a single dandelion
stood in that empty spot
next to an ancient
wooden spool
swaying Continue reading
a single dandelion
stood in that empty spot
next to an ancient
wooden spool
swaying Continue reading
How could I have forgotten
The miles of old whining telegraph wires
That stretched across the land
Sending good news and bad –
Of course that’s all gone now,
Down the worm-hole of time –
We forget what the world was like back then…
I walked down a lane plastered
With red, white and blue flags –
People like ants applauded and threw confetti
I wore my green jeans and matching shoes
(My first fashion collection was
Based upon this memory
— Remember …
The green feathers in Martha’s hair?)
Now we could rest – after the sight
Of the shell-shocked soldiers with their
Loose minds and knife creased pants.
The war was over ...
While we were dining, father spoke of the war.
(That night
I dreamt of Japanese soldiers rattling
Bolted doors and bayonetting wounded soldiers,
The sight roiled my stomach but I couldn’t wake-up
And I ran afraid as the fronds hit my face –
It was something I wanted to forget)
Something I’ll never forget –
He told us that he was in the jungle
Running lost and scared –
And heard the whining of mosquitoes
Like telegraph lines
Back home,
They used to cross the land.
© G.s.k. ‘16
Note: This is a poem about memories … most of the memories aren’t my own actually, but things I remember hearing other people say … except for the dream … I had that dream and it was very vivid, when I was 5 years old, after my father told us about his war experience in the Philippines, where we’d just come to live. What has always intrigued me was the clarity of the dream … I’d never seen Japanese soldiers nor how they were dressed … but I remember seeing them in my dream and remembering their uniforms – which I only saw a few years later in a film.
NaPoWriMo: Day 17 Smorgasbord Sunday
Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #55
The Sunday Whirligig
green, blue, red, shoes, loose, pants,
dining, ants, good, news, miles, whining
The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #247
The Sunday Whirl
forget, stretch, rest, left, hole, lost,
sight, first, shell, feathers, rattle, old
The Fisher King
Knell before the Fisher King
Kind kinsman and knight
Sit thee at the king’s knee
Then join us at his table.
Kegs of beer and wine we’ll open,
His kitchen and kettles will be emptied,
As each course is served to you,
In kaleidoscopic variety.
Oh but noble kindred knight,
(Heed the kyrielle I’ll recite
For the karmic keeper of the grail)
Save our Fisher King’s
Kingship, kingdom and kin!
Be keener than kenless* Percival
Keep faith and ask to know,
Why wounded knights and
Bloodied knives and a grail
Parade between each course.
Know that knowledge is wisdom
And a balsam to body and soul,
Our King will be healed at last
And your knightly quest fulfilled.
© G.s.k. ‘16
*kenless … without knowledge
The Many Versions of “The Fisher King”
I woke up with the feeling I should try to write a poem using words that begin with A ….
Awaken august aerial Augier
Announce April’s auspicious actions
Avoiding anguished answers
Angle after affirmations
(Aural auguries)
Avoiding anxious abandoning
Announcements.
Angelophany allowed,
Auspicious ascertainment,
Awakening astonishment,
And Affectionate alleviation.
© G.s.k. ‘16
involution
written from somewhere inside
a fantasy
or mystery
but who holds the pen
and those words echoing
across a sea of static
unheard
and yet so well-known
who speaks them
there
in a murky wilderness
without rhyme or reason
unbeknownst to anyone
he walked by
snapping a photograph
he caught … the narcissist
reflecting upon his soul
preening in dark waters …
mysterious are the words written
this bright spring morning.
© G.s.k. ‘16
Oil on Canvas
Arles: February, 1888
Silence: A Woman Passing
silence ..
her eyes look on her now lost dreams
vapour ghosts like missing beings
once bright tokens for the future
now just lonely hollow vessels
silence ..
the heart that beats calls out to you
do you not hear that rhythm true
once quick in happy excitement
now slowly like a funeral
silence ..
the rhythm of a distant drum
sets our pace until we’re done
once the beat was in harmony
now erratic the drum beats on
silence ..
her life is over, her soul is gone
because her days had grown too long
once youth filled her, body and soul
now she’s just a hollow echo
© G.s.k. ‘16
(5) Words: | SILENCE | EYES| HEART | DRUM | LIFE |
Written for:
the secret keeper
Hear me,
I am the Voice of the Wanderers
survivors are we
we travel the land
where the mighty once stood
infinitely powerful
but not very wise
they pissed in their nests
and befouled their own drink
think now you my people
as I tell you the tale
of this abandoned house
and this abandoned town
and all of the glories
and all of the destruction
of those who begat us
many eons ago.
Abandoned … this house and all that is hidden within.
G.s.k. ‘16
The photo is the prompt for Poem Tryouts: More Abandoning which I found on “Jane Dougherty Writes“
which inspired the story below .. this poem is a sort of introduction to the story.
The Voice – Science Fiction – January 28, 2016
Charing Cross Road, 1937 by Wolfgang Suschitzky
Turn on the light
What time is it, what day?
Thursday morning – 2:00 a.m.
Turning off the light
Falling asleep I dream
As the hours pass
Time expands,
Dilates
Accelerates,
Stops
Now… I’m out for a walk
Up the side of a mountain
Climbing, climbing
Higher and higher
The wind, whistles in my ears
The birds fly overhead,
Crows cawing, finches twittering
Echoing
Changing
As pebbles fall
It begins to rain
Great crystal drops run down a window pane
Puddles form in the streets
Flashing street-lights
Splashing in the cold blackness
Wet feet – numb, frozen
No Sir Walter
Missed the trolley…
Hear the siren …
The ferry leaves the dock
The tower clock
Tick, tick, ticks
Louder and louder
With a start, I wake-up
Turn on the light
What time is it, what day?
Thursday morning – 2:05 a.m.
Turning off the light ….
© G.s.k. ‘16
In this winter forest
Of cedar, spruce and pine
(The snow, softly falling
No passage here of time)
This dreamland comforts me
As the wind whispers songs
No hymns were e’er sweeter
Nor apse e’er holier
As in this holy grove
In this natural cathedral
I look towards the sky
I feel love around me
The magnificence of life
Here I sing thankful lauds
For all my many blessings,
Of each day I walk the Earth,
In this winter forest
Of cedar, spruce and pine.
© G.s.k. ‘16
This poem was a gift of a dream …
On this cold winter’s day
I look onto perfection
The meeting of dawn’s light
And the closing of day
This marvel of creation
Lay arm in arm together …
In this momentous moment
My heart fills with peace
My mind knows true love
As the spring and the winter
Come together I sigh with awe …
Now life’s continuity
Through its endless cycles
Is no longer a stale thought
But a vibrant reality
As I look onto this scene
Of the encounter of the ages
On this cold winter’s day
© G.s.k. ‘15
Photo Challenge #92 December 22, 2015
When nothing is certain anything is possible
life happens . . .
Noreen Crone-Findlay talks about the crafts she loves with her friend, Tottie Tomato. They'll be sharing tutorials, how to's and step by steps for spool knitting, crochet, doll making, small loom weaving, wood working, paper crafts and all manner of other fun crafts. This is a family friendly blog.
Random musings, observations and thoughts from inside a VW camper van.
Poetry. Art. Book Reviews.
a forum for the study of the materialism and ontology of finance
Written Thoughts are unlocked Treasures of the mind...
Welcome to the Feline World of Nera, Tabby and Fluffy
Observations and views from a different set of eyes
Advice on Writing, Publishing, and Book Promotion
An Artist's Eyes Never Rest
Poems
A Blog of Books and Literature
Misk Cooks
wāhine on the go
Poetry ~ Waka
Carpe Diem's Tanka Splendor is part of the Carpe Diem Haiku Family. It's a weekly tanka-meme in which you can write and share tanka inspired on a given prompt every Saturday (mostlty, sometimes it will be on another day).
Haiku inspired (mostly) by my walks in and around Eastbourne
Often rough and filled with switchbacks, the road this child of God is traveling Home.
poetry... mostly...
About fantastical places and other stuff
MALTAWAY TRAVEL per Viaggi, Corsi Inglese e Incentive - maltawaytravel.wordpress.com
a happenstance journal
Who, What, When, Where, How & Why
brenda warren
When nothing is certain anything is possible
life happens . . .
Noreen Crone-Findlay talks about the crafts she loves with her friend, Tottie Tomato. They'll be sharing tutorials, how to's and step by steps for spool knitting, crochet, doll making, small loom weaving, wood working, paper crafts and all manner of other fun crafts. This is a family friendly blog.
Random musings, observations and thoughts from inside a VW camper van.
Poetry. Art. Book Reviews.
a forum for the study of the materialism and ontology of finance
Written Thoughts are unlocked Treasures of the mind...
Welcome to the Feline World of Nera, Tabby and Fluffy
Observations and views from a different set of eyes
Advice on Writing, Publishing, and Book Promotion
An Artist's Eyes Never Rest
Poems
A Blog of Books and Literature
Misk Cooks
wāhine on the go
Poetry ~ Waka
Carpe Diem's Tanka Splendor is part of the Carpe Diem Haiku Family. It's a weekly tanka-meme in which you can write and share tanka inspired on a given prompt every Saturday (mostlty, sometimes it will be on another day).
Haiku inspired (mostly) by my walks in and around Eastbourne
Often rough and filled with switchbacks, the road this child of God is traveling Home.
poetry... mostly...
About fantastical places and other stuff
MALTAWAY TRAVEL per Viaggi, Corsi Inglese e Incentive - maltawaytravel.wordpress.com
a happenstance journal
Who, What, When, Where, How & Why
brenda warren