Posts Tagged Poetry
“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
Each passing winter,
My taste for bitter drinks grows,
Comfort in darkness
“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.
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.
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
I’m just ten posts away from my 100th post.
Body in Flight
Cutting through the air
Like Phelps in the water
No plane, no helicopter, no magic carpet
A lone body in flight
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
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.