This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
HELLOLLEHELLOLLEHELLOHHELLOLLEHELLOLLEHELLOLLEHELLOLLEH When I was Growing up I was always Told I had to work Hard to get Inside the Door and once I got Inside my job was to open it for Others. I am Opening the Door and Knocking it Off its Hinges. I'm an American Sappho c/s Who Else?
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Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
To Rush the Death of Ideas: its Day CLothes or Night Apparel?
Running between thought and paper,
An Idea and its Day clothes
Or Night apparel, no Matter. My lines
Seem unblessed with beauty
And more a Tool which not being a Tool
but an Instrument, Verse.
Arriving at You!
What are you?
And of what Made?
If not Words (no, not Words!)
but of Action ever Restless
Unstill with its Before and Ever After…
A Person who beholds a Ventricle,
a Tube, a Conductor, a Wire….
Present-Times: what else do you Think
You have been Wishing Upon a Star?
AN End? And End-Times?
Presposterous
Yet more Credible than Ever
The Knowers, Experts, and Wise of Alibi
To Host and to Hearten Death of Ideas
without Heart that might Procure Vision.
Inadequates at Love, why Live On, Humanish?
A Race, a Creed, a Way, a Lie to Believe Life Exists?
Life Needs Explanation? Life Needs to Caution,
create Caveats, and Excuses?
Ah, that’s our Job, we Cynical Authors,
Hemingfolk, Shipwrecked and still Seeking Adventure!
For Sheer lust of it, Doc Williams
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
An Idea and its Day clothes
Or Night apparel, no Matter. My lines
Seem unblessed with beauty
And more a Tool which not being a Tool
but an Instrument, Verse.
Arriving at You!
What are you?
And of what Made?
If not Words (no, not Words!)
but of Action ever Restless
Unstill with its Before and Ever After…
A Person who beholds a Ventricle,
a Tube, a Conductor, a Wire….
Present-Times: what else do you Think
You have been Wishing Upon a Star?
AN End? And End-Times?
Presposterous
Yet more Credible than Ever
The Knowers, Experts, and Wise of Alibi
To Host and to Hearten Death of Ideas
without Heart that might Procure Vision.
Inadequates at Love, why Live On, Humanish?
A Race, a Creed, a Way, a Lie to Believe Life Exists?
Life Needs Explanation? Life Needs to Caution,
create Caveats, and Excuses?
Ah, that’s our Job, we Cynical Authors,
Hemingfolk, Shipwrecked and still Seeking Adventure!
For Sheer lust of it, Doc Williams
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Poets for Spring to Emerge we Counter Violence with Verse.In its Wind the Door Sees it has Swung.
Sappho only Six at the Time
arose to her Studies
with a Deepening
Submersion in Thought
Hide she would her Mind
from the knowledge
of Others Save her
Students to Whom
her like was
Dedicated.
To Them, a Teacher
must Never Expect
of her Students What
she Herself Could
not Do
were it her Choice
instead of Being
with You, Youth.
And so Sappho
turned where Only
most Desperate
Worries are Laid,
in Words Words Words
of all Flavors,
Pollens, and Brines.
Thus is now Sappho
who founds
a School
of Poets
for Spring to Emerge
we Counter-
Measure our Verse.
By its Wind
the Door Knows
it has Swung.
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
arose to her Studies
with a Deepening
Submersion in Thought
Hide she would her Mind
from the knowledge
of Others Save her
Students to Whom
her like was
Dedicated.
To Them, a Teacher
must Never Expect
of her Students What
she Herself Could
not Do
were it her Choice
instead of Being
with You, Youth.
And so Sappho
turned where Only
most Desperate
Worries are Laid,
in Words Words Words
of all Flavors,
Pollens, and Brines.
Thus is now Sappho
who founds
a School
of Poets
for Spring to Emerge
we Counter-
Measure our Verse.
By its Wind
the Door Knows
it has Swung.
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
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