New Year Punctuation

The days they are the letters
and the spaces in between.
The weeks the phrases
commas separate.

The months are stopped by periods,
A question mark or two,
Or exclamation points
for feelings strong.

These sentences are captured
in quarterly paragraphs.
In June the chapter finds
It's natural end.

We have until December
To attain the dénouement,
But edit? No. Once writ,
The die is cast.

To all who see these presents, greetings!
Happy New Year!

Let's make it sing!

The Stream

I waded out into the stream
To cool off from the day.

And watched as bits and pieces
Floated by.

Two leaves came by together
Journey shared to points unknown.

'Til one caught in an eddie
And the other waved good-bye.

#poetry #patternsfromchaos

The Catch

There is a fine distinction
'tween release and push away.

The physics of it
is extremely clear.

With no outside force upon it
the 'release' may choose to stay,

While the 'push' will find
it hard to linger near.

Just ask Milady's Jester,
as he wallows in his chains,

oblivious the
padlock's been removed.

Does he stride for new horizons
seek cessation of his pains?

No. He tells a joke,
and laughter is renewed.

We've not considered
gravity nor relativity.

General or Spec-
ial, makes no diff.

Mechanics of the quanta
in a league beyond our ken,

"Fine tuning," would say
Newton in a jiff.

So now that all this jargon
has inspired the eyes to glaze,

and a pain between
the temples it's evoked.

What is the fine distinction
'tween release and push away?

In matters of the
heart? A word. It's....Hope.

Catwoman & Batman Artwork by Carli Ihde
http://goo.gl/7dZDia
http://carliihde.tumblr.com/Bio

For the reference to Milady's Jester
http://goo.gl/ztj6sa

Stats are Good....for Baseball

Stats are good.....for baseball,
And optimizing flow,
Squeezing product standards,
Business in the know.

The Ode's a different story.
It comes straight from the heart.
Distills a burning longing
Through bittersweet remark

.

Encapsulates a feeling
Soulmates can recognize.
Fires an arrow to the stars
Whatever goal applies.

It's measure is the resonance
From every single read.
A single tear or ocean.
Both spell a fulfilled need.

And who's to say that single tear
Can't from the odewright come?
More about getting something out
Not meant for anyone

Else. The numbers that it generates
May purr an coo and preen
Seductive in their siren song,
But separate from the dream

Of making a connection,
Seeing eye to eye,
Responding to a heartfelt muse
Touching, by and by.

Nexus

Waking is the looking glass 'twixt two realities,
the surface of the ocean, cosmic singularity
that leads from someplace that we've been
To someplace that we are.

And, oh, how fast the former fades once we have pierced that veil,
extinguished by the morning light, by sights and sounds, made pale.
And what of those we've left behind
across that great divide?

Do you peer through that looking glass and ponder on what's lost,
or wake into a separate realm and never count the cost?
As mem'ry of the dreamworld dims
And life exerts it's pull.

I'd like to linger in that place 'twixt our realities,
share coffee, conversation write an ode or two or three,
And make a journal of our chats
that I can carry through....

Maybe....someday we'll find the key that turns the glass to door,
that let's us in the dreamworld 'twixt realms of mass and light.
The realm of waking dreams, ideas.
At home forevermore.

sculpture: Alice Through the Looking Glass

artist: Jeanne Argent

more about the art here: http://www.lookingatglass.com/2010/10/01/alice-through-the-looking-glass/

The Final Straw

When they come for me in the morning
They'll find naught but an empty shell.

Since this is my final journey
It's end will be heaven or hell.

I've played by the rules since the day I was born
And in truth I've got little to show.

But they claim that it's theirs, as opposed to my heirs'
They've offended my faith, don't you know.

In the promise of true independence.
That hard work is the key to success.

I've broken me back try' n to earn what I lack
What I've earned is a pile of regret.

For the dream has been turned into sawdust
Once burned bitter smoke and no more.

'Tis the bankers and lawyers, accountants and such
With their hands out have darkened my door

And feathered their nest with my sinews
Slaked their rough thirst with my blood

The faster I run to get into the sun
The longer my dark trail's become.

So I'll thank you to kindly take notice
That fairness ain't what it once was

We owe them a living and if we aren't giving
They'll take it away at a whack.

Our system's grown so convoluted
A simple man can't plot a course

A notice to pay at the end of the day
Is bureaucracy's only recourse.

When they come for me in the morning
They'll find naught but this empty shell

And the slug in my brain will have caused my last pain
As it blows me to heaven...or hell.

BAH. HUMBUG. not quite.

The impending holidays have had me a little blocked.....
This isn't my best, but it expresses some of the frustration I feel at this time of year.
If I offend my apologies....

Each sensation crowding in
The sounds, the smells, the sights.
A technicolor layer cake
More than a tad too bright.

The tree and decorations.
The cards the snow and fire
To sap my concentration
These and more conspire.

The holidays are wonderful
Festivities are grand
But they bring their own brand of stress
That gets way out of hand.

We all have expectations
We think we must fulfill
And come hell or high water
We'll fight to top that hill!

Wait.
Breathe.
Again.

This frantic quest
To get it right
Despite the competition.
That very word, is at odds with
The spirit of the tradition.

Peace. On earth.
Goodwill. Toward men.
Not stress and competition.

The Gaze

From far across the crowded room
And all of space and time

That haunted gaze, turned in and down
reached out and beckoned clear.

It spoke of pain and loneliness
Self doubt borne of travails

Of heart and soul abused and torn
When trust, misplaced, was shown.

It reached across that crowded room
And all of space and time

And gently wrenched a kindred soul
from sim'lar reverie.

Exquisite is the torture im-
posed by reality

There is no love without some
pain given and received.

The need, the ache, to bond and
meld - tempered hot and cruel

By knowing that to love means
risking self...and others too.

Living leaves a footprint, a mark the earth will bear
Loving scars and breaks the heart,

The signposts to a story
anxious to unfold.

Knowledge of that power is the anguish in that gaze.

Do we use it? Do we risk?
Yes. Oh yes.

I never know why.
I only know Who...

Bittersweet Epiphanies

By bittersweet epiphanies
We come to know our flaws.

The crazing of our porcelain,
The warping of our rails,
The static in our broadcast,
our small and epic fails.

They're triggered by a teacher
With a condescending tone,
The bully in the playground
The office or at home.

In the mirror that they offer
Darkly etched for all of time,
Gaunt and ugly, our reflection
Less our shattered paradigms.

Our response to that stark vision,
Tells our depth of character.

Do we learn and reassemble?
Do we prove the mirror wrong?
Or dissolve in dark regret?
adopt the Shadow's song?

There is one more epiphany
Unencumbered by the sweet.
Cleaving to the path of darkness
Beating light into retreat.

Mired in our dark reflection
When comes a child of light
Porcelain smooth and static free
we choose to act from spite.

And offer up the mirror...

With thanks to Loretta Leslie for suggested edits.

The Peace of The Pause

Dayjob frantic constant battle.
Hear me not you broken chord.

Striving in crowded seclusion
Blinders' focus goal employed.

Admin nightmare get it straight
Whirling eddies endless forms.

Makework breakwork pointless scraping 
value added? Wry retort.

Grinding halt. Exhaustion.

I look up and see
You. Connection.

Inspired by the poem Sing Me a Lullaby by Owen Habel Lwanda

Look through my eyes

Your verse is often hard on you
It speaks of faults and flaws.

I have no right and I won't ask
from whence this darkness comes.
Nor can I say that it's not there, for it is real to you.

Consider that the blackest night is welded to the dawn.
The one without the other is not Whole.

The black hole and the star are different aspects of the same
Cosmologic singularity.

And should your fate be the abyss, you would not be alone.
Nocturnal realms would bask in brightest day.

Look through my eyes.