(I don’t know why this picture reminded me of this conversation with my grandmother, but there you go … the spark of poetry)
My grandmother used to talk of “streakers”
in Central Park as
daring urban pirates who removed their clothes
to sail through the crowds.
I imagine she wished she could join them,
freeing herself of her upbringing so she could dash out
amidst the wide-eyed public and maybe catch someone’s attention
for just a moment.
Fingers cupped around her mug of tea,
passing a cookie across the table to me,
she no doubt felt landlocked in life
while all I could wonder about was,
where did all their clothes go?
my poem today stems more from the wonderful day I had today in Longmont…but I think it will piggyback on this cityscape and the beauty of the sky….
My Heart is Full Tonight
Filled as a Life Already Lived
Yet Still Room For My Life to Come
My Smile will Not Fade as I Slumber
In this Home that Surrounds me
Inside and Out
the Hearts of Many Aid in my Love
For what I See in Front of me
and For what I Feel on my Toes
I Stretch out my Arms in a Giant
Hug of Thanks
Some say the lights are falling,
I say I chose to make the world go up.
Some say the night is calling,
I say I chose to make the world go up.
Oh, deceit and dismay,
We all may sling such words about.
And dither on defining things.
Who really knows when right is done?
You, you say I made your day drop down.
I say you chose to make the whole thing up.
And you claim I made the pain hurt more.
I say I chose to drain the whole darn cup.
And still, it’s dark, and I’m alone.
But I can make the world go up.
Yes, I choose to make the world.
I’m standing on my head again
in order to reverse what you see through my eyes
so that when you talk in negative,
I only hear positive;
and when your words shoot sparks of anger,
I only see colors;
and when you sleep to dream in nightmares,
I only taste silence.
(I don’t know why this picture reminded me of this conversation with my grandmother, but there you go … the spark of poetry)
My grandmother used to talk of “streakers”
in Central Park as
daring urban pirates who removed their clothes
to sail through the crowds.
I imagine she wished she could join them,
freeing herself of her upbringing so she could dash out
amidst the wide-eyed public and maybe catch someone’s attention
for just a moment.
Fingers cupped around her mug of tea,
passing a cookie across the table to me,
she no doubt felt landlocked in life
while all I could wonder about was,
where did all their clothes go?
http://vocaroo.com/?media=volcrFieR6N44tQx0
urban pirates…
landlocked in life…
me likey
my poem today stems more from the wonderful day I had today in Longmont…but I think it will piggyback on this cityscape and the beauty of the sky….
My Heart is Full Tonight
Filled as a Life Already Lived
Yet Still Room For My Life to Come
My Smile will Not Fade as I Slumber
In this Home that Surrounds me
Inside and Out
the Hearts of Many Aid in my Love
For what I See in Front of me
and For what I Feel on my Toes
I Stretch out my Arms in a Giant
Hug of Thanks
I liked “My smile will not fade as I slumber” — it’s very visual, Kelly.
Kevin
I think we’d learn a lot,
were we to turn a day upon it’s end.
Upset the clock,
Rise with the dusk,
and
See the other world,
The world that sleep obscures.
Costanza opposite.
Three Boxes — not for us!!
we live like Jack.
Perspective
Some say the lights are falling,
I say I chose to make the world go up.
Some say the night is calling,
I say I chose to make the world go up.
Oh, deceit and dismay,
We all may sling such words about.
And dither on defining things.
Who really knows when right is done?
You, you say I made your day drop down.
I say you chose to make the whole thing up.
And you claim I made the pain hurt more.
I say I chose to drain the whole darn cup.
And still, it’s dark, and I’m alone.
But I can make the world go up.
Yes, I choose to make the world.
Shut up.
He said -Hush. Shut up.
My answer? No answer.
I threw two pieces of chalk
to the blackboard of the night.
I’m standing on my head again
in order to reverse what you see through my eyes
so that when you talk in negative,
I only hear positive;
and when your words shoot sparks of anger,
I only see colors;
and when you sleep to dream in nightmares,
I only taste silence.