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"Grasp Now Thy Missive Pen..."
Grasp now Thy missive pen For thy letters to the world. For is it not At times like these Thy message come unfurl'd? For at times like these Should thy message grow, Accept them with Delight; For 'tis through Pain That Nature chose To set thee back upright! So tell thy story - Show the way - That those not pain'd might learn. That Pain and Hurt Might they stay, But still such courage earn. So grasp it now, Thy missive pen For thy letters to the world, And take a chance - Thou know not when Thy message come unfurl'd. - end - - March 5, 2006
Sweet Summer Flow'r
While in a life such as this Chanc'd I to see A solemn, rare beauty: A one such as thee. Oh, rare summer flow’r, Whence hast thou come, That all thy companions Their beauty turn glum? If I couldst but keep thee, To stay in this field, Forever to nurture, My soul become healed. To everyday see thee; To admire thy grace; But such is a daydream I couldst not embrace. Oh, beautiful Flow’r, Why dost thou sway? This way and that: Near and away? When brightest thy beauty, Doth my soul contend. Yet a moment thereafter, My heart fears its end. Oh sweet summer flow'r, Thine intentions unknown, My thoughts left to wander, To travel alone. - end - - March 4, 2006
"To earn but a kiss,"
"To earn but a kiss," A man hurt portends, "Will such fools endeavor - "Though all love will end. "They chase and they challenge "For a love that's eternal. "But love leaves them weeping, "For love is infernal." Though if I should meet him - True love he decries - My smile will not greet him, But truth will advise: That love is as open As two hearts accept. His gloom be the cause What love can't be kept. As Forgiveness and Faith Are love's truest friends, 'Tis Worry and Doubt That lead to its end. So if I should see thee, Will I love thee throughout. For a short love is better Than a life lived without. - end - - March 3, 2006
When Chanc'd I To See Thee
Oh, thine own beauty, Dost thou not know. Tender thine eyes, I love them so. Thy lips curv'd a'smile My soul doth affect. Thy laughter sublime My soul doth collect. Yet more thy beauty Found in thy soul! Thy thoughts surround me, Mine heart be made full. When chanc'd I to see thee, Though my soul didst weep, 'Twas the passion within thee That kept me from sleep. Still canst I hear it, Thy spirit so bright. Few others believe it, Hast thou bound it so tight? For timid the girl, I saw oft that week, Worried was she, Her passion to keep. Let loose thy passion! That this world might know That beauty within The soul I love so. - end - - March 2, 2006
Welcome to the hallowed hell of a life...
This is a work that I have not written, but which I have found quite moving. I've asked the writer's permission to post it, and thus it has found its way here. Welcome to the hallowed hell of a life Bookmarked by nothing Thinkless, thankless, loveless, and alone A life and love wasted Chased by the thought that this is all there is But I feel the wind blow and I know What it is I've been missing for all these years, just Listen. To the breeze and the trees and feel that you are finally Complete. And all we know is all we are And we learn from the trains and the planes and the cars But everything moves past Too fast to see So we get the Readers Digest version of beauty That's why I travel on my own two feet And listen to the beat And the rhythm of the earth Stronger, and deeper, and better Than anything you or I Could create on our own Even the flow of this poem Is kept to the beat Of the thousands of feet Of those thinking, and walking All over the globe no one is ever alone. 
When We Two Parted
Another post that found itself into my notebook not of my own accord. It seems I have friends with fantastic taste. | When We Two Parted | WHEN we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears. |
| -Lord Byron |
Excerpt from "Song" by John Donne
The following was brought to my attention by a friend of mind, who added it to my notebook (02/22/06). It was too good to leave behind, therefore, it has found itself here. go and catch a falling star,
get with child a mandrake root,
tell me where all past years are,
or who cleft the Devil's foot;
teach me to hear mermaids singing,
or to keep off envy's stinging,
and find
what wind
serves to advance an
honest mind... |
- John Donne
When Children Learn to Judge
The decisions of adolescence are such grave and dreadful ones, when farmers' sons realize they speak more slowly, when the unappreciated realize they're angry, and when the fortunate realize their affluence. It is then when children learn to judge. - end - - February 26, 2006
A means by which she might set herself free...
For a short moment's pleasure does she yet entertain, aspiring to find greatness in but a short moment's time, hoping thoughts let free might answer the questions of her restless mind. She sits and watches the dancing wind made evident by her thoughtful vice, which for but a moment releases her from Life's burdensome worries. Whereas the wily youth pursue such a vice as a means by which they might gain acceptance, hers is but a means by which she might set herself free. - free from noise, from confusion from all the pains of the outside world, if only for a moment. And one might proclaim that such a vice has driven her to her solitude, but it was for the solitude of thought that she pursued that vice. Though it slowly take her life she accepts with open arms for the time and chance with which to dream. For it is such a freedom that might save her life, giving her chance but to transcend what might be but an otherwise dreadful, harried life, that her thoughts might set her free. - end - - February 26, 2006
The Impassioned Writer's Dilemma
When one has but one page to fill,
what does he write?
How does he fill the page
with all the poetry of life,
and not miss a thing?
With love & anger, sadness & loss
can he only touch the surface
of a well so deep.
To fill that page with all that well's water
is his heart's true pain.
As the sorely fragrant breath
of the smoker's vice
plays its sorrowful blues in his lungs,
as the sweetly fragrant rain
on a silent, lonely evening,
plays its reliable melody on the flat tin roof,
as a gentle libation in a broken man's glass
warms his tired, broken body
and calms his tired, broken mind,
such things are but a small part
of an innumerable myriad
of life's graceful tales,
wherein pain, death, love, hate, loss, and laughter
have a beauty each their own,
how can one chance to display, relay, portray,
or capture them all?
For things he has not yet seen may years past
try to find their way to his gentle pen.
Not with a thousand pages, nor ten thousand,
could he chance to catch them all. - end - - February 26, 2006
Fathers be good to your daughters...
"Fathers be good to your daughters...
Daughter will love like you do...
Girls become lovers,
and turn into mothers.
So mothers be good to your daughters, too."- John MayerDaughters
Oh Father,
What is this life that you would have me live?
What is that purpose for which
my thoughts were made a jumbled mess?
Surely in thine infinite wisdom and caring grace,
you had a great and fantastic plan
by which you would have this soul fulfilled.
Yet I cannot see it -
that which would lay bare the answers
to the infinite confusion of this humble life.
Surely you had laid out a plan,
at the time of my creation
which was high above that of the average person.
For ten times over is the vast perplexity
that can be found in this man's mind,
than that of an average man.
Not that I would feel higher or of more importance
- for such a simple purpose I envy greatly -
though I fear I may not be successful in any
endeavor you might have planned.
But how to put these myriad skills and passions
to use is my heart's greatest question.
Though that thy cunning intentions
might be more easily perceived,
that I could make way the designs of life.
- end -
- February 25, 2006
As does a fitful cloud...
As does a fitful cloud, today it rains, rains, rains. And all of this week even still has it rained, rained, rained. Yet such a week would seem to be a reflection of a confused man's heart. Were it not for such a mood set in his ill-weighted breast, such a precipitous time might seem but a waste. But he does not fear it so, for many an indecipherable situation has purported to set his mood so - and an effective purport that it was. But for being indecipherable say I only since his quiet, analytical mind hadst not found the key by which he could understand their nature, or the guidance which may have been their motive. When one spends such an extended time planning, plotting, and rehearsing his future, How is he not to be formidably lost when sweet and selfish Life's crafty henchmen create a future far unexpected and selfishly unknown? If only one couldst find the treasure by which sweet and selfish Life might be contrived to use her guiles in that one's favour, or at the very least to show such an one wherein his future lies. But sweet and selfish Life cannot be bought, for she is the owner of all men's hearts, able to play a game or take revenge upon any such one. Being so has she no need for anything such a man might give, by which he would buy his freedom. So it was for the fair and queenly nymph Kalypso, having every need at the tips of her very fingers, who but held strong and clever Odysseus as a companion, though only for a pleasure her own. Yet it was but at the behest of the thoughtful goddess grey-eyed Pallas Athene, - equally self-fulfilling in all her delights - that stately Zeus, son of Kronos, sent his swift messenger Argeiphontes - the winged Hermes - to entreat that Odysseus be given leave to make his way back to his beautiful, circumspect Penelope. But here still, it rains, rains, rains, and this man has none such as the wise and thoughtful, grey-eyed Athene who would free him of Life's selfish, misleading ways that he might hold the reigns of his own destiny. - end - - February 25, 2006
The Influence of Feeling Noticed.
When on such a serene eve, such a young and lovely girl would purport to chance a glimpse and perhaps flutter her nervous, cheery eyes, what is that secret which keeps me unfraid? Why would such an anxious and frightened heart as beats in this lonesome, heavy chest suddenly choose that it should NOT freeze even but for a mooment, stopping my every movement and tearing what words from my mouth that would chance to slip from its lips? But a girl so young and lovely should not find herself with the worry of a lonesome fate; her cheery eyes fluttering so. But for what misunderstood reason might she find to cast an envied glance as the one I found myself the owner of this night? Though, this night, such a glance would not give her any beholded or noticeable response, and she would part, perhaps to never glimpse this man again. But he is not saddened but his spirits risen! Not for her, or in necessity by her, but by the thought which overtook her youthful mind that perhaps a love could reside in this heart that she might have one day chanced to know. - end - - February 23, 2006
A response to Keats' Sonnet to Byron
Sonnet to Byron
John Keats, (October 31, 1795 – February 23, 1821)
Attuning still the soul to tenderness,
As if soft Pity, with unusual stress,
Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by,
Hadst caught the tones, nor suffer'd them to die.
O'ershadowing sorrow doth not make thee less
Delightful: thou thy griefs dost dress
With a bright halo, shining beamily,
As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil,
Its sides are ting'd with a resplendent glow,
Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail,
And like fair veins in sable marble flow;
Still warble, dying swan! still tell the tale,
The enchanting tale, the tale of pleasing woe. |
How fancy a man pens words such as these,
and wise to honor such an one,
lest selfish pride be his downfall.
When on Death's anniversary
- one hundred eighty five years past -
such a sonnet grace my eyes
and sounded in my restless mind,
then did I know his beauty.
For with his words didst he reveal
such a beautiful soul, and reverent.
For who cannot honor those whose beauty has shined
so bright?
Who can claim such fame
as would o'ershadow that of one
whose greatness will not likely be forgotten?
Yet such an honorable move hast
thusly secured that History would
treat his words the same,
lest one who would read his words
- another hundred eighty five years past -
not chance to do so,
and thusly never know the beauty that was lost.
- end -
- February 23, 2006
The Others (or Green, Yellow, Red)
The sorrowful refuse was retrieved by another. Then the light, it flashed - green, yellow, red - and into the trash. If one hadn't seen a field so full of sorrow, what then would become of those others, destined to remove such sorrow, lest it overwhelm surrounding Magnificence whose song might go unheard, but for those others who would keep up her splendor. - green, yellow, red -And so the other spent his time - removed. Though his participance might have gone unnoticed, were it not for his patient, caring hand, Magnificence might have gone without. And at times, more sorrow fell in his lap, unrestricted, with a laugh, as they passed. - green, yellow, red - He had not wanted it, nor had he asked to maintain the beauty of our fantastic Magnificence. Nor did he mean the event that had brought him there, - though it had. And so it was, and so it would be - if not him, then another the others would always chance to cleanse the World of her sorrow. - green, yellow, red - With him, or without, there would always be others who would remove such sorrow, listening to the songs of the chains below... - green, yellow, red - ...their chains, that sung their song as they replenished the beauty that once was. And there would always be others. - end - - February 22, 2006
You get what you need...
"You can't always get what you want,
but if you try some time,
you might find,
you get what you need." - The Rolling Stones
The rain falls...
As I write, the rain falls. And as I sit here, considering the words that would represent my feelings within, the rain falls, unaware of the world which goes on beneath it, around it, and in between its laggard drops. The patrons pass, and talk, or walk on by. some read, some write - some such as I - while others still watch some read, some write and some such as I. and the rain falls, gracelessly. And the wind blows, the rain shows its lack of care. And the wind screams, and the rain comes in streams while patrons rush across a pavement that gleams. And they pass, and talk, or walk on by. A clerk washes a window, and a girl takes off her rain-drenched coat, and a young man stands out in the rain. He lights a cigarette. He feels no pain. And the patrons walk, and talk, or pass on by... The soft blues lumber through the room - dancing under the rain-pelted roof - telling the story of each patron as he sits, as they talk, as she dances in the rain in her rain-drenched coat, and as he drags on his cigarette, wondering what went wrong. And the blues play on joining their conversations, sharing their loneliness, enjoying their friendships, and dancing with them in the rain that falls... ...the rain that is unaware of the life that races on beneath it, around it, between its laggard drops and that dances in its midst. And as I write, As I sit here considering the words that the blues so readily understand, the rain falls, a young man drags on his cigarette, the blues play on, and a girl dances in the rain... - end - - February 22, 2006
On really clear nights...
On really clear nights, the stars will shine brightly. I can't really say that I've seen so many before... It seems like it had been so long since I had tried to appreciate them that they had reproduced in great splendor. Even now, though, when I try to appreciate them, the hampering worries of a day intrude far to greatly. The fragmented moments during which I find myself in a truly appreciative mood, but the time that it takes to notice serves as a suitable enough interruption to get back to the worries of my day. Then, the next time I find myself prepared to enjoy the masterworks of the night-time sky, someone has perchanced to fill it with grim and dismal clouds. When one looks up to see nothing but clouds on an all-too-often basis, he will likely forget it possible that the stars exist. And when it happens that he chances a glance and sees the stars, he will likely note that he never remembered having seen such stars. - Such is the business of life. - end - - February 18, 2006
There is a thin line...
There is a thin line separating the man who learns to be content with all he has, and the man who accepts a fate of which he deserves far better. This is how an intelligent man might find himself at a place in middle age, which he should have passed far in his youth. How is it that every person does not meet their dreams? I do not know, yet having that middle-aged man in my future is also not impossible. If a person waits for the opportunity to become who he was designed to be, he will likely miss it, for every day is that opportunity... every decision, every moment... but we let all these pass us by, because we await the opportunity that will take itself and push us to greatness. But my friend, that opportunity will not come, so take hold of the opportunity which sits patiently at your feet, every hour of every day, for it cannot do the job without you. - end - - February 18, 2006
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