fluid and grace express poetry in motion
while the musics dance to a rolling rhythm
and your voices rise to meet the emotion
expressed in the falling meter and rhyme
– 1/26/10 – 61 #favorite
– (inspired by Lifehouse’s Learn You Inside Out)
Tag Archives: rhyme
Whither Goest Thou Little Bird?
whither goest thou little bird?
for whom dost thou sing?
what love hast compelled thee
this melody to bring?
art thou sent by some lover
his beloved to woo?
by thy sweet serenade
his desire to pursue?
i pray this is so, little bird,
it puts hope in my heart
to think love is the motive
for thy beauty and art.
–1/24/10 – 58
A Bleak and Lonely Midwinter Landscape
your delicate softness masks the bitter wind
and amber glows on your icy countenance
the frigid fingers of your caress warms me
as i dwell on the beauty of your substance
i see the night fall on the driven visage
of your bleak and lonely midwinter landscape
and the beauty of the stillness i behold
gives me hope that i too might find escape
for this world sometimes overwhelms me
with the constant struggle to get somewhere
and i get lost in the chaos of its institutions
feeling lost, alone and without the will to care
but moments like these as i look on beauty
stirs the inner depths of my disquieted soul
and in that place of discontented heartache
i am calmed, encouraged and made whole
– 1/11/10 – 44
The Call
in the mountains of the winter wind
where the white wolves run
and bit frost covers the rocky crag
you can hear the distant drum
its the call, my brother
calling for the brave
answer the call, my brother
for the world to save
–1/8/10 – 41
This Absence Thine
forthwith i call to the mighty throne
reveal in me the spirit divine
for my heart emits a plaintive groan
and suffers from this absence thine
– 1/6/10 – 38
In the Meadow by the Bay
what flies against the distant lee
in the meadow by the bay
who waits beyond the great oak tree
with hair like fire and eyes dark grey
smell the evening fresh like clover
sitting in the woodland shadow
whispery kisses in your bower
your laugh peals out like a flower
– 1/2/10 – 33
Spark
my mind is blank, a hollow tomb
a space empty of the ideas of poetry
and whence comes the creative spark
which occupies and breathes so vibrantly
my empty soul yearns for its touch
the soft caress of its deft fingertips
the sensual thrill of its embodiment
i would be caught in its metaphorical grip
– 12/25/09 – 25
Driving
photons beaming,
the skyline gleaming
slow river flowing
past the silver arch
night sky brooding
frosted wind blowing
soft music playing
over the car stereo
– 12/4/09 – 2
Foghorn Leghorn
dissociative phrases slip in and out
foggy dew, fog lifted, foghorn, leghorn. ;)
creative buzz,
cackling energy welling
glad to be free.
free of the fog. there it is again,
chase the pent up rush.
ideas in a fuss,
hear the thrush! now focus. crisp.
clear, feel the clarity, contrasty,
images, razor sharp, like a knife.
now soft, fluid like water.
oh bother. chase the convolution
harry it like a cat and his mouse
or a bird and his prey
wait. where was i again?
– 12/3/09 – 1
Sound
in the stillness a quiet room
a broken deep, a silent loom
the dulcet braid, the complex wave
the deafening empty pounding rave
Stricken
I am cut to the quick, I am stricken,
Undeserving of the mercy that You have given
How can I make for my life a demand
When all that I am is Yours to command
I grasp in my heart for what I deserve
I forget that my life is here only to serve
And I’m caught in between desire and love
Loosing sight of what waits for me above
The March of the Grey Standard
1) Far to the east, with the glowing sun bathing
A battleground strewn with many knights dying
A battle is fought, with the morning sun rising
Fought for fair Avalon, for the High Kings calling
2) Great are the knights, they are noble in bearing
Loyal and true, their fel swords are swinging
They fought against darkness, to see the sweet morning
Fought for fair Avalon, for the High Kings calling
3) But the knights of fair Avalon, their high banners flapping
Are sorely besieged, their courage is dwindling
They fight to the full, their whole hearts there giving
Fought for fair Avalon, for the High Kings calling
Knights look to the west, the western horizon
They come from the west, the golden sun setting
4) Six hundred spears in the golden grain flashing,
Glittering sunlight on their spearheads gleaming,
Six hundred men with their leather boots marching,
Marching toward Avalon, to the High Kings calling.
5) At the head of the column, a golden helm shining,
With his roan colored chargers dark mane streaming,
His back is straight, his noble gaze piercing,
Marching toward Avalon, to the High Kings calling.
6) Through the deep valleys, the high mountains crossing
The men of the column, their grey standard flying
They followed their captain, with strength in his bearing
Marching toward Avalon, to the High Kings calling
Knights look to the west, the western horizon
They come from the west, the golden sun setting
7) Now look to the north, a dark prince is screaming
His dark brutish horse, on the battleground rearing
He raises a challenge, his wicked sword swinging
Death to fair Avalon, and the High Kings calling
8) Behind him the legions of evil are roaring
Bent on destruction, pillage and whoring
They massed on the borders of Avalon swearing
Death to fair Avalon, and the High Kings calling
9) War engines were built, great stones they are throwing
Brimstone and fire, on the walls are exploding
Rampant fear runs, in the streets there is crying
For death in fair Avalon, and the High Kings calling
Citizens look west, to the western horizon
Hope comes from the west, the golden sun setting
10) The grey standard marched, they march to the calling
They come to the aid of a hope that is failing
Their hearts are full, full to the brimming
Full of fair Avalon, and the High Kings calling
11) Their eyes shine with courage as the dim light is fading
Their faces are set, there is hope in the gloaming
They come from the west, the call they are heeding
Full of fair Avalon, and the High Kings calling
12) Hark! hear the horn, the horn that is blowing
A golden helm high, a silver sword flashing
A roan colored charger, down the battlefield charging
Charging for Avalon, and the High Kings calling
Citizens look west, to the western horizon
Hope comes from the west, the golden sun setting
13) As the sun dawns on destruction, the grey standard is blowing
On the western horizon, the knights are still standing
Hope came from the west, from the west the came riding
Riding to Avalon, and the High Kings calling
14) They rode through the night, their strength was not failing
Their courage was strong, their resolve had no doubting
Through the dark and the fear, of the dark princes warring
Warring on Avalon, and the High Kings calling
15) They came to the aid, to the aid of the flagging
Knights who with courage, who had given everything
To stand till the grey standard, broke with the dawning
Arriving at Avalon, and the High Kings calling
Citizens look west, to the western horizon
Hope came from the west, the golden sun setting
16) Songs they are singing, and praises they are praising
How the golden helm met the dark princes raving
How truth clashed with horror, how courage met hating
Battling at Avalon, for the High Kings calling
17) Tell how the standard, it noble grey flapping
How bright burning spears bit into the writhing
Black hearted heathen of the dark princes gathering
Gathering ‘gainst Avalon, and the High Kings calling
18) Tell of the wounded, the brave ones whose fighting
Who stood against darkness, who fought the despairing
To see the helm rising, in the morning sun gleaming
Gleaming for Avalon, and the High Kings calling
—–
Some Notes From the Author:
I don’t often write epics, nor do I often wade in the sea of narrative. My talents lie mainly in that of description. But on occasion my imagination begins something bigger. This is one example.
Your thoughts are valued. In this case, the poem feels perhaps a bit rough. There are parts that I’m not sure flow properly. If you find similar places, feel free to point them out, and/or offer suggestions for improvement. I’m open for such things.
Thanks!
The Lark
Observe the lark, who flies from twig to branch
How he gaily lifts his head and wing
Observe his twinkling eyes and hear his chirp
How he proudly lifts his voice to sing
Sing sweet your song, O morning lark
Sing of the Creator and creature
Let peal your laughing jubilant hark
And greet the rays of the rising sun
Sweet Star in the Sky Tonight
Star light, star bright,
Sweet star in the sky tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Wish you well till morning light
Deep Vibration
Sway to the rhythm of deep vibration
Pulsating waves of palpable motion
Move to the beat of a pounding drum
The resonant thrill of a strident thrum
Loose yourself in an aching voice
Find yourself in the loss of choice
The quiet surrender of mans volition
To beauty, song, and exposition
Devotions
On a mid winters eve
In a small country town
My thoughts drift and float
As my eyes fluttered down
And I listen while I sit
To the soft gentle sound
Of my fathers rich voice
While he’s reading out loud
From the Bible thats sheltered
And compassed around
The life of my family
In this small country town
Death, O Fallen Angel (Death Be Not Proud revisited)
Oh Death! Thou vaunted fool, proud son of sin’s defiling,
Oft thought of as potent, supreme, and unyielding
How hast thou fallen, been debased and made servile
Those who feared thy touch, who you thought to defile
Will not be brought low, nor in dark oblivion sleep.
For thy touch, no longer bitter, is so very sweet,
And though the greatest men slip the bounds of earth
To rest because of thee, yet you are bound by birth
And the life of one man, whom you could not contain.
And you do even choose the time and station in vain,
Being subject to the beck and call of every beggarly
Thief, proud king, and common chance. In the company
Of disease and contagion, you pass your time, for you
Have no better association. Thy touch is soft in lieu
Of pain, as once it was, now dulled and sweetened till
The passage of this life, with opiate and dream will
Slip peacefully into eternal bliss. O Death, where now
Is thy vaunted pride. Gone, and no longer can’st thou
Escape thine own touch. O Death, even thou wilt die,
Eternal death for you awaits, when we see Him in the sky
This poem was written in response Trash Talking Death, a post written by Joy.
The Sea
Undulating, with white capped teeth
Pulsing, it wraps around the world,
And rages at times above, though silent underneath
With swell and swagger it holds its sway
And moves the brave who plumb its depths
A friend, an enemy, we wrestle it and pray
Time
Look East to the sunrise, into the nascent glowing
And westward the sunset, to anticipate the gloaming
Sunrise, sunset, the marking of the days
Time rides on a ball of fire and marches on its rays
The Proposal
Thus falls the evening dust
To sparkle in the starlight
Enchantment fills the very air
Bound up in every dendrite
Excitement racing through my flesh
An arcane type of passion
Deep within my soul is felt
In mystifying fashion
Abundant strands like silken thread
Reflect the ghostly gloaming
And fall like water down her back
Dark as ink and soft as downing
Probing eyes look out at me
Beneath the thick black lashes
The gaze a gently pressing force
Felt on my racing senses
Into the limpid pools I fell
Such soft and dulcet beauty!
With her forever I could dwell
In this enchanted story
Reaching forth to touch her hand
I make my proposition
And as I kiss her finger tips
She whispers her assention