An Old Poem (Bricks)

Bricks

Bricks.
Large and small
Dark brown, beige and black.
Intertwining into walls;
Walls of thought.

Rain pouring
Down.
Down.
Like freefalling objects from high
Knowing eternity.
'Til fantasy ends with a bang.
Smashed on the ground.
Smashed flat.
Lily pads spread on ponds
Extending limits outwards
'Til they touch...

No! Don't touch.
Leave me alone.
Alone to grow.
Grow til I shrink to nothing;
An ever expanding black hole.
Fill the whole with senseless thoughts.
Creating something out of nothing.
Or stopping nothing from being actual nothing;
By building walls.
Walls of,
Bricks.
Large and small.

An Old Poem (murphy)

murphy

Wanted: stable environment

social circle for formless

transient soul.

Lost horizons
Are stored in the same
Locked cabinet
As broken dreams and promises.
Sunglasses share the bottom drawer
With lighters and unpaired socks.

The name on the door
Barely recognizable
The marker used
Long since faded under the blazing sun.
Hard to believe -
But reality exists
Between the cotton
That plugs my ears.

What if happy endings do really happen?

First Poem!

For conservation
Turn down the heat
It's inflation
We have to beat
Close all the windows
And the doors
And to keep warm
Do your chores
Now it's all
Up to you
It will save money
And energy too!

I know - not the typical writing you have been seeing from me here. However, this one has some significance. Back in 1974 or 1975 when I was seven or eight years old, this was the first poem I wrote. This is the one that gave me the first sense of fun in playing with words and I have been hooked ever since. For many years my poetry had rhyming couplets before diverging off into the style that I usually incorporate today, though the rhyming does crop up from time to time for periods. I am trying to locate my old writing journals, and I know there are a number of different styles scrawled into them. Hopefully I find them soon as I would like to revisit the rhyming period. Or maybe, just maybe, things will start flashing bak into my head as this one did last night - recalled after decades of being lost.

Sometime The Light Goes Out

Sometimes the light goes out
Life gets dark
We're left without
As peace comes
To some
Or to one
Pain ceased
Breath in
Breath out
Breath in
But not out
Sometimes the light goes out
The memories can cut
And in turn
They burn
In what
They used to hold
Sometimes the light goes out
But in the dark
I still see
And feel the joy
You felt
The wonder
Of the every day
Thank you
For showing the way
Even when the light goes out.

An Old Poem (test patterns)

test patterns

Falling again
Eternal spiral down
Into the depths of dark skies
Moonscapes
Burnt trees
Pain and deep blue seas
Cold coffee on the stove
And yet I sit
Staring at nothing.

With a crash and a roll
The thunder starts
Followed close by rain.
Outside it's dry
It storms only in my head
Twisting turning
Fields of grey
Souls impaled on spikes
From what I run
I still don't know
And the rain still falls.

So, so tired
Yet I can't sleep
Visions of red and black
Fill my tortured mind, soul, head
That, and test patterns
Simple
Yet soothing in their innocence
Unfeeling
Never experiencing change
Or pain
They continuously remain
The same.

The coffee is still cold
The sun has gone down
Yet I don't notice at all
Everywhere I turn
I see test patterns on the wall.

Bright lights fill my vision
Streetlights, sirens
Headlights on cars
I wonder what a traffic light feels
When no one sees it change
Streetsigns, billboard advertisements
Trying to influence me
While expanses of sand
Unending
Yet with no origin
Leave me alone
Wondering where to begin
Who sweeps the desert clean?
Do picnic tables hibernate in winter?
And if they do, why can't I
Hide away from clear blue skies
Sunny days that are so lonely
With everyone else going
Their own way
Bus tokens are eighty-five cents each
But you get a transfer.

As I Slip

Mind tripping
Slipping
Slip and trip
Dipping
Into
Jazz beat synapses
Syncopated conciousness
Embrace
The sunrise
Of thought
Supernova eclipsed
By serenity
Memory retracing
Not dragon chasing
I'm replacing
The me I thought
With the I am
As I slip
And trip
Forward

An Old Poem (Death Comes One)

Death Comes One

The leaves rustle
Tripping through my mind
Alone with my thoughts
This world that is mine
Filling my days
With the path of the wind
An ever changing pallette
Color caressing the sky's canvas
Blazing before my vision
Beauty in death
Individuality
Through mortality
We live as part
Of the entirety
Dying
Together
But death
Comes alone
As the leaves fall
One
By one.