- Angel Falls, VenezuelaThe Roots of Violence:
Wealth without work,
Pleasure without conscience,
Knowledge without character,
Commerce without morality,
Science without humanity,
Worship without sacrifice,
Politics without principles.
- Mohandas K. Gandhi
"Dreams are the touchstones of our character." - Henry David Thoreau
This Is Not Heavy
I wish I knew how
to say this bright change in me
to see how it is,
how you are, just two
letters reduced from the five
you've used all this time
and how the light shines,
backlights you standing beneath
the burden lifted,
as you place it safe
in the warm lap of sunset,
in my easy heart.
- Christopher
August 15, 2009 8:04 PM
So strong, so rich!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful Christopher...the burden, your lap, I am comforted.
ReplyDeleteThank you, lakeviewer, and how're things down at the coast?
ReplyDeleteAnnie, it's on the warm lap of sunset and in my easy heart. :)
The burden might fall off my lap. I wiggles a bit.
beautiful expressions chris,
ReplyDelete'two letters reduced from the five...'
that was a maverick's touch....
Manik, I appreciate your attention to detail.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could be in that place, too. Everything seems so heavy.
ReplyDeleteYour bright new high
ReplyDeleteYou’ve found a way
to carve knotwood
into balsam wings,
and there you glide
all grins above the street
even your ragged cuffs
stay clean now, as
your giggle swells
on your bright new high
your eyes graze me and
I wonder what you see
since they throw off
shards of blue and green,
no hint refracted
from my bitter grime
(I'll blog this later)
Rachel, yes, I wrote this poem a year ago. I agree. Things in general are much heavier now. I think I may have navigated a couple of hard turns and come out all right but the timing of my aging process seems to have sped up. That's unsettling.
ReplyDeleteI'll follow you there :D This is wonderful. Thank you.
ReplyDeletePink Rain
I hope you get it,
get how difficult it is
to turn wood into
lighter than air craft.
It may appear that I am
all giggles and grins
but the spells I wove
took the stuffing out of me,
have left me hollow,
cracked and now leaking
the hydraulics of my soul,
an oily pink rain.
I really like this, and I might be able to conjure up a response, later. It has a particular appeal to me. xo
ReplyDelete