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Open Poetry #30
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LeeJ
Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296


0 posted 2003-12-17 08:32 AM


A brisk day, well rounded, coming to a small pool
The kind of spring, bubbling around all green sphagnum
Where land has always fallen away
Gaining legs of kindling, for the fires of thought
Neck stretched long, in this blinking poolside memorial
Great landscapes fevered passages, through azaleas renting space
Without benefit of wishing, there were larger days
Dawn seethed across the sky, like the sound of giant waking firs
With little blinking eyes, ventilating something that was heard
An old upward yearning, mused across the heavens
One of which lights prospect, in all given minutes
I grew right into that complimentary rock of hardwood which
Held a yellowish light, guiding me through charming air sashes
Varied and unbound…within my reach, like a great mountain wilderness
Yet to be known and explored…a great reaching ocean bonneted
Consuming my total being
Where every temple under bare feet stood, with the devotion of a coonhound
There were no scant numbers that grudged or uttered restlessness earthbound
More so…senses alert with vast spoken compassion and love
All fibers of physical alterations became one
Humming, offering and tapping their feet
Blowing long silences of sounds pure, like a nutritious retreat
Forearms and cheekbones of expressive music and art
Like those peaceful still paintings within the minds of a master’s heart
Drenching times, when one would never know without
Large fingertips dripping with red flames rising, spewing volcanic constellations
Proving to be a kin to all beings of music, like the sound of an owl calling to next morning
Long sincere themes, hints of an ever present world…offering up, written mayflies
To a costly song AND “how to make peace with it”, “turning it into a lullaby”
Linking all that is, dreaming a natural ballad soothed
Like a woman from a previous century, living on twilights youth
Right then I realized, turning toward the light
Swaying as the weightlessness caught my insight
I am the rest of evening
Ladders which touch siblings
I am selected, unwrapped and segmented, like autumn working apples
Producing and carrying me into a hint of winter’s song
An individual snowflake softly falling to the ground
I am pure dust of lonesomeness, diluted with sound
I am nature with a voice full and vibrantly loud
I am every ooze of blood and face of years gone past
I am despair, panic and resentments outcast
I am the wolf seeking prey; I am the rabbit’s astuteness
The great eagle boundless
But to, I am the tones of feelings, seething way
Altering the better in each new spray of day
I am the hope of visuals, the face laying bear and beaten in the rain
The singing choral of encouragement, a complex story, oddly mundane
I am music, features dreaming birth
I am the fireside turning ashes to dust and dirt
I am a form of beauty, which no one shall duplicate or know
I am a small immersed wandering minnow
I am thought in words; I’ll die and live again
In either place, I am the breath & thought, of a great composing Zen

Merry Merry Christmas to Bonnie, Rene and JL
Also for my son, his wife and their precious little girl
Happy Holidays Dearhearts
Wishing you all
a safe and lovely holiday Season, may all your dreams come true.

Luv
Lee J.


© Copyright 2003 Lee J. - All Rights Reserved
suthern
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Seraphic
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723
Louisiana
1 posted 2003-12-17 04:06 PM


I am the rest of evening
Ladders which touch siblings
I am selected, unwrapped and segmented, like autumn working apples
Producing and carrying me into a hint of winter’s song
An individual snowflake softly falling to the ground
I am pure dust of lonesomeness, diluted with sound
I am nature with a voice full and vibrantly loud
I am every ooze of blood and face of years gone past
I am despair, panic and resentments outcast
I am the wolf seeking prey; I am the rabbit’s astuteness
The great eagle boundless
But to, I am the tones of feelings, seething way
Altering the better in each new spray of day
I am the hope of visuals, the face laying bear and beaten in the rain
The singing choral of encouragement, a complex story, oddly mundane
I am music, features dreaming birth
I am the fireside turning ashes to dust and dirt
I am a form of beauty, which no one shall duplicate or know
I am a small immersed wandering minnow
I am thought in words; I’ll die and live again
In either place, I am the breath & thought, of a great composing Zen

I kept trying to pick my favorite "I am"... and had to pick them all... What a beautiful, powerful write!

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