Strange were the hands that made them
in the brooding sun-gold realm:
secrets of an ancient time
so silent still in slumber
on the dry and windless plains,
age-old forgotten symbols
by life and ghosts abandoned.
Are there watchers in the skies?
Do they see us wake from dreams
and mark with hope the wonder
that we might now remember
time-travelers of the past?
“Wait,” they somehow seem to say.
“Wait. We will come back some day.”
#NascaPlains #NascaLines #Geoglyph #PeruAndAliens
Dear Poet-Friend:
My poem is lost, or forgotten,
Or worse yet, not ‘noticed!’
A name haunts me—a child born
And gone…., where?
The candle is lit—every night—
Sending forth its faint search line
Through cold glass
Into that mysterious lost land
Of where?
And I call:
(silently and secretly for the
name is dear to me alone)
“If no one wants you now,
I hope they’ll send you home to me.”
#EditorLetter #PoetrySubmissions #LostPoems #PoeticHumor
One day El viejo came from the land where the sun goes down
And now he relives his fabulous roams, south of the border town.
On sun-baked patio stones los niños gather to hear
Him tell of those wonder-filled days (his burro waits patiently near)
His sombrero shadows his brow, but, dream-filled, the old eyes glow
With gnarled brown finger at lips, he signals: Silencio!
Los niños grow still as the stones; no sound but the fountain’s play
Breathless they wait for the tales El viejo will tell them this day
Their eyes are lustrous and dark, like pebbles in a stream
Unnoticed paloma flies over los niños caught up in their dream
Los niños are carried away to far-off mesas and skies
To the place where the sun goes down and the land where new moons rise
Where montañas touch and the clouds and trees soar green and tall
They learn of the niños there, and they yearn to know them all
El viejo had traveled far, to the land where the sun goes down
And now he re-dreams those days, south of the border town.
#Storytelling #HispanicCulture
Can you imagine how it was?
I can, for the story was told to me
when I was a child. the story of
the song, of the gold-voiced uncle,
the sweet tenor-voiced boy.
Can you imagine how it was?
He, young, eager, brown-eyed
beneath the bright brown hair,
honey-throated.
Can you imagine how it was?
He, leaning across the Sunday
Breakfast table, saying simply,
“I heard a new song last night,
a beautiful, heartbreaking song.
listen.
Can you imagine how it was?
He, singing…the words sounding…
Softly, sweetly, tenderly:
“Poor Butterfly, ‘neath the blossoms
Waiting…”
O, can you imagine how it must have been?
#Memoir #FamilyStories #MusicAtHome
WAIT!
pun ment ish
Make prime crime
Make crime prime
time the
to fit
to time
fit the
Make prime time crime
Make crime time the in
PUNISH!
MAKE!
FIT!
Wake
to make
The punishment
fit the crime
in prime time
Pun Ment Ish
Ish. Ish.
Ish?
W
A
K
E
!
#Mikado #NewsCritic #BroadcastSchedules
Person
vulnerable valiant
striving straining dreaming
words : poems
inviolate individual
woman
#EmilyDickinsonlifeandpoetry #TheBelleOfAmherst #Dickinson #EmilyDickinson
She pulls away harboring
some secret hurt or imagined injury
Implacable
she turns her being
toward the cold uncaring world
I call to her
across desolate Icelandic islands
and only distancing
echoes return to me
I continue to hope
all the while tending the embers
of happier days
But the mysterious cruel rejection
pierces so deeply
my wound, time-aging, becomes
scarcely able to heal
O, why does she not answer
why does she not return
to rewarm herself
at the waiting hearth-fire’s glow?
#friendsandfriendship
#lostfriends
It was whispered all through the fairylands
That one was coming who was not of them,
But who would walk among them in their tiny realms.
And panic gripped their little hearts
So that they covered all their houses of dreams,
Hid away their birds of happiness,
Locked away their rainbow treasures,
Camouflaged their every delight,
Built their fortresses of invisibility.
Throughout the wispy empires
Was stillness, absolute, profound.
From a distance
Came the wind of the invader’s breath
Like a whirling cyclone
And the weight of the alien’s step
Startled the ground
And filled their hearts with fear.
As the tempest came nearer,
It grew in fury
Yet they kept the silence
Till at last the other left their realms.
Then off came the mantles of gloom
And the tinkle of fairy laughter
Rose high on the winds
Far from their fairy palaces,
Thundered a voice
To fall on a multitude waiting:
“These creatures are non-existent,
Figments of the imagination only.
They dwell within our minds.
I spoke so softly,
Tread so lightly.
I saw nothing. Nothing.”
#FairiesFaeries #TellaFairyTaleDay
Castle towers and crystal light
And silent dreams invoke the night
And love, a bird with moon-white wing
Sings.
#love #dreams #nightandmoon
(For William Saroyan and George Freitag Who knew how it is)
The long high wires swing,
Sing in the wind
Sibylline sentences,
Messages in myriad,
Life in suspension
From pole to pole.
But the bell is still
And only silence rings
Through the house
Where every room waits
Empty
Until you dial.
#loneliness #communication #emotionalconnection #phoneconversations