The End Could Be Very Close

Twin Buddhas climbing
to the roof of all the worlds
just below heaven
there to view the loom
of human fate as if truth
could be found in it.

Me, hidden behind
a drape of purple shaded
dust in a nearby
window- I spy out
heaven's secrets, having pledged
never to utter
one true thing about
them to any friend or foe
on pain of starting
the apocalypse.

‎September ‎29, ‎2015 - 6:00 PM

Searching For Sources

Searching For Sources

When I look into
Your waters, Oh God, I see
no sign of my face.

When I look into
the waters of my own soul
some odd signs appear.

I search Your sources and spells.
I find smoke in Your hot white eyes.

October 22, 2009 12:45 AM
rewritten, February 7, 2011 8:12 PM

Seeing Too Much - A Magpie Tale

photo credit: Gerrit Photography
Image offered by Tess for Sunday's Magpie Tale

Seeing Too Much

If only graves were
really graves and stones
would stop dead sighted eyes from
their gritty gray sweep

The ghost in the street
remembers having a house
to hold and people
who touched his proud soul.

Through the cold pane‎ his daughter
writes her lover as if
he cannot see her
exposed like xrays expose
the bones within flesh -
a skill of phantoms
everywhere whether they
want the skill or not -
and he does not want
to see her like this today.

September ‎27, ‎2015 4:20 PM

Written for Tess Kincaid's Magpie Tales

Before Writing The Next Poem

Anything to get
the juices flowing, the flame
flaring, the howl out.

Loping alone, night
prowling, throaty growls spreading
at red sounding speed -
I've come to tell you
something important, something
rich and right sized, but
you have to speak wolf.
You have to listen like trees
and see like stars see.

February 6, 2011 12:22 PM

To The Manor Born

I've been a bit royal,
as if I had a leg to stand on
making pronouncements,
as if there should be
a crier announcing for me
my presence in the room,
in the poem,
in your life.
Damn! How do I dare
to act like I do?

‎February 5, ‎2011 5:00 PM

On The Bias

                      News Source Bias left to right

The "bias-cut" is a technique used by designers for cutting clothing to utilize the greater stretch in the bias or diagonal direction of the fabric, thereby causing it to accentuate body lines and curves and drape softly.

If I had angles
all figured out, I would know
how to be with you
without the howling
whine of a bound up hot blade,
nor need more guidance.

‎February ‎5, ‎2011 4:33 PM

I have taken to napping a bunch as an antidote.

Psalm 347

I shall sing of you
in the eve and setting sun,
in the morning light,
in the midday heat
and Oh! the squirrels scold me
for my intrusion,
my audacity
that I lift my voice to you
who they hold so dear.

‎February ‎5, ‎2011 7:00 AM

Turning Point

I like to wake before you,
go downstairs to birds
as they rustle up
their grub, and me too. I start
the coffee for you
and my tea water
and think about our latest
discussion, last night,
how all is changing.

‎February ‎5, ‎2011 5:48 AM

Incantation - A Magpie Tale

Incantation

I came all this way
across the tidal delta
through the bore head first
snorting salt and sand
and generally acting
the fogbound dripping
fool for love of you.

Now your misty glass allows
me to cast a spell.

Perhaps this hex will
force you to me since nothing
else works worth a damn.

‎September ‎20, ‎2015 1:20 PM

Written for Tess Kincaid's Magpie Tales

Placing The Blame

I am not that sure
the sun will rise for the last
of us in this town,
on this bamboo path
that I thought I should lay down
through the left hand marsh
so we could avoid
the right hand rocks and sharp scree
found there.

I think now
the sun will refuse
it's former role in the works.

It's for my own good,
no doubt.

I hate that
kind of talk, you know, that way
of placing the burden
back on me when I
never even thought of it
until the load appeared.

‎September ‎18, ‎2015 4:50 PM

What Is It?

What Is It?

What is "it", she asked
as if I might know better
than the average
bear, the bear who lives
in the woods, and there leaves signs
of his large presence.
But I don't. I don't
know now what "it" is. I might
have once, but mostly
these days it's about
the best trees in the forest
for scratching my back.

‎February 5, ‎2011 5:19 AM

Posturing - Three Word Wednesday

Coffee Art

A late entry into Three Word Wednesday. The three words are: Haphazard; Labored; Noxious.

Posturing

Noxious fumaroles
are burping out smokey rings
and smell of bad eggs
in back of my eyes.

You claim me a labored bard
but what shall I do
with this graying cess*
and its curly enforcement?
Those curs should depart
for sharper corners
and let haphazard songsters
hoist their own petard.

I am sure of it.

I do, I do make some kind
of sense but maybe
not right now, brother.
I confess to posturing
at this damn juncture.

‎September ‎16, ‎2015 8:57 PM

*The dictionary defines cess like this: (in Scotland, Ireland, and India) a tax or levy. I like the connotation of (bad) cess implied by "graying cess" as it goes to black. One might think at this juncture (sic) of the word assess.

When I checked bad cess then cess came up like this: chiefly Irish: cess means luck — usually used in the phrase bad cess to you, or another like it.

I suppose the link is that taxes are particularly bad luck when they land on your back.

The Doll House - A Magpie Tale

Image offered by Tess for this week's Magpie Tale.

For the other late summer offerings, reach out for Mag 285.

The Doll House

I would never play
with houses, leaving all such
to you, suffering
your attentions to
the details, all the many
odds and ends of life
in miniature
in the long and hazy days,
our days as they were.

I have kept this house
for over sixty years now
and will not explain
its sad disarray
because it still feels like you
and your favorite
late afternoon yarns.

I just have so little else
to show for it all.

‎September ‎13, ‎2015 ‎6:00 AM

It Is My Call

It Is My Call

I shall then rotate
and float in the darkening
night sky, a remote
caretaker's handle.

Like a sharpening function
and alert for heat,
I'll grind the blade down
to razor's edge, that special
twenty degree hone,
that angle, that keen
repose -

I am resistant
to all blandishments
from the head of state,
from his aging cabinet,
and, my love, from you.

‎February ‎3, ‎2011 4:49 AM

I am feeling my age...and no sleep last night at all...not cool. Whinge.

We say "whine" and the Brits say, "whinge". To put a fine point on it, they do not really mean the same thing. Whine means more precisely a humming high pitched sound while whinge in the the British English is a false grief. American English has dropped the "whinge" and now lets whine carry the whole load. Both words were in the English before 1300 AD. Technically "whine" is pronounced like wine with a breathier "w". Whinge is pronounced just like hinge but with the added "w".

The Lawyer - Three Word Wednesday

Abraham Lincoln is reported to have said, "a lawyer who represents himself in court has a fool for a client." It is not clear Abe actually said this. However, it is sound advice. Even a lawyer should have a lawyer in court.

On Three Word Wednesday, Thom gave us these words:
Glimmer; Fatal; Impartial.

I normally would have written a smaller poem but I got entranced by the story so here it is. Sorry I'm late. It's complicated.

The Lawyer

The glimmer will reign
the other lights after noon,
high or otherwise,
and the misty day
could turn fatal if we dance
to the wrong ditty
too soon, my dear one.

I'll try for an impartial
verdict but I doubt
I will get it from
that red nosed fool of a judge
with his brown glass flask
clinking in his back
pocket underneath his robe.

So let your gun slip
as it must, my dear,
eventually dipping
below the ridgeline
of the fate behind
your eyes and my mind's eye too
as I strip my lines.

We will not be moved
off dead center, not today
my dear, not today.

‎September ‎10, ‎2015 2:28 AM

A Senior Moment

The sun's last light over the ridgeline.

A Senior Moment

We are penned in, love,
fenced by aged wood, bound by vines
we have wound around
our joints carefully
drawing all caution to us
per our written oath
on that tan parchment
contract of our engagement.

Is this possible?

It is like sunset
spray swirling in the late sky
close to the ridge line -

our edges drafted
on our fruited heritage.

It is like moonrise
casting her silver
daggers - all our divergent
choices chased away.

‎September ‎8, ‎2015 6:56 PM

Coming Home - A Magpie Tale

Welcome back, Tess. I have kept you safe in my thoughts as best I could.

Cue the Irish Uilleann Pipes:


Coming Home

I climbed to the top
of the sodden line of hills
in the fade of light,
in the last of day,
because I knew the flagstones
were on the ridgeline
still, as long ago.

One hill south past the wood gate
was the notch that held
our house and I hoped
your heart and our stone warmed bed-
as well, good lamb stew.

‎September ‎6, ‎2015 2:53 PM

Each week, except for vacations to England and such, Tess Kincaid offers images of great beauty for writing prompts. I am fond of replying with my poetry as best I can. I am also fond of Tess. You can find the contributor list on her site. Click on this: Magpie Tales.

The Horizon Problem-3 Word Wednesday (late)

"History of the Universe" by Yinweichen - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:History_of_the_Universe.svg#/media/File:History_of_the_Universe.svg

The inflationary Universe. According to the theory of inflation, the early Universe expanded exponentially fast for a fraction of a second after the Big Bang. Cosmologists introduced this idea in 1981 to solve several important problems in cosmology. One of these problems is the horizon problem.

The inflationary epoch lasted from 10^−36 seconds after the Big Bang to sometime between 10^−33 and 10^−32 seconds. This is the actual "Bang" in the big bang. Following the inflationary period, the Universe continues to expand, but at a less accelerated rate.

Even theoretically, there is no way to say much about the period before 10^-36 seconds. There is little meaning to be found, and actually not much meaning before 380,000 estimated years passed - that being the horizon of the knowable universe from our point of view.

The horizon problem in Cosmology has to do with how fast things happened and why the cosmos is so uniform no matter where we look. There is no known way for different locales to communicate with each other given the known limits to that communication and so no known reason why things turned out so uniform.

Thom at Three Word Wednesday offered up amusing; deeply; and elastic as the three words. Click on Three Word Wednesday to see the other contributions.

The Horizon Problem

Walking the damp stones
you placed beside the north wall
of our High Street House
I realize how
amusing my life's become
in the deeply lit
frame of my struggle
to remain elastic in
the gnarly fingers
of my latter days.

I see who I should have been
as they recorded
the metrics of souls,
mine and yours - all the others
to establish rank.

I scored fourth highest,
flying in the thin upper
strata of the crowd
making my Momma
ever so thoroughly proud
and while I am not
so much, I remain
mostly all I think about.

But I think of you
too, Sweetie...sometimes.

‎September ‎3, ‎2015 4:15 PM