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Murmured Free Verse

trace the well-trodden way
surveyed and paved by legions
in macadam, cobbles
asphalt and mosaic

the going is easy
direction obvious
retracing your path
always an option

follow the faded footsteps
of invaders and refugee
explorer and missionary
sojourning bard and minstrel
analogue and shadow

there is no escaping a well-worn groove
so might as well pace lock and step
plough the treads deeper, darker

one day the rains will come
valley deep roads become river
course and habit washed away
migratory memory drowned in deluge
purpose and task lost in the flood

still, lyric and tattoo
haunt the lofty terraces
wind strums and syncopates cattails
whistles with the papyrus
murmurs free-verse in the reeds

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It is said that Socrates said an unexamined life is not worth living; not sure if I would agree with this most-respected and ancient Athenian sage, who wisely professed to know nothing. Knowing nothing ... I agree with that. If we are truly honest, we must confess we perceive and opine, sometimes vehemently; but know very little for sure. Everyday, I remind myself of Descartes. I think therefore I am and that is all I can ever truly know ... for sure. Granted, I also feel love and perceive.

I would counter however to my favorite Greek philosopher ... he is my favorite ... my dear sox ... if you have love, even an unexamined life is more than worth living. But I grant things can get difficult as one runs about in circles, repeating the same mistakes over and over again; running ruts into karma's Olympic velodrome, carrying the same Sisphean boulder up the same insurmountable peak; ticking off Big Hemlock until you are forced drink their cure for all your woes.

See, the reverse is also true. Don't bike backwards on velodrome ... that is not what I mean; too much life examining, ruminating as they say, pulling the threads of every deceptive senatorial robe. You might indeed be better to let the snows and sands of forgetfulness cover your tracks and never look back.

Or you could write poetry.

I Got Up, Sat Down

Wrote You This poem

be it an ode, limerick, or elegy
a sonnet, dactyl, or allegory
we, poets, are adept and bereft
quite fond indeed
when writing of the verse
at immortalizing the very worse

things overall are fine or rather grand
an off day, blasé, a little bland
but we pick up a pen, suddenly …
here strums the blues
a sunny romantic epic goes wrong
life becomes a country & western song

so I would like to take just this one day
to clear the air, if you’ll allow and I may

a desire to make a write meaningful
and pack a punch
will transform an anti-climatic split
into a gambit of Russian Roulette

I know …

some of my poetry is bleak and stark
just me laughing last, flirting with the dark
no te preocupe
I’m doing fine

I got up, sat down, and wrote you this poem
and made it rhyme
proof and exhibit one …
I’m having a good time

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Snow has a habit of melting and both sand and snow are prone to running off with the wind, leaving all sorts of remembrances bare and you vulnerable to regret and longing. Of course like a poem, we all want our lives to be interesting. Silly perhaps. What is the quote about living in in uninteresting times.

There is something to say for righting a wrong .. particularly the wrongs you accomplished. Sometimes, you can make amends, the forgiving kind will do just that, and you may even get a second chance to be more loving, to feel more loved. You can't have one without the other. Either way the love must be flowing from you and through you, for you to give it; for you to feel it.

By all means examine your life, your footprints and trespasses; but know when it is time to stop looking back and clear the way ahead and know the way is not through your lint- navel but through a clear mind and open heart.

Coma

my mind soars
out of body
a inter-dimensional comet
radio transmitted
though the ether

is it a rendezvous
or a solar flare
invasion

a whirlwind of messages
pass through a porous nucleus
received, given, and left behind
burnt off and forgotten

my identity…

embellished
incensed
scattered
shed

turn yourself loose
the satellites implore
stop and join us

trade your juggernaut perspiration
for an opalescent sheen

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