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6050. Ulgine Barrows - 3/16/2008 10:22:27 AM keeerist, my father-in-law said he stopped drinking when he was 60.
I don't think I can another 15 years of this. 6051. Ulgine Barrows - 3/16/2008 10:23:27 AM I don't think I can TAKE another 15 years of this. 6052. Ulgine Barrows - 3/16/2008 10:25:13 AM Maybe I'll wise up. 6053. NuPlanetOne - 3/30/2008 1:44:51 AM Unfaithful Flowers
I do begrudge the blossoms
The cuttings, the pruning
Those hours you spend
Amidst your vibrant daffodils
As you call them, by name
You claim they know you
Petunias, Geraniums, the Morning
Glory walkways that bloom
On my early stroll to the car
Then gone, yet greeted by Moon
Flowers in concurrent rows,
As I return in the evening
The Glories closed up to sleep
Then the rows of blue back
With the sun, now the white asleep
And that wild amusement
In your eyes, like you and a lover
Had put one over on me
Because I was astonished
You could conspire like that
I guess there is some jealousy
That you could plot with another
That in obsessive trysts
You sneak out there, to commiserate
To be alone, to experiment
As if golf or poker were comparable
Which you say is my time
I don’t know if the two are equal
Distractions, because watching you
Through the greenhouse panes
You are not distracted
You are in love.
6054. NuPlanetOne - 4/21/2008 7:21:34 PM Motion Sickness
If there is no friction
There is no motion
That is why
Nothing really moves
In space
It is why we do not feel
Motion, unless something
Blocks our path
A gas, a obstacle, a liquid
And can all provide
The sensation
All motion is enclosed
Within a membrane
Ours is the atmosphere
The object we are part of
In any real sense
Stopped moving long ago
Should anything
Cause it to move
In any real sense
It would disintegrate
Individual consciousness
Is finite
Your body will travel
Forever through space
If nudged
But you will die
Long before
Forever
6055. Seamus - 4/24/2008 12:03:03 AM Words fail
Words cannot explain gauze curtains that wheeze
morning's soft blows, sun that chooses sides
between blankets and legs pulsed carelessly
akimbo, your beryl eyes which haunt black
tea steams for news and clues. I cannot sing
kitchen lyrics--you untangle bunches of off-
kilter coriander leaves, grate parmesan
for bread sticks, zest lemons for pizzelles,
daub anise oil over springerlee dough.
I make nothing. I should have learned to play
an instrument. When I turn south to you
in the roiling dark of the room you choose
to wake in, I bring no art and no book
of poems ever sits on the bedside table.
Seamus 6056. NuPlanetOne - 5/4/2008 5:29:51 PM Seamus…
I like that one. A different structure for you. A kind of stream of consciousness soliloquy. Very nice. And I can’t decide if you share a bed with the one you turn south to, or just share a universe. I’ll call it run-on imagery. All good.
6057. NuPlanetOne - 5/4/2008 6:28:10 PM On the lighter side……
Panting Schnauzer
I am like a dog
Humping the leg
Of life
It shakes me off
And sends me flying
But it is near me
When I get that urge
To be part of it
How can I know
It can’t bear fruit?
I’m just a dog
I hump everything
If there are no other
Dogs nearby
Besides,
Life is always receptive
I never know
When to pounce
It always mounts me
It seems,
What is the fruit
Of that?
6058. alistairconnor - 5/5/2008 10:08:42 AM I like the way 6055 seems to respond to 6053, reflections on what we share or don't share in a relationship.
It makes me ponder what I would have to say on the subject, were I to find a voice. 6059. NuPlanetOne - 5/11/2008 10:34:55 PM Mine Forever
How do the seconds tick by
If you are worse off than me?
I think about that, that type
Of thing. Because if I feel
Hopeless and lost, and I am
How do you survive the thud
Of a second going by
Because you are twice
My pain. You are suffering
A sting by swarm, and I know
You are bitten all over
As you sit there stunned
In front of that huge hourglass
Skyscraper tall. Do even the tiny
Pellets of sand whiz and clang
Onto the pile and avalanche
Down the slope. My time goes by
Quicker than that. My hourglass
Sits on the sill of a panoramic
Window looking out at a waiting
Mountain. I might be like a
Cartoon cat that was hit in the head
With a colossal hammer. Stars and
Sparkles whirl around my ears
You must be in a serious drama
In shock from an explosion
A possible survivor wandering
Out of the cloud of dust and debris.
I also think, at times, about forgiveness
And fault, but what if I survive this?
What if I leave you to wander, forever
That must be a longer time
Than the last hour gone by.
6060. NuPlanetOne - 5/25/2008 2:00:20 PM Class of ‘08
They are, after all
Half of what we want
Them to be
And half of what
They want to be
Our half, drilled
Into them, taught
Enforced, shown
Us, remaking ourselves
Into them
Feeling every second
Of their emotions
And when they begin
To think
For themselves
And contemplate
Our motives
Childhood ends
And if we learned anything
From our parents
From that second on
We can only hope
They will survive
The choices
That lay before them.
6061. Ulgine Barrows - 7/14/2008 3:22:10 AM yeah, to be that age again...thanks be i managed to survive 6062. wonkers2 - 7/14/2008 4:30:21 AM Stick around, Ulgine. 6063. Seamus - 7/25/2008 7:44:55 PM Quite liked Panting Schnauzer, Nu. Loved the ending. 6064. Seamus - 8/5/2008 4:46:39 PM Convergent evolution
Cast through grasses
with your hawthorn staff;
I'll be four again
so you can carry me
and instruct:
Old leaves tent
the morels
and give them up.
Explain again how
two must never fight
the tide
off Inisheer
unless there is faith.
Say Boyo,
when the whitebeam shows
her silver side,
there's a wind
with a worry in it.
Then prove you'll never stand still
if the fuss is over you--
Tell me how there's no profit
in fruitless protocols
in pharmacology.
I'll be manoeuvred
by your voice gone
garlic, becalmed
as if I were still away at university
and you'd come, absent
whistles or steam, by train
for a drop in and a pint up.
On that last platform, each of us
will discover: Everything runs
from Heuston Station.
But years after I've carried you at last,
my back will still strain
over shipped oars
when I watch
a laggard teal pull hard from Corrib's cold waters
and dip,
dripping,
over my skiff--
wafting
above the water
until he turns west
to the hills of Clifden
and the sea.
Seamus 6065. Seamus - 8/6/2008 7:25:05 PM Lane end
Commerce thirsts
in the next street of haze but one.
Here, whips of woody petunia
bow to phantom passings of no man.
Bits of crap paper the curb,
the browning grass in bivouac
around the oak, dead
but for the zizz zizz zizz
of the locust, waiting in vain
for a crisp answer.
Seamus 6066. NuPlanetOne - 8/16/2008 12:13:25 AM seamus…
That is a finely tuned and nicely structured rendering, 'Convergent evolution.' It almost needs a dedication, an homage to a specific individual, because you carry the story through a sea of time, yet the present moment is never obscured or lost in blurred remembrance. The images are remarkable, I could feel the spray off the hill of Clifden sure as I sat aft wafting along there in the skiff. Excellent poem. Your progress these ten plus years is no longer progress my friend, but just the norm. 6067. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 9/12/2008 8:46:52 PM How do the poets vote?
6068. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 11/8/2008 12:07:00 AM This is finally in stock at Amazon--for those of you with a penchant for melancholy, madness & addiction . . .
6069. NuPlanetOne - 1/8/2009 9:46:56 PM This one is a final draft of a version posted previously. Which ties in with my goal of finalizing all my Mote poems.
Out of The Silence
We drove in silence
Coming up on a light
You asked me what was wrong
The song on the radio
Ended, and I pretended
Not to hear
You shut it off
You asked again,
Why I ignore you
You said now and then
I do that
I ignore you
No, I spat
I do it all the time
I ignore you, I said
She goes red with desire
I was thinking
Before the interruption
Merely
Because I smiled or
Brushed against her arm
Not like you,
I said it within
She is magic
And you are not
I felt guilty, defiant
Then said I was joking
Out loud
Poking fun,
Said I always pay attention
You shot that glance
Then stared at your lap
Your left hand gripping
Your right as the light
Strobed illuminating you
At intervals
But what was I thinking
Just now, you asked
Claimed
I had a look
Like I had a secret
Like I wished
I was alone
You watched the light go green
Then said nothing more between
The next two lights
Do you love her?
The world exploded
There was crackling
Pupils darting
Sweat in furrows
It was starting
To rain
It is true
When you drown
So much
Dances down
And across your mind
It felt like drowning
And if you can find
The words
If you are the kind
That uses them
You might begin quietly
You won’t say anything?
She asked
Then unbearable quiet
Except the wipers
Scraped the windshield
I reached for the radio
She hit my hand
The motion fanned
The cigarette smoke
The time we had spent
Trying to fix things
Denials and acknowledgement
Beat like a heart
In the air between us
Like shooting stars,
Long tailed
Lights whizzed by
Your head trained on me
Soul, strained on me
Out of the silence
I began quietly
Yes, whispered
Yes I do.
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