Hey Greg-

After reading LOVELY ONE...
WOW!!! That was HEAVY-INTENSE-ENVELOPING...
Made me wonder for a few moments,
brought back an air of memory. If my math is correct
that was 32 years ago. Where did the time go?

OUT THE WINDOW, probably, cause TIME FLIES
LIGHTWAVE

Thanks lightwave

"Time flies like an arrow,
but fruit flies like bananas."

I know what you mean about time ... it wasn't until I got to be an old fart who could remember things from decades ago that I started really real-eyes-ing what a strange and illusory thing this notion of time is!

Here's another from the same era. I've posted this before, but I think it was years ago ...

The Circle-Song Singer

Come listen my friends, I want you to hear
About a circle-song singer who was singing in my ear,
With his near-beer spilled and his pill-box filled
With exotic pot that would bring you right here.

It was clear, thought I,
That his circle song sigh
Was a cry of delight
And a fanciful flight
From the hardcore bore of the forty-four
That was staring him straight in the eye.

Now you might well wonder
Why the gun was there,
But it was in his mind,
And I didn't much care,
I was aware, you see,
Of his fantasy,
It was the start of the circle
He was singing to me!

Well, the circle song singer
Sang a simple circle-song,
Like a yin-yang boomerang,
Rebound around town,
Up-down, square-round,
Wake-sleep, shallow-deep,
Man, it was a song to behold!

Old-timers died, new babies cried,
Soft summer nights sprinkled starry lights
On the heavenly screen of the TV dream
Of the great soap opera in the sky,

Why, I could feel the eternal wheel,
In its slow motion, beneath the commotion
Of puppy-love dreams and the rat-trap schemes
Of millionnaires in their tiger lairs,
Where love's unknown and death's in the air.

Well, he sang of love, and he sang of pain,
Of scorpion nights and the monsoon rain-
Drenched grain seeds sprouting up to feed the life
That loves like the sun and cuts like a knife,
Then dies again and sinks to the Earth
To grow new grain, and bring new birth.
And I felt as if I were a part of it all,
Of the rise and fall, and the cycle of death
And life, and love, and the cosmic breath
That blows into each brand-new form
The winds of change and the heavenly storm
That chases its tail and playfully sails
Off into the sunset with minnows and whales.

So lost in joy was I that when
He finished, and I looked round again,
The circle-song singer had up and gone,
With his gun and guitar, and his circle song.

Well, circle-song singers are a dying breed,
And I guess he'll be sent out somewhere to feed,
In the cool green pasteurized disguise
Of the lies our lives lead, bound in ties,
But love's circle-spirit, I've heard it said,
Stays with you from birth 'til the day you are dead,
And I would not be in the least surprised,
If one dark night, with tears in my eyes,
I should wake from a nightmare dream to find,
The circle-song singer singing in my mind.

© 1972 Gregory Ellison

Love,
Greg

Wow, I liked that one a lot, Greg. Some very profound and moving words there.

But love's circle-spirit, I've heard it said,
Stays with you from birth 'til the day you are dead,

I believe that to be very true!

Love, Connie

Lisa I found that by accident on the net while looking for something else. It will keep me thinking for weeks too! I will see if I copied the URL and email it to you. I found the following poem at the Emergence site:

Prayer Before Birth, by Louis MacNeice

I am not yet born

O hear me
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat of the club footed ghoul come near me
I am not yet born, console me,
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born, forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words when they speak me,
my thoughts when they think me, my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
my life when they murder by means of my hands, my death when they live me.

I am not yet born, rehearse me In the parts I must play and the cues I must take
when old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains frown at me, lovers laugh at me,
the white waves call me to folly and the desert calls me to doom and the beggar refuses my gift and my children curse me.

I am not yet born; O hear me
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God come near me.
I am not yet born
O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine
a thing with one face, a thing, and against those who would dissipate my entirety,
would blow me like thistledown hither and thither or
hither and thither like water held in the hands would spill me Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.

Love, Mom

Greg, you truly have a gift....I had no idea.
Very lyricly beautiful....yes, it shines through as a song, you can hear it. (and well, actually I DID have an idea, but it is lovely to witness it. )

Mom, that was very profound....I am Not Yet Born.....forever innocent in a jaded aggressive World.... I loved it.


God

God is not a religion
God is not a culture or race
God is not a sacrifice
God is not a rite
God is not a law
Gos is not assured
by paperwork or dogma
God doesn't speak in Words

God is not a location
God knows no holy land
God is not opinions
God isn't a sacrament
God isn't a system
God doesn't speak through leaders
God doesn't discriminate in any way
or bless the dutiful reader

God IS a Muslim
God IS a Hindu
God IS a Catholic, a Buddhist, a Jew
God's church is the Universe
God's alter lit by Stars
God shines within Me
and within You
God baptized you
in placenta fluid
and blessed you
with your first breath

God gave you Life
to cherish true
and your Spirit
to be transformed
in Death.


Lisa

Soul Mate


On this long and arduous
path of Life
you find someone and you
just Know
that you were meant
to know their thoughts
and quiet breaths
and through this person
you See Yourself
shining
and in darkness
through their candid words
and silent Eyes,
learning that together
you can reach
for hidden Inward skies.

God (partII)

God is ...
God is the Unreachable
God is Unknown
God is ...
God is All
God is Nothingness
God is ...
God is Light
God is The Word

God is the "I AM"

Hi!!!

Bluedove and Rachel... Your poem about God reminded me of one of my favorite poems by William Blake. I know I've posted it before on one of the other poetry threads way back when, but I'll post it again since it goes along with theme.

The Divine Image
by: William Blake

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or jew
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

*clap, clap, clap* Loved those poems

I loved all your poems about God, Lisa, Rachel and Enchantress.

Love, Connie

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Lightwave

What a Onederfull Cloth being threaded hear....
The Sanctuary for Spiraling Spirits entwined in Hope. Allowing others to enter the Sanctum of Earnst Yearnst. Bravo once again KnowestFlakes....

Awaiting the Sun in the Spring...
the choir of Birds begin to Sing.
Chiming in rhyming their songs take Wing and alas....
the first Flower opens.

My Healing Heart hopens with each Ray of Sun...
The Earth's warm skin gives Way to It's Fragrant Bouquet
The dark Night is over and a New Day begun

The Feeling it gives me... leaves no Words to say.

I thank this Life that has given me Breath
and continues to breathe until my death.

Awaiting the Sun in the Spring...
My Soul begins to sing
Chiming in Rhyming my Feeling takes wing and alas...
My Heart begins to Open.

Thanks Be the only Words on my Lips.

Whoa, Lightwave, that's amazing! I love that kind of wordplay ... it all fits together.

Gorgeous God poems, life-poems Connie and Lisa and Rachel.

Carrie I loved the Blake, he's always been a favorite. In that one, I wish he'd used compassion rather than pity ... but it wouldn't have fit the meter, and I imagine that's what he really meant ... isn't that the great thing about good poetry, is that the reader is always co-author!

Love,
Greg

! Rachel, Carrie and lightwave.
.....and Thanks Be, Chahles.... beautiful inspirings of Spring.

~Paint a masterpiece with Words
Erect images of landscapes
with a Phrase
...Become magician of the Soul's pen.~

Your face is like a china doll's
every now and then.
With no expression
you stare off at the stars
as if their mystical trance
were your own creation.

Distant highways
are mirrored in your eyes.

If I trace your porcelain face
will it crack
from the reality
of my warm, rough skin
touching
the cold, silken smoothness
of your own?

I am
essentially Alone,
exploring the tentative
landscape of Earth.
Achingly Alone,
without a clan
to follow or to lead.

And around every bend
suprises crouch
hidden in open shadows,
sharpening their blades
in preparation to pounce --
so shocking
with their inborn agression....
opening wider these innocent eyes.

Like an ape-man
I've wandered in silence
in search for some
forever lost chord.
In bemusement
I've unknowingly hungered
for the stance and chivalry
of a Lord,

but as the shadows
multiply and populate
the green, yet browning earth
I embrace the wisdom of silence,
like my own embryonic birth

and the chord
is forever lost and stretching,
growing smaller
and harder to find

yet this
hunger-pained heart,
beating quiet and unique
in its own rythm
still refuses
to grow harder with time.

So lovely, Lisa.

Here's an old standard ... but a goodie. I like Kipling.

If
by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master,
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!

Maria

Very cool, Maria
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty second's worth of distant run...
I especially liked that thought....
Keep em coming.

Love, Lisa

A crazy butterfly am I
when teardrop petals cry -- I'll fly
A brilliant color craze -- I'll blaze
beneath a morning sun
The summer chimes beneath my wings
as I sing of golden things
of dragon yawns and fairy names
that light my wings with living flames.

A crazy butterfly am I
beyond the setting skies -- I'll fly
to light the worlds above the land
a blistering burning living brand
my heart -- a star of falling fire
in a summertime of pure desire.

~M. Garcia

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

-- William Carlos Williams

My Poets of America is falling to pieces.

Maria

Now and then
it All just blows my mind.

The Great Churning Wheel of Life.
The immense Universe
I know as home.


The World was completed before my existance.


Governments planted politic's power

Wars raged and engaged
in human slaughters & savagery

Kingdoms were erected and overthrown

T.V., light, telephone inventions

Millions wept and slept;
breathed and died

Knew a different reality
from their own expanded eyes

Shakespere wrote aesthetic sonnetts
Poe befriended our dark existance
Blake dissected & erected Religion
Cinema conquered Theatre

...and somewhere
in the middle of universal time

I arrived,
igniting my own reality

Blessed and cursed
with the god-like power
to See the world
with self-absorbant Eyes

Even in Knowing
that the
Wheels continue
spinning on Forever

with or without
the grace
of acknowledging Eyes.


~ Lisa

One Rainy Wish

~ Jimi Hendrix


Golden Rose, The Color of The Dream I Had
Not Too Long Ago
A Misty Blue and The Lilac Too
A Never To Grow Old

There You Were
Under The Tree of Song
Sleeping So Peacefully
In Your Hand a Flower Played
A Waiting There for Me.

I Have Never Laid Eyes On You
Not Before This Timeless Day
But You Woke and Whoa
Smiled My Name
And You Stole My Heart Away Little Girl, yeah
Alright!

Golden Rose The Color of The Dream I Had
Not Too Long Ago
Misty Blue and Lilac Too
A Never To Grow Old

Golden Rose, The Color of The Dream I Had
Misty Blue and Lilac Too
Golden Rose, The Color of The Dream I Had
Misty Blue and Lilac Too
Gold and Rose, Gold Are Rose, Gold and Rose

It's Only a Dream
I'd Love To Tell Somebody About This Dream
The Sky Was Filled With a Thousand Stars
While The Sun Kissed The Mountains Blue
And Eleven Moons Played Across
Rainbows Above Me and You
Gold and Rose The Color of
The Velvet Walls Around Us.

Tender waves ripple
through a shining day
A Mystic Seeker
of the tides
-the seek and Know
-the ebb and flow
the warm, deep ocean
of thy Being

So vast this secret sea inside
a lifetime spent exploring
would never be time
enough
to tell the story
of this star-strewn-Being
of long ago
who witnessed a time
we'll never Know.

So, dive freely brave
Swim into the shallows
deeper with each day
And know
at times it's enough to Be
a serene, gliding drifter
out to sea.

Lisa