Gelisgesti Poets Cranny

Jerry, one feels
a poem
no need
to read
where it
is felt
will never
heal
nor let a scar
your heart
conceal


Doug

Nice work here all around!

My first attempt at hendecasyllables . 11 syllables per line, 11 lines (just something quirky I thought of to compliment the form).

Indian summer spreads violent orange rays
on the calm, bright, golden tapestry of fall.
I think of warmth and comfort in the waning
hours of a life, and the resurrection,
come summertime, with all the flowers in full bloom,
the rose the bride, the briar always the groom.
We walk along a garden path fraught with thorns,
treading silent through the bramble and the bush,
the scars invisible, unnoticed, ignored,
passed over, absorbed, sent running, now spreading
ivy seeds, to crawl over the walls of love.

Cav, welcome poet warrior .....


A thousand years
is a lonely night
a struggling
an empty place
wind in a meadow
clouds that race
a searching rhapsody
can you see
can you feel
what your heart
would believe is real
sleep filled dreams
sweet wine left lingering
cannot return
to the vine
lost love
turns to brine
a heart is mortal
never will it last
it gives no light
no warmth
in a cold misty night.


Doug

Cav, Why did you do that 11 syllable thing? Crap. What was that word that they said applied to me? I think it was obsessive compulsive. Eleven, eleven, news of the day, and a firm belief that people will screw it up because of greed equals, A Pity.

They put in the brain of a primate today.
Chips that would let it control its arms movement.
Miracles, wonders and fantasies relayed..
We know it's the greatest human improvement.
And how could a sinister thought be imposed?
My thoughts are what else would you ever suppose?
The chance to control the devises of limbs,
Results in the greedy devices of men.
And somewhere and somehow down in future time,
These devises will control a human's mind.
And all for the benefit of human kind.

This is meant to reflect an ambivalent view of humanity. The jaded view is the easiest to see. It's intent is only to balance the naivety of everyone I know.

Alarmist or visionary, only my hairdresser knows for sure.

This lacks structure, which seems appropriate. This is a fear of my youth, which is years away. I don't think it applies to me, but love is jealous, applying to us all, and most capable to destroy us.
Thank you for the forum to post this Gelisgesti. I would not like to let this interweaving of living beings' ego be unexpressed.
===========Jealousy=========

At the edge of dawn, as the cloven hooves dance,
A constant of love clashes with the tides of yearning,
And points of reckonings are reached.

From here, watching my love be swept away
By her heart, towards the flute of the piper,
My fears are given a point of prominence.

A home inside an outcropping of rock,
Safe from the bombardment of light's diversity.
A light of killing and light of living.

My love still calls to me in the dove's cry,
Sad and resounding, reverberating my bones.
Within my hollow it resounds.

A hollow foreseen by my love and acquiesced by her to me.
A meager point of existence between actual life.
She has abandoned me there in torment.

Somehow I accept the pain and move into the sunlight.
It's burning cuts me and a new accumulation survives.
Whole again, only because of my loss I emerge.

The air is heavy in the dove's cry of regret.
She has found a hollow of her own,
Each of our humanities never closer to extinction.

Each person is set upon a narrow harrowing path.
I open my arms and call for her,
So close to forever calloused to her cry,

So close to an island of rationality,
A rationality that filters the infinite blue of sky,
Into small pieces of safe, gray gruel.

Hide
while your life ticks away
the end
is not the end you pray
look close
you cannot touch
you do not know
your mind is filled
with what you
do
not
know
hide

priceless

ginko, Swinburne turned me on to the 11 syllable thing, but I hadn't tried it yet. I enjoyed yours....I just heard about that monkey, and I share your fears.

Back in high school, a poem of mine was selected for a school-board publication. Kids of all ages and from schools all over the city were chosen. This is not my poem, but I have always been amazed by it, and it's young author:

The Green Flash

Climbing up the highest hill
rushing with all my might
hoping I could see it
finally I reached the top
with sweat on my brow
glancing at the sparkling ocean
then at the departing sun
hoping with all my heart
then I saw it. I saw it.
the green flash
when the sun meets the water.

Rebecca Hancock
Grade 3

Each life is a poem
one we had no part
in starting
and no hope in ending
the song
is passed along
through love
and life
is carried
til soul and mind are married
and the melody that's shared
begins anew
the choice you do not have
is up to
you
awake
The echo of
an unfinished poem
is found and made whole
by many
unfinished poets

Doug

Rebbeca, the flash is the wraith of a new day and can only be viewed by you ....

At the time
pain seems sharper
at the time
night seems darker
at the time
the sun stands still
at the time
being born is known
at the time
a broken heart is
at the time
perception only
at the time
fantasy lives
at the time
all the time
time

Doug

On the day I die
the waters
will run cold and sweet
the birds drift upon
a heart felt melody
brightly will the sun shine
on the wind swept meadow
while lovers sigh
under a clear blue sky
bees will be busy
as children grow dizzy
chasing gaily painted flutterbys
on the day of my end
none will notice as
passing through the gate
I cast aside my pain
and began
again
the day I died

Doug

A creature of my own
deception
not a place
no face
unknown friendship
brings pain
black clouds carry
the heavy rain
sparkling water
faceless thoughts
disdain
each winter
leaves
it's stain
cold Spring rain
carry me
knowing
I will not
follow
darkness
fills the hour

snow enslaved by heartless winds
whipping cold that never ends
window scenes in black and white
sulky clouds begrudge the light
coughing, retching, fever, chills
treacherous hills

barren fields and burdened boughs
ceaseless scraping of the plows
timid drivers creep ahead
I should still be home in bed
cars encased in salt and ice
it isn't nice

days are filled with mindless chatter
pointless tasks - what does it matter
nights at home with TV blaring
unexciting, not uncaring
saddled with a model mate
strange twist of fate

endless string of empty years
future holds no joy, no tears
paths that beckoned way back then
seem too far to find again
now that kids are grown and gone
I linger on

drifting aimlessly through life
dodging trouble, sorrow, strife
missing friends who had to go
leaving hearts encased in snow
seeking what I cannot find
oh, never mind

I meant to write a poem of cheer
with hopes of spring to soon appear
bringing flowers, warmth and sun
fireflies when day is done
picnics, laughter, kids at play
just not today

Terry

I am very touched by your openness, and candid admissions of empty days, Terry.
You are not alone in the wandering.
Thank you for taking the time to write this-- for ,
while we all need cheer at times- a tear for our shadows helps to bear them.

Incidentally, your writing is VERY GOOD-

Terry, beautiful ...

Spring is all brought about by winter ... the harder the freeze the more bountiful the sprng.

A crocus spring
is a promise
a song in your heart
complete is the circle
closed is the ring

Once as a child
I had a dream
And in that dream
I grew into
A man
Now all that remains
Of that child
Is a slowly fading
Dream


Doug

Some where
In a misty swirl of time
We had our beginning
Two hearts became entwined

Our dance of love
On a diamond beach
As each rose above
To a place ....
Only two can reach
Together

With each life, we part
This is the rule of forever
To find each heart
A wandering ending in never

I'll know if it's you
Then my search
Will be through
One life time

Unless
It's not me
Your love
Needs .... to see

calm wind
spends it's fury
mindless wrath
is judge and jury

you cannot hear
what you can not feel
a well without water
lies hollow, unreal

hopelessness
is only hope
left standing
in the field

Doug

From another thread ..

Bottled memories.....

I still remember
the way your lips shape words
silent laughter in your eyes
as our lust
brought us to tremble
the flaming embrace
that rewarded our chase
yes
I still remember

Doug