From time to time a poem

Grateful

Thank you, for the times you bore some of my weight upon yourself
and helped me walk through the darkness
I couldn’t know how heavy each of my problems were
and how much they may have slowed you down,
but I know I would be further behind, if not for you.

Thank you, for seeing that I have failed to mould myself
into the shape in which others have fit so well
and for daring to throw all the rules out of the window
when I made the hardest decision,
the future doesn’t seem quite so arid now.

And
Thank you, for being honest with me regardless of my state
especially when I was refusing to be honest with myself,
and for not hiding your suffering when I was busy with my own
so that in return I could support you,
I am grateful to call you my friend.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/59/5f/0d/595f0d4287c79b3f9eac29fa7cdecca6.jpg

Holiday Memories (circa 1950) - Peter Dixon

Not for us the airport, charters to the sun
Marbella or Greek Islands
Benidorm and fun...
Not for us paella, octopus or squid
drinks as long as 'check-ins'
pizzas big as Spain.

No, we all went to Skinningrove
deep in Yorkshire land,
Yorkshire pud and gravy
Yorkshire wind and sand,
slag heaps grey as gasworks
beaches strewn with coal
fossils touched with mica
Brontosaurus old.

We played in ironstone culverts
we slalomed in the slag.
Caught fish in icy rockpools
anemone and crab -
we picnicked by lost railroads
viaduct and mine
built castles out of rockstone
red as autumn wine...
We hid in sheds of bramble
spun on rusted wheels
rims a rime of ochre
thistles, stings and squeals.

We caught the breath of mineshafts
their gape alive with fear
-attacked with hazel coppice
arrow, bow and spear.

So thank you for Minorca
where people go to play
but I remember Skinningrove
El Skinningrove
Olé!

There was a young man of Japan
Whose limericks never would scan.
When asked why this was,
He replied "It's because
I always try to fit as many syllables into the last line as ever I possibly can."

:laugh:

Well... finally another non-poem...

~~~~

The sound of a gong woke me from my sleep. It was not loud, but it was loud enough to fill the endless space with a perfect sound.
When the ringing of one ended, the gong would be struck again. The usually silent chamber had become a space made beautiful only through sound.

I could not remember having been tired, nor could I remember there being a cushion here on which to sleep; the space however always found a way to cater to one’s needs.
I lay there briefly, trying to remember if I had ever seen a gong or bowl in the cathedral, but darkness filled most corners both of the sanctuary and of my memory.

Raising myself from the cushion, I sought the direction of the sound. It was difficult to tell just how far away the gong was sounding, and from which direction, and it took walking in a circle to ascertain the direction from whence it came, but I followed it thereafter into a smaller space.

Beneath my bare feet were tiles, refreshingly cool after the warmth of the main sanctum, I stood for a moment to enjoy them.

The walls here could be seen too and were painted gold, glittering a little in the low light of a plain chandelier; five candles flickering. They felt appropriate for the warm tone of the gong that was still enveloping the room.

Before me, in the centre of the room, was a square and shallow pool, raised slightly from the ground and tiled as the rest of the room. I sat on the edge and looked down into the water… it was perfectly clear, but I noticed that it seemed to ripple slightly despite nothing touching it.

I watched it for several minutes, before it became clear that the sound of the gong within the room, echoing as it was off the tiles, was causing the water to undulate and move. It was as though the sound of the gong was emanating closely above the surface of the water, as every time the gong was ‘struck’ there would be a circle of ripples extending out from the origin of the noise.

The lack of a physical gong did not disturb me… things did not work exactly as one would expect within the cathedral, but it did cause me to ponder why it would bring me here. I was alone today, but for the noise.

Watching the ripple rings, I thought about the pastime of skimming stones across the water… each time the stone touches the surface a ripple would start, spreading further and further out, each ring eventually touching the next. Here, there was no stone, only sound… but things are connected, and whether they touch or not, one thing can still influence another… separated even by space or time.

The sound, the echoes, the water, the rings, me. All things connected, even when they do not touch. And the lessons I have received from Him, and others, will continue to cause ripples on the water of my life, even when I am alone.

You do not need me

You do not need me
Though I know you cling on
And hope I might lead the way
For you; and even though I walk behind,
Over your shoulder you look to see
If I am still in your shadow.

You do not need me
Though I know you call me
Whenever it gets tougher
For you; and alone silently pray
That I might be the solution
To take all that suffering away.

You do not need me
And I know you give me credit
For all the times you made it
Yourself; I didn’t actually do
It for you, only helped you find
The strength to bear it.

Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it’s written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation’s OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Fe0ffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won’t it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It’s a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!

I wrote a... thing? It's not very intelligent, twas for fun and thought I'd share here; you can imagine it's a rap,

---

I ain’t a poet and I ain’t so sure I know it
Coz look at me in time trying to bust out a rhyme

Roses are red, and violets are blue, whoopsiedoo, joke’s too old when this is down to,
speaking with power, coz this is the hour, have a little fun, god son of a gun, I’m awful at this stuff, but is it enough,
to prove me, move me, mark me, an A, B C, D, E, minus?
I’m fumblin’, ramblin’, panickin’, mumblin’, fryin’,
fumblin’, ramblin’, panickin’, mumblin’, thinkin’… … …
thinkin’… thinkin’…
thinkin’, thinkin’, thinkin’,
quieter, quieter, quieter, quieter, quieter…
Shhhhh.

Yeah.

I ain’t a poet and I ain’t so sure I know it.

---

Vusuki 13 09 2016

You look, but you do not see, said my teacher to me.

In ethereal light knowledge scales. Yet tighter the grasp, shorter the grip.

In the sky perspective fades. Far below, deposited, beyond ken.

Process and processor entwined. No immersion without loss. At one yet plural. Many but not.

In a twisting gyre a vortex inspires, sparkles and shines. Shot through, fractal.

Fleeting moments of desire. More and more yet less, no egress.

Heads nod, attitudes rail, against the great din of beyond.

Dreams of sand and deluge, in the end there is but Refuge.

Sighted eyes spy the dividing line. Invisible, intransigent, entranced and betrothed.

Another non poem... this didn't end how I thought it would, and ended up being quite personal and possibly reveals more about me than I may decide I am comfortable with... but anyway, here it is.

~~~~~

One night I had once again taken refuge in the cathedral. The air was relatively still, but warm, as I relaxed on a couch that had found itself to the centre of the main sanctum while I was away.
No company, but for the strange and wonderful characters in the stories of H.P. Lovecraft; they had sucked me into their twisted and alarming worlds as a teenager and now I visited them again from my protected safety. Even so… I did look up once or twice as the flickering of the candles in the standing candelabra cast morphing shadows across the floor.

Both strength and weakness can come from the understanding of the self, and the longer I had spent in the grand sanctum, the more painful that understanding had become, but the better I found I could bear the pain. My friend had not abandoned me, but I knew that if he too often came around I would continue to rely on him, rather than coming to rely upon myself. I could not help but wonder, however, if by spending time alone in these halls I may be creating for myself the persona of social outcast. That by taking time here I was abandoning my responsibilities and supplanting the difficult life with an imaginary one, instead of learning to cope.

As I reached the end of ‘The Shadow Over Innsmouth’ I fancied that I could see the ‘Deep Ones’ in the corner of my eye, so was very pleased to be distracted by the sound of a bell. Quite apart from being the sound of a church bell or gong, it rang like the little tinkling bell at the front desk of a hotel. The bell rang more than once, and I followed it to somewhere I had not been before, the door to the outside.
Half afraid it might be an anthropoid fish, there was a definite slight burn from adrenaline as I took the handle ring and pulled. It was stiff, but quickly gave, and I found myself face to face with my visitor.

Standing on the flagstones outside was someone that I recognised well; his name was Atlas and he was the alter ego I had created as a teenager, though here he seemed empty, his eyes fixed. At first I had found myself as him in my dreams; he had the strength of will and self I always wished to have. When I feel stronger he fades away, but when I feel weak, he appears again. Through him I’ve found a voice in difficult times, and found strength when I thought I had none.
Finding myself opposite him, myself even, was unsettling at first… but as I looked at him that fell away and I felt comfort. Comfort knowing that there was someone strong inside of me, even if that person had to look different. I reached out to put my hand on his arm, but he dissipated the moment that I would have touched him. I hope that means that I no longer need him, not that my strength has faded with him.

The Rush

Take your time
Let the rush not mar your life
With jagged edges and
Broken joints
Where you tripped and fell
And ripped your clothes
The end will get no closer
For your haste.

The Right Things

Comfort does not come with cushions
Nor a thick jumper when the cold bites
It does not come with companions
Nor a deep bath after a stressful day.
Comfort is the settling of the soul
When all things that come to pass
Do not cross our hearts with
Strain or suffering
When all things
Are right.

The Family

This building stands because of us
We built each wall by hand, each stone
A conscious exertion
One on top of another
Brother and sister together
Made this home, and welcomed in
Each passing traveller, who
Stayed to contribute another brick
But words and whispers undermine
They crack windows, weaken mortar
Until the whole foundation collapses.
A home is only as strong as its family,
And a family, only as strong as its bonds.

Negative Space

Alone beneath a single light
I am not illuminated
Nor made bright
Nor do I shine

An empty box, and with me
Emptier still
Within this space
I disappear.

This seems to be getting to be a habit..

Morningstar

I found you when the darkness
Bade morning to the dawn
And I felt the warmth of the sun
For the first time.

All confusion held was lost
And I bathed in the beauty
That confidence brings
And loved myself.

My companion now in all times
You are the faith I hold
Even when hurt
Replaces my dreams

Fear sometimes rises in me
That you replace my reality
But how can this strength
Be so bad?

Your story is my inspiration
My story I carve myself
Using tools you have given
And I believe.

The Knight

Kneel, my knight, in this hard time my servant be,
Your honour reflected in polished plate,
Go forth from here on worthy steed
And confront the path set forth by fate.

When challenged, first always hold back your sword,
Be not the one who offers death at the first,
Let your action come after your word,
To be known by your best, and not your worst.

Hold your banner high, but let the others higher,
Leaders know when it is best to follow
And speak with enemies, yet not conspire
Lest others discover your promises hollow.

The noble may shield, but do not interfere;
Not all who need defending, can be saved
But when faced with suff’ring, perservere,
Be strong, when others cannot be brave.

Though perfection is not the right of mankind,
You have the freedom to choose who to be
If you stand a beacon, you can find
Yourself in presence of true company.

In these distances from the Source to the scoured,
seeming to take minutes and hours
soured the flowers by picking, only corpses remain for admitting
to the groundings.
But what wonders astounding?
When simple and growling
What mindless made images
have gathered the foundlings

Back into alignment
Define this assignment as confinement
and go back to the wishing jinn
For virtuous venerable veins flow
Beginning to beat in the midst of tens

What marvelous feat was defeating?
Was it their own fields they're reaping?
Or is this just the way that the wheel goes?
Or is this the way that the keel rows?

Merrily Merrily Merrily
What makes life what it seems?
Verily Verily Verily
The coalescing of a dream

Maddening moments mediated my mind among arias arranged, autonomous. Details dotted dancers, developing delightful distractions.

Intravenous imagery instantaneously ingested.

Most minute meanders might invoke irritation instead. galleries of gallows gain hesitating hounds. High handed templars think to tie the thread.

But, being bested by babbling brooks emerge enigmatic epiphany! egress!

Much might might mess aptly add, adding alphabetically. Do decide deciphering, dont depreciate decrees!


Hehehehehe