There are some rather odd and ridiculous sayings that come to mind under the influence of such mischievous quiddities as whiskey and autumntime.
I have never been one to revisit or edit anything I write... but I realized that can be as counter-productive as editing too much, and I know there is a fine line in there somewhere. This is the beginning of a journey I'm hoping to take regularly not only to improve my writing, but to inspire myself into potentially writing something completely brand new that is more polished and well-thought-out from the very start, and thus improve my writing overall. This poem was initially written to be turned into a song, and as such, is simple for the sake of rhyme and meter. I tried to maintain that stylistically, to a degree, though I was fighting myself to make it more eloquent yet unwieldy for use as lyrics. I may revisit it again someday and simply make it the best poem it can be. My hope is for this interpretation to clarify some of the meaning intended.
Our remnants cling desperately to that tree To see one more winter turn into spring Scars cling to life that once killed me Never quite gone, it's always just fading Carve
I loved flying kites when I was little... The way they bobbed and swayed upon invisible, tumultuous waves. The way they could be seen by friends, near and far, both close friends and formerly unknown folks, and silently call a gathering that would add to the fleet of flying vessels across the town. My mother... Continue Reading →
Waiting for inspiration to strike With lightning as the Archetype And this... This is my flaw Yes, this is the primeval turnpike I hasten to chase east winds, and ripe The pith... Such is the dawn This childish heart... seasons are the dike Patience like a typhoon and stipe And I... Not yet a shaw... Continue Reading →
For all of his branches The way they hold fast in a breeze For all his expanses Roots anchor to bedrock, he cleaves For nature's advances Battered, poisoned, soil stained and steeped Satirical dances Mourning most at his loss of leaf
In the beginning There was a seed Creator limning Sotto Voce There was reverie For the burgeon But the avarice Struck the virgin Scorned by the scapegrace So she went mute Melody discarnate Dissonance scute Crescendo the lie Crescendo rue But a greater song: True Love construed Singing "all for One"... Continue Reading →