poetry this year I think we did pretty well, in reflection, well I won't write it in prose I will put it in a poem....so give me time to put my thoughts together........
Have a great christmas Philip. I have just finished another animation I will post the link later :))))))

 
 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

From January to December
A string of poems
strung across the globe
accross all times zones
united
tied and broken and tied again and again
Celebrations
are made
weekly
not yearly
sometimes daily
sometimes hourly
momentarily!
Spontaneously!
even........
We celebrate everything
life's chaos,
all misunderstandings, differences, joys, births, searches, lows, highs,
I can only wish you more of the same
feeling though
that a new bough
from the poetree
will branch out
in
new directions
around the globe
of hope!

Maria Disley

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

A string of words
a spill of sounds pouring over
and down
and away...
A still bell
waiting to be knelled..
a cloud hovering overhead
heavily holding on to it's imminent downpour
its own verse
its thunder
its lightening
trees dripping and budding and sprouting forth
soundlessly,
to any human ear anyway,
poetry
all of it
nature speaks by any means it can
if it could only hold a pen!

Maria Disley 23/12/2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Nothing

The waves scribe along the sand
the rocks trail their beautiful lichen
the mountains their breathy unspoken mists
the garden its blooms, its colourful silent syllables
The river its whispering purlings and gurglings
Nothing persists like the poetry of nature....

Maria Disley 24/12/2013

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

A string of Words
reaching
across the World,
Emotions set,
pen to paper.
Those ink blots
translated,
an eternal language,
each word a paradigm
of the Poets Truth.

12/22/13

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

It waits
one word alone
like a gaze through a door ajar; just.
like the hold of a breath
debating
its own release
onto
the world
never to be retrieved
like ice melting....
flowing beyond the sea to the warm stream.
It wavers on the edge of thought
like the mind is a precipice
the sliver of a blade
the sharp nakedness of reality
vulnerability...
the words you choose..
to spill
to flood the ether with
are but the echo of our first cries...
and forever keep nature awake
like the screech of birds
the barks of dogs
the howling of wolves
the chorus' beneath the sea
what a noisy choir we are
will always be.






 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sell Art Online

 

Michael DESFORM

10 Years Ago

Often...I try to add a little Poetry on my ART PRESENTATION...... like here

Art Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The flowers thrive
On the moon
Their colours drip
Like ink
So far from the sun
Red, yellow, green, blue and pink
Warming the cold cratered surface
Where they tell us, little lives.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago


Philip...read this of roethke's and loved it.:)





She

I think the dead are tender. Shall we kiss? --
My lady laughs, delighting in what is.
If she but sighs, a bird puts out its tongue.
She makes space lonely with a lovely song.
She lilts a low soft language, and I hear
Down long sea-chambers of the inner ear.

We sing together; we sing mouth to mouth.
The garden is a river flowing south.
She cries out loud the soul's own secret joy;
She dances, and the ground bears her away.
She knows the speech of light, and makes it plain
A lively thing can come to life again.

I feel her presence in the common day,
In that slow dark that widens every eye.
She moves as water moves, and comes to me,
Stayed by what was, and pulled by what would be.
Theodore Roethke
Submitted: Friday, January 03,

 

Jason Christopher

10 Years Ago

some very beautiful poetry, thanks for posting everyone!

i seem to have dropped off a mid winter cliff and cant quite get the poems out at the moment, but here just thoughts at Xmas


The truth of Xmas
Is clear to those who believe 

may shepherds guide their flocks to peace and safety
may wise men acquire the truth and wisdom they seek
may the love and light of Christ
shine eternal
may the truth of Xmas
bring joy to all

every year, Christ is born again, in our hearts, happy Christmas!


may God bless those who choose the way of love and peace

last night we celebrated Christmas midnight mass at my local church, this always moves me. i as the Brit, some Russians, Czechs and east Germans. how time heals. how peace is Beautiful. as a gift someone gave me a candle from a coptic church in Israel. a beautiful gift. thank you.

merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone. love and peace, all good, all true... it can be
X

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Great thoughts and wishes for 2014 :))
Philip, I find it difficult to find anything in that poem that should/could not be there. It reminds me of critics who say that every word in writing/poetry should be specifically chosen, i feelt hat roethke has done just that. I will be interested in reading more about him.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Latest short film :)

http://youtu.be/rCplpq1sJsc

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Roethke seems to have spent a lot of his childhood in a greenhouse! Only because his parents were market gardeners. Makes sense that his thoughts are expressed from what he experienced in nature. He goes to the root/source of life to express himself. I like that idea. thanks for posting his poetry Philip.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago


My latest, Time and Time Again...

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Beautiful Oxo, i liked especially how the theme of speed was set against a very slow easy almost wise background sound and visual :)) I am finding in my experimentation that it is not easy putting all of these together to work exactly as you would like...well not exactly...that word doesn't seem to fit in somehow...:)

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thank you Maria, yes, I think I know what you mean...Although I don't attempt to imposse "exactly" what I think I would like :-)

Here's tonight's one, on a similar pace...


 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Great stuff! I liked how there was anticipation as to what the lights were going to reveal and althoigh I was thinking street lights/traffic, i was never 100 per cent sure until i saw the figure walking. Loved the sounds of the brush thingies used on the drum..perfect! You will laugh at my attempt, but it is meant to be funny...should be ready to go within a day.
Yours are very inspiring and give me lots to think about. thanks :)

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thank you very much Maria! Recently I had been thinking to add more video (moving image) to my videos, something I already did in the "what if" video, but your videos have also prompted me to go further...

Your threads have been so inspirational to me, most of the poetry and videos I have done lately would have never happen if not for your threads and their amazing poetry and poets. I have had a tough 2013 and lately I have not had much time to create or regularly follow the great poetry and debates going on here but I still always feel that whatever poetry or video I produce, I can share, and will always be welcomed here.

Thank you Maria and all contributors!!!

I would like to wish you all a Happy, Joyful, Peaceful, Artful and Poetic 2014!!!

 

Franziskus Pfleghart

10 Years Ago



Der Baum hat Äste
das ist am Baum das Beste
den hätte er keine Äste
dann währe es ein
Pfahl


unknown


Sell Art Online

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Franziskus, welcome and Happy New Year, dare i ask for a translation? Will it take something away from the poem, if so then leave it alone and I will work it out, sometimes maybe, that is what I am supposed to do.
Oxo, Philip, what a tribute(though that is not what it is about) to the contributers of this thread, that people have grown, in some way because we all exist and share our thoughts and creations, which may be misunderstood, misinterpreted, at times, but also often continuations of our ideas, satisfying and even sometimes uncanny connections of ideas and thoughts but mostly feelings. Feelings that we we try to put into other forms, about how we exist, in small ways, in big ways, but mostly ordinarily and simply, which is often paradoxically, the most meaningful. I often feel lately that all of our shared creations are like little Elijahas. Art forms are being born each time we create and share. Often its quite difficult to produce anything that we may think is of any value, and I know initially I was very worried about what I put out there, hitting the submit button very quickly before I deleted things, but the encouragement to keep at it, kept me at it and aiming for something truer each time.I also know that in my worst, confusing contributions, someone out theere will be saying to themselves," yes, you got it wrong Maria, that's badly put, but I know how that feels, trying to string words together, trying to express when there doesn't seem any words available, I can see what you are doing." Few of us are as prolific as Viet, but I know he too loves to read and respond to our efforts. What i particularly like about this thread is the similiarity of needing to create, our minds always waiting, looking, hoping and when we come up with something that feels true, we like to share it with those kindred spirits on our three poetry threads.
My first poem of the New Year will probably be crap now after me saying all of that haha. But one of you at least, may understand and see between the lines also. I think that is also an art..to read between the lines and one which comes naturally to us all.
So, thankyou for keeping the thread going and lets hope it continues for as long as its course is naturally intended....is that a paradox? :)
I forgot to thank the readers who just read and don't write poetry or respond. :)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

My Mother's Visit.

In her short stay
I've gazed at her closely at times
her ageing has filled me up
how her photograph decieves
everything that ever happened between us
is a collage now
fragile paper corners
blowing in the wind...
She's leaving soon....
The cord;
still soft between us.....
We never grow up...
til,
we've lost them both....
those who are never lost to us.

Maria Disley 1/1/2014

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Franziskus..nice gallery you have given me an idea about what to do with a box of lightbulbs I was saving for just a moment like this. I love conceptual work. I am thinking Magritte, but there seems to be many influences incorporated in YOUR work. I particularly like the silence of time, some of your work, for me, also resembles Philip Sweeck's amazing work.
Nice poem Philip.
Seems symbolic of something monumental built by the ordinary hand/pen/tool. and above all, the insight and appreciation of the root truth. ( my interpretation today....could be different on another day...in another frame of mind..or it may always be my interpretation. Nevertheless, I really like it. :) )

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Franziskus,
It appears that your poem is about a tree, that having branches and seeming free, is staked.
it brings me back to something that I wanted to include earlier/later last year :) Some poetry that had trees being immensly symbolic for me at a time when I first arrived in Australia. I hope now to get these posted..today hopefully. As I am doing NOWT today until I have done that.:)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

We buried the hair of my brother and father in amongst the roots of a new young tree. 1999.

People Are Sometimes like Trees.

Be to us tree, a reminder
Of those that have gone on ahead,
of how tall and strong they grew,
From striplings to the men we loved and knew.


Remind us tree when we look at you
How they held out their hands to us
and sheltered us too, and,
how we looked up to them
How they spread their goodness generously
As your leaves will.


Be to us a reminder tree
of those that we are grieving for still
so that as time heals
Your appearance will comfort us
Because people are sometimes like trees.


Maria Disley 1999.



The Day After Boxing Day.

It was the day after Boxing day that we visited the trees,
In the park a small hill became the remembrance place. A memory.
My other brother, walked around the sapling's leaves with his digital video,
I had lost all notion of the young thing's name.
It was Rowan, actually!
Its fine fingery leaves stretched out red berries for us to see,
mum would be pleased.
My younger brother's and father's greying hair were blended with the silken roots
and mingled maybe with the growing shoots?
I explained from the bench, which overlooks the playground,
that it was a perfect place for my grandmother to spiritually sit,
as another tree was planted in her memory.
My brother moved the camera from tree to tree..
'My Nanna's tree' he explained for the audience to be.
'and this one, Joseph's and my dad's' he whispered as an aside.
The sun burst out suddenly!
The weather uncannily
like my brother's funeral day.
And there, we two stood in memorium....on the sapling's hill
feeling a little strange and lost for words...still,
we walked on,
then moving slowly down the slope, I turned to catch my brother
wipe away a rolling tear
from his face
for the loss of our young brother's life.......

Maria Disley
Aust. Dec.28th. 2000


 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Torbreck Street.

I musn't forget the spreading gum
across the blue of the sky.
How the thin lipped leaves droop from clusters
way up high.

I musn't forget how I often sat,
in the early evening sun
watching the birds fly back and forth
from out of the blue to their habitat.

I musn't forget the birdsong
the tuts, whistles and coos from earth to branch
the silent hopping of tiny feet
springing full of shrieks

I mustn't forget the lemon tree, or bottle brush
the finger-leaved lilies
the azalea, hydranger and rhodedendron
in the garden at Torbreck Street.

Maria Disley. 2000

 

Rich Franco

10 Years Ago


2013

Has that been a year already,
I haven't finished all my things,
promises that I've made,
dreams that need to be,
just mostly silly things,
hopeful and longing things,
better life things and things that mean something,
does this mean I've lost
or does this mean, I've things yet to do
only this year will tell,2014,
seems will be a good year,
and hope the best for you!

Rich

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

A Homesycamore

It was the flash thought that brought
the exact scene to me
The sycamore tree,
A young thin thing
we planted as children
against the red brick backdrop
on a little mucky mound
A little hill of ground.
This tree was the focus for photographs.
beside the tree, the snapper would say, 'Sit there!'
'Smile!'

We would fill our skirts and pockets with its whirleybirds
and my stomach warms then churns for past things!
And yearn I do, for a lost sibling.
a little milky face, dappled by the streaky sun
through large, hand-shaped leaves cradling
softly the dark, plush crew cut of hair,
cut so short for summer,
and brown nut eyes,
striped t-shirt, khaki shorts, brown sandals and bare limbs.

'Oh! Joe!

I'm filled with Joy and Woe!
To think of the spot where the Sycamore used to grow...
Our small hands gave it life
It lived with us and is in our photographs.

Maria Disley. 2000

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Rich,
How great that one of our photographer friends writes a poem on the first day of 2014..or do you still have a foot in 2013? Standing in separate years in the same moment!!!
The great thing is you have lots to look forward to doing, whats the cliche....It's the journey....I might add... more the people we meet..:))
By the way, I spent the best part in the embers of 2013 putting together a video of your suggestion...which as usual, i thought...I can do that...but which proved much more difficult....when I played bits back I had to laugh at myself caught on camera in moments of such readable expressions, as I tried to work out how the bloody hell I was going to make this work...and ducking in and out of water in the process....now I know why dave laughs a lot when I am in the middle of citical decisions while creating...my face was a picture...i will think about posting it but not sure as I am in my swimming cozzie..Lol! project started it in 2013.....still working on it in 2014! watch this space.
By the way Rich, you have been so generous with your time, patience and knowledge to many of us, that alone stands out for me in 2013!

 

Margit Wimmer

10 Years Ago

I enjoy reading your poems very much (don't have gift of poetry myself).

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

First short film of 2014. :))

http://youtu.be/PoWrkzXYYzw

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Love this poem, I suffered like the boy, one of my father's friends who used to chase us kids at New Year's parties, caught me. Great memories though. By today's standards, it seemed like a dangerous time, but wouldn't have it any other way. The smell of whiskey in the drinking glasses put me off whisky for life! Like in some old movie we used to sit on the top of the stairs looking through the banister rails, listening to the music and excitement, until dad would call us down to meet everyone. The room was probably full of cigarette smoke too!!! But everyone was enjoying themselves probbaly drowning their sorrows, but they just looked so happy and carefree to us then.

My Papa's Waltz



The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.


Theodore Roethke

 
 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I could say the clouds are grey
and feel the rain they hold
about to fall
and have my shoulders droop
and sigh
I could say the clouds are grey
and know that behind them
the sun shines
and be prepared to wait
and while I'm waiting
smile
in anticipation for that
light.
I could say the clouds are grey
and be inspired by
their shifting shapes
how they carry time
otherwise unforseen
except for man made clocks
that tick away like lost heartbeats
I could devour with a full heart how they cool
the world
and send forth water to quench nature's thirst
how the breeze below
has yellow green tree tops
brushing against their soft tones
and be surprised at black
birds skimming through
their beautiful subtle,airy backdrops
I could say the clouds are grey
but forget to mention that
their slow slumber across the sky
brings to me a calm
as I follow
its meandering train
across the mountain top
as it makes me stop
and
appreciate
for a moment
the grey of the sky
is the grey of the sky
and cannot blow moods in you or
I.

Maria Disley 7/1/2014

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

That's the second thing that I have witnessed today that was new in my thinking. I am reading The Life of Galileo, which I thought would have been interesting but heavy and I might have found it too much of a strain for holiday reading, but i can't put it down. Anyway, it made me see, without infact seeing, that from the moon, the earth and the light emitted from the sun, would have it appear like a scythe, just as we see the moon from earth. I had never thought about it before. Always the earth seemed to me in a constant light, or rather, always rotund.
Now here's another, the sound of snow. I'm sure I've heard in classrooms if sound travels up or down, but cannot recall, but just the presentation of the snow falling and the sound rising within the wind and blizzard, gave it new meaning to me. Why is it that sometimes we are open to things and sometimes not. I know that those two things, possibly because how they were presented...Galileo's thinking aloud in Bertoch's play....and Philips poem first, which I knew I was going to have to work on..and its following video, seem to me some better way for me to retain information. I know i will never forget these two things. If only every bit of knowledge came so easily.!!!! :) Even the interruption and momentarily sharp distinction between the snow falling around the pedestrian and the sound rising was pertinent to the whole perception. Even if sound does not travel upward naturally, it has brought it to my attention and i can go from there, never forgetting where it began.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Found this. Anyone agree/disagree.

No, sound does not rise like heat.

Sound is just vibrations through a medium, like air. (It also travels well through water, but that doesn't concern us here.) So sound will travel equally in all directions in which there is air. If the air is moving in a certain direction (wind) that will also carry sound farther in that direction.

Snow Echo

In the image
the wind carried off
the sound
of the snow
as it fell to the ground,
without a sound
except for
a soft
pfft!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The stone ...waits...and waits
quiet, its echos having been whisked away
in all directions
It waits and waits
for a hand
to fill it with sound
once more..

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

poets....I think we could do a wiki about this stone. What do you think. What sounds can we bring to a quiet stone? (thanks Philip)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The hurtle of the stones
through the air
sent zoomings everywhere
upset the atmosphere
made the clouds race a little faster
though unseen to the naked eye,
or distant ear...
as it fell from its peak height
the sound changed
holding its breath
an intangible parachute
of sound and air and breath
a kind of whistle emerged
whose edges spread
like eagle wings
out into the ether horizontally!
that which held the stone
to break its fall
clung screaming with glee
for the unexpected ride
til the stone hit the blanket sand
a soft murmering breaking fall
a smooth hushed landing
a buried final resting
until the small hand
brushed it hushly
skin on stone
and flung it out to sea
where like an arrow it
flew, quivering cutting through the
salted moisture
stuttering with a soaring sound
unaccustumed from so much time just rising and falling to the ground.
the wet of sea spray on its cool fossiled surface
the coy foam of waves washed it like a bar of soap
a sound of slathering, like shaving,
til plop!
and drowned
the stone sunk
swaying gently in a softer bed of shells scratching in a slow motion drawl
against its solidness,
forever under the to and fro tides
colliding with echoes from creatures, at all diluted sides.

Maria Disley 9/1/2014
with a cr

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

One of my favourite Rich Franco images.

Rock hard stone
so soft it seems
because of a sweet split smile.
Appearing as a pair....coupled, weathered
together, forever! For centuries,
surviving the rush of water that shapes them
this rock hard couple.
See the tender kiss on the forehead
of the cool rough-smooth skull?
Like fossil'd lovers.






Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I never did learn how to do this one because I was too excited about all I was finding out about photography, by the experts here. Still am, so I still race through things, but am slowing down a bit and trying to learn the basics insteaad of rushing ahead with what I think is right, no, what I feel...:) Too much of either may not get you the results you want, I strive for balance, but it doesn't very often show itself. I love the balance in this image'


I see,
I feel,
I think,
I smile,
I know.




Art Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

An artist
a stone unturned
unless a find of money
then its a lucky stone
and people press it in their palm
and hope
to find a very same stone
same shape
same shade,
same tone,
An artist
alone,
an unturned stone
but falls like snow.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Lying in the shade
clouds coasting by
beautiful greys and whites
and shapes of all delights
And you
are hungry
and scratch the dirt
Strange, I thought
are our little spots upon the earth,
me here
you there
It all looks silent above us
do you think so?
when you look away from your hungry belly,
what do you think?
A cruel nature?
The sheer curtain billows
transfers shadows of the chairs across its fabric
I think of my camera
but your sheer courage intervenes
and I can't get up with the weight of the thought of you
Small frame
on the burnt earth
barren,
it has nothing to do with nature
Innocent nature..



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

So in sync with my thoughts at present...reading Galileo and thinking about the solar system. Just learned that Venus's day is a year long. How would we react to year long days!?
Dave said if that's the case then he must work on Venus..LOL! I suppose the up side might be that you earn a years wage in a day???? Oh No! Money reared its head again!

Your image blew me away Philip! And what a great stone. Poem as reticent and sublime as usual.
the image of shadows creeping through alley ways, seemingly so aware in your poem, so confident of its arrival, as though superceding the light. Interesting. Like order from chaos.
I can't make up my mind, and sort of don't want to, whether this image is so close up that the small weeds between cracks look like sprawling greenery running up walls, or whether it is the latter. I'm always left full of questions. How small is that large looking stone? :)
I think you would have/would make a great teacher. You have a great approach that wakes people up! Stirs their imaginations.

 

Maria, and Philip.......would you believe it......truth is, I adore poetry ... and I swoon when I read yours and your responses to each other, and then, always become yet more aware ...... of everything........dramatically, almost.........your stones writings really excite me...........thank you both...........new meaning for things through your eyes/words.

Also, I really appreciate your posts about/for our good friend, now poet, Rich Blanco - a cause celebre of the forum !

I love this of yours, Maria:
"We buried the hair of my brother and father in amongst the roots of a new young tree. 1999. '

that is how my brother Donald and father Joe spend eternity now, thanks to friends in Virginia, who have planted them by saplings they chose, to shelter the ashes ...just sharing so you know there is universal truth in your words, more than you can imagine.........thank you again. And, our baby Iain (01-1974---07-1974)lies beneath a gooseberry bush in an English churchyard now, sheltered also.

Praise to you both.

A fav now, for me, such clarity/truth:

"I see,
I feel,
I think,
I smile,
I know. "


.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Wonderful images Philip. Thanks for sharing.

And when I walked
along the shoreline
I felt the jewels between my toes
the stars and fossils
the spires and crosses
Another world
beneath my feet
I know nothing
so
incomplete.


Maria Disley 11/1/2014

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

For Vivian and her moving words.


And there amongst those other stones
engraved with tender memoriums
or simple names
sloping, leaning, lychened by the atmosphere
blooms a single gooseberry bush
'Careless' by name, and English rare,
between the sky and earth
just smoothing forth a blush
upon its fine green, glassy berried skins,
of fruit, so sheer
to show
the veins so clear
just like the skin of a baby, dear.
Its seeds I see inside its case
and know deep down within my heart
we all belong to one another
and there seems one thing, I feel I know...maybe!
In life or death we never part,
Once begins that tiny spark.

Maria Disley 11/1/2014


 

Thank you Maria...........I'm so touched by your knowing, your words,your kindness,the visuals I cannot see ever again, sad to say. I don't know who, if anyone, tends the gooseberry bush now......I suppose it's alright........time itself tends to memories...............sigh.....all very very sad,poignant,important to remember though....so much moreso now, through you............thank you.....I treasure your dedication........and the memory of the tiny spark..........

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Vivian i may be having a trip home this year. Where is the location of the grave. i will check on your gooseberry bush. :)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

feels good
pushing the barrow
piled high with green cuttings
thats a lie
there was brown and silver and gold and black and blue,
every tone and hue,
I wheeled the fleshy rainbow,
uneasily, wobbly, to the mulch mountain
I should have grown up on a farm,
it is hard but happy work
provides fresh food
the healthiest lifestyle.
keeps you strong
and close to the nature
and maybe young
at heart,
always a field to run in,
to scream to the wind
to throw stones
roll in wild flowers
thats not the spot I found myself in
on this earth
that was not my little piece of dirt
but today
i can dream
of what never will be
and anyway, if I could
I'd prefer
that someone elses dream be real.


Maria Disley 11/1/2014

 

Thank you Maria, but I'd not want you to go out of your way, although the peace of heart and mind would be priceless..........Thank You.

St James Church Gerrards Cross and Fulmer Rd, next to French Horn pub, Gerrards Cross,Buckinghamshire ...on the old A40 towards Beaconsfield, off the A4 out of Uxbridge........30 k from Heathrow......
round the back of the church, on the right, just past the high hedge, ..just a little marble stone carved with his name: Iain Arthur Anderson......

If not, it will sustain me that you would even want to do this, I promise...........say no more my friend.............let me know when and 'if'..........it's 40 years since......sigh.



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I will do what I can. There is even a chance that I can get it done before then. We'll see. :)) Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you...:)

 

Thank you, Maria...........yes, the golden rule...........solves many problems..........

I should perhaps explain a little........we have no family left in those parts, all scattered worldwide now........to visit him for us.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

yes, I thought as much so I have already made two contacts...can't promise anything though. Will let you know as soon as I hear anything. fingers crossed x

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Days Don't Last but Continue.

Songs
Stones
Swings.

Maria Disley 11/1/2014



Art Prints

 

Nicole Frischlich

10 Years Ago

Hello everybody!
I used to combine all my art photographical work with poetry!
For example
Photography Prints

Thank you all for sharing your words! I really like to read them all!

 

Abbie Shores

10 Years Ago

Very nice thing to do. Pretty awesome @Maria n Viv

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

shortest poem ever from me.

Life.

And roundabouts.

Maria Disley 12/1/2014




Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thanks Nifri,
Gorgeous image/tones and sense of faraway thoughts. Illustrate the poem really well.Thanks for sharing.
@Abbie, I tried to find someone from FAA from the area that vivian mentioned, and I did think of you, as you may be close to it. But,I was still a bit cool about Rich Franco's absence, and I need his advice just now too.
Anyway this is a separate issue and is not about me. It would be great if you could help to reunite these two.....:)

 

Abbie Shores

10 Years Ago

I am in Manchester. Quite a distance away I am afraid

 

Kip DeVore

10 Years Ago

Some beautiful poetry here!

This isn't beautiful, but,


"Ask an Alaskan"

As I stepped outside the igloo,
Oh, pardon me, I mean the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even the kitty,
Not even a polar mouse.

I noticed glaring back at me,
There threatening bodily harm,
He growled at me,
So I growled right back,
A polar bear here on the farm!

Right here in Missouri,
I couldn't believe it,
The game warden will deny it true,
They'll take me to court,
They'll deny my report,
And say, DeVore, you are through.


--Kip DeVore 1/7/'14


 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Kip, is this true?
Beasr scare me, even though they are beautiful to look at,they move fast, they can swim, climb trees, put their paws into small crevices, where would you run if you came face to face with one? :(

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

More Stones.


He stared at the string of minerals that
bounced on the hearth of her breast bone
then walked across the dancefloor
unable to take his eyes off those stones
her saphires and rubies her kohinoor
making some smooth moves he asked self assured.
'You a miner, caught your neck in a shaft?'
she blushed and laughed
" Very flattering sunshine,She said with a smirk,
'but I'm twice your age! A minor you say!..What a laugh!"

 

Kip DeVore

10 Years Ago


Thank you, Maria!

It was so cold here Jan 6-8 because of the "polar vortex" moving down from the Arctic, -12F with wind making -30F wind chills, that I just figured Missouri was becoming the new polar icecap and so wrote a poem imagining what the incongruities of it all might be like.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

141 degrees here tomorrow and for the following 4 consecutive days. I might open my door to some fire breathing dragons!


 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Just a quick visit to share "Farewell" by Maestro Hernán Ruíz accompanied by the illustrations from "Butterfly Dreams"...

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Blues Riff in the Background:



Sailor's Love Affair Dissolved

Just go will you
Just leave right this moment
Leave not even a brush nor shoe
Get yourself on away from here now
Hurry I tell you
Just hurry and not leave a drop of false tear
Fear is no longer an issue
I can easily live peacefully without you
Walk softly as you storm out the door
I loved you from the start and now is the end
Walk softly I say as you storm out the door
You've walked on me, over me and through me far too long
A permanent footprint forever on my heart

Craig Carter

Photography Prints

 

Kip DeVore

10 Years Ago


141 degrees!!! My outdoor thermometer, C or F, doesn't go that high.

 

Joshua House

10 Years Ago

Gone West

Gone West into that fine land
Beyond the horizon
The land of dreams

Gone to Texas
It’s skyscrapered plains
Where cattle used to roam

Gone to Mountains
That lick the sky
Above the trees

Gone to the Deserts
With blue flag water
Along the hidden ways

Gone West beyond the western sea
With Elrond and Alan Seeger
From this life in to the next

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Yes it was 46 degrees celsius=140.00 degrees fahrenheit. I am going through ice pops like no ones business! And they are probably full of sugar!!! And we have the next four days the same.

oxo, almost clapped when the video finished it was beautiful. At first I was aware of the scratched guitar, where the plaayers nails had marked it in strumming...then the scratchy marks in some of your abstracts seemed to connect tot he guitar. I loved th eimage of the black and white dancers and the reflections of the people on a beach maybe at evening, and the butterflies that kept appearing, bold and soft, and you made me remember that i followed a butterfly today/late in the heat with my camera and got real close, I had also forgottent hat I did some close up eye photography, the heat frazzles your brain! if the images are any good I will post. Thanks for sharing:))
More great imagery Joshua


 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago


Thanks a lot Maria, I was quite pleased with it, bearing in mind that my main objective was to create a video mainly to share and support Hernán's music (so no text, voice over, etc) but was very disappointed this morning when he pointed out to me that the piece of music was not "Farewell" but "Marina sueńa con pájaros", another of his compositions...:-(( So I decided to make some changes to the video (adding some moving images) and using the real "Farewell"...

And here it is...

 

Kip DeVore

10 Years Ago


That is quite warm, Maria!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

That is brilliant having the man himself playing through your work and all the lines crisscrossing with strings of guitar. i was thinking wouldn't it be great if he was playing and the butterlies were flying in, and then it happened and it was so lovely! Oh1 i hope to make something like this myself at some stage. Very inspiring thanks.

Sorry Craig forgot to get back onto thread to comment on the great guitar sound..is it you playing...I think everyone will agree how magic it is for music to intervene the poetry and someetimes with poetry. Thanks. I will never be a musician sad to say, so I will just have to strive with the poetry and maybe videos :))))
you are all so talented.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thank you very much Maria!!! I am glad you enjoyed it!!! I saw your jaws video too, I thought it was funny, and you got some collaborators too :-). I am sure you got to appreciate how much potential for expression the medium offers...I'd say, have fun and keep exploring :-))

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

@Maria= wishing a cool breeze your way! I need to learn how to make my own slideshow with music like Xoanxo! I was just messing around.

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

Cinderella Died Last Night

I cried today when I heard the news
That Cinderella had died
Her life changed since the Prince was killed
While she was with child he never met
Crushed by his own chariot
She tried to make a life but it was taken
The child not but Eight
With Cinderella dead
I cried and cried until my head ached
Cinderella never got a break
Her child may suffer the same fate
With Cinderella dead

RJ 1/15/2014
in memory of Donna

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

@RJA real life fairy tale maybe? Nice to see your post RJ and of course would like to know more of Donna.
@Craig...can't believe that you were just messing around...it won't take much effort for you to really improve your skills...we will all be watching and waiting.
@ Oxo, I loved making that video. I know there was lots wrong, but I have had a lot of good feedback on how to improve...the present one I am doing has been shelved for a week as so much happening for me to make films. Haha...films!
Tomorrow 44 degrees.....then there's supposed to be a cooling off period...I found myself looking for clouds today ut they didn't appear until about 7pm and I couldn't even make pictures from them they were so scanty. Dog is exhausted! Kept plunging her in water she still doesn't!t get it that I am trying to help her. Roll on saturday

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

Maria, Donna died the other night.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

RJ...Donna who?

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

Donna was a friend, a Cinderella in her own power way. The poem is metaphor for things that had happened to her, not but in her mid forties she leaves a daughter behind and the prince has long been dead . The fact that she was hard to like makes Even more sad Cinderella never got a break

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I think she must be smiling, if its possible, to know that you loved her unconditionally, that is so important, and not always an easy thing to do. What can we learn about donna to have her memory live on? Was she a painter?I know I love to tell people about my younger brother still, it sort of gives him life each time. But thats just me. RIP Donna.

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

She had no special talent she was just Donna

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

For Donna.Who is afterall, a part of us all.

The Ball.

Cinderella may be with her Prince once more
No slippers needed where there's no floor
Just other forms
of life
as someone in the know said once
"Nothing ever dies..no atoms..nothing at all
there's only change..in form"
I belive it all,
And imagine Cinderella and her Prince
are having some surreal Ball!

Be kind to the child, World,
Who's been left behind.

 

Robert James Hacunda

10 Years Ago

Thank you Maria

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

How are you feelin' today?

Weather has really cooled these last couple of days, so refreshing.

My Cinderella is putting away her red shoes
Filling her case
ready for the skies
but a mortal landing
In England.
I feel the defence mechanism beginning to wake
the guard starting to close
over my heart.
The separation of mother and daughter once more..

Its ended, again,
the tour of my life, here
Soon at opposing ends of our spinning sphere
Our stars shining at different times in the galaxy
makes me feel so still
in this evermoving eternity.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Great stuff Craig!!! Thoroughly enjoyed it!!! Thank you for sharing!!!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The Kookabuura laughs from a sheltered bough
As the soothing whisper of teeming rain
Rushes through my veins,
Its draught cooling my shoulder near the open door
With the lightest touch,
Like a well meaning friend's.
I'm listening nature,
So intently.
I wait like a tear in some worn cloth
Fibres frayed and torn
To be mended soon.
The wet concrete
Reflects the empty table and chairs,
Yet the rain dances hard in white spirals.
The Kookaburra laughs
Insanely,
On this last day,
As I pull myself together
Like some tailor mending worn cloth.


 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

If it was just a story in a book
and who says it not..
I would be on a picture page
similiar to the beginning,
so different tot he middle
where all of the action seemed to take place
now this is the end
so how come it feels like another beginning?
Butterflies are back in the trees
My camera seems waiting
The green in the far window
is too vibrant to be allowed,
I feel empty and full and lucky and sad
I feel ghosts on my heels
and images of old photographs
reel through my senses
there's distance
no touching
but no break
in the bond,
not even a fray
as I step in to the day and its offering.chapter.

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

The mother lode
Can I fathom such a dream
The dream of all dreams it seems
Your heart is in it
Your soul has spent it
A future brighter than gold itself
Nothing left on the shelf
The lonely hearts it stole
Pure devastation and theft

 

Olga Hamilton

10 Years Ago

Dance Of Fate

She dances along the road
of magical splendid
white bloom.
People applause and groan,
Forgetting the day of Doom.
Nobody sees the thorns
She feels with her every step,
When after her charming turns
White is becoming red.
Olga Hamilton © April, 2013

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Craig and Olga, loved those poems. Had to google 'lode' and liked what I found. But if you would like to It would be great for you to discuss the poem. I get it then i lose it, but i feel it, which for me is the most important thing in a poem, but i am always curious as to its meanings to the poet or other readers. Its ok if you'd rather not. I understand that perfectly too.
Thanks for posting both of you :))

I hear
then i'm deafened
the musician can stand on another route
where I can't go
where the traffic of all things
interrupts
then i'm back
and I hear
and its music
but not mine
something I can't fine tune
and I hunger
in the deaf lane

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

This is almost from a bee's perception though idle doesn't resonate with a bees movements, then it seems to be some slower insect already in the flower head somewhere, or is it a person on a mountain top looking down but close to the flowering peaks. whichever it is those two centre lines are particularly breathtaking. There's a kind of seeing eveything when there's nothing in particular to do or think about. reminds me abit of the poems I was trrying to write, about my mum leaving.

There's this new space
which was there before
but has changed
and the brightness sometimes blinds me from what I have learned
and the emptiness
waits to catch me also.


Thanks for posting Philip. It was about time the you came up for air :))

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Maria,
Mine was just a reflection of how the gold rush created dream chasers yet today its pretty much the internet and technology. With the abundance of new artist and uploads daily it kind of reminds me of how everyone back then was searching for their own rainbow leading to a pot of gold.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Yes,I see what you mean! Though, I did not connect it to the gold rush. Now this is particularly interesting how we read something and make it our own . It has been something that we have discussed a few times on this thread. You say it was just a reflection, but without any explanation, i'll bet it became many diferent thigs to the people who read it. I have my own idea of it but now have the reflection which gave it life, and they are both important. You have brought to mind the many forgotten pioneers, I love how you have reminded me of how they followed their dreams relentlesley, some unwisely so, but what adventures! Many riches, and deaths in the process. Thanks for giving the readers something to think about and maybe echo in a poem.

Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Sell Art Online

How far and how much more?

And when Galileo's apprentice was asked
by two curious boys
'can the witch really fly on a broom?'
He said,' No,It would take some kind of machine to move it,
but if there was a machine that could make
that stick leave the ground, then maybe it will, if ever there will be such a machine
that could make a stick leave the ground and move in mid air'.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Epiphany


How I could have cried
when I saw, yes saw! For the first time,
The freedom
within the work.
I saw in my mind
how free I had always been
when I painted, created..
The epiphany
sent a knot up through my gut
so true it was
what I just saw,
And am changed once more.
beyond recognition
from the core.


Maria Disley 31/1/14

 

Bishopston Fine Art

10 Years Ago

My new translation of Ludwig Uhland's 1812 ode to springtime.

Art Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Beautiful poem of Faith, John. thanks for posting.I supppose the continual blooming of flowers each year ( which we often take for granted) is a great natural way of SEEING faith. Love the image too. What is the flower?
Haha wonderful poem of Cohen's. Have read some but maybe not this one. never heard of Aletheia, but as you can guess, I will be googling it. I'm sure everytime I see a handkerchief or autumn leaf I will see a lady sleeping there.
I wrote the poem after watching an art programme about the hidden works of art by Russians, during and after wartime. It really brought home to me the freedom within a created piece of art and maybe not only art, but any creation. I jumped up and wrote as quickly as I could while the feeling was still there. I realised, and just at atime when I was going to collect everything I had painted to put on ebay to put towards my next art unit..haha..that they will hold all kinds of freed emotions that I held at different times. I can't say i was totally ignorant of this, but after watching the programme I saw it so much more clearly. The true freedom that so many of us have discussed on this site is I believe now, in its purest form in what we create. What does anyone else think about this?
The programme which i suggest you watch was aired on ABC1 titled, The Hidden Art of the Desert, or something close to that. Try youtube.

I am feeling more and more closely connected to abstract expressionism, but I am so changeable that next week I may be finding something else that seems more precise :))
We wait the arrival of your next poem.

THE Spice Box of Earth, needs to be the next poetry book for me to read. Some of the poems from that make me shiver.

 

Bishopston Fine Art

10 Years Ago

Thank you Maria for your kind words. I enjoy translating poetry, especially German romantic poetry. I am also a lover of lieder and the music, especially that of Schubert, helps me to create a translation which is not too contrived or stilted (I hope!). The flowers are prunus blossom from last spring.

 

Brian Wallace

10 Years Ago

This is more of a spiritual nature. I'm not sure how many will relate to it...

For Those Times By Brian Wallace

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

A kind of echo of Brian's illustrated poem. I had about 10 attempts at getting this right but still not happy with the presentation. Anyway there's room for improvement to which I will attend. :))


Photography Prints

 

Puzzles Shum

10 Years Ago

What is loved to love someone or to leave some one for the right reasons? Can we shred tears of joy rather hate one another . Please tell me as I look into your eyes as our lips kiss, till me what is meaning of love. Can LOVE have hate or is it the thrust from our hearts. So let’s end this with love knowing love will take time like how clocks click by the mints.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Nice thought for hate to be nothing more than the thrust of a heart which is, I suppose, misguided love. it is really relevant that you sent his poem today as I was very moved today by a young person who was telling me about a bad experience he had when he was even younger, and for all of the misunderstanding of other people, when he was out of that situation, as young and as vullnerable as he was, he still worried about those that were left behind. He said he still hates some of the people who thought he was useless, but i don't think the word is hate and is more like the thrust of the heart, as he could not contemplate why people can do the things that they do to each other.
I appreciate your post puzzles.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

When a stream of sunlight
darts between the blinds
it lights up before my eyes
a world of particles of dust
that sparkle and waltz
there is no room anywhere
anymore, yet I know, that space,
space between somewhere;
nowhere is that place,
but yet, I know when it is there.
Unbeknown, I walk and breath the starry dust
outside,
never do i feel its silver slivers slip across my fingers
or fall like snow upon my brow, my lips, my cheek
but in the darkness of a room, in full gloom
i pull across the curtain and there it is
the world, spinning along with me!
me! feeling standing still, yet fully turning
on my axis, amongst my glitter
my sparkling dust
that will not stand still
nor ever must.
not even when
I'm fully dust.

Maria Disley 6/2/2014

 

Beautiful,Puzzles...wonderful thoughts, so nice your poetry.....thanks for sharing

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Finding Your Way Through Nightmares


And when I woke from dreams
of murder, deep and darker realms
of which I cannot make no sense
I put my feelers out for freedom
of things not understood
and found subconcious re traced steps
which flowed from out the irksome night
and came an image of a welder
a silhouette beneath a burst of burning light
and imagined my hands
moulding those unmade stars
from opaque clay so dun
an insight from those same nightmare places
Whats going on?
worlds continue to collide
the outer realms and my inside
What can we do, but wake, and wait,
find freedom in that which we create.

Maria Disley 7/2/2014




 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

haha...perfect! Love the sound of this song, also the pace and of course lyrics. Think everyone will enjoy this. Thanks for sharing Philip. Another baking hot day here in Aus. but my subconcious is pushing the idea of getting out that clay and beginning the sculpture. This room, facing west has a tiny cool breeze playing at the open window but its not going to last long, if it becomes too hot to do anything much, maybe it will be the ideal time to sculpt.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Our Loves Bring Tears Tripping

I’d had my head buried in a slow cooker recipe book
My mouth watered about the spices and braised meat juices
When I suddenly learned that Uncle Len
Was bad again
And why?
Tell me why,
Did tears trip this time?
There was no stopping of clocks or barking of dogs
As Auden wished for his love
The rush of cars teemed past in the heat
Yet some of England’s homeland chilly breezes
Seemed to brush against my cheek
As he lay somewhere there, so weak,
Along Some corridor that I had walked once, as a girl, maybe,
I sort of hear the echoed steps, even see the shoes I’d worn at such an age.
When uncles even then seemed dressed too old, but forever young
Because their eyes and hearts had seen so much at peace and war
And were ever grateful, tough and kind, the more,
And full of hope for us,
I’m sure.

7/2/2014

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

The time has arrived
And opened her eyes
her spirit came softly
to say,
wake,
there is a different life anew
and though you may feel alone
torn in half
I am your spirit
I love life
And will help you live it again.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Its like someone tipped the scrabble board over
and all of the x's landed in a line together
And nobody is counting points at the end
of the man made game
the game man made to make us laugh
and enjoy each others short company

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I'll tell them
when you can't
what I saw
who you are
when you
no longer have the breath to.
Accept it as my tribute
my only sounding board
the only black and white of me
the page and ink

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

St Valentines Day ( On St Valentines Day. I went on a school trip into the city and wondered, where is the love?) ( I found it immeasurably in the Baptist Church on Collins Street)


There's this clean page
waiting for my nonsense
its corners curl into a hypocritical smile
I know.
I'm aware,
of my inadequacy,
the inept encrypting of feeling, exploring.....
but, I will be judged, and also judge, those black marks
which scratch the understandings from within the form I'm in.
Someone will notice the subtler shadows....won't they?
To hell with first impressions
With all that glistens....and turns out cold.
I watched their large bottoms
lounging in 4th hand clothes,
their worn out faces..waiting..waiting..
we must have looked like blank pages passing by.
And the rolling eyes of the fish behind glass had more inquisitiveness
swimming toward the camera not away,
but a similiar satirical Mona Lisa smile at bay.
Then from the 88th floor
we saw,
it all.
The stadiums, the river, the trains, the boats, the yatchs, the museums, the arts centres, the gardens, the memorials, the houses, the libraries, the courts, the government buildings,the tiny cars, the ocean, the horizon....
How many bricks does it take to hide the homeless?
I have filled, once again, this clean page with my nonsense,
havn't I ?

Maria Disley St Valentines Day 2014



 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Sweets for my sweet
Come closer my dear
Forever I always yearn to kiss your lips
The glowing reflection of love in your eyes
After all these years, never tell lies
My adolescent heart was conquered
Surrendering ever so gently and weakened
Only to rebound and grow stronger, by
Many lessons learned as the years pass us by
My love life with you keeps me young at heart
More refreshing than a pint of ale
Tastier than bread that's stale
You know I am just being silly right now
I know you very well as you do me
Acceptance of our silly behaviors
Has been the key

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

His poems,
like boulders
falling from a great height
from a soft cloud,
through romantic mist,
soaring through the sky
as though parachutes were mothering them.
Through their hard skins,
lullabies even seep it seems,
magnificent with magnetism,
liberating within the feeling of freefalling....
before crashing to the ground!
With a thud of truth;
His gravity.

I pull away from his poetry drained
as he smashes my airy dreams

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

And while moleskin hunting
he espied a beautiful clay
dug it up
and a potters foundry
soon took shape
a factory from the ground evolved
and still today
wonderful art's displayed
and all from that spot in the ground.
But it is still a piece of clay.
And all of the city, its bricks and metal
are just the earth turned inside out
like some sleeve lining
But the bricks that built that
and the bricks that built this
from the same clay
from the same spot
have a different worth
once extracted from the earth.


Photography Prints

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

When Len Left


The start of a storm was suddenly interrupted by a softly spoken pause,
'Uncle Len is dead...'
I buried my head
into my hands
and cried love.
It poured from out the pit of me.
Emptiness swallowed me.

Some vaccum had occurred.

Then the rain came down,
hard thudding tears of it raged
across the concrete,
beligerant hailstones shot off every surface
and canons of turbulent thunder shook the sky
as though the whole world had moved
aside and unbalanced everything.

And then the sun came out...


Maria Disley 19/2/2014
















 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Len’s Box.

The box is simply made
Scratched by years of its different owners hands
Its joints are clean, sharp, precise,
Its inside shadows run into its corners
When the lid lifts.
Seems almost bigger inside than out
Old things are at home there
For its an old handmade box
Full of musty lost usefulnesses
Len’s hands made it
And gave it
Then it was given to me.
I filled it full of letters
Musty, storied lives gather together in ghostly chatter
Whisper even to one another, rustling words upon the paper
The box is simply made
But there’s nothing simple about it.
Sitting there scratched and paint peeled
In the shade.

Maria Disley 21/2/2014

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago



Visiting Peggy and Len ( In remembrance of Len )

When we visited as kids
Peggy would peel the apples until their skins
Hung like ringlets to the floor,
Before our dropped jaws.
And while dinner was cooking
Uncle Len would show us how the fruit trees were growing
Upon the small hill we rolled down,
Between his cutting some dahlias
And hoeing the soil to form a neat edge.
He kneeled, we knelt. He showed, we watched,
Our eyes as shiny as the apple pips inside the Granny smiths.
Listening so eagerly as to hear the rose hips split or the short grass grow.
There was something good about the shed
The man cave of its day where everything was in its place
Were creation waited on inspiration in a warm cobwebbed space
Where cherry oil oozed from planks of wood
In the blue shed of the garden that flourished.
After dinner with napkins folded,
We ran with Flossie across the field; All hawthorn hedged and cinder pathed.
Then if time allowed, Scrabble and cards and Lego and knitting jumpers for the action man dolls
That belonged to our cousins.
And, one last ' Watch with Mother' look, through the round window at the top of the stairs,
one last click shut of the French glass doors,
Then home,
Running through the subway our happy echoes richocheting from off the tunnelled walls.
Our thoughts never seedlings that would strain to grow under sunless skies
Where, to something we cherish, comes its time to die.

Maria Disley 21/2/2014

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Winter's Homeless Souls

Birdseye view into his soul
Many stories he once told
Lifting the spirits of the wretched
Afflicted souls pounded into submission
Words not so difficult to understand
Loosening the grip of his quicksand
Final ounce of his energy now exhausted
Upright now though wobbling a bit
Eye water run red as sunlight blinds
Blurred vision his only sight
Despite dispirited plight
He carry on his daily fight

Craig Carter 2/21/2014

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

http://www.youtube.com/edit?video_id=-wMGxH6BclY&video_referrer=watch

This was a tough one. To begin with poem I chose was too long. It lacks a good story as I tended to get distracted by finding images to suit the poem. But i think there are some good parts, like the eagle and the portrait in the mist. Comments welcome.
Oh No! there's a verse missing!! Oh Well, will have to remember to recheck next time.

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

Elegy to a Cat
(whose 9 lives was interrupted)

Quenching needed love quietly
treasured life so openly
brings the threshold of our life
sliced by fate like that of knife

Not a mirage in our heart
to melt like sculptured ice art
in the solace of our days
forever be in ablaze

We watch you grow
we watch you glow
when times seems slow.


-excerpt from http://storybird.com/books/9-lives-interrupted/
SaigonDeManila 2014 Copyright © All rights reserved

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

If you can't feel this - well, you need to.

https://soundcloud.com/kimbithegoddess/moment-featuring-ray-jackson

 
 
 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Here's my latest, part of a new series I have been working on called "Road Art". I wouldn't say is poetry in motion but Art in/of/related somehow to motion...and the poetry...Hopefully within the spectator :-)...

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thank you Mark, I particularly enjoyed the first one!!! I have shared it in my fb!!! Needs to be shared :-)

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

You are welcome Xoanxo. Poetry is meant to be shared - preferably spoken. :-)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Hello Oxo! Glad to hear that your absence was due to working on a project that you enjoy sharing with us. I will have to watch it a few times, but from first viewing, it was the wire fences which obstructed the view of the road which intrigued me, and later the speed of change between images, which for me symbolised or represented not just the glances we only get of our percieved world but the frustration of time. of little time to explore it all. I really loved the later images of getting closer to the subject, the raindrops and detail of something red like a burst of something containing smaller elements, wll have to check that one out again. as the images reeled and the quotes came up, like kerouac's, I found myself reflecting on my little world, and what was outside of it. It felt good to be reminded, especially as we focus sometimes on small frustrations that we often feel we are stuck with, why should we be, there's so much more outside of that little visual frame....
Thanks for sharing :))

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Wow Mark! That was so exciting! Oxo, would be great at something like that, he haas that voice. I would love to try some rap, but I am laughing at myself at the thought of it. I may have a go in secret :)) My dramatics are in my head and on paper, vocally i don't express fluently, or sophisticatedly, think I am tone deaf too :)) But, it would be a challenge and who knows. Really enjoyed it thanks.
I too, enjoyed the first one most,maybe because of the accompanying music... but the 3rd one was interesting too.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Elegy to a Cat
(whose 9 lives was interrupted)

Quenching needed love quietly
treasured life so openly
brings the threshold of our life
sliced by fate like that of knife

Not a mirage in our heart
to melt like sculptured ice art
in the solace of our days
forever be in ablaze

We watch you grow
we watch you glow
when times seems slow.


This poem sums up everything a loved pet can bring to us, in their quietness their seemingly contemplative observations of us and their acceptance of us, always there when no one else can be. I love the depth that you reach for, sometimes lost in translation, or in speedy reading. You should try for your own illustration of this poem. I hope there are going to be 9 poems to make up your tribute to your lost cat.
thanks for sharing.

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

You think you love me, but you don't know me.

You think that you love me,
...but how can you love me?

See... You don't know me,
Hell; I don't know myself...
so how can You know Me?

and if you don't know Me...
...who is it exactly you love?

Hell; I don't even love myself.

~Mark Wickham 02/24/2014

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

More of Kimbi the Goddess... She sends you all kisses.

http://kimbithegoddess.bandcamp.com/track/kiss

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

9 poems...hmmm that's a superlative idea! re own images...unfortunately the accounts for that site separates (fine)artist to to non-artist (contributors) . Thank you for the read and some push for this project...still having some issues on how I can get away with my poetry on a "bland" story book parameters under free account. Though the short goalis to lure in my students into the site as class account as interactive avenue for their own poetry in 2 weeks (such a tall order). I hope you were able to see the whole piece so far which I see is having some coherence to put up the story on its feet base don normal features (conflict, climax and resolution) which in Poetry can be easily address plus the fact that the accompanying images are limited base on the artist's inventory.. Below is the opening intro:

Here is a story
I once told to a beggar
love by a Prince
and praise by a King,
now I can share
its admiring tale.

Not long ago
across the Pacific
where sun and rain stays longer
than in other lands


The link is posted here again and still available for viewing while the admin still reviewing it.
http://storybird.com/books/9-lives-interrupted/#

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

I'm a bit confused and will return to the link address. But, I love this introduction, flows so much better, except, should it be,

Here is a story
I once told to a beggar
it was loved by a Prince
and praised by a King,
now I can share
its admiring tale.


I like the use of the word tale, you can interchange this with tail for the cat, which I suppose you were going to do anyway!
Can't wait to see the contributions of your class. :)) Do they all ahve pets? Maybe they could write about what it is like not to have a pet. Some kids are allergic, or don't have space etc, etc. I never really realised fully the love I had for my dog until it died. :( May I write a pet poem for your class?

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

Earth Mother.

Why does it hurt...
to watch a tree die?
Do I die a bit also?

Why do I feel..
for the tree..
and for me?

Are we somehow connected..
the tree and I?
And how..
pray tell?

Earth Mother,
Let's Pray...
Together.

~Mark Wickham 02/25/2014

 

SAIGON De Manila

10 Years Ago

The 'story' was disapproved and return to me by the site due to some content or language. this is the reason you cant view it anymore unless i edit it again and republished it. They think not its not appropriate to my audience..i think its on the death scene which probably is more disturbing than to those who witness and experience it (or am sending some chills on the writing effect?) whatever the reason am back on the dashboard with good humor that yes it had to be edited again fr public consumption this the thing when you attend to children's party, your responsibility to entertain and personal integrity had t be compromised. =/

Hello there Xo, Mark and to all witty wordsmiths

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

BIRD SONG POEM (Can you identify the birds by their songs?)

Where are you? Here I am.

Why don'tcha come to me?
Here I am right near you.

If I sees you; I will seize you; I'll squeeze you till you squirt.
brigadier; brigadier; briga-tee

But-I-DO-love-you.
Spring-of-the-year.

Maids-maids-maids-put-on-your-tea-kettle-ettle-ettle.
Hip; hip; hip hurrah boys; spring is here!
Madge; Madge; Madge pick beetles off; the water's hot.

too-wheee! drink-your-teeeee!
hot dog; pickle-ickle-ickle

cheer-up; cheer-a-lee; cheer-ee-o
chink

~Mark Wickham 02/26/2014

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago


Thank you Maria for your comments and sorry for not replying earlier. I am indeed working on a few projects at the moment and since I closed my Studio/Gallery in The Netherlands I am also updating my webpage to include my latest projects and to make it presentable, as I will have to seek a decent exhibition space for my works...Not much time left in the day to regular follow FAA but while your poetry thread remains I intend to visit from time to time...

Thank you again for all your positive and encouraging comments, they are very much appreciated!

Big Hug to all of YOU!!!

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Oh! and since I am here I will like to share the beautiful music of Paco de Lucía who sadly and suddenly passed away 2 days ago at the age of 66...RIP Maestro!!!

 

Kevin Callahan

10 Years Ago

It has been a long winter here in the Midwest. But the conditions did spark an image for me on a particularly cold day.

Perfect Work of Art

Through the window of my painting studio
the winter sky is framed like a fine work of art

Sycamore branches look like old bare bones
trembling in an arctic breeze
dancing on one foot shivering in nakedness

The trees are solitary not leaf nor bird for companions
alone in a cloudless sky of over mixed watercolor

I am at once struck by the stark beauty

Then the realization that I will never create
such a perfect work of art with my hands

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

kevin,
I can visualise through your words the perfect picture, you've painted it already :)) without your hands. But when you paint with your hands also you paint pictures of what no one can see, music and the personality of a figure on paper, brought alive by your hands and mind working together. I find your images of musicians full of movement through your ability to bring these musicians to life. Also some of your portraits of girls gazing over railings, very nice.
Love this stanza,

Sycamore branches look like old bare bones
trembling in an arctic breeze
dancing on one foot shivering in nakedness

and this image

Photography Printsk

 

Kevin Callahan

10 Years Ago

Thank you so much Maria.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

An echo to Philip's spider poem...or rather to the subtle space that somehow moves between the lines


Into her webbed bed
her black abdomen fell
and sprung like on some fine trampoline
whose threads caught the sun to glimmering and shimmering
amongst all of the glass, polished steel and ceramic tile.
moist beads of sticky globuled fly bait
glistened as the black spider waited
morning noon and night
hungry and wasting
licking her lips, tasting,
the air full of expectation
changing temperature, light and shadows
draughts from comings and goings.
the red kimono hanging on the door
amass with butterfly prints of every colour
but no fly wanders across the palor
of the painted walls
nor no moth seeks out this bathroom light
a pair of eyes blessed upon a pile of dust, with wings, it's plight
to find no more than a glass ball with an unobtainable moon inside.
and soon the spiders legs begin to drop
one by one
he loves me, he loves me not
the hungry spider whispers
as she falls to bits.
And as a draught blows through the door
the draped kimono limp no more
billows in the stream of air
and swarms around the globe lit room
all glass and steel and tile ceramic
and shadows from the break of light
the printed butterflies of every hue
come quite alive and flap and swoop
and the spider watches from her
dusty, half lit hammocked bed
a scene surreal
a one last perfect dream
and then to end it all
in so effortless traipes a fly
as though amongst a garden's corner
buzzing through the dreamy butterflies
and the spider follows from one eye
the last of meals before she dies
like a poet eating words
before a reader's criticise
alas the spider died in vain
and the butterflies all came to halt
and fell all dead and limp behind the door
and the stupid fly had no idea
of what he thought he saw, and didn't see at all
that death awaited but was thwarted
and no one knows what caused it.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

So take your time
unlimb it from the branch of every tree
Hide the moon behind the bridge
do not hope to feel the grass grow
between each weary toe.
Take your time
and wrap it in your favourite paper
and shove it into the dark corner
of every unused drawer
let an infestation cocoon it evermore.
Take your time
and open chained gates
that close some path of scattered light
unpick its padlock with your fingernail
until the metal melts with your lovely patience
Take your time
and smile along the long lanes that wind
wordless while the storms cry and wail
and call to poems to be thrown apart-together
even force them by the collar...
Take your time
for a walk in bad weather let it ride the waves
let sand scratch its face
tether it to a railing and laugh
hear its confession
That time is no time at all.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

That is weird.....students in school are studying poetry from a handful of classic poets. Blake is one of them. This has happened to me before without intention. It is like as though their magic lives on in a way where its whole rhythm leaves something on you after reading....like when you wake up some mornings and begin singing a song and wonder where it came from. Like the space you leave between your lines....does that make sense?

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

:)

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

My latest video as a sneak preview of my mobile phone series "T5 Art"...

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Oxo, this is a very exciting visual mix. So many great images. I love how you appear in shadow. The raw shaky camera movements add a fantastic reality aspect and some great shots like the plane caught between the blinds. I also liked the opposite directions of the ground and air traffic. If this is just a sample I look fwd to the full work. As I was watching I was thinking
I wanna do one...I wanna do one...'. Great stuff. Well done!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Just took my clay out of the draw It is rock hard. I have put it in the bath to soak it ready to create my long festering idea tomorrow. I have to begin some time. It has been in the drawer for almost a year since the ceramist from Bendigo was good enough to give it to me when I visited her gallery for the first time.
Maybe I will photograph the stages.
The idea began with a poem, I think after echoing one of Philip's or Karen's, if either of you remember please let me know. The aim was to somehow fuse the sparks from a welders rod with the stars in the sky. All of the men in my family were welders at some time, father, brothers, cousins, uncles. Their sparks came from welding iron bridges, pipelines in the north sea, to a long list of other things. So, the finished piece will represent them.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thanks lot Maria! That project of yours sounds very interesting, looking forward to see how that turns out too!!!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Someone has changed my thumbnail photo. Very clever. Wonder what the purpose of that was. Maybe we will get some new interest in poetry if they think that Tony has opened up a new thread. Watch this space :)))))))))

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

I watched the bower bird
weave her nest
in intricate complexity.
An architect
unconscious
of creative bent.
She does not care
what others think,
in her eye the Creation
is its own accolade

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

10 Years Ago

Hello Karen! You are still so good with a pen, and so is the whole gang!

Maria now you have the paintbrush avatar assigned by FAA. Hope you get that computer glitch worked out! :)

 

Vincent Von Frese

10 Years Ago

Got's my mojo work'n
Am gonna head down
That good old road

No sense in hurt'n
Got's to lighten my load

And catch a sweet & easy breeze
Sail'n through the blue green seas

South winds are a blow'n
Ya nows where I'ma go'n

And it's for dam'n certain
I Got's my Mojo work'n


Von

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

10 Years Ago

I see you now Maria. What a lovely photo of you.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Well, something worked! Thanks Glitch! Yay! karen! So good to hear from you. And new to the thread poet Von!
Kelley, I just changed the whole picture, that fixed it. :)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

My little welder guy. A work in progress.

Photography Prints Photography Prints

I have placed him in the poetry section because that is where the idea for him evolved.

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Maria, I remember that poem :) You have a knack of bringing quirky character to your art. Your little welder is full of life!

Kelley, Thank you for the kind compliment. Nice to see you back :)

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

And here's the link to the series T5 Art

http://xoanxo.com/t5_art.htm

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

For Joseph. (That date has come around again so soon)

I need to set aside
My everyday,
My work, my clay, my books my blogs,
To write to you.
We need to speak of things
I need to feel you listen,
I need to listen for something
In the emptiness
That sits between us.
You must be sick of echoes
Of riding on imagined mortal’s mists
Of being different atom’d
I am too, for you.
But I’m a sucker
For you brother
I’m a sucker
For empty hopes and dreams
Where real tears spill
Surely there’s something in that!
Something real,
More real than the past,
Than photographs.
Like answers,
Like shared jokes,
Like your hand touching mine
Telling me you’ve gone nowhere..
Far….maybe just ahead awhile….

Maria Disley 13/3/14



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

on the cool stone step
in the rain, the mad, storming, laughing rain,
with an empty mind
where no thoughts remain

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

Poems by Marilyn Monroe.

http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/07/27/marilyn-monroe-fragments-poems/

Sample:

Life –
I am of both of your directions
Life
Somehow remaining hanging downward
the most
but strong as a cobweb in the
wind — I exist more with the cold glistening frost.
But my beaded rays have the colors I’ve
seen in a paintings — ah life they
have cheated you

 

Mark Wickham

10 Years Ago

Hauntingly beautiful reading of Poe's 'The Raven'.

 

See My Photos

10 Years Ago

Tired Thoughts

I just think
Sometimes too much, too fast, or too slow
I just think
I should think more, all the time, or maybe never
I just think
I just think
I just think
Thinking is nothing, its everything, its confusing
I just think
That not thinking is the right thinking

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thinking,
the plectrum
of an unborn song.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Loved The reading of the Raven. :))) Want to read it now as the language was amazing! And Marilyn's poem:)
It was great to just sit and watch your vid. oxo. The colours, the patterns, the space, the movement, the artwork, the music...lovely.

 

Mick Donnelly

10 Years Ago

Jacques Hymn

I spent all my mind a chasing lucre
She took all my wood to her winter room
Where those who trod ahead had urge bloom
Their hips had grind her red stain lips pucker
Now's the time that I should—pluck her!!!!
In a little while that small death should loom
The one I will use to forestall my doom
The dreamless mare, the weeds, the quiet acre
How many members latex shod stood here
how many mothers angels lost innocence
To prove in vain that they are none too queer
Or feeble goons sourced their dominance
There's a disgust for us that finds no peer
Those who vent lust with such free flatulence

 

Walter Holland

10 Years Ago

I stand on the river bank

forgotten

look toward the light of the city

remembered

the water that flows

knows not my memories

but shines in my mind

like that which could be.

Art Prints

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

I took a Cosmic Journey,
languidly glued to the ground
of my Sacred Circle.
I watched the Sun spin
its kaleidoscope messages
over my eyelids,
while ravens barked their way
across the cloudless sky.

Karen Newell
3/16/14

 

Joseph J Stevens

10 Years Ago

Art Prints

Run With Me

The wild sky flashes
light here and there
as mountains dance

I awake to
thunder from horses
running

They are upon me
around me
I am with them now

Nostrils flare and steam
eyes intent
look only forward

for wild horses running
have no demons
to recall

race now
excited
into the day

yesterdays dust
still sits
on snakes

reminding them
to hide under rocks
when we are near

(c) Joseph Stevens

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago

Thanks a lot Maria & Philip!

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Handstands in the sand

balancing in a sea scene

feet in sky

blood rushes like surf

hair, brushes against grit

one memory is worth

the long wait and sit.



Yes, Philip, I recall our conversations on the welder, and the ongoing almost percolating ideas. I'm afraid hes not what I expected, yet, still a bit of work to do on him.

Great poems everyone!:) and so diverse.





 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Tomorrow
I celebrate the Vernal Equinox.
Darkness and Day hanging delicately
in equal balance.

Today
I watch the green,
creeping slowly
across the ground,
climbing up dry grasses.
The buds on branches
are puckered plump,
promising the eminent kiss
of Spring.

Karen Newell
3/19/14

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago


star thoughts
shimmer and hover like muslin in the delicate moonlit breeze
our world
your crystal ball
cosmic lady


 

Joseph J Stevens

10 Years Ago

portion of "From Time to Time"

In quiet moments
Your gravity pulls
the smolder
of countless memories

JJ Stevens

 

Xoanxo Cespon

10 Years Ago



I have just published this revised version of "El nińo y el Mar" (The child and the Sea)...



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Nice continuation of quiet moments Joseph :) ( Love using my brothers name :))
Congratulations Oxo, lovely video. I like this sea/weather theme that's running at the moment. Are you familiar with the painting 'The Boyhood of Raleigh' by Everett Milais. If you ever go to Liverpool visit the Art Gallery there it is an amazing painting to stand infront of. I spent many weekends in that gallery.Oh! Just googled it and it looks like it is in the LondonTate now.
I had a video on the go but havn't had time to work on it as I am doing a short course on Miksang photography.

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

A Family Day Out

Our parents sunbathed on the sandhills
while we dug through the deep wet slush
hoping to discover something.
water welled and welled,
we dug and dug and dug
our minds travelled
the deeper we went
the ocean bleeding
like pus from a pimple,
we turned and looked to the horizon
as though our sifting
would show some shifting
far out there.
Our fast spading
made no difference
yet, we made a leak in the beached earth
and an opening in our minds.

Maria Disley 20/3/2014



 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

When we ran barefoot, screaming,
our shrill voices clipped to the white clouds,
our mouths wide like blowholes
freeing our little caught insecurities,
wild it was,
screaming to the sea!
Our yells, swallowed by the shiny lips of various conched shells,
hair wet, and grainy like whips against our faces,
sharp grasses spiking our soles,
steering from soft, white powdered glass to hard, dark, smacking slabs of sand,
where screeching seagulls pulled at small jellied eels.
Vast, was the scene,
Between us there was not enough footage
to cover, to make our mark, which we knew by dusk would be washed away;
all prints, washed to where? We wondered.
And traipsing home felt we'd lost our grip,
swallowed by our own shadows now,
to non existence,
our arms full of soggy towels and gravelled sandals
and empty of sea air.......we'd left it there...!

Maria Disley 20/3/2014

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Happy International Forest Day!

Tree Hugger

I walk
the woods still skeletal.
Branches tipped with buds
showing the start of Spring.
I lay my cheek
against the bark
so rough and rugged.
I wait
for wisdom to be imparted
and wish
for the fairy tale to begin.

3/21/14

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

karen you could have easily taken me on that poetic journey but i could only be an observer as your connection to nature was so intimate i would have been intervening! :)))






 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

Natural Selection

I found the feathers
of a red bird hen
scattered among the cedars.
She flew too slow.

3/24/14

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

10 Years Ago

Dear Karen, Or perhaps it was just her time to go… :-)

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Camera in hand,
not looking, nor watching, just waiting
for something, anything, to speak to me,
to flash in the absence
of my sight,
to wave me down,
the blind pedestrian.

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

10 Years Ago

Dear Maria, I really enjoyed that!

 

Karen Newell

10 Years Ago

The Wailing Winds

I listen
to the Spring wind,
the blustering bellows
that rage relentlessly.
I feel sympathy
for my sisters of the past,
their sanity scattered
across the whipping grasslands.
Driven to madness
by the sweeping prairie winds.

Karen Newell
3/26/14

 

Maria Disley

10 Years Ago

Thanks Kelley.
karen you whipped up a beautiful/sad scene. I imagined large pale tumbleweeds racing across vast open spaces and hard working women dusty and weary being caught up in the blustering, but their pioneering hearts and minds keeping them grounded, like boulders. :)) A Julia Cameron image!


The step from the car
into the hot rain
the ground steaming
tiny droplets of resting rain on exhaustingly fresh flowers
my blood ran
their sap rivered
the two
were almost one
the rain seems to bring us always suddenly into the real world
and alls we can utter is
Ah!

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

10 Years Ago

Some good writing above (as always) so here's a bump.

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

And in the gap of thinking
A new world emerged
A midsummer nights dream
A flash of pure existence
Til the curtain of habit
Drew it all to a close,
and it was lost forever..til..Who knows!

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Art Prints

The joy was deep
and laughter loud
before the rain fell
from the cloud

Now, swims does summer
in the blue green depths
of cold, dead leaves,
of long reprieves

So, gaze do eyes
on rained on pools,
into deep, drowned memories
of romantic fools.

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Sell Art Online

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Beautifully presented poem Kelley. Nice description with a twist at the end!

quote. ' what you find is what you were looking for'.

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Spring, Sprung, Surprise!

While I was watching the forsythia,
patiently waiting
for that first curl of yellow,
the daffodils blossoms bloomed brilliant
behind me.

Karen Newell
4/2/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Response to a Philip Ziegler Photograph.

No one heard me,
til you passed by,
with your, 'good eye'
You may have been still
and heard me scratch my shadows on the wall,
where is uttered,
my all
in the subtle shades of my existence.

Maria Disley 3/4/14

 

See My Photos

9 Years Ago

Life's Open Letter

Unlimited queries from thy mind
Fret not one single thought
Standstill not for a moment
Live the dream and believe
Scene by scene absorb it
Taste it and dream it again
Love life hard and long
Hate never but if ever
Make it featherweight light
Minimum power and might

Craig Carter 4/3/2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Yay! i found my welder poem. Now I can continue with the sculpture.


The pipefitter pulled down his eye shield
To prevent flash burn to the retina,
Of his eyes, the camera’s of his life so far.
It was bitterly cold in the yard,
The welding equipment burnt bright
sending sparks flying like fireworks
Burning holes in his worn dark coat.
His thoughts wandered, as he fused the metals together
Fell back in time.
He worked in a bright halo of light until the sun went down
And little candles began to burn bright in the night sky
Several times he looked away from his work
To the vast black space, remembering, recalling and forgetting,
as the welding spark began to die
Its last sparks jumping around in the dust
Like the last breaths
of the old man's emphysema
Fallen stars in dust
Brought from somewhere with the wind.
Belonging once to something..someone.
Maybe from some memory
When it was real

Maria Disley 6/5/13




 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Ok Im back. Hope all are well. Great stamina everyone! Enjoyed browsing, hope the sculptor and sculpture are succeeding Maria.
Think Im back on track, wasn't managing to write much poetry for a while . Who knows. Hello, bonsoir and good days to all :-).


In some uncertain place.. half adrift... the mind awakens...


Echoes Within


Uncertain is the bell… that tolls
The echoes of within
It's ring, so slow, so deep…

Awakened twitches… … the sleeping hand?

It moves within, such sights, unseen
A quiet lumbered peace



Uncertain smiles… caught the breeze
People slept sedate, so ill at ease
Un slept..
… . slept…
While she gazed…


But sighing, woken sighs
The unsure grimace, from within
A conscience changed
Unslept now, was this peace, a moment changed…


Eyes awoken
Yet cloaked by endless sleep
Upon this mind
A touch was felt…

Some brief mystique…


Finding distant smiles
As dew, a drop
Wets the paper land…



© Jason Christopher
7th April 2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Hi Jason
Good to see you've woken from that mysterious place, see anyone else there? I've been there back and forth myself a bit, and was just composing a poem about it while resting between a new regime of exercises, well it is holiday time here and thats the best time for me to start, not saying it will last though.
Your poem was very tender and honest, there was a rawness about absence, which i was trying to compose in my head.
I think the good thing is that we know that we have been absent from something which we know is good for us.

The poem I started.

The shadows under the table are long and still
unlike my will,
which cowers,
both are deep,
and full of sleep
but one is made by light
while the other
hides from it.

Just re-read your poem its amazing...like frankenstein waking!

 

Puzzles Shum

9 Years Ago

Every moment you close your eyes is a moment were you have the power to freeze time

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Hi Puzzles,
Yes,I agree, then life happens :) your mind constantly wanting to experience it.

 

Puzzles Shum

9 Years Ago

The world is small but your tiny finger tips will fill the cracks in my heart. Its hard living life with a voice in my head. I choose to fight in order to make it alive. We may like our candy but it does not take away the sweetness in your voice. In this moment that I am stuck in ,so pleas hold me as my tears turn into feathers to give me wings to fly were you are...................

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Hey Maria, absence is a place to think about, keep going on it, I was inspired by Phillips image of an artificial hand last year and my "Substitute hand" poem from last year kind of was in mind... a surreal experience felt.... amongst that, a place we all retreat to, or probably drop into like a brick.... a place of absence or a pit of anguish and sorrow, a place to climb out of. and slowly half awaken from... in a confused state of joy and sadness perhaps :-) Frankenstein awakens is very evokative and tantalising hmmm where is Meredith lol... Nice one Puzzles, like your writing. Had an echo to Karens poems on the equinox but it went bizarre, strange that, something else on the rise of Spring below. Perhaps next equinox we shall greet the solar king... who knows... aparitions or dreams.. a life beyond... Great listening to Kimbi mr Wickham! and you obviously have more to post! Lots of new and old faces , great to see em back...


Sell Art Online

(re-posting)
Substitute hands


I slept
My hands with me
Many
Twitching
Murmurs of the hidden mind

Twitch



Summer sun shines
My window opens...

As I tap the keys
My finger extends
Into the voids



A hand taps the keys
....A substitute hand?



©Jason Christopher
8th April 2014

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

the rise of Spring from the pit of Winter...


Solace

I find solace on this lonely night
When the air was thin
And lungs failed to find the air I need
In cold frayed and nervous speech
I ask the guardians of the gate
Why are the metallic miseries enclosed with thee?
These fates of gates
Imprison me
Am i slime?
Am i discoloured, flaying skin?
Am i alone?
In this gated hole from where i cannot see
Nor live to be?

As waters flow
I rise up
A floating lily
And see the rays of God sent light
As humble bees make known to Spring
The rise of God
Is here
with
Thee

©Jason Christopher
8th April 2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

The sun shone through the window
Eight light minutes away
I look at the sun
I look into the past
I am in my moment
It is autumn
The autumn moon
One light minute away
I watch the past
Shine down
This autumn night
I am in my moment
No weather dictating

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

I am putting this to you
Falling into absence
Is not dark but light
Not winter but spring
Not absence as we know it
But pure essence as we feel it
Absence is the gap between thoughts
The rest from habits known
The light of unknown

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

What great words Maria, filled my heart in this moment...

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Auspicious Week

Mars, Earth and Sun
in cosmic alignment today.
A planetary prequel
to the Pink Moon Lunar Eclipse.
I celebrate,
dancing in the Solar Wind.
I laugh,
we are flying through the Fluff
into an awakening
of the Aquarian Mind.


Karen Newell
4/8/14

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Hi Karen, My mars is in conjunction with my natal sun in the eleventh house, both in Libra, so I'm not completely undiplomatic with that configuration (hence the sign of Libra). I have four earth planets…I won't even mention my tenth or twelfth house…..but my moon is in Taurus, which is in it's exaltation….:-) Nice to see you here!!!

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

I don't know any of that stuff! just that i'm a Gemini. I stopped reading star signs when I realised i could make any of them relate to me. I realise your knowledge kelley, is a bit more astronomically based, but still I don't know all the myths behind where the stars are situated at a certain time.

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Nice one Maria, tricky to write about absence, astrology im weak on too Kelly.. lots going on up there though...
the essence of being is surely to accept the spaces of...
sorry i lost those words lol... something unprofound.. lost... anyways back on the chit chat...
consciousness is not continuous i once read.. there are gaps within each moments of partial seconds in which the conscious awareness of "being" may not be present, these are excised by the mind... ( i guess) to create our continuous perception of being always there... but we're not... we're elsewhere.. no where... somewhere else perhaps



the greatest words on -

Absence... ?








"I am always with you until the end of time".

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Absence, so difficult to write about...



The Absence


















©Jason Christopher
9th April 2014

 

Susan Sadoury

9 Years Ago

Hands
magic hands caress
like silk on silk through the night
feeling safe you soothe my soul
hearts delight
tenderness and caring break though walls
finding love and light


3/90

 

Susan Sadoury

9 Years Ago

Goodbye
Life to Life
Soul to Soul
Love to Love
Always we Know
Oh But I Miss You So


5/02

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Your absence
has a presence
of its own.
I glance up
because I feel
the pressure
of you.
Pressing ever
against my mind.
Gone, then gone.
I keep forgetting.
Your absence.

Karen Newell
4/9/13

 

Anthony Sheardown

9 Years Ago

The sky is blue;
My blood is red;
Sometimes I feel I'd rather be dead;
A slit to the wrist;
A bullet to the head;
The last time I lay asleep in my bed;

sorry for such a sad poem :$

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Welcome aboard Susan and Anthony!
I did write a very long reply to you all but it vanished and I couldn't retrieve it. Had to let it go! Maybe I will try again later or maybe it wasn't meant to be.:))
Anthony love the purity of your photography!!!

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Art Prints

Kelley Lee McDonald

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Dear Anthony, We all can feel that way, stick around here with us sad writers and feel better! :-)

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Ha ha Kelley, that comment made me laugh. What would we do if humour was absent!!??

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Well what can I say, being in your head all the time can make you feel like a genius, or bruise your knees when you collapse in a sea of tears ready to die (which I do at least once a month, a little less lately!!!) Anthony, come on back, we want you here!!!!

Added thought: Maria, A kiss for you in great gratitude!

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

life is emotional
life is emotional
life is a moment
life is yet another moment
life is gone, but I am not


For weary travelers

Kelley Lee McDonald 4/14

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Fear comes,
a dense fog
that mires the Heart
with the darkness of this world.
The Soul is stripped bare there.
Brought to its knees.
Alone in the wilderness,
searching for solace in Divine Love.
Calling us to reach up
and redeem our smile.

Karen Newell
4/10/13

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Karen! :-)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Tom Dickson

9 Years Ago

beware the
lion who licks
your face, he
doesnŐt lick to
greet you, he
licks to make
the pleasure
last, it wonŐt
and then heŐll
eat you

dkzn

 

Tom Dickson

9 Years Ago

don't plan to
lose my staying
power while
toying with the
cauliflower and
never make it
to the pie, be
found with
turnip on my
tie Ń no
thanks, I'm
going to start
with pie and,
later on, should
I survive, to
celebrate that
I'm alive, I'll
count my
blessings for a
spell, then
finish off with
pie as well

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Philip can you resend I couldn't get the link to work. Thanks. And whats going on? Absent without poetry!!!! :)))
Hello Tom, love the humour and the warnings!! Love your 'snapshots' and cow sitting! and it was good to read your biog. Glad you were able to work with your talent. What kind of writing do you do apart from poetry?
Jason although i wrote in depth about your poem and ideas on absence and lost it all, i can't ignore the fact that your poetry blows me away. I love how close you get to the moment, as it were, as we are all discussing in some way at the moment!
karen, I want to revisit your latest post, it felt so steeped in explosive energy.
Good luck with college Anthony, be careful not to lose that spontaneity that is evident in your photography now, it is beautiful. Maybe if you feel that you want to write something less sad, although there's no requirements on this thread, you could write in response to some of your photographs. Just an idea as a source of inspiration, although you may not need any. Great to have you here.
I agree kelley absence does not necessarily mean goodbye, but there is a time to let go.

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

So,
i
let
it
go,
clear my present mind of it,
live in the moment,
when I can,
but y'know,
those goodbyes,
can return with a force
like some lost rocket
veering around in space.
Space!
just the junkyard of goodbyes.

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

The Imaginal cells
course through my body,
through my mind.
A metamorphosis of life.

Karen Newell
4/10/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

The leaf unfolds
spreads wide, long, small, straight curled..
no rush,
it is pale, its vivid, it blushes, it yellows and browns, it falls
though sun and rain supplement growth
it bushes and ruffles and rustles and hangs on
no, I imagine it hanging on in the wind, for dear life
it, blows, it continues,
as the man said, 'it does not hurry but it accomplishes'
Am I a leaf?
So brief, my life?
I can't be sure that the leaves don't watch me
that nature doesn't laugh
that animals avert my gaze in shame,
at my rushng headlong into everything
at my trying to match the dots
colour in the spaces
collapse at night
but continue to dream eyes closed
Are my closed eyes trying to tell me something?

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Tree of Life

My leaf is turning
on the Tree of Life.
Cycling through
Spring and Summer
into Autumn.
Maiden, Mother,
into Crone.
I am serene
in this last, long season.
Striking color of wisdom
flowing through my veins,
a final burst of beauty
before I release
and blow away.

Karen Newell
4/11/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Beautiful Karen. :)
Philip, I remember the eaglets when you showed them way back, great that you are following their lives. I found the videos but didn't
Know which one you had, there are many different eagles being watched now.

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Cheers Maria, its been a really nice n early Spring here, loads a sun this past month and a harf, daffodil bloomed early March, love daffodils, cheery blossoms out in Feb, that sort of thing, Well i hope everyone is more upbeat (just like me) Explosive poetry can feel good Anthony. Put another one up if you like. That was a funny on Tom, putting me in the mood for more nonsence to come. Got an exploding cow poem from last year somewhere.
Saw the eagle feed her chicks, the wind was howling, she flew off for 3 mins then came back with a rodent burger lunch. The seagulls dont catch fish anymore, its either batterd cod and chips by the pier, or they sit on ponds eating goldfish. I guess they think like humans now. they will be using pond nets next and asking for salt n vinegar too.lol. what was that? oh..

Everthing seems untitled. so i cant refer to them except by reference indexs of above5 or position 84 etc lol. er i will stfu.

Echo to Karens Tree of Life and Marias poem at 4 above.


(repost)
AUTUMN TREE OF LIFE

Golden were the leaves
Of the Angelic tree of eternal youth
Weeping her tears of sorrow and joy
For as they fell
Each leaf whispered a truth
Unto the flowing stream …
The stream of flowing silver blood
That fed the failing Earth
and men of ancient life…

Immortal were the tears
From souls
Who cried for
Each leaf that fell
Upon the Earth below…
She smiled and wept her leaves away
Waiting for the return of Spring
The return of light
Of truth
Of love
And joy

So wept the youthful Autumn Tree
The Angel of eternal beauty…
The Angel of eternal golden youth
The youth that now lives within.



©Jason Christopher 2013

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

The Four Horsemen Arrive

The first Full Moon Eclipse of the Tetrad
occurs this night.
The fourth Tetrad in 500 years.

Blood Moon in Libra.
Calling for release.
The cleanse of what has accumulated
on the dark side of the scale.
A rebalance of Spirit.

Sun in Aries.
Ready to rise and forge forward.
Dashing the dreamy darkness
with a new found fervor.

Launch
from the tipping Scale
ready to ride the New Age.

Karen Newell
4/14/14

This ‘blood moon’ will produce a dark red Total Eclipse, visible through North America and western South America. The event also marks the beginning of a lunar eclipse tetrad, a series of four total lunar eclipses occurring at six-month intervals:

April 15, 2014 (25° LIBRA)

October 8, 2014 (15° ARIES)

April 4, 2015 (14° LIBRA)

September 28, 2015 (5° ARIES)

These tetrads don’t occur regularly and not very often at that. There has only been three tetrads in the last 500 years, and on each occurrence major events have happened in world history, particularly to Jewish people…

The first Tetrad since the Middle Ages, in 1493, saw the expulsion of Jews by the Catholic Spanish Inquisition, which rocked western Europe.
The second coincided with the establishment of the State of Israel – after thousands of years of struggle – in 1949.
Strangely, the last one occurred in 1967 – far earlier than expected – precisely at the time of the Six-Day Arab–Israeli War.
Since the next tetrad of blood moons will coincide on Jewish holidays (Passover & the Feast of the Tabernacles) we will be watching affairs in Israel with great interest during these times.

http://www.cosmicintelligenceagency.com/2014/04/libra-blood-moon-total-lunar-eclipse-25lib16-15-april-0742ut/

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

What a great echo Jason! kept rereading the whispering leaves line. Iwas reminded of nothing ever dying but continuing in some other form including youth! Your imagery makes me want to paint. Although we are wading fastly through autumn here in Melbourne, the sun is shining and it could be mistaken for an English Spring Day. So, it is.
Interesting karen about the blood moon, I was reading about it the other day and meant to get my camera on the ready, but forgot! Did you take a photo! Interesting too about the events that follow or intercede one!
I will beginto title my poems as I didn't think about the echoing. Glad you were able to take something from the poem Jason. I really enjoy the fact that echoing can be the thing that gives birth to a new poem/idea :))))

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Blood Moon Eclipse

I sit in the starry silence
watching the Earths shadow
slide across the face of the Moon.
When her countenance is covered
the owls begin their call and response
and the coyotes sing.
A cosmic concerto.

Karen Newell
4/15/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

What a great scene described! :)))

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Completely forgot to take a good look at the moon last night, I think I glimpsed briefly it was a full moon, low in the sky; was looking out for the space station, it was over head at ~9.04pm as scheduled. Never managed to see it so clearly before as there are so many dozens of planes and dots moving in the skies above London, besides the clouds.

Bet they have a good view up there of there of these cosmic happenings . Wonder if they will have a laser show for us one day lol, guess its too far up and not really a prime objective.. guess they could aim at a cloud or something to make it light up and glow… hm… wonder if they could burst clouds for us every Winter over the Atlantic!! Help reduce our rainfall and flooding!! I’m sure we’d assist if it was viable. Thought I was thinking nonsense, but low and behold, its actually been thought about already. Probably a scale beyond reach though... is it?
http://www.foxnews.com/scitech/2011/08/30/lasers-could-be-used-to-control-rain-scientists-say/


Good luck with the painting Maria!

Got my 2nd poetry Ebook out on Kindle Amazon.


Lake of Swans Poetry E-book

Of The Blood Red Moon


An Earth and Moon

A moments, paused

Unseen, A spirit speaks

A moon listens, 4 turned blood red
A rising of the ancient dead?

As earth sleeps…

Unheard

Unseen
Floating spirits dream…

Which place is this?
As planets wait…
Which is this dawn?
Where is this time of gates?

The solar king speaks…


©Jason Christopher 2014



 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Listening to two young musicians yesterday I woke with the beginnings of this poem in my head.

Like Summered Roads

And I am wondering how you sweet birds of youth have come to harmonise
And thinking of those rough sounds I spill
Like from a first rock that fell and scraped to the ground rolling, tumbling and breaking
Yours must have run through the clear streams way back then
Bubbling and gulping in its new ancientness, being carried still in the crisp ripples,
Which quiver and shiver in the unsuspecting air, like leaping fish learning to fly from flowing rivers.
I see you slung with your guitar shimmering in the air like summered roads, a journey unfolding.
Birds! Your joy-language fills my head with beliefs I try to take to bits, the sounds seem to bind beginning gifts, yet open up the world!
Couched on your branch, so easily, warbling, sweet vibratos shimmering invisibly before me
Like summered roads.
The harmonies stirring first buried sounds of first rocks that still havn’t reached the water.

Maria Disley 17/4 2014



 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Art Prints

Cousin

In the light from the terraced window
her hair bathed.
Her father's hands pulled the comb through
I could only feel the spittle ooze from my seething mouth
as her face twisted, I sucked it up.
Like dragging a rake over a dockyard rope,
He laughed with his large mouth and heavy shoulders
Making light out of something that should be simple but wasn't.
I felt the scalp, tent away from the skull, it was agony to watch.
Her eyes full of tears not allowed to fall in a pile of childish, female, wimpery.
When the deed was done, her throbbing scalp rested, with our exhausted empathy,
Having felt each pull and drag in its entire immensity of fruiting childish minds,
We smiled then, at her flowing hair, thick and dark like polished chestnuts glinting through glass leaves.
The pains on our faces turned in the flips of skipping ropes and races to the park, our long hair
flaying softly at our waists of thin cottoned dresses and, the sound of laughter in the air.
I pronged my hair, secretly untangling fingerly any trace of snares.

Maria Disley 17/4/2014

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

felt those prongs Maria! well executed, what ever that means lol but it was
loved Summered roads, real magical quality to it! wondering down a Summer road...

this one is about... Good Friday...




The Wood of One Tree

The wood of one tree 
upon this earth
may bend this land
to carry both 
sinners
you and me

Relenting were the fibres
its sap had bled
hunched down
it weeped 
as the fragile world splintered

One tree may carry me
Your soul too,  it tethers
upon this weeping land

This tree was bred
to carry 
One death to holiest sanctuary

As the nail struck
His blood wept upon the land

The wood of our ancestors 
became this place 
a place for the entire, Human race...

Again the nail struck

And again... the metal hammer cried!


As the nail struck his vocal cords...

a shrill note was cast upon the land
and a voice was  heard within...
As the Great Spirit moved upon the Earth...

One Great Spirit cried
as lightning struck 
the sound of hearts thunder
as the wood fired 
to light the midnight sky

Ressurect!
i heard divine spirits chant 
in foreboding magical tunes

A flight of eternal swans
lit up the empty tomb

The wood of one tree
shall carry sinners
both you, our world
and me

Our faiths of one, are one
from the light reborn
and carried on one Eternal Tree!

One Eternal Tree for all!
all faiths at one with One
The final, divine and holiest  call...

At judgment, this Tree of Light, shall speak
upon which our souls may hang...


(c) Jason Christopher 
18th April 2014

i be off for a short while now, no need to ban me as i am expunging myself ...
self imposd exile...







Lake of Swans Poetry kindle Ebook

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Jason I tried to buy your book for my kindle and it wouldn't let me, there was no price.
Very moving poem above. I don't think you get banned for any kind of religious content just damning comments, isn't it? Jesus christ is also a historic figure.

A flight of eternal swans
lit up the empty tomb

And again... the metal hammer cried! Wow! Really felt that!

very evocative lines. Imagining the white swans lighting up a tomb, was very visual and transient, like a flash! Like a miracle.
Thanks for sharing.

 

SAIGON De Manila

9 Years Ago

Jason,

This is so powerful :

A flight of eternal swans
lit up the empty tomb


loving it ,,and remembering our "Legend of the Fly"" with Maria.
the metaphysical translation is so haunting and compelling really.

Our faiths of one, are one
from the light reborn
and carried on one Eternal Tree!


Two thumbs up and hat tip to your latest work!

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Vanished

because I did not seek attention
my name was seldom ever mentioned
in the presence of those I love most
somehow I became a ghost
like a tourist at weddings and wakes
believing my presence a big mistake
like some useless item on a shelf
I tired introducing myself
a lottery ticket struck me rich
and my fortune on everyone"s lips
relatives looked for me everywhere
their only wish my money to share
wealth allowed this ghost to disappear


Thanks to Roy Orbison

I kissed her forehead while she was asleep
Then, like a phantom upon her dream I did peek
I saw her in the arms of another man
and closed my eyes to her dreamscape land
Back in our bed with her still in deep slumber
I reasoned it only a dream , but had to wonder
The candy-colored clown they call the Sandman did appear
Roaring with laughter he said with great cheer
"Serves you right, for going there".


 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Great words Billy, I think these words are universal! First one was very moving. I think we have all felt like a ghost, but I suppose the effect of this on a person depends on how much. the said person felt like a ghost. I saw it happen and felt it in the big families of long ago. Love Roy Orbison and his haunting voice. Thanks for posting.
Don't give up the ghost.

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Billy reminded me of a night when we all went to see a Roy Orbison show in the 80's. We took my grandmother who had listened to him on the radio when she was much younger, she had never seen him, only pictures of him, and thought he was blind due to the dark glasses. We as kids used to spend weekends with her after my grandfather died just to fill in some lonely gaps, and we would spend hours learning the lyrics and playing the vinyl records over and over again. At the show, where Roy was played by his double, she was in another place another time, where she wished to be, with my grandfather, and it was unforgettable.

http://youtu.be/r6Xj72bP0To

Thanks again Billy!

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Whats your favourite Orbison song and why? :)

 

Abbie Shores

9 Years Ago

death surrounds us and makes us hers
everyone in black and crying aloud as the music plays
papers rustle, throats clearing as the eulogies read
weeping through the black lace and sickly sweet smell of the lilies
heart pounding loudly in my ears drowning out the words
trying to awake from nightmares in a woken world
wanting time to STOP. turn back the clock to yesterday
to feel you again and hold you close keeping you alive with wishes
not once but thrice this year already
saying goodbye to loves
is that too much or can we take more?
how much black velvet can one wear in a year
how many lilies grow across the earth
how many more curtains do we watch closing, taking them away

death surrounds us and makes us hers
and all we can do is watch

EDIT
In Loving Memory
Julian died February 2014
Ron died March 14
Max died April 2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Tears pricked the back of my eyes reading this Abbie. I often wonder where we get the strength x

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

This gives me the shivers
http://youtu.be/TLXGoBPOQ_s

I suppose we have lonliness to thank for all the great sounds that were made because of it. :))
Is it possible to celebrate, ghosts and lonliness? I don't know but this music is about it and yet brings you out of it.

http://youtu.be/banXBD7x5mI

 

Abbie Shores

9 Years Ago

I don't know that we always do, yet. Time will tell

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

You're doing all the right things Abbie, good luck, you're needed

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

share this with me Abbie :)

http://youtu.be/-7j3S1xXipM

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Does it seem to come in threes,
that knock of Death on legends door?
Are we ever ready to release
those we treasure, though we know
this plane is terminal?
All of the knowledge
and love we gain
seems so futile
as the dark finger scrapes
across our wounded heart.

Sending you blessings and peace Abbie

 

Peter Harley

9 Years Ago

You sit in silence, the pain burning in your writers
mind. You wonder why, you try to create magesty,
but you're trapped in a horrible bind. The blank
page taunts you, you want to give up. But I will set
you free. The beauty of moonlight oceans, the dark
skies of winter I will help you find.

Tears fall from your beautiful eyes, the world
demands. I will show you emerald skies, the
people will watch you soar from the stands. If
you fall into the abyss, I will pick you up, I will
show you incredible bliss. Those says of sorrow
and wanting, you will not miss.

Feel the love flow through your mind. See the
passion in your dreams. Let go of the anger, be
compassionate and kind. The beautiful forest
calls, hear the owls, touch the leafs, smell the
air, taste the dew, see the old ancient pine.
Smile in happiness as your soul beams.

Feel the deep pain, embrace the burning sorrow.
They broke your heart, they abandoned you to
the cold. Use that passion for your gain, build a
better tomorrow. Let freedom be your start, don't
be afraid of being bold

Look into your child’s eyes, hug the person who
is your tender prize. See your mother, the one
gave you life. Let go of the pain, abandon the
terrible strife. Let the words flow from you, know
they sing, know your beauty is real and true.
Know they will call your name, they won't ask who.
I do not lie, I am here, stare deeply into my eyes
so blue
Thanks,

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

My favorite Roy Orbison song : "In Dreams I walk with you".. I like the intro to this song-"go to sleep , everything will be alright". Great voice . A true great one.

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Tears

Tears are all the empty spaces
falling from windows on people's faces
Laughter, sorrow, beginning, end
tears come calling like a sweetheart's best friend
Fathers,mothers,daughters and sons
a river of tears cried for every one
80 percent of us water
a pinch of stardust to make our mortar
We stand fragile,we stand proud
Racing vessels with sails crying out loud
Tears cross the lines that time creates
to bring out the light and sorrow erase

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Love it when I come back from being busy with other things to read posts, and emails from people reading posts but maybe not adding to the posts.
Karen great stuff I think you are inspiring newcomers!:))

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Lots of great poems lately. I always love to see everyone's words :))
Looking through some old posts and wanted to repost this one

The Poetess

For hours she sits,
the Poetess,
alone in her dreamy world.
Weaving a tapestry
of consciousness.
Ink upon paper,
curling clusters of words,
waiting to be deciphered
by a wandering kindred soul.

Karen Newell
10/18/13

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Yes,I remember this one very well! :) Hello Peter!
Nice lines Billy, so visual.

'Tears are all the empty spaces
falling from windows on people's faces'

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Ha ha :) I just noticed to day is Earth Day eve, Earth Day is tomorrow. Oh well, every day is a Holyday to me :)

Earth Day

Today
I celebrate our home.
Beautiful blue and green orb
circling through space.
The molten heart of our Mother
birthing creation over the eons.
Ever awe inspiring
I bow and honor your glory!

Karen Newell
4/21/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Earth! Breathe..
With me...
I apologise for my hefty foot
my sharp heel,
But, maybe after work,
if the rain stops, quenches your thirst,
I will strutt softly shoeless
along the green hairs of your skin
make them stand on end
as we connect,
skim in the sandiness of your dropped shellac scales
left in the sink of your watery craters,
Roll down your backboned, hilly curves
and around your bends and corners swerve...
breathe with me earth!
There'sbeen no wide berth
between us
from beginning to end,
for me,
You're all I have,
You carry us all,
and everything we then carry,
I've dug large holes and grown magnolias in your pores
and bridged your parted lips, even rolled hot tar across your hips,
and thought no more of it.
But its your Birthday, Earth day,
My feet, with which you are best accustomed to
meet you now with, softness and silence, and gratitude and suppliance.



 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Beautiful Maria! I love to strut softly shoeless across the green hairs of Earths skin:))

Manifested through
Molten Red Core.
Born of Blue
and Green,
of Dirt, Stone,
Water and Sky.

Over Your Body
We scramble.
Building and Being,
Living, Loving, Hating.
Evolving from Survivor
to Creator.

Our Baby Creations
of Heart
and Hand
haven't yet met
the Glory of
Our Divine Expectations.

Through Awareness
We Enlighten

 

Kevin Callahan

9 Years Ago

Trippin’ on sunshine

While about my simple task
I tripped on a ray of sunshine

Catching a shape in the corner of my eye I stumbled
Looking back I saw only sunshine on the carpet

I laughed at my silliness on this fine spring morning
The daffodils are in bloom, trees are budding, birds are singing

It is a fine day to trip on some sunshine
and fall into the future

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Tripping on sunshine! Sounds great to me Kevin
Been a lot of good posts as of late, enjoyed reading them, even if the days and thoughts are sad, the poems pluck those strings to sound the tunes within

Shakespeare is 450 today!!
What a life he’s had! Here’s some reading
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/theatre/william-shakespeare/10777409/Shakespeares-450th-birthday-Now-all-the-world-is-his-stage.html

It’s also St George’s Day, Patron Saint of England.

Now you have to be brave and bold, and asking for it, to post a poem on this doubly auspicious occasion…
So all u readers, go for it! lol


For the glory of St George…
A herald to triumph the new music of Spring!

I do love huge rivers of daffodils, especially as they emerge from all the floods and cold of Winter




The Herald of Spring - The Daffodil

Oh golden cloak, this wondrous flower
The Winter slain, the cold devoured…
Gold with green, flowers rise, flowers waiting to be seen…

Upon this boisterous blowing day, this early budding Spring
In fields of grass, bellowed winds of stirring March
The swaying falters into calm, as rested colours hymn
Daffodils trumpet!! On parks and graveyards by the church
As breezes gust, the stirring stems again now sway and lurch

A song was heard, calling pilgrims into fields
Daffodils upon this puddled lawn, riverbanks and wettest grass
An overspill from flooded Spring, washed in vast and unconcealed
The Daffodil, Prince of Spring, heralds trumpets blast!!
A Spring time court stands proud, with true Majestic cast

A wonder of the grandest Spring-time making
Full bloom in March upon the parks and lawns of green
Triumph so mild and bold, grandeur in no mistaking
For just a week or two, golden- yellows daffodils, flower to be seen
Colours homage grandest Spring, flowers rise for Summer’s Queen

We honour this Herald, oh golden-yellow Daffodils
Upon the lawns and parks, amongst the Spring-time green
This time of Homage, made bold, this golden cloak, most serene!!

©Jason Christopher
23rd April 2014

 

Kevin Callahan

9 Years Ago

Oh golden cloak, this wondrous flower
The Winter slain, the cold devoured…

Wonderful imagery. I do not have any poems about England but how about Ireland?

Ancestors

I traveled to County Cork
to lay my head on
the sacrificial rock
of the Druids

Under a 2,000 year old tree
I lay upon the alter
that holds the blood of
my long dead ancestors

The blood of the Druids
and the tribes
of the wild Bogheraghs
flows through me

I am a sacrifice to no one
But
in 2,000 years
I will be gone

The Druid rock will survive

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Bees

The snow is gone, now the rain showers.
Bees are back, they arrive with flowers.
Bees all busy from blossom to hive.
Their only purpose to survive.
Heavenly bodies on a galactic merry-go-round
sent a spark of light bright and profound.
This light ignites the flame of life
that illuminates our joy and strife
Bees at work care not for such things
Planets in space are not their imaginings
The universe the Bees behold
is a meadow of flowers with petals exposed
Laden with pollen they lift to the sky
So give them room when they fly by
Little Lotharios with a magic touch
They bring forth the seeds
we need so much

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Out of curiosity Philip I am wondering why numbers very often figure in your poems?

 

Linde Townsend

9 Years Ago

one for autumn here in the antipodes

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

'The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.

'The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

William Blake

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Morning Commute

I listen
to the rain hit
on the roof of my car.
Great gully washing gusts
blowing across the land.
The electric, illumination of lightning
strikes shocks through my driving senses.
As the dawn breaks
dappled, grey upon grey,
I see
the green has raced across the ground
and the bones of the trees turned bushy
overnight.

Karen Newell
4/24/18

 

Ed Meredith

9 Years Ago

Hi all... Karen's "Morning Commute" reminded me of...

Groundhog Day:

4 AM...
three years
same bus ride
day in day out
felt like that movie Groundhog Day
only i didn't get to learn something
and when i resurrected each day
i was that much older
so no fringe benefits

i was one of the five passengers
who rode this line every morning
never saw their faces
or even knew they had one
or cared

the lighting in the bus sucked too
florescent with that sickly green tint
makes everybody
look like ambulatory corpses
zombies
especially at that time of the morning
when we're all half dead anyway

the tires
made bone crushing sounds
as they rolled
over the icy snow
littering our path

the bitter frozen wind
forced it's way inside
causing the plastic seats
and metal grab rails
to be even colder than cold
it felt like riding in a refrigerator
and i paid two bucks for this

feeble heat
coming from the vents
was just that
feeble
and cruel
my toes began to complain
so i wrote a poem...
and titled it:

"4 AM Bus Ride, an Observation ":

Round brown graying bald man with tufts of black hair sprouting from his ears awakened long enough to yawn and look out the window of the speeding bus to see the gated shops too early for their keepers to open
His heavy lidded eyes return blank and close as he nestled deep into his scarf and oversized coat against the cold... slipping back into his comfortable sleep

Ed Meredith
February 2nd

 

Kevin Callahan

9 Years Ago

Ed, I can not say when I have enjoyed a poem more. Kudos to your observational skills.

The Madonna of the Train

She sleeps without care
of one without sin
this Madonna of the Train

Surrounded by hundreds
traveling to the city of millions

The multitude boards silently
eyes downcast empty
hands clutching clutter and caffeine

Settling into spaces like so many ghosts
the inevitable query is lofted

“Does this train go to New York?”

Inevitable answer is batted back
“It better be, I am.”

Quiet laughter, then
“Yes, this is the train to New York.”

GOD SPEAKS:
“Next stop Orange.
Only stop before New York Penn Station”

Read, sleep, rock with the rhythm,
the Madonna sleeps on

GOD INTONES:
“Next stop New York Penn Station
take your clutter, mind the gap.”

The Madonna awakens
the multitude becomes energized

We stride into Penn Station and are beatified
in the light of a new, New York morning

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

A shrill whistle echo of wonderful words above. Karen although yours was not about trains it was amazing! Today is Anzac Day in Australia and so I can't help but imagine all the partings and welcomings of soldiers and families, not just in Australia but my hometown of Liverpool and Limestreet station. A soldier is a soldier.


Limestreet Station

Racing down the subway, laughing, echoes getting tangled in my hair
Aware, of the mystery of the night before
as odd abandonments lean against the drumming walls
a shoe, some cigarette stubs, a lone bottle
which suddenly decides to fall and spin at my feet.
There's two worlds happening
my girlish chatter, and the collage of the endless echoing subway
sucking us through to the light at the end of the capsuled walkway
the reverabations of soles on concrete, running through the scared world
but at once, excitement flaring in our words, our inexperienced language, while running for the train.
Like genies in a bottle, the air whispering with images of things we didn't know, but only heard
and then we spill out onto the station's stairs, another world again, where steel glinting wheels were waiting.
Impatient were trains, confident in their early sojourns, refusing to wait, 'no excuses for lateness' its huge round clock says ruthlessley.
Yet everyone was rushing.
Their tracks were like maths, patterns that could switch without warning, destinations seemed tentative, had me nervous as we were shook around like double sixes.
If there hadn't been such covert watching, passing of quick glances, mind reading from ghostly window reflections,I could have written about the characters but I didn't.
The window lenses gave me images in bursts of black and white, fast flashes, fleeting sketches of glass ghost faces from other passengers in other trains.
And at last the garbled voice that seemed to echo the sign that read 'Limestreet' on the foggy, busy platform through the vignette window.
The carriages emptied us, cargoed us, with no ties, the separation was cold, bold, I remember thinking as I got caught up among the million feet.
'Limestreet' another station with a history, and ghosts that smoked across your calves, another world, of comings and goings, of meetings, of leavings, in peace time, in war time, in all seasons, of endings and beginnings.





 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Keep revisiting this poem of Philip's. 'Tied to the land', that line is so solid, and yet the poem allows release, and yet in that release, whether through death, loss or the recycling of life, we are reminded of how everything is tied to the land. There is no undoing. 'Time is not immortal'...I feel that you point out that it is in fact very short lived, from seed to maturity; whatever that is,different things to different people, and then back to the beginning to begin again. Then that very personal touch.....'you once said you are........again' Obviously I have no idea of your reference to 183 times, but yes, I can see how the numbers add to the solidity. I'm left with the feeling that nothing gets lost as everything is too connected to the land that we need not fear loss, even though time is not immortal everything else is in some way. I think I have said this before but your poems are like puzzles, its good to look at all the pieces and find the best fit for me! And let it go if some pieces are missing! :)


Tied to the land
the seeds all grown
and dead again
Time is not immortal,
you once said you are:
183 times from now
Your dress unworn
and red again

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

The dog barks in the sunlight chorus of passing cars, and burr of motorbikes,
from behind the gate.
Upstairs the sounds through a house's glass, subconciously measures as,
40 feet maybe, well, it feels four tall men deep.
This midday music fraily slivers, finally filters through trees, glass and gauze to an ear.
It takes time for the image to be delivered, distracting minds from word specifics.
The dog intervenes, wriggles through the gaps in my mind, where there was thought none, where no one looked.
and like the opening and flattening of the page's spine, revealed, another world not mine.



 

Abbie Shores

9 Years Ago

Tears not dried
brain still fried
day and night combined
sobbing words
with morning birds
misery underlined
please come home
Im all alone
I need you more each day
heart in pain
cry again
now you've gone away

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

sobbing words
with morning birds


Very strong imagery Abbie and defining moment of grief when eveything is juxtaposed. The beauty of nature and the living and the unhappiness of living it without that someone:(
Morning birds are full of hope :))

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

I espied a lonely lady who's silver tears fell
until they formed a crystal sea.
Her heavy heart is brimming pain
and she cannot find the gossamer wings
meant to set her free.

Karen Newell
4/25/14

 

Abbie Shores

9 Years Ago

Not seeing it yet, Maria, but one day soon hopefully


Lovely Karen

 

Dika Manlangit

9 Years Ago

Beyond eyes that could sight,
Beyond hand that could draw;
Is the art, full of magic,
Without explanation could be accepted;

Draw a figure freely,
Wave your hands to the air;
Think of a thing you could imagine ,
Then put it on your head.

Let your heart work on canvas,
Even on paper or in the dust;
Everything will be appreciated,
As long as there is love.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Don't forget to breath in...
To wake up...

Don't forget what you chose not to say...
Don't forget...
And if you seem to...
Don't forget to return...
Like eternal waves...
Timeless they remain...
Come and go, come and go...
Endlessly caressing the sand...
Like salty kissing tears,
That never reach the ground...
Don't forget your mirror eyes...

Don't forget to breath in...
To wake up!



 

Abbie Shores

9 Years Ago

An older one........

Pink icing
squirls of chocolate
diet forgotten as greedy hands grab
mouth surrounds
dribbles on chin
tissues at ready
how much can we eat in one sitting
satiated
an empty plate
fatness spreading fast
feel it in the brain and the waist
hurry as fast as possible
the hall seems so long
watch the cake swirl around the basin
pink icing
squirls of chocolate
still tasted but not expanding now

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Dika Hello. the only thing that could improve that poem is music..i almost felt like singing it.
Thanks philip will have another look. Found a dead Magpie in the garden yesterday, seems it just fell out of the sky, no wounds. I suppose birds get sick, or have air battles. And yes!, i took photos of it! :(
Hello Oxo,
Don't forget what you chose not to say...
Love this line. maybe the real poem is the words we don't write. Now that would be a challenge in writing, to write all of the words that we originally thought but replaced them with the second choice, how thick are those many covers we show the world?
Abbie, I am on my second attempt this year, now starting from today its NO SUGAR! so if I don't manage to get the exercise in at least I still should reduce the waistline and the chance of diabetes. Comfort eating is the worse :(( Your poem has reminded me, I'm thinking of a phrase to stick on fridge like SUGAR IS SICK. Any suggestions anyone?

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Blue Eye.


It must have fallen from the sky, no tree above it, no wound,
the closest I have gotten to its details,
a crime scene on the autumnal ground,
A bird's version of a lack of chocolate cake may be the cause,
I daren't stroke it for fear of disease, or to look for evidence,
though it looked perfect, at peace, under its cover of downy feathers
soft pale grey, white and black. Asleep.
Did you know a Magpie's eyes are burnt orange?
Eyes always have a hint of life, even in death, don't you think?
The look seems the last to perish, to speak.
Nature, has never let us meet before,
eye to eye,
What is it that nature knows of woman/man?
It does not know that all are not unkind,
and could be companion to another kind,
but nature is wary,
Is the blue eye
that sees everything
and keeps its living things apart, in the ocean, on the ground and in the sky.

Maria Disley April. 2014

Sell Art Online

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Philip.Just watching the video, amazing, the care and concern of the parents over the chicks. I can feel a/several poems coming on. :)

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Thank you Maria..."how thick are those many covers we show the world?"...
Yes, if to not "forget to breath in" refers to staying alive so does the "don't forget what you chose not to say", but in this case it calls for sincerity and the survival of ones own awareness of True Self.

 

Abbie Shores

9 Years Ago

@Maria

Put up a small chalk board and add on the amount of calories allowed per week, then knock off the calories you eat, so you can see at a glance what you have left

Put up an image of you in undies, next to a bikini model (that one works)

and I found a fabulous magnet here Fridgepickers Wear Big Knickers

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Thanks Abbie, I will try anything! First day without any sugar at all!:)

 

Abbie Shores

9 Years Ago

Good luck!!

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

not mine but has been rolling over in my head for days, hoping it might break lose my own writing

Green Grass

Lay your head where my heart used to be
Hold the earth above me
Lay down in the green grass
Remember when you loved me

Come closer don't be shy
Stand beneath a rainy sky
The moon is over the rise
Think of me as a train goes by

Clear the thistles and brambles
Whistle didn't he ramble'
Now there's a bubble of me
And it's floating in thee

Stand in the shade of me
Things are now made of me
The weather vane will say...
It smells like rain today

God took the stars and he tossed 'em
Can't tell the birds from the blossoms
You'll never be free of me
He'll make a tree from me

Don't say good bye to me
Describe the sky to me
And if the sky falls, mark my words
We'll catch mocking birds

Lay your head where my heart used to be
Hold the earth above me
Lay down in the green grass
Remember when you loved me

by Tom Waits

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Don't Forget...The Video...

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Love that seemingly effortless first line, and the melancholy and nostalgia that follows,

God took the stars and he tossed 'em
Can't tell the birds from the blossoms
You'll never be free of me
He'll make a tree from me

Love it! I can picture and feel it all.
So beautiful.
thanks for sharing, if it doesn't make you write it will make you look out passionately at whats around you, I know it will me!:)

JR, would you mind if i posted this on my fb page, its too good not to share?
Also, I want to read more of his work.

How did I miss this guy? I'm a fan! Although he has a nice gravelly voice, I would like to hear it sung also by a smoother voice, do you know who else sings it.
when I heard him sing it, it really moved me.

Oxo, loved the video! There's a very important message in those words. It would be a good mantra for me. Beautiful music again. just one thing...the more I listened the more I wanted you to sing it. If Tom waits can get away with his gravelly voice, which verges on talk/singing, then you can too. Hope we get to see it one day :))) haha.

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Writer(s): Bob Dylan
Copyright: Special Rider Music

TEMPEST


The pale moon rose in its glory
Out on the Western town
She told a sad, sad story
Of the great ship that went down

T'was the fourteenth day of April
Over the waves she rode
Sailing into tomorrow
To a golden age foretold

The night was black with starlight
The seas were sharp and clear
Moving through the shadows
The promised hour was near

Lights were holding steady
Gliding over the foam
All the lords and ladies
Heading for their eternal home

The chandeliers were swaying
From the balustrades above
The orchestra was playing
Songs of faded love

The watchman, he lay dreaming
As the ballroom dancers twirled
He dreamed the Titanic was sinking
Into the underworld

Leo took his sketchbook
He was often so inclined
He closed his eyes and painted
The scenery in his mind

Cupid struck his bosom
And broke it with a snap
The closest woman to him
He fell into her lap

He heard a loud commotion
Something sounded wrong
His inner spirit was saying
That he couldn't stand here long

He staggered to the quarterdeck
No time now to sleep
Water on the quarterdeck
Already three foot deep

Smokestack was leaning sideways
Heavy feet began to pound
He walked into the whirlwind
Sky splitting all around

The ship was going under
The universe had opened wide
The roll was called up yonder
The angels turned aside

Lights down in the hallway
Flickering dim and dull
Dead bodies already floating
In the double bottom hull

The engines then exploded
Propellers they failed to start
The boilers overloaded
The ship's bow split apart

Passengers were flying
Backward, forward, far and fast
They mumbled, fumbled, and tumbled
Each one more weary than the last

The veil was torn asunder
'Tween the hours of twelve and one
No change, no sudden wonder
Could undo what had been done

The watchman lay there dreaming
At forty-five degrees
He dreamed that the Titanic was sinking
Dropping to her knees

Wellington he was sleeping
His bed began to slide
His valiant heart was beating
He pushed the tables aside

Glass of shattered crystal
Lay scattered roundabout
He strapped on both his pistols
How long could he hold out?

His men and his companions
Were nowhere to be seen
In silence there he waited for
Time and space to intervene

The passageway was narrow
There was blackness in the air
He saw every kind of sorrow
Heard voices everywhere

Alarm-bells were ringing
To hold back the swelling tide
Friends and lovers clinging
To each other side by side

Mothers and their daughters
Descending down the stairs
Jumped into the icy waters
Love and pity sent their prayers

The rich man, Mister Astor
Kissed his darling wife
He had no way of knowing
It'd be the last trip of his life

Calvin, Blake and Wilson
Gambled in the dark
Not one of them would ever live to
Tell the tale on the disembark

Brother rose up 'gainst brother
In every circumstance
They fought and slaughtered each other
In a deadly dance

They lowered down the lifeboats
From the sinking wreck
There were traitors, there were turncoats
Broken backs and broken necks

The bishop left his cabin
To help others in need
Turned his eyes up to the heavens
Said, "The poor are yours to feed"

Davey the brothel-keeper
Came out dismissed his girls
Saw the water getting deeper
Saw the changing of his world

Jim Dandy smiled
He never learned to swim
Saw the little crippled child
And he gave his seat to him

He saw the starlight shining
Streaming from the East
Death was on the rampage
But his heart was now at peace

They battened down the hatches
But the hatches wouldn't hold
They drowned upon the staircase
Of brass and polished gold

Leo said to Cleo
I think I'm going mad
But he'd lost his mind already
Whatever mind he had

He tried to block the doorway
To save all those from harm
Blood from an open wound
Pouring down his arm

Petals fell from flowers
?Til all of them were gone
In the long and dreadful hours
The wizard's curse played on

The host was pouring brandy
He was going down slow
He stayed right to the end and he
Was the last to go

There were many, many others
Nameless here forever more
They never sailed the ocean
Or left their homes before

The watchman, he lay dreaming
The damage had been done
He dreamed the Titanic was sinking
And he tried to tell someone

The captain, barely breathing
Kneeling at the wheel
Above him and beneath him
Fifty thousand tons of steel

He looked over at his compass
And he gazed into its face
Needle pointing downward
He knew he lost the race

In the dark illumination
He remembered bygone years
He read the Book of Revelation
And he filled his cup with tears

When the Reaper's task had ended
Sixteen hundred had gone to rest
The good, the bad, the rich, the poor
The loveliest and the best

They waited at the landing
And they tried to understand
But there is no understanding
On the judgement of God's hand

The news came over the wires
And struck with deadly force
Love had lost its fires
All things had run their course

The watchman he lay dreaming
Of all the things that can be
He dreamed the Titanic was sinking
Into the deep blue sea


BOB DYLAN
This song is on the album "TEMPEST" by Bob Dylan
Writer(s): Bob Dylan
Copyright: Special Rider Music

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Wow! He really can tell a story,I was stuck fast to every line. Thanks for posting Billy :)) The imagery was so vivid and verses like

The captain, barely breathing
Kneeling at the wheel
Above him and beneath him
Fifty thousand tons of steel

really kept me reading on. The characters who we only get a brief glance of, left me feeling I knew much more about them. And their true characters at that, as they had nothing to hide in those last moments.

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Maria Disley
Good old Bob .
Glad you liked it.

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

Sure Maria share all you want Dylan's one of my other favorites I read the Bob Dylan Chronicles a few months ago, great writer

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Thank you Maria...but no, you won't ;-)!

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Spring is in the Air

I awaken to an orchestration of birdsong
wafting through the wide open window
on a warm Spring breeze.
I languish in my bed listening,
lazily drifting the eddies
between consciousness and dreams.
Dawn breaks and the cacophonies
of this concerto fade to an occasional solo.
Then, as thunder rumbles slowly across the morning,
frogs begin to croak their own melodies
while the crickets rasp along.
The perfect beggining
of a new day.

Karen Newell
4/27/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Aww! Oxo, that's a shame.....now if I could sing the lyrics I would....but I really can't sing, and my scouse accent wouldn't do it justice....now we all know what a great speaking voice you have...:)))) I won't give up on this one.
Beautiful Karen. What a lovely introduction to a new day. :))

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Thanks Maria, Spring is a joyful season!
I can totally envision the beautiful video as a song and like you would love to hear it sung :))

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

I just woke up to snow...ugh

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Ha ha! I am a Pollyanna. I love to build a fire in the fireplace on a snowy morning :))

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Thank you Karen!!! Any singers in da house :-)???

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

I can sing...

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Excellent!!! And would you be willing to give it a go, with Don't Forget for Karen and Maria?

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

sure but how do i record it?

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Brilliant!!! Not only we might be able to satisfy Maria and Karen curiosity but our first number 1 hit could be in the making :-)!!! Recording is easy, if you don't have a mic on pc or mac, there are lots of voice recording free apps for smart phones...The file can be sent via dropbox or more easily at least for me with you send it...Let me know if you need more help...This coul be fun!!!

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

I have just tried voice recorder ( david bajada) and it worked well!!!

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Third time (tripled posting)...Must be important....

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

I have a mac and would not mind picking up a mike ... I will start practicing in the mean time..send me a link if there is one I can use online..my service here is very slow at the moment. can you send me the words?

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Do you still have an iphone? If you do there is an app called voice recorder (david bajada) that works well and is free and quick to download. If you dont have an iphone I use a free program called audacity but I also think you can make a sound file with imovies.

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

have iphone but forgot my apple account so have not been able to down load apps
..will check the other method you mentioned

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Now I am very curious too :-)!!!

Here's a full briefing...


Don't forget to breath in...
To wake up...

Don't forget what you chose not to say...
Don't forget...
And if you seem to...
Don't forget to return...

Like eternal waves...
Timeless they remain...
Come and go, come and go...
Endlessly caressing the sand...
Like salty kissing tears,
That never reach the ground...

Don't forget your mirror eyes...
To breath in...
To wake up!

Like eternal waves...
Timeless they remain...
Come and go, come and go...

Don't forget to breath in...
To wake up...

Don't forget what you chose not to say...
Don't forget...

Audacity can be downloaded here (OS compatible)

http://www.software-watcher.com/listing/122137/audacity

The music I chose was Pippin the Hunchback by Kevin MacLeod, royalty free and can be downloaded here, but feel free to use any music (preferable royalty free)

http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/index.html?genre=World

And here is how it sounded in spoken word...



I'm in Maria's and Karen's wagon...Looking forward to hear your interpretation...


 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Haha, i was worried about being a bit pushy and prob wouldn't have tried it with anyone who may have taken offence or disappeared from the thread altogether, but this is fantastic, RJ my hero for the day! Can't wait to hear it. I am even going to try the recording just for fun for myself...i really can't sing. Wow! i'm excited. With all of the poetry on this thread I reckon we could produce a few albums Lol!

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

I seem to be doing it in XO's voice...is that okay,?

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Lol!

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

mostly I'm an actor but can act like I can sing..

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Have you tried it? Does it work in song?

 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

Yes I have no real melody to copy yet and I changed the pauses a little ... I have to work on it, parts of it I get repetitive and have to figure out how to smooth that out

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Feel free to adjust as required !!!

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

I downloaded the recorder and gave it a go :)) That was the first time I had ever recorded my singing voice solo. It was better than I expected but not quite ready for prime time :D
Good luck RJ. I am always impressed when someone puts it out there beyond the comfort zone!
Maria did you give it a go??
Oxo did you sing it?
Looking forward to listening:))

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Not yet. Tonight maybe. Would you post yours or send in private email? It will be interesting to see the different versions. How lucky that you can sing! Bane of my life for me :)))) but I will still have a go and if it surprises me I will post. Even if I end up just reading :))

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Karen I haven't sung it, I can't sing...I would have liked to be able to sing...One day, listening to Leonard Cohen I thought that I didn't need to sing if I could recite nicely with music and after a few tests I was quite pleased with the result...a while later...Here I am with my Don' Forget Reading...very curious about those singings...would you share???

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

I have received a beautiful, beautiful, recording that I can't wait to return to the UK to start working with it (currently in Madrid). Curious still about RJs interpretation...

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Hope I get to hear it soon! Exciting!

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Make Me a Ghost

The room is filled with moments of time
Overlapping, semitransparent references
Shuffling like cards before my eyes.
I see you in a moment.
I see your smile and the sunlight in your hair.
I see you waving.
I wave back and wonder.
Are you welcoming me?
Are you saying goodbye?
Is it you or my memories haunting me?




Billy East 4/30/2014

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Eclipse

The sunset solar eclipse
comes and goes,
seen far away
on the other side of the world.
A slice of my psyche knows
the fire rimmed shadow of the Moon
slinking across the Sun.
A portal to the planets.
A tribute
in the Cardinal Grand Cross.
Within the evident escalation
I step forward.

Karen Newell
4/29/14


 

Robert James Hacunda

9 Years Ago

Sorry I got distracted I am on the road as well and changing locations in the morning....I'm trying to get in touch with the character speaking, what he's perceiving that inspires him to say those words.. he almost seems heart broken so I tend to interpret it in a haunting warning perception ...

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Wait and See

Forever gets forgotten fast
Like everything else it sinks deep into the past
This is why nothing lasts

I’m lost again
Time and money squandering
Place to place just wandering

Last night I dreamed I was flying
The night before I dreamed I was crying
I want to dream you were lying

Truth is, you are not here
Truth is, I know not where
Truth is, in time I will no longer care

We will meet again
Sometime in the future and pretend
We were never so close way back when

We will look familiar at first
We will say we look well, and silently curse
The ravages of time, we cannot reverse

A future moment with no guarantee
Based on the laws of probability
Odds are, it’s a moment that will never be


Billy East 4/30/2014

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Rain Clouds Fill the Sky


This morning is dark
The air is cooler than usual
No birds are singing
Time to disembark
Say farewell to the vessel
No point in clinging

On the double
Pick ax and shovel
Make a hole, make a hole
The job is done
I’m in over my head
Well, bless my soul

I could go for a sandwich
I could go for a drink
I could go for some company
The hard part is crawling out of the hole
Getting one’s feet back on the ground
Again the ladder, woe is me

It’s a dirty business
The digging, climbing and crawling
Luckily, I have the knowhow and the knack
Out at last
Up on top of the world again
My aching back

The caissons come rolling in
Long black Cadillacs
For Jill or Jack in the box
I sit silent in the distance
Concealing my presence in the shade of a tree
Shaking the dirt from my boots and soxs

Men and women dressed in black
Crying and saying prayers
It’s all part of my day
I know all the psalms by heart
The long and the short of the going away
I always listen to what the preachers say

The limos depart
Luxury sedans full of sadness
Time again for the shovel
I work fast
I work neat
Rest in peace, no trouble

I tell the truth because lies don’t pay
I dig graves I say
And all the pretty women turn away
All filled and tapped down right
Another job well done, I’m on my way

Walking my pick ax and shovel back home
Tired, dirty and always alone
I just keep on walking, making the way my own
Who will dig my grave?
I imagine someone just like me
A stoic type with a thirst right down to the bone

Lord it’s me the grave digger
I’m so thirsty, I could die
I could use a drink of water, I say out loud
I keep on walking
I look up , I don’t know why
I smile, as rain clouds fill the sky



Billy East 4/30/2014

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Tomorrow Land



I’d like to be in Tomorrow Land, a wonderful place only twenty-four hours
from now and anywhere but here.
Tomorrow Land doesn't seem such a long way away?
The trick is getting there.

The jukebox full of love songs playing over and over again, reminds me of the
broken heart I had way back when.

The waitress winks, smiles and presses a pen to her lips.
I’d like to think there was more between us than just tips

A cop arrives. He looks at me and walks on by.
I could be the Devil himself, if not for this sport coat and tie.

The cop sits at the counter, two seats away from me.
The waitress touches his hand after she pours his coffee.

They must be in love, why not it’s spring,
two happy people and one wedding ring.

Seated at the end of the counter is my imaginary friend.
I haven’t seen him in decades and here he is with a great big grin.

“You’ll be alright once the smoke clears, “he says and disappears.
I lean back in disbelief of both my eyes and ears.

A desperate man walks through the revolving door, draws a pistol and begins
to roar.

The desperate man tells the cashier to give up all the loot.
The desperate man sees the cop; panics and guns begin to shoot.

Bullets are flying everywhere.
The waitress behind the counter is frozen with fear.

I leap towards her, over the counter shouting,” get down!”
But, I don’t leap fast enough and catch a round.

Now, I’m in the pretty waitress’s lap and I try to hold her.
She starts screaming at me and the blood pouring out my shoulder.

“Tomorrow Land is just a day away, “I say.
My eyes roll back and take all the light away.

An Emergency Medical Technician smacks my face.
My eyes roll forward.
I’m disappointed, still in the same place.

“Tomorrow Land,” I say again, the second after the morphine kicks in.

A doctor laughs, “You’re a lucky man.”
I shake my head and reply, “So this is Tomorrow Land.”





Billy East 05/01/2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

These dramatic scenes and various roles could all be from experience :) Whatever they are they are entertaining! Well done Billy!

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

And here it is...Our very own Karen Newell sings "Don't Forget..." I would be satisfied with not offending Karen with the modifications I've made to her recording...

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Thank you Oxo! My public singing debut! I am blushing.......
I am glad you enjoyed my recording, I had fun making it :))

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Thank you Karen!!! I think with music it would sound even better...any musicians/compossers in da house???

 

Alejandra Flores

9 Years Ago


"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there."


Hope I get some positive feedback! Here's my profile:
Http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/alejandra-flores.html

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Well! I really enjoyed listening to the song! which it has evolved into! karen the sound had a slight vibrato, and suited the sea image, quite haunting at times and I thought it was great how yours and Oxo's voices mingled. I sort of caught a glimpse of you through your voice. I wonder how RJ's will sound? I can only see him pacing up and down a room trying different sounds. He make sme laugh! I would love to add something to the video, just a very small thing, but how would I do that, I need a step by step explanation. :)

Oxo I've emailed Craig Carter, I'm sure he will help out, :))

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Top of the charts this week...Duo, Oxo Cespon and Karen Newell with 'Don't Forget". Lyrics by Cespon! :)))))))))))))

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Thank you Maria :-)

I am trying to see if I can get someone to compose the music, any volunteers please do not hesitate to come forward :-)

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago


"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there."
Whose was that quote now, i can't quite remember. Love it though. Alejandra, enjoyed looking at your images especially Tunnel Vision. Are we going to see your poetry, or comments about poetry on this thread, hope so :))

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

An echo to Philips use of numbers in poems. I think most of us recall old house numbers or addresses.

No. 30

Hanging there
like a loosed house number
from a rusted nail
number 30,
branded into the memory.
The wind of ages old, gets up and
the old digits rattle-tap against the abandoned brick.
Its a desert
this landscape once lived in,
well trammelled
yet mind smoothed, like fresh snowfall.

 

See My Photos

9 Years Ago

Too early to tell
What the end will be
Things change, evolve, and return
Some always remain unchanged
Sunrises and Sunsets forever
Geological changes and scientific weather
Each day comes and goes in a blink
Our moment is now in real time
Two nickels will always equal a dime
Lemons will never taste like limes
One's heart direction should be divine
And mind remain sublime

Craig Carter 5/02/2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Sell Art Online


Warm Armour

Even in the park you wore a suit
Was that easy way of yours,
As easy as it seemed?
Your suit of armour, silver grey,
Striding through the field of light
Ahead,
We following on your heels
Through summer hazes
That bleached the colours that we wore
To faded florals,
Whether it was haze, or fog, or blinding drizzling rain
You weathered it,
In your suit
Always ready for the business of day.
Clean shaven
Shirt and tie,
Such a starch for such an easy come and go kinda guy.
A suit for church, a suit for work, a suit for walking to the betting office,
A suit for parties, a suit for meetings, a suit for travel and even holidays
Even for the beach you wore a suit!
Was that easy way of yours
As easy as it seemed?
You stood inside it like the priest in the confessional box
A trusted father,
A barrel chest for conquering every fear or enemy
We always skipped along your aisle of faithful suit tails,
Among your other true followers, sometimes strangers
Who loved you for their own reasons.
Many men maybe, lived within the pockets of that suit,
In Those deep pockets
Forever being raided,
By your descendants, but
You would have raised your mace,
Had anyone dared to step inside that space
Where love was showered in a sheltered humble place
For you and us
Your family,
I want to pull your collar up
Keep out that foggy cold,
The dreary drizzle,
But it's too late....
Your amour's hanging in the wardrobe still
With the retired cardigan, both now out of date.
No barrel chest
With all metaphorical guns at the ready
No generous hand, no twinkling eye of any roguish gentleman,
Just the suit,
The Shirt and tie,
And shoes and socks,
The things you left the house with,
And were returned without you.

Sigh! Sigh!
A pocket full o' sigh!

Maria Disley. 5/5/14. ( in remembrance of my Dad on his birthday)





 

SAIGON De Manila

9 Years Ago

Love your latest Magnum opus MAria!

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Here, on this side of the World
the cold is rolled back by the warm breath of Spring
Green is quickened and the bleeding-heart blooms.
A season of Winter rest is complete once again.

The vines of my Heart coil in vibrant perpetration
of the bountiful harvest hidden within the seeds
I have incubated throughout my hibernation.

I celebrate another glorious awakening
as we click through the Stars
riding the back of our beautiful Mother.

Karen Newell
5/5/14

 

Daniela White

9 Years Ago

Temptation

One day the snake offered me an apple
I looked at it amazed at its beauty
the shape was perfect, firm and beckoning
"Have me it said and you shall know unbound happiness".

The need in me prevailed upon my wisdom
and deep I sank my teeth in its juicy flesh.
My soft red lips tenderly bruising the smooth skin
the sweet life giving sap quenching my thirst.

It felt so good, and tasted so divine
that I was left wanting more.

Big mistake ! The apple said,
you should not have eaten me so fast
you should always take your time
savor me when I am whole
as I am now spent and have become just a core.

Daniela White

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Nice imagery in second verse. Daniela :)


For Betty.


To gaze at the stars
and wonder,
no longer,
her wondering days now over.

But dust glitters bright
yonder,
a resurrection
in that shaft of light.

Here, waiting in the heavy shadows
almost left behind,
the living kind
for a moment overthrown.


Maria Disley 8/5/2014





 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Seamstress

I sew the seams of my life together.
The fingers of my Heart
busily stitching
the patterns of my Mind.
A wondrous patchwork quilt.
It lays upon me like a mantel
with a bridal train billowing along
in the wild Cosmic Wind.
A garment not quite complete.

Karen Newell
5/8/14

 

Ed Meredith

9 Years Ago

A sad echo to Karen's 'Seamstress'

Alzheimer

while sewing the tapestry of my life
i dropped the spool of thread
that holds together
the crazy quit of my history
and watched helplessly
as it rolled downhill
unraveling all
along the way

Ed Meredith
8 May 2014

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Karen and Ed, wow. :-)

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

.

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

No Going Back

Given the choice; any destination
I'd choose the past without hesitation
It would be nice to go back and erase
All the mischief, the hurt and my mistakes
I'm a consequence of cause and effect
My going backward would not be correct
All the energy of a single day
Still, not enough for me to make my way
Time is linear, straight forward and true
There's no reverse, I will always love you


10/10 Billy East 05/08/2014

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

iS aNYONE eLSE hAVING tHIS pROBLEM?

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

EveryTHIng Is finE OvER heRE BillY.

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

I feel enchanted by the variety of poems here. It's an honour to read them. :) nice end to the week and beginning of another weekend with these fresh creative expressions and echoes.

Sown into myself
Like I'm sealed into some French seam
Reversible I
Turn myself inside out
Undo my stitching
Slip back to youth
It's quick
To the fifth line
No further
No memories,
Sublime!

Bar tacked dreams
Pinned to the patterns
Of my nowhere realms
Cut, cut, cut,
Tie a knot,
And see the world through the eye of a needle
So many million times I've guided the thread but,
Never really seen the view
Beyond you.



 

Jim Whalen

9 Years Ago


The Notebook

Photography Prints

 

Kevin Callahan

9 Years Ago

At the Feeder
By Kevin Callahan

Behold the Bluejay
The B52 bully of the bird world

Consider the crimson Cardinal
The high Bishop of the bush

Goldfinches glide across my vision
Like glimmering daytime comets

The delicate Dove demurely waits his turn
Cooing and bowing in deference

Silly sparrows spar together
Like reality show stars

The royal Robin reminds one of a banker at a banquet
needing only pince nez and top hat

Shy Chickadees consider
when to come in and consume

Baltimores are orange
Blue birds are blue (imagine that)

A continually shifting rainbow reigns in my little world
I am ever vigilant of small things

 

Brian Wallace

9 Years Ago

Sell Art Online Photography Prints

~ Cherry Cokes and Root-Beer Floats ~

I guess the era of cherry cokes and root-beer floats, are a thing of the past, it never lasts. A nickel in the jukebox would play your favorite tune, Elvis would croon, the girls would swoon. You'd go to the Drive-In, see a "B" movie, hope for some lovin, it was all groovy. The family would have dinner and watch TV together, it was a connection that inevitably would sever. Dad's favorite chair, Mom cut your hair, we had no idea we could never go back there. Homework was a bore, but you still had the chore, of cleaning your room before you could groom and zoom out of the door even though you were poor. Cruising for chicks because you had no date, explaining later why you were out so late. You needed money to burn and it had to be earned, that was a concern, and a lesson to learn. At the time, you thought you were having it rough, but now we see it wasn't so tough. If we knew then what we know now, we'd surely make it last longer some how. ~Brian Wallace

 

Brian Wallace

9 Years Ago

Sell Art Online

 

Paula Tohline Calhoun

9 Years Ago

Art Prints

TATTERED WINGS
Paula Tohline Calhoun

A dwindling summer
is the bittersweet prelude to fall.
I am watching it all
just now, and sense already, on the tip of
my tongue, the tinny, metallic
taste of winter. In my mind's eye:
the deep greens and subtler hues
fading to brown, drying up,
the sharp blades of grass pricking
the soles of my stubbornly bare feet,
knowing that in due time, drifts of snow
willl cover all that is left of now. My ears
are preparing for the day when they will
be turned to the laboring creak of
ice-burdened limbs, fixed upon the splintering crack,
then the chuffing thud of branches,
falling to the snow-smothered ground below.

Such insidious, gray thoughts are snatched away
by the appearance of a swallow-tailed butterfly.
Slower than the hastening summer and onrushing winter,
he gently makes his way from leaf to blossom,
in a logical path he alone chooses, in full knowledge
of the passing of his season of glory.
So vivid the colors - the tints and shades
of his first morning still shine on his last.
I wonder at such persistence through the
fraying knicks of daily struggle,
and sigh at the beauty -
at the constant push and pull against the wayward
currents of air - of his split and
tattered wings.

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Re-Incarnation

I rewind
my thread tightly
around and around
the spool of life.
Preparing to weave
my karmic cloak
once again.

Karen Newell
4/9/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago



And she formed her words into flowers
so I may recieve a strange bouquet
and it bloomed before me
filling up my skull.

Maria Disley 14/5/14

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Hauntingly beautiful Maria!

Been chasing so many different discussion threads for weeks now…Sorry not to visit sooner. I always enjoy your posts!

 

Mary Armstrong

9 Years Ago

I touch
the fallen leaves
with tattered,
Brown edges
Sadly withered,
broken and
fallen beneath
my fingers.
Ended by a harsh,
denying
Winter!

—Mary Ogden Armstrong 2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Thanks everyone for posting. Won't be able to read them properly until the weekend but they haven't gone unnoticed. I'll be singing along to Marvin Gaye's musical tribute tomorrow night, yay can't wait, but will get onto the poetry ASAP.
Thanks Kelley! And Mary so nice to see you here again. Be back soon.

 

Israel A Torres

9 Years Ago

The 60’s ……………. by Israel Torres

The whistling act of the autumn sky
A stone’s throw from the end
The winds of time just breeze on by
That zooms on through like branded sand
That shatters as it hits the fan
A mirrored wall of lives at hand
When did it all began
A lifetime soon, a lifetime when
The roses dried, the wine flowed dry
The wilted leaves, the music Sly
The songs of love, of apple pie
Of Vietnam, of marching bands
The flower child, the seedless hash
And smoke filled halls and munchies call
The all night love and raincoat off
Too soon to fall, too soon to crawl
Too soon to laugh or cry or brawl
The times of generations gone
Of eight track tapes and Beatle song
And Joan Baez and leaders lies
Bob Dylan and of growing weed
And growing hair and turtle necks
Flowered shirts and bells.
What better time for laughter.

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Hi everybody. Was thinking of my dad just now and wanted to share this piece I wrote about him some time ago. You will probably have to click on it in order to read it. May come in a bit small.

Oops, it didn't come in at all, I'll try again. Something is weird on my profile page at the moment, I'll come back to this later.

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago



Sell Art Online

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago


TRANSPORTED

A song chirped on the radio
energy swam with the sound waves
standing outside the car, on the road now
Arms wide, white blouse blowing in the fast traffic's air
A delighted smile, like bright lane lines
A fearless rush, like a moment of truth
A speeding truck!
Nothing could touch her
The words always send her!




 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

@Kelley.
Very warm poem and sent a shiver down my back at the end. Your description of your father makes me think 'stoic' yet still able to show love and more importantly that you looked for it and found it and savoured it and in that way can still enjoy it. I was worried about the rhyme scheme, for me personally, as it reminded me of when i first started wrting poetry...if that is what it was/even is today :) It is that sense of the technical interfering with the natural flow, but this didn't prevent me from enjoying the poem as a whole, its imagery, nostalgia and emotion and beautiful presentation.I now and again go into that vaulted moment of clear seeing and experiencing a connection tangibly lost forever. It is quite special and amazing that we as humans have that ability, maybe all living things do, I don't know, obviously. Something to think about and savour though don't you think? Thanks for sharing.
Your post has reminded me of the Marvin Gaye show I went to see last night Wow! I felt like I was 17 again. 'What's Goin' On?' 'Let's get it On' and the amazing 'Abraham, Martin and John!' The stage lighting and the two vocals of the actors made it so nostalgic that for a moment I felt that Marvin Gaye was present in the old, small theatre. I was transported. It was magic...a word I don't use often.
@Israel
What a blast into the past! I closed my eyes after reading the first 6 or so lines as the description of the time-machine weather worked on my imagination...great stuff! And then the slow reeling back into, for me, the late sixties and early seventies. I wanted to immediately echo your poem, and will, I hope soon. Thanks for the journey,I think it fired me up for anticipating the Marvin Gaye show!
@Mary,
So nice to see you posting Mary! A brutal poem, full of truth in its concise format. Witnessing life dry and crumble, it reminded me of the Shkespearian line, when macbeth hears of his wife's death and says, 'Out, out, brief candle!' and yet I remember when I read your poem in all of its stark reality/yet sensitive approach, that those dead leaves would collect on the ground and form the compost for the new life of the tree, so you made me not stop at death's door, but took me beyond and forward, thanks Mary:)
@Karen,
Love the threads you are weaving on the poetry thread :)) A karmic coat you are making....I want to wear it :)))) keep that talent coming. Have you done any more recording?
@Paula,
What I like about setting time aside to comment on the poetry is that I can absorb long poems, which when I havn't got the time midweek, can get overlooked. I have just experienced an amazing sense of sound/music almost when reading the first verse, I got to the point where I was waiting also to hear the sounds of approaching winter, I was your ears! The second verse was so philosophical in its reference to life and its transience and short lived beauty, I advise anyone who didn't take the time to read this poem slowly and mindfully, to do so, like the anticipation of coming seasons you can taste like the 'tinny' air of winter, something else....human presence of mind maybe....?
@Brian,
Now to the extreme of no sounds at all! How Spring surprises us suddenly, no creaking of buds pushing their waythrough those things on the branches, which I have forgotten the names of :) but making us start suddenly as we notice these little specks of green just there! And the ground which was bare yesterday suddenly carpeted in petals! It reminds me of once when Dave and I were lying under a tree in a park in melbourne several years ago, I opened my eyes as I heard these so gentlest sounds all around me, when I opened my eyes I saw nothing and waited and could not believe my eyes as the tree began to rain flowers, pink was falling from the sky and studded the ground all around us,I have never seen anything like this before or since. Love your youthful blast intot he past too! I think this is your best poem, I wasn't sure what it was due to its format but I love how the rhythm reveals itself through what we first think is prose, like your Spring poem, it surprised me suddenly, and what a lovely surprise, I wanted it to keep going, maybe you could add to it, chronologically? Photography is cool.
@Kevin,
Ah! You and birds have a special connection, your visions are paintings when they involve birds flying overhead. I love the detail, wish I could name birds, I still get confused with a crow, and magpie, love them all the same just cannot name them, except maybe for a robin, cockatoo, Galah, those so obvious ones. Even the layout of your wonderful poem looks like a flock of birds flying across the page...was that intentional I wonder? :)
@JIM,
sorry jim i could not read your poem as it was too small and when I tried to enlarge it/click on it, it took me to that blank page of error! maybe you have removed the original from your faa page. can you send it enlarged or just reprint the words. Thanks.
@Billy,
Beautiful love poem! I get a great sense of control, from the love element, if that makes sense, everything points to the love, that is what is driving all the other expressions. At first I thought about it being nostalgia and the past, and an excuse appeared.....blame it on time....but that last line summed it all up....what love can do....and we have no control over it...but can work around it. This is just what i got from the poem I am not trying to say this is how you feel...how can I? And that goes for anyone reading any of these comments, its just my take on what I read. Really enjoyed the diversions within the writing, I felt that I had looked at something in a fresh way.
@Philip,
Another jigsaw for me to do!:))))) I think this may be a love poem too...the arrow piercing the glass maybe? And what a memorable line
'there was more sugar in your eyes' I have been deliberating with the meaning of The one, for days now, and on re reading have concluded for me that it is a person, that makes sense for me.....no doubt your meaning is something more elusive, or so obvious that I am blind to it...you are so clever at this you move your words around like the faintest breeze on dry leaves, which leaf moved I wonder, which one scratched the surface, I cannot always tell...and there's no asking involved...even though i come close to it.:)))) The reality is in the 'cold lit room..........' I feel a small life now grown, from a 'cold lit room to a modern world' I love the journey you always take me on, I know that you are not interested in the deciphering of poems, but I love the deciphering of my own making, it takes nothing away from your words, any poets words, but adds to my discovery of the mystery of poetry.I wonder what Shakespeare would make of millions of students trying to decypher his intent???
@ED,
Lovely to see your appearance and echo to Karen's tapestry poem. The unravelling was so free and fun filled, brought speed and undoing to the slow and deliberate act of sewing. For me, the two characteristics are closely knitted together in reality, the slowness of forgetting and the manic frustration of forgetting combined with the beautiful freedom of forgetting. And yet, no one remembers everything, though they may seem to. I am surrounded by people on a daily basis who I am in awe of just because of their capability to remember so many things, facts, figures, knowledge of many many things, and also people who are experiencing Alzheimers, you can't take your karmic coat with you i don't suppose, and we all hang on to our memories, it makes sense that childhood rises up at the end to remind us of its importance don't you think. I loved how you made me feel the joy of forgetting, made me look at it in a new way.

Well, lovely people, 2 interesting hours have passed by and now I have to put my energies into my latest/scariest photography project, this was a lovely way to be distracted. Thankyou. :)))

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Hi Maria, thanks so much for your opinion of my poem. I have never considered myself a poet, a writer, yes. A voice deep inside me speaks those words and I simply write them down, for some reason they always rhyme. It's the hand I was dealt, so to speak. Glad you enjoyed the show, I can only imagine how great it was! :-)

 

Olga Hamilton

9 Years Ago

A short light poem that came to my mind while I was in creative process.

"The Garden of White Dove"

Come to my garden and open your heart
To the flowers' trumpets glorifying the Life.
If you cling to your grief it will not be gone,
Leaving no room for your joy and love.
Let your soul abate with the whisper of leaves,
And into the dew will be turned all your tears.
- Olga Hamilton. May 15, 2014

Sell Art Online


 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

I wrote this poem a while a go to specifically accompany Kevin MacLeod's "As I Figure"...I have just recorded it and I think this is the closest I am daring to go to sing one of my own poems...



 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Beautiful to watch you evolve in this creative form, you are so close to singing, I felt almost at every line that this was the one where you were going to sing..you just gotta do it! :))) saying that, it was perfect, and as Ed said, inspirational too, I think I was equally moved by the piece and by your achievement. Well done! I' m just going to watch it again.
Ok just watched it again and became aware that I was listening first time, to music and your voice, then reading, and taking in art work, except for the opening image which was wonderful and perfect illustration for the writing. On second watch, I noted how the perfectly the sounds and words were combined, also feeling the need to dance to it:))) I wasn't waiting for you to sing because I knew that you wouldn't be, so really savoured the words, appreciated those lovely orange colours, warm and rich. Wonder what I will find each time I watch......! You must send a version to Viet he would love it.

 

Xoanxo Cespon

9 Years Ago

Thank you Maria for your comments and for watching it not only once, but twice!!! I wrote it to acompany the music, on an early winters day, verse by verse responding to the music...yes I think in your second viewing you noticed their...sincronicity?

Thanks again! Always a pleasure to share with you!!!

 

Brian Wallace

9 Years Ago

Thank you Maria for such a nice response to my writings. You are such a gem to respond to everyone with your thoughtful words. :)

Art Prints

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

One sound
Of waiting
A place of thoughts
An acropolis
Crumbling to remember
Haunting of wanting
The play runs on and on

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Keep Dreaming


Dreams are what the mind’s eye wishes to see
right before our eyes
that sleep has closed
so that we may not know light
be it darkened or bright

No matter where we hide sleep finds us
we surrender to our dreams
captives captivated by scenes cinematic by nature
playing out lucidly and free
with images that step boldly
out from the shadows at the back of our mind

Dreams are impossible panoramas
unfolding beneath the cloak of consciousness
Dreams take time and space to a three ring circus
where the lusts of lions and the terrors of tigers
jump through hops of the bare necessities of everyday life

Dreams are a curious sideshow
in the far corner of a back to back heaven and hell paradise
softly barked about by clowns

Dreams are the unified domains of acquaintances
some past, some present all interacting out of time
in a set of inner dimensions layered with imagination
that sometimes, somehow reveals the faint outlines
of faces in the future

Dreams are sparks that arc out
from cells overloaded with memories
as a momentary discharge
animated for a fraction of a second
to sparkle like sunlight atop a swift water’s flow

Dreams may be lies
they may be true
or something in between
like the ever crumbling mortar of all possibilities

Dreams are the forgotten leftovers
of this feast of life
or the simple means by which we appease
our struggles and strife

Dreams are the eternal child within us all
seeking out attention
or just giving back a bedtime story




Billy East
The Mechanicals
2014


 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Maria, ,"TRANSPORTED" IS EXCELLENT.

 

Joseph J Stevens

9 Years Ago

The poem is in the description of the Painting..."Run With Me"

Art Prints

"Run With Me"
The wild sky flashes
light here and there
as mountains dance
I awake to thunder
from horses running.
They are upon me
around me
I am with them now.
Nostrils flare and steam
eyes intent
look only forward
for wild horses running
have no demons to recall.
Race now
excited into the day
yesterdays dust
still sits on snakes
reminding them
to hide under rocks
when we are near (C) Joseph J Stevens all rights reserved

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

I wake, to the sound of
poetry,
tapping rhythms on the windows
of my mind,
deciphering my dreams
writing out my day,
it seems.

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

I really like that piece you just posted Maria. :-)

There's some good writing going on over here!!

Correction added: Some GREAT writing going on over here!! :-)

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Equalibrium

I falter
slightly,
time ticking
seasons shift.
I flounder,
suddenly
seeing sorrow.
A cloud is drifting
across the Sun.
I squint my eyes,
peering
along the distance,
and beg for the balance
of my Soul.

Karen Newell
5/20/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Be back later :)

 

Clif Jackson

9 Years Ago

Art Prints

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Karen the poem blew me away!
I falter
I flounder
I squint
I beg

The calmness with an undercurrent of vulnerability and uncertainty is beautifully true.

 

SAIGON De Manila

9 Years Ago

Equilibrium
(an imbalance response to Karen Newell)


Things matter
delightfully,
as chime tinkling
in short shrift.
I ponder,
utterly
seeing burrow
in clouds shifting
a prose of fun
I print the skies
endearing
piece de resistance,
and scaled parlance
of my troll.

-Saigondemanila

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Saigon, a wonderful entwined echo, the thread is unbroken.....:)

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

I agree with Maria. Karen and Saigon both your words were wonderful.

@ Clif, Lobo Hobo gave me such a snicker…

Always terrific writing to be found here. :-)

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Thanks Maria :)
Saigon, nice echo
I agree with you Kelly, there are always quality poems here! Fun reading :))

Icarus

I like to flit
the light fantastic.
Sometimes I get burned.
I fall to Earth
and release impatience
as my firefly wings regenerate
so I might flit again.

Karen Newell
5/21/14

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

Maria Disley, Thank you so much for this forum, and your comments. Please feel free to comment and feel what you feel always.
Remember I'm only here for the poetry.
Nothing can hurt me -I'm a ghost.
Thanks again.
Billy East..

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Very peaceful contented dove Olga, yes, if we could only think that way while experiencing grief, it seems we only think as in the poem, in reflection, except some people do manage it, as in a friend of mine recently, fraid I 'm no good with death

 

Billy East

9 Years Ago

So Inclined

I draw a line and think of another
Lines converge one after the other
Lines get crossed and some erased
Some are just right ,some out of place
Lines of shade and shadow
Rest beside empty places void and hollow
So many lines drawn one at a time
All inclined to one imaginary horizon line.

Time Traveler's Lament

I traveled back in time
to a past that was not mine
I tried stopping the man as he approached
I shouted and grabbed at his throat
He walked through me never realizing I was there
all I could do was watch as he climbed each stair
helpless I bore the moment in agony
as John Wilkes Booth entered the balcony



Billy East 05/23/2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Hi Clif,
Good storytelling in your poem! And illustration! It looks part wood cut? Looks like you have had a lot of experience at this. I will just take a look at biog :))

Fun images to look at, and it all took me back a few years and made me wonder how much of our inspiration, imagination and creativity began witht he comic. I mean that was a large part of our reading material and substituted the lack of toys. Everyone in our house, 6 kids, had their own favourite comics and then we used to swap and I read my brothers comics all the time, even the football ones. I particularly liked the super hero ones, including the first Hulk, superman, and there was this guy i particularly liked but can't remember his name, I think it may have been Thing from the Fantastic four, but not sure. he was made from rocks, i think they made a movie about him not that long ago, but i didn't go to see it!!! You probably know who it is. I remember reading a book a while back about creativity and there was a suggestion in it to read all/what you could get your hands on,of the reading material you loved as a child, but there was so many I didn't follow through :) Although i do have the very first books i remember reading in kinder, 'Where's my Mother' and 'The Cat in the Hat'. A few favourite Comics I read were, 'The Beano', 'The Dandy', The Bunty', which was on order and I got it every Friday. I loved the saga of The Four Mary's who went to boarding school.
:))))))))))

from Wikipedia
The Four Marys[edit]

"The Four Marys" was the longest story the comic ran—drawn by artist Barrie Mitchell, it appeared from its creation in 1958 to its end in 2001. When the strip started, public boarding schools like St. Elmo's, the girls' boarding school, were common, but as time went on, they became less accessible to Bunty's general audience. It centred on four young teenagers who lived in a girls-only boarding school in Elmbury, and often had problems with studying, being bored, or helping (and being hindered by) the other girls or teachers within the school. Of the four main characters, two were middle class, one was the aristocratic daughter of an Earl, and one was a working class girl, attending the school on a scholarship. This representation of the working class was a reflection of changing class experiences in the 1950s.[4] image link below
http://ts4.mm.bing.net/th?&id=HN.608010547131319850&w=300&h=300&c=0&pid=1.9&rs=0&p=0

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

If you get a chance it's worth reading the tenderness poems in Jason Christopher's poetry book ' Lake of Swans'. Beautifully written and the poet is so present in the writing'. If you can't access them Jason May post them on request, and be rewarded by further interest in the rest of the intriguing collection.
Chapter 5 of his 'Fire in Darkness' is exceptional amongst many other great poems. It is a shame that we often have to read in haste. These poetry books must be put down and picked up to savour slowly a few at a time.

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Smokey sunlit winter
Golden chaliced leaves
Raising up their branches
Toasting the blue steel sky,
My!
What beauty to my eye.
These silent trees
Speak with such grace
As they fill their blind way
Through the balmy chiffoned winter air.
The caressing glare that seems
To dress my heart this morning
Caressing
My clinging heart
Springing it with joys
Til with my being cloys
With every brief ringing deafness.
What beauty
On these morning moments
Like seeing for the first time.

Tear out my heart
If suspicion suspects any word I speak
As flowered for show
And the soul not in it
Or the reality,
Not it.

Maria Disley 23/5/14

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Thanks for your comments Maria!! Very kind. I dont have any printed copies though, they are all POD and E-books on Amazon. Wouldnt want a garage full to sell off in car boot sales lol (assuming i had a garage). Tricky thing writing poetry, its like sticking your neck out and putting it on a block so "people" can then chop your head off. So for those of you/us and others brave/mad/lucid/unlucid/gifted/daft/crazy enough to risk it.... and then wished you hadnt...


The Poet

Across your face
We saw your past

Upon your hand
Appeared your future

Within your mind
There was solitutde

Yet within your heart
there was...

but each beat
of deepest passion...


You are beautiful!



© Jason Christopher
26th May 2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Jason, my comments didn't seem to post on your amazon page. I'll try again. Tomorrow.
I think it's a good idea for us to have a go at writing about how we first encountered our interest in poetry, our first inspirations maybe, in the form of great poets, maybe or maybe not. Or maybe we just write about once finding we spoke in poetry to ourselves, but then encountered a classic poet whom affected us so that we could never give it up even if we tried. After Dr Seuss :))))))))))))))))) I think for me it must have been Thomas Hardy. I will have a go at summoning up the ghosts of that first encounter.....tomorrow :)

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Dear Jason, "The Poet" is a lovely piece of writing.

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Thanks Kelley! Thanks Maria!


Moment


A shallow breath breathed

Words spoken

The air of life, changed...



©Jason Christopher
27th May 2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Box of moths

When I couldn't say it,
I wrote it.
Sorry. Thank you. I think I love you. Can you see me? Listen!
When the smile ached, the acting over,
Words confronted me,
Which one are you?
They asked,
Choose! They demanded
In a poetic philosophical way,
And we have danced together ever since
Refusing to be parted
The poet writer and the other;
Windshield.
She stepped in to the writers class
Like a wrong turn
And never looked back,
In good company of dead old ghosts, their
Domestic misery and South Atlantic sojourns
Where cliff top imaginations soared higher than the sea bird flocks
And their own feathers wrote the words,
Nature scribed itself within its own rough fibres
Time was watched upon antiquarian clocks,
Unchanged to this day, the second, the minute and hour.
I leashed onto the listeners
My box of moths,
My unshared mind.
Some old dead poet had persuaded me
With his closed soul
And open book.

Maria Disley 27/5/14

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

I always loved the sing-song stories of nursery rhymes. As a teenager I found Rod McKuen and started writing poetry of my own.

Poet Tree

Words
were always hanging
from the branches
of my brain.

Underripe fruit,
penned clumsily,
hidden away
in juvenile journals.

Overripe fruit,
split skin gushing
too much emotion,
rotting on the ground.

Occasionally
a perfect poem,
succulent and sweet,
completely conveying
the song of my Soul.

Karen Newell
5/27/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Beautiful Karen, succinct, no word wasted, :))))))))))

'Words still hang from the branches of my brain'. :))

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

"You loved me, once"

said the Tree ... of Eternal Life




(c)Jason Christopher
28th May 2014

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Great responses/echoes ppl. :)))))
Karen you have kind of validated hanging unsure words out there on the tree for anyone to see. It seems like the tree is now there and anything is allowed, no need to hold on to underripe poems any longer. :))))
Bukowski does my brain in! He's brilliant!

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Leaving

This morning they had all gone
But in their places were dark beauties
Just hanging there
Like new thoughts
Against
The winter sky.

Maria Disley 28/5/14

 

See My Photos

9 Years Ago

Cleared For Takeoff

I found the perfect sitting place
Along the edge of the flight path
Confirmation with each takeoff
Every crazy dream was sent
High into the sky of heavens
Beyond my wildest imagination
Contemplation of places unseen

Craig Carter 27/5/14


 

FirstName LastName

9 Years Ago

Hi All, I've written a lot of poetry in an off and on fashion over the course of my life. Here's one I wrote from a hotel room one night when I was far from home and family.

Hotel Nights - Copyright Mark W. Ballard

Fall filters past
the back slid pane
of hotel sliding glass.

Car doors slam
and engines rev
then fade in cool night air.

Disjointed voices,
boisterous laughter,
Come and go below.

I whittle words
and try not think
of what I miss at home.

 

SAIGON De Manila

9 Years Ago

Amazing tree KAREN..you just nailed it again! Direct to our slumbering ebb of consciousness..

@Craig is that your latest flight experience? Great recollection(if it wasnt done in your flight).

@Mark...nice addition on this colorful thread! Now am thinking how do I recall my bicycle experience and my endless tinkering of its body parts.

"My box of moths,
My unshared mind.
Some old dead poet had persuaded me
With his closed soul
And open book.
"

Maria, this one makes me wonder how the dead influence more than when they were living. =/

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Thanks to everyone for the kind comments! I love to read all of the poetry here :))
My Mom and I are going on an epic road trip next month. Colorado mountains, Utah canyons, Grand Canyon, Sedona, Tucson, New Mexico! Should be lots of inspiration for new poetry :))

 

See My Photos

9 Years Ago

@Saigon= There is a cool local spot where one can sit and watch the planes take off from Lindberg Field. So easy to daydream while watching.

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Maria, this one makes me wonder how the dead influence more than when they were living. Saigon.

Sell Art Online

Slink me, set me sail, to stray into the realms of fumey muses
Invisible things, full of colour and form and wit
Abstraction, logic and emotion.
Thoughts, Lifelong employers of our skin and bone, we their taxis,
Feeling life in the roar and splutter from our engine hearts, thoughts
Seeping like the smoke from chimney pots on the roofs of aerial mapped streets.
Amazing how so tenacious
They release their finesse into our hands
Have our nibs suck up ink and scribble, spidery, those ideas onto paper to endure.
But the imprints, like feet leaving sand, are but traces on the page, I find, when I read the thoughts of some old authored Sage.
And live on they do, sifting in waves from page through skin and bone somehow, elusive, invisible, full of colour, form and wit, abstraction, logic and emotion,
All and nothing,
From beginning to end, from the dead to the babe, from where, from when.
Think before you speak, for that musing breath endures;
Tis all that's truly free.

Maria Disley 30/5/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

I

I have lived with shades so long,
And talked to them so oft,
Since forth from cot and croft
I went mankind among,
That sometimes they
In their dim style
Will pause awhile
To hear my say;

II

And take me by the hand,
And lead me through their rooms
In the To-be, where Dooms
Half-wove and shapeless stand:
And show from there
The dwindled dust
And rot and rust
Of things that were.

III

"Now turn," spake they to me
One day: "Look whence we came,
And signify his name
Who gazes thence at thee." -
--"Nor name nor race
Know I, or can,"
I said, "Of man
So commonplace.

IV

"He moves me not at all;
I note no ray or jot
Of rareness in his lot,
Or star exceptional.
Into the dim
Dead throngs around
He'll sink, nor sound
Be left of him."

V

"Yet," said they, "his frail speech,
Hath accents pitched like thine -
Thy mould and his define
A likeness each to each -
But go! Deep pain
Alas, would be
His name to thee,
And told in vain!"

"O memory, where is now my youth,
Who used to say that life was truth?"

"I saw him in a crumbled cot
Beneath a tottering tree;
That he as phantom lingers there
Is only known to me."

"O Memory, where is now my joy,
Who lived with me in sweet employ?"

"I saw him in gaunt gardens lone,
Where laughter used to be;
That he as phantom wanders there
Is known to none but me."

"O Memory, where is now my hope,
Who charged with deeds my skill and scope?"

"I saw her in a tomb of tomes,
Where dreams are wont to be;
That she as spectre haunteth there
Is only known to me."

"O Memory, where is now my faith,
One time a champion, now a wraith?"

"I saw her in a ravaged aisle,
Bowed down on bended knee;
That her poor ghost outflickers there
Is known to none but me."

"O Memory, where is now my love,
That rayed me as a god above?"

"I saw him by an ageing shape
Where beauty used to be;
That his fond phantom lingers there
Is only known to me."
Thomas Hardy

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Very nice Mark. Evokes that restlessness when homesick! :)

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

I'm liking how in each poem there's a moment :))

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Have a great holiday Karen! it does sound epic
i couldnt find ur thread for a moment Maria... glad its here


Moments.....


She combs her hair
again and again...


each moment
repeats it self
we are stuck in this cycle of moments

endlessly...
the moment passes 
was that you?

was that you?



was that you?








was that you?
























was that you?


but her comb remained
on the floor

as i stood by the open door

it was night

something quivered in faintest sight


as i looked again

and again








was that you?



but i could not see her
in the lightless night
i grasped the air
but no lady did i touch
upon my hand 
just the lace of one hair

yet i see her
combing her hair
again and again


each moment repeats itself....



She combs her hair
again and again...


each moment
repeats it self
we are stuck in this cycle of moments

endlessly...
the moment passes 
was that you?

was that you?



was that you?








was that you?
























was that you?


but her comb remained
on the floor

as i shivered by the open door

it was night

something quivered in faintest sight


as i looked again

and again








was that you?



but i could not see her
in the lightless night
i grasped the air
but no lady did i touch
upon my hand 
just the lace of two hairs

yet i see her
combing her hair
again and again


each moment repeats itself....


She combs her hair
again and again...


each moment
repeats it self
we are stuck in this cycle of moments

endlessly...
the moment passes 
was that you?

was that you?



was that you?








was that you?
























was that you?


but her comb remained
on the floor

as i shuddered by the open door

it was night

something quivered in faintest sight


as i looked again

and again








was that you?



but i could not see her
in the lightless night
i grasped the air
but no lady did i touch
upon my hand 
just the lace of three hairs

yet i see her
combing her hair
again and again


each moment repeats itself....


Moments...



(c) Jason Christopher 
31st May 2014

 

Dan Richards

9 Years Ago

For Tomorrow I will Sail

Twas when we sat that eve in Market walk
Along the Yara we sat and talked
The shadows danced on the water below
Yet, upon your face a heavenly glow
The chatter of many a soul doth clamor
My eyes see naught but the amber splendor

As words flutter as an angel’s song doth love talk
About the times we would come to lock
Your dreams did speak of want to bestow
With tender word of passion doth grow
Doth your words make mine heart clamor
For tis tomorrow I will sail out to a distant shore

02/05/2005 © Pierre Richards

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Jason, I hope you will include 'moments' in your next book. I loved the structure, how those long gaps echoed moments, and the echoes of the moment captured itself. There was also a lot of dramatic climax. Half way through I thought " oh! I'm mistaken Jason has copied and pasted an unknown poet's poem onto the thread, how lovely when I got to the end to discover it was yours after all! And no, I did not think it couldn't be yours, it was the structure that made me think twice. It was a risk well worth taking. I was just thinking if the gaps would be more effective a little shorter but then in reflection I remembered how scrolling down to the next line was like falling into a well of the past, summoning up darkness, and helplessness in remembering that particular moment for you.
Strangely enough, it made me remember the brush and comb sets we used to get at Christmas time. Ten a penny now and people hardly bother with those kind of things anymore.

Dan, once again catching the moment and challenging me to stay with this theme, I will have to get thinking! You are very good at setting a scene. Was your Yara, the Melbourne Yarra?

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Silent stares and reflection.. all me lol... im always unsure of everything i write Marias so im glad u liked it :-) Yep i thought the gaps were too long too, but silence often speaks... silent stares, silent flash backs... silent is the moment of uncertainty... of everwhelming emotion.... of fear.. are we caught up in cycles of fear.. uncertainty, a loop of moments replaying endlessly... i recall a chat i had once, where we dicussed how patterns dictate our lives, patterns of behaviour... repeating themsleves... until we finally undertsand them and the meaning from where they came.... then we can break free from them... into a new patten? a new cycle of repeating moments?.... ... ..... ... . . as i comb my hair someone watches me.... ;-P



Dan - we just sail in to tomorrows... endlesssly... sailing.... as mermaids swim by

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Astral Dream

I dreamt a Shamanic Spiral.
Those who Know were there.

The Mesa was filled with intricate Healing.

I dreamt my Misarumi,
an object I Knew yet had never seen.

I placed it upon the amazing Altar,
accepting Ascension.

I awakened to my mortal world
with Magic in my eyes....

Karen Newell
6/2/14

 

Kelley Lee McDonald

9 Years Ago

Just wonderful Karen!

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Thanks Kelly :)) It was the coolest dream! I love when that happens!
Jason, clever use of the breaks. It worked perfectly! Very Poe-etic
Dan, your use of language created a timeless piece:))
Maria, Have our nibs suck up ink and scribble, spidery, those ideas onto paper to endure. :) !!

 

Karen Newell

9 Years Ago

Happy Birthday Ed Meredith! I hope you have a great one :))
Here is a piece inspired by a photo you posted a year or so ago

Clubhouse on the Beach

Scavengers seek
the bounty of flotsam
with which they build
their Temples on the sand.

Shrines to worship the Sea.
Sanctuaries for lolling.
Lazy gazing Prayer Palaces.

The Sea
is a fickle Goddess.
Laughing,
she slaps it down
knowing the Lover
will always come back
for more.

Karen Newell
2013

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Very busy week great to see all contributions...always make time to read :)))))

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Happy Birthday Ed have a great week :))))

 

Ed Meredith

9 Years Ago

Karen, Maria thank you for the birthday wishes... it was a perfect day ending with a night of fine dinning and dancing with the person who completes me...
one couldn't ask for more.

Karen, i will be returning to my beach shack in February, i'm looking forward to see what the sea has offered this year... . =>))

 

Dan Richards

9 Years Ago

" Was your Yara, the Melbourne Yarra?"

Yes it was. I have spent a few night walking the river walk, and looking at the river. Night time was always my favorite time to walk it, the colors, smells and the fire show at the Casino were always just surreal. One would have to walk it to know what I am talking about, and I think because you asked, you likely have?

Jason

"Dan - we just sail in to tomorrows... endlesssly... sailing.... as mermaids swim by "

I have one in one of my books on something like this, I think it was called, "Corsairs"?
I actually wrote in while on a ferry, while working as a photographer on a music video.

 

Dan Richards

9 Years Ago

Karen, Clubhouse on the beach, that was a fun read!
Happy Belated Birthday Ed.

_____________________________________________________

Cassandra

She sits alone in the night
With waves lapping about her perch
Surrounded by dark water of the moonlit sky
As she searches the vast ocean

With child-like demure she sits
Wondering what will come her way
Or if she should jump in and play
For this moonlit night casts such devious light

Then she thinks of her lover within the deep
If her father had known what they did
She would be in hiding this week
But his loving touch was more than she could stand

She had known him for many a year
But last night she found she was no longer a child
With him they explored the depth of their hearts
Soft and exciting his touch she found

She now felt changed, in a beautiful way
She had crossed to her womanly grandeur
With his aid she had grown last night
She bloomed last night to a mature flower

Now her mind swims with thoughts of him
Dreamy thoughts of the bliss they shared
Wonders she had discovered in heated arousal
Experiencing what she had grown into

Then from under the waves
A hand genteelly strokes her tail
And she knows the touch as she blushes bright
Then reaches and takes the loving hand

Together they slowly ease under the sea
To vanish and explore the depth of heart
With tender emotions shared again this night
Together forever she wants his touch

Pierre Richards 09/2003

 

Ed Meredith

9 Years Ago

Thanks Dan...

this is a repost but it fits my celebration of my 76th revolution around the sun...

Birthday... Narcissism to the End:

my reflection on this day
was brutally honest
in showing the passage of time
something i was to occupied to notice
until it had past

the end of my hour
which seemed to arrived
before it ever started
is upon me now
and gave good reason
to think darkly of my mortality

of being no more
nada
zip
gone…... dancing i thought
with a wink of my eye
after all i am a handsome rascal
i can see that in the mirror
far more youthful than my years
i've plenty of time to do what i wish
and so many things i'd rather not miss
so i'm out of here
i'm gone
nada
zip
i'm off to have some fun

and getting older
well
i'm finished with that
for the moment
it'll have to wait it's turn
to be dealt with when it comes 'round
again

Ed Meredith

Through the Looking Glass of Time
Photography Prints

 

Thank you all, for enriching my life through your words/visions.........you put everything in perspective.

late/loving Happy Birthday, dear Ed............Cheers,V.

 

Jason Christopher

9 Years Ago

Yes I'd like to ditto that Viv, and a belated happy 176th years of revolution to u Ed. Ur looking very well indeed.

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

For Ed and myself, The Geminis'

There was a moment
A sudden cry
Into the world
A smacked arse
A life begun
A circus
A tragedy
A comedy
A romance
All rolled into one
What fun
What tears
What laughs and fears
I understand it all now
As my birthday nears
I lay down gently the telescope of my mind
Like a found, lost glove,
Drawn to the music
Of existence
Leaving the past moment
Behind
To kick new arse!

Maria Disley 5/6/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Ed, we need to see a baby photo :))))))

 

SAIGON De Manila

9 Years Ago


Belatedly

No small feat to be late
but neither ants or the bees
came short of their fate
as strong as any sequoia trees
that I know of Meredith, Ed
when he painted the town red

 

Saba Saba

9 Years Ago

people are changed

People are change when you're a change
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down

When you're change
Faces come out of the rain
When you're change
No one remembers your name
When you're change
When you're change
When you're change

People are strange when you're a change
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down

When you're change
Faces come out of the rain
When you're change
No one remembers your name
When you're change
When you're change
When you're change

When you're change
Faces come out of the rain
When you're change
No one remembers your name

-- Saba Mzhavanadze

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

No sign, at the moment of blinds opening
Just dew, strewn across the morning grass
Just black branches holding with a mother's grip
Onto the few last golden leaves,
Twirling restlessly, in an autumnal tantrum to be free,
be carried off aimlessly, on the back of this fresh steel breeze.
No signal, this early winter morning, just dew balancing upon
Each green blade and perched feather, soon to be shaken by its owner.
Perfect circles of water, tiny mirrors, poised waiting for the sun's warmth to melt those Iced edges of last night's dreams,
about to disperse, as the real day unfurls.
The winter morning's cold sheets of dew present a day anew.
The air seems wanting, seems warning of downy dreams, blowing off the realms
Of unreal and spreading the bed of earth with real cold dew, cooling mirrors
To reflect on, to wake the dreamy eye.
Nature deals it's deck, by day, it's sleight of hand in every change of light, to use such simple tricks, is all it takes to halt a dream, an imagining, of signs, of signals,of night's stirrings.
The dew begins to melt and meld and too, the hopes withheld, disperse, but not so altogether, for though longer is the light of day the night will always follow.
And winter nights and winter days make seek us warmth, and chill our bones
And all our senses so intense as to compare our being, and all it holds, to a drop of dew that rolls along a blade of grass, and wakes us up at last!

Maria Disley 7/6/14




 

Melissa Herrin

9 Years Ago

Mothers last lullaby

Darkness falls be silent now,
Cold dark core warmed with life's last breath,
Life's aged tendrils fall into rest,
I have given you my all, my very best.

Melissa Herrin 6/6/14

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

@Saigon, like your comparisons poem. The fate of everything!!! Had to look up the Sequoia tree, turned out to be a commonly named giant redwood, living up to 1,800 years, wonder if Ed will still look as good when he reaches such an age :). Who knows!?


And the ashes,
Carried on the sultry summer breeze
Billowed like a feather; just fallen from the breast of some busy bird,
Above the canopy of trees,
And down it floated,
And rested at the gnarled roots
Of some giant redwood's boots
And there was tread into the ground
To only rise again
In fresh budding shoots
Resurrected
In a Sequoia
Reaching for the sky forever
But never.


Hello Saba.
Wonderful lyrics. Are you a songwriter? Interesting artwork too. Hope you have more to add to the thread.
@ Philip, good to see your poem just as I was posting. And not so different in tone to my poem either. Lot of reflection. I am still in process of reading, re reading to feel the full impact, as in Saigon's too.
While writing this morning, I found, as you can probably detect, my mind wandering, connecting to other ideas that we're presenting themselves with each new couple of lines, but I did try to keep to the intent that I began with and hope it was successful.
Afterwards, I wasn't happy that it presented nature as a double dealing agent, when nature is just nature, whether sometimes disastrous to humans or not.
My only complaint about your poetry is that there is not enough :)))
Hi Melissa, very quiet, sad, moving poem, almost a lullaby in itself. Thanks for sharing :))

 

Maria Disley

9 Years Ago

Think we need to make a new thread, this is getting too long to scroll down :). New thread will just be Poetry 2.

 

This discussion is closed.