The Coming War (Tanka)

Armadas set sail
Missiles locked on target
Egos go to war
Everyone else pays the price
In blood and innocent lives

4/25/17

Poem #30 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo).

Peaceful (Haiku)

Warm green peaceful day
Cut grass scents the air around
No more tears will fall

4/25/17

Poem #29 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

This Haiku is my second response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge # 31 – PEACE & TEAR 

Tears (a Tanka)

A dull aching pain
A tear tears across your face
The tears tear a hole
Through the middle of your soul
All you wanted was some peace.

4/25/17

Poem #28 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

This Tanka is my first response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge # 31 – PEACE & TEAR 

You Don’t Know How It Feels (a Tanka)

You don’t understand
I can’t explain it to you
You’re not in my head
Don’t say you know how I feel
You’ve never walked in my shoes

4/24/17

Poem #27 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

Holy Messengers

Angels Ælfar Malakhim
Divine monsters, messengers of truth
Raven whispering in Yeshayahu’s ear.
Arriving in flaming wheel flying saucers,
Transmitting visions into Y’chezqel’s optic nerves.
Fiery Seraphim Ljósálfar,
Flaming sword and mighty scrolls,
Straddling the border between
This world and the otherside,
Underside, beyond the west wind.

4/25/17

Pronunciation Key/Notes:
Ælfar = Ale-far (Elves)
Malakhim (מַלְאָךְ‎‎ ) = Mal-a-keem (Hebrew for “messengers,” which was translated into Greek as “ángelos” from which we get the word “Angels”
Yeshayahu (יְשַׁעְיָהוּ) = Yesh-a-ya-hoo (Hebrew, usually translated in English as “Isaiah”)
Y’chezqel (יְחֶזְקֵאל ) = Y’chez-kel (“ch” as in Bach) (Hebrew, usually translated in English as “Ezekiel”)
Seraphim (שְׂרָפִים ) = Ser-a-pheem (Hebrew, meaning “Burning Ones”)
Ljósálfar = l-juice-al-far (Light Elves)

Poem #27 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

Tetractys on Heraclitus’ River

raphael_school_of_athens_michelangelo

The
river
is never
the same river,
flowing around you changing as you step.
Each moment changing, evolving; growing.
When you step out
you are not
the same
man.

4/24/17

Poem #26 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

A while back I wrote a tanka about Heraclitus’ River. Its a theme that has always struck a chord with me, as has Heraclitus’ philosophy  in general.

The image is a detail from Raphael’s School of Athens featuring Heraclitus, whose features are based on those of Michelangelo.

And, for those keeping track, this is my 200th post on this blog.

How Does it Feel?

In answer to the question “How does it feel when your muse runs his fingers through your hair, resting his palms bare on your crown?”

Its like being possessed by an effeminately androgynous angel,
who may not have fallen, but definitely has some explaining to do,
As words and visions pass through my brain, down my arm, and into my right hand,
As if whispered in my ear by a one-eyed raven sitting on my shoulder
Telling me about his day.

There’s a shot of adrenaline to my heart, pupils dilate,
And my hand is compulsed to write everything down,
Sensical or nonsensical, until the episode passes.
My cramping clenched fist tries hard to write legibly,
As the words come faster than I can safely write,
Pain surging arthritically through my bones.

In the end I’m left alone, in a post-coital haze,
To finish and polish the lunatical ravings
Scribbled in my little black notebook.

4/24/17

Poem #25 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo

With thanks to Sarah Doughty for inspiration.

Isolation #2 (Tetractys)

I’m
alone,
by myself,
in a crowd of
people, anxiety, and suffering.

4/14-4/23/17

This poem started life as the first draft of Isolation, but I couldn’t get the syllable count to fit the tetractys form. I ended up starting over and writing a new tetractys on the same theme. After letting it rest for a few days I came back to the first draft and was able to complete it.

Poem #24 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

Now (a Tetractys)

Now
is all
that there is:
The past is gone
and the future will never quite arrive.

4/18/17

 Poem #23 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

Art and Artists

They say, “Don’t confuse Hamlet with Shakespeare,”
Bill wasn’t an introspective indecisive Dane,
Byron wasn’t Byronic,
And Dylan never shot anyone named Grey.

But can you separate art from artist?
Could you enjoy the poetry of an unashamed
pederaster (not a pedophile!) member of NAMBLA,
Loving boys like a Greek philosopher?

Would you read a novelist you knew was a Nazi,
Even if none of his characters ever gassed a Jew?

Could you become lost in the mythic meters of
Primeval prose poems written by a serial adulterer?

What about Haiku written by a westerner who thinks
A $15 minimum wage just isn’t right?

You can’t give support to such horrible human beings,
But what if they’re too dead to profit from book sales?

Your favorite holocaust surviving Hollywood director
Turns out to be a pedophilic rapist,
Now his best made movies make you vomit
Just seeing his name on the screen.

Did Picasso’s paintings change
When you learned of his misogyny,
Or did you?

4/21/17

Poem #22 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)