Posts Tagged Poetry

Towers of Steel

“See the sun rise over her skin
She feels like water in my hand
Freeway like a river cuts through this land
Into the side of love
Like a burning spear
And the poison rain
Brings a flood of fear
Through the ghost-ranch hills
Death valley waters
In the towers of steel
Belief goes on and on ”

U2, Heartland, Rattle and Hum, 1988

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Darkness Falls – A Winter Haiku

Each passing winter,
My taste for bitter drinks grows,
Comfort in darkness

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What Shall We Wonder At?

“But we were born of risen apes, not fallen angels, and the apes were armed killers besides. And so what shall we wonder at? Our murders and massacres and missiles, and our irreconcilable regiments? Or our treatises whatever they may be worth; our symphonies however seldom they may be played; our peaceful acres, however frequently they may be converted into battlefields; our dreams however rarely they may be accomplished. The miracle of man is not how far he has sunk but how magnificently he has risen. We are known among the stars by our poems, not our corpses.” – Ardrey, Robert, “Philosophy,” Encyclopedia Britannica, as quoted in Jacobs, A.J. The Know-It-All. 2004.

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I Needed You

Those of you who are familiar with this blog know that I believe in giving artistic works titles that reflect the content of the works themselves. This is why I argued in my post “Viva La Vida” that this song by Coldplay should be entitled, “When I Ruled the World.” It should come as no surprise that the following piece, a short original poem by me, is entitled, ‘I Needed You.”

I needed You so You willed me.
I needed You so You designed me.
I needed You so You created me.
I needed You so You sustained me.
I needed You so You took my life.
I needed You so You breathed life into me again.
I needed You so You closed the door of death.

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An Ode to Computers

The screen is pure black

It emerges from sleep in a lightning instant,

is shiny and flat as a sheet.

It must be turned on, ignited

and the fingers keep typing, typing

alternation of depression and release,

and that is how we get things done.

Every night the world is made anew.

Solder the priest that binds wires,

pluses and minuses

pour in from around the globe

and in the shadow, little fireflies

sentinels that guard our dreams

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I’m just ten posts away from my 100th post.

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Body in Flight

flying-man

Body in Flight

Cutting through the air

Like Phelps in the water

No plane, no helicopter, no magic carpet

A lone body in flight

Ala Superman

Plunging through misty dense clouds

Like London fog

Glancing down at swarms of ants

That are really people

Scurrying to and fro

Flying without an engine

An unique experience

Seldom had even in fiction

Still birds make for poor company

The desolation of sky

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Sweetheart

She picks up coffee at a little neighborhood cafe

Starbucks too oppressively corporate

She pours on the milk and multiple sugars

Her face lights up as she tells the cashier, “Have a nice day.”

Like a candle, she imparts her light to those nearby

A routine prayer passes between her lips

Before she starts up her gas-electric hybrid Accord

And with a whisper she starts to fly.

But not before letting the elderly Polish woman go ahead

She’s not always this obsequiously polite

Truth be told, sometimes the sweetness sticks in her mouth

Like the juice of a cherry popsicle, syrupy and red.

One day the repressed rage and hidden discontent will surface

And she will make the nearest man miserable

Be it husband, father, brother, or lover

And will leave him feeling confused and nervous.

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