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6082. arkymalarky - 9/15/2011 4:21:21 AM that's how 50 was for me. so lovely seeing you in here, rick. 6083. vonKreedon - 4/2/2012 7:19:15 PM A couple of Haikus I wrote in my head while driving back from Boise.
Turkey vulture soars
Over river in full spate
New life arises
...
Hillsides old velour
Kamikaze tumbleweeds
Explode on my grill 6085. arkymalarky - 4/2/2012 10:28:17 PM Love it! Great to see the poetry thread active. 6086. RickNelson - 11/27/2012 5:15:44 PM Who do you suppose I thought of today?
We'll after my brother, who's 50 today.
Second, was the old dude pseud, and then the fav of mine Marjoribanks, or as pseud dude dubbed him Marzipranks.
I thought of cellardoor and Wiz, and all of you. I'm not leaving anyone out. It's just one of those days. A spark and there it is.
Been grabbing a poem here and there, opening one of my old books on occasion, recalling the fervor of the not so distant past.
Wonder what that ol' Pelle is up to?
Seamus too?
Jacob is 8, ain't that great?!
Best wishes and warm regards.
6087. ricknelson - 8/30/2013 1:30:27 PM In honor of Seamus Heaney who died Fri. Aug. 30th, 2013, I've rewritten an old poem I posted in Sept. 1999.
Sunset:
A pink sky background
where cloud streaks abound
rayed with brilliance
inlayed light blue
Carve this elaborate scene
embracing sunset
Tabernacles pale
monuments fail
light filtered haze
branches now shadows
A foreground of veins
aureole tree manes
Wind rippled water
reflect far shore
mirror of beauty
embracing sunset 6088. thoughtful - 8/30/2013 1:41:53 PM So sorry for your loss....
Lovely poem. 6089. arkymalarky - 8/30/2013 10:48:38 PM Ohhh, thank you for posting. Sad news and beautiful imagery. 6090. judithathome - 8/30/2013 11:05:48 PM Rick, sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but Pelle passed away earlier this year. 6091. ricknelson - 8/31/2013 2:53:31 PM Thanks judithathome, I stopped in a few months ago and discovered that news. I was reminiscing last year.
I do miss having time to work on writing.
Yesterday I discovered the Kenny Neal and the Neal family. They're an awesome group of musicians. 6092. bhelpuri - 2/17/2014 7:45:29 PM What up, Ryckster! 6093. NuPlanetOne - 4/28/2014 3:32:29 AM
Was going through old files and found this first poem I had posted years ago. Which our old friend Maria followed with one in the same vein. Miss that girl!
Like a Pet
That time, it was close
I thought I could avoid thinking
I thought I might get lost
In your rhythm. In your tossed
And sinking ship. Some company
Going down. Yet, bewildered
You could not pull me out
I did not even reach for your hand
Your look as it scanned my face
Was a death all by itself
I could not explain. You could not
Understand. In any case,
Nothing changed for me
It never does. But I saved you
Had I pulled you in my sin
Would have been greater. I could
Have kept you forever. You know,
Like a pet.
And when I saw you again, I should
Have said more. And how eerily you let
Me go. It bothered me for days
It disturbed me in ways
I dread to examine. But I dug
I sifted and the hammer struck me
It was not death on your face
It was relief. Good Jesus!
Could I be that alone. This belief
This tragedy that I play to
This resignation and conceited grief
That I live in. What? Even that,
My conclusions, even these?
Even you! You called them delusions
I remember now. I remember how
You quickly changed your tone
You had figured it out, wow!
And then just played along! And now
While it all settles in, had I known
You could have saved me,I would
Have taken your hand and learned
To sit and obey and stay, you know,
Like a pet. But you let me go.
NuPlanetOne
You May Not Bell the Cat
Save me? Save me?
Oh, no, my dear;
I saved myself.
Per secula
Seculorum;
For ever and
Ever, Amen.
I am the cat
Who walks alone;
Solitary
Splendor suits me.
You might as well
Have tried to keep
A lightning bolt
From flashing by.
You think too much;
Did I forget
To tell you that?
Of course I let
You go, to give
Us both a chance
To start the dance
Anew, untouched
By boredom’s taint.
That is the death
From which I run,
And which you saw
Reflected in
My gaze. Enough!
Despair shall be
The death of you,
If you let it.
Away with you;
These eternal
Postmortems still
The song of life.
Maria Gleason
6094. arkymalarky - 4/28/2014 3:43:15 AM Oh Nu! And thank you for reposting those poems! Always one of the best things about the whole place. Thanks for bringing it back to the surface. 6095. wabbit - 4/28/2014 8:34:20 PM Nu, thanks for those - good to see you! 6096. alistairconnor - 4/29/2014 10:38:49 AM Ah glory days. How's your prose writing, Mr Planet? 6097. NuPlanetOne - 5/3/2014 10:59:16 PM Thanks guys. Actually, alistair, am hoping to string together a collection of short stories by years end. 6098. NuPlanetOne - 5/19/2014 8:51:49 PM Something serious and something light....
My Wonderful Dream
Am I missing sunsets
That trail along the sky
I know I miss the dawn
When I sat alone
On the pier
It was a holy time
I had no experience
And no regrets
I just wished
For things
Because there was time
Ahead
And wishing was so grand
The trust in hope
That fierce strength
To make things happen
And even when nothing
I wished for
Came to pass
There was the next dawn
And even as the same
Weary boats
Went out
I believed, for me
It would be different
At some point
I began
To watch the sunset
The colors
Seemed to match
My broken heart
The rusty golds stretched
Like regrets
Across the sky
And the urgency
And my wishes
Hung like the day’s
Nets
Out to dry
And although
I might still
Look up and sit
Quiet at dawn
Or sit looking back
At shore
As the boat takes me out
The wild desire
And painful yearning
As the sun gleams
Over the edge
Is not anymore
A holy thing
But just some other
Fisherman’s
Wonderful dream
24 Hour Blues
There is something dogging me
A heaviness. A dread
Feelings of emptiness
I must be depressed. Finally!
I know what it is
This feels like the blues
Are these the blues?
I need an instrument
To play them on. A Saxaphone
I need an analyst
To dig into my past
How long do they last?
Should I sit by the window
On a passing bus
Staring out into space?
No. I will sit alone in a booth
In a café and brood
I won’t order food
What if I do smile?
It must be a grin
A sad looking grin
Of chagrin. Self pity
And if it lasts a day
Who are you to say
Get over it?
6099. webfeet - 7/8/2014 1:44:39 AM OMG! HE BE BCK 6100. webfeet - 7/8/2014 2:28:28 AM No, no , don't misunderstand my euphoric outburst for Nuplanet's return as a stunning disregard for the loss of Seamus Heaney or PelleNillson. But I do think humor is needed here. I just told my husband that some beloved Motees died, and he said, being French, that we should call it, instead of the Mote, La Morte. You can't account for the French. They're just...like that.
6101. webfeet - 7/8/2014 2:31:19 AM Omg,Nuplanet. You must stop it. I am weeping like an Opera. 6102. webfeet - 7/8/2014 2:31:42 AM And, of course, I loved Maria Gleason.
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