Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Returning Autumn

Kathleen Raine 1908-2003


All creatures passionate for grace

Quest their desire through the groves and seas

That flesh may win a human face,

And pain be crowned with holiness.



And lovers out of present days

Float back upon the body’s dream

Of a green branch that drips and sways,

Caught in the current of a stream

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Moments

These Passing Moments


Child of the moment gleaming from no where?....

From what wonder star galaxy bright swirling ....

the dim earth that sadly sells for a thin dime. ....

The coffin box there lies for all to see, but people....

just past it by hungry for strange wailing ghost with toys. ....

Where do you come from and where are you going?....

Did you know the grey showers outside are gleaming....

in sad rivers going no where but the boisterous sea.....

Child of the moment gleaming green from no where,....

the melody pours forth so refined disappearing to the space.....

A boy eleven with his instrument by an old church ....

playing much better than a professional on Easter Eve ....

as birds listened fascinated while others drifted to work.....

Later, Michio, a Japanese guy with sarong and tank top....

and a flowing beard playing his shakuhachi and drum....

~isn’t this what they loved, instead of so much television?....

The ocean was out there, as people suntanned,....

but the colorful playground was empty before us.....

There was a long conversation before us, but....

he had certainly a plane, then a train to catch….....

The long haired, bearded Japanese one was on a long trip....

to Macchu Picchu, then staying in ....Belize.... for the rest....

of the year in a rundown old cottage by the sea,....

eating fish and laying naked under naked stars....

with his childhood friends Miguel Suertes Blanco,....

and Bianca Rodriguez and their seven children....

in their tattered old clothes and rundown shanty....

by the blue curling river with abundant fish.....

Sitting under the shady green strumming the charango....

to long lost memories of olden songs his mother sang.....

There will be old Mariachi bands, Peruvian flutes,....

Faraway drumming as the purple rain falls.....

Laying there with the toucan and sliding snake....

on the old rustic hammock enjoying the breeze. ....

He will change his shade with the misty moon,....

and appear later as the frightful yellow leopard hidden....

deep in the cave shouting at the misty moon!....

Perhaps, he now never needs to return to ....Japan....? ....

.. ..


Where Ships Return

Where Ships Return ....

With these escaping fragments, place them in harbors....

where ships return with future possibilities.....

Light house beacons that docks castaways....

on sandy beaches where there is a fair sky mirror.....

The possibility of these rising cliffs ....

green lagoons of childhood lost sea horses,....

broken ships decks, pink corals, sandy crabs,....

loud distance conches, violet swirled shells. ....

In the dark brown bamboo hut where....

laying there in moments that are hours.....

A fresh sunlit room speaks for itself,....

a room of rainy languid showers....

as spirited ghost dance their forgotten history.....

opening and closing of doors, feeling space.....

To know the possibility of islands....

and far stretches of the tumultuous horizons. ....

Knowing the long corridors of voices and chords....

strung down empty candle lighted halls, ....

as trumpets blare out over the orchestra of viols.....

This is the bare heart fulfilling water wheel,....

in light filled breathings ~ writing on empty tables,....

sequence toward no failures, in dark apertures of rain.....

A folded chair beside umbrella, bag with fountains pens,....

folders of sheets and three classics, writing on the sandy....

waves, star of the noon breeze ~ perfumed horizon.....

Children’s laughter amidst the sandcastles, orange blaze....

of sun, indigo sleepy night fading sound traffic....

Water timbre spoken to the talisman of dreams,....

waiting in anxious surprises in cool room flowing daze. ....