Two for six. (a wink to xxoo)
Posted by Spinkane 10 years, 7 months ago to Entertainment
You give me love mumps,
and twirling toe.
We have come
a long way to go.
Candy Dot drops,
sugar beet baby.
It’s a stumble spell,
in a tumble bee.
Pitch pine
dark chocolate
and later
moonlight.
Two four six,
sleep knot tight.
Stitch
I’m a sucker for poems, I apologize.
I rationalize posting here with.. I created this! (In all humility)
and twirling toe.
We have come
a long way to go.
Candy Dot drops,
sugar beet baby.
It’s a stumble spell,
in a tumble bee.
Pitch pine
dark chocolate
and later
moonlight.
Two four six,
sleep knot tight.
Stitch
I’m a sucker for poems, I apologize.
I rationalize posting here with.. I created this! (In all humility)
This Ancient Rune, This Honored Sign
This ancient rune, this honored sign
Signals still to that which seeks
This living, restful savored wine.
Often subtly wrought, in fine
Gold, silver, jewels speaks
This ancient rune, this honored sign.
Eros, patron to the wondrous vine
And fruit from which, winsome peeks
This living, restful, savored wine.
When quiet made and bound divine,
Time seldom mars with weathered streaks
This ancient rune, this honored sign.
Drink deeply then and taste define
Where , in the mind, softly wreaks
This living, restful, savored wine.
The two are one, to one combine.
They are those to which honor speaks.
This ancient rune, this honored sign;
This living, restful, savored wine.
"when quiet made and bound divine"
LOVE "...in the mind, softly wreaks"
Hey! I have a suggestion. Go to file/Options/Proofing/auto correct options/capitalize first letter of sentences. You can turn this off and the poem will read the way you originally wrote it.
I enjoyed your poem.
It reminded me of a poem I wrote. You’ll be the first person I’ve shared this poem with, it’s just fun.
Runic Romance
I was counting on match sticks
to show me a sign.
Deciphering tea leaves and
Turkish coffee grinds.
With the outlook uncertain
in the magic eight
while the stylus on Ouija
seemed to hesitate,
I looked into the mirror,
mirror on the wall.
That’s when I was certain
you didn’t call.
You didn’t call me baby,
you didn’t call me back.
You called the witch doctor,
about our heart attack.
If you found your true calling
about what was meant to be.
Then I’m lost and I’m falling
into apathy.
At the séance, tarot cards
seemed to suggest
the specter among us, I
would never rest.
I’m hopelessly spellbound
by your lottery charms.
It’s hypnotic how I feel
you right here in my arms.
I hear you call me baby,
captured in my trance.
You’re calling me sweetheart
in our runic romance.
Stitch
Can you dig it?
I can see two or three possible connotations, the most promising of which is lover who has either died or disappeared with no word or trace. The writer is yearning for what was and , most likely, will never have again.
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Get that poem stuck in your head, Poe was crazy.
Aftermath
Broken, shattered, twisted.
The trees stand like skeletons,
A sea of mud encompassing.
Here, there, a broken
Mangled body or maybe
A hand, an arm. a leg.
These remain after the
Final day of the
Last battle of the war.
The armistice is signed.
"The war is over!!!"
Soldiers deliriously shout,
Sing, and dance in the sea of mud.
"The war is over,
The war is over!!!"
The soldiers dance and sing.
The shell falls, unheard.
Did you see my Dollar sign?
Gray
The fuzz, on the critters littering the highway
swayed in the wind.
Occasionally,
a bird dropped out of the sky.
Tired, the starving trees
quietly laid down.
Color, gently released by the pale yellow grasp
of the suns trembling rays, drained into the ground.
Down at the pier,
the pylons were swollen.
The planks of the dock became mushy.
Happy healthy boats submerged one by one,
blip, blip off the barely perceptible horizon.
Planes crazily corkscrewed through the air,
auguring into the water, without a splash.
Back on land, worms wriggled everywhere,
drowning in the gray slip
that mixed with the white grass.
One boot from a pair of goulashes
offered refuge to an oozing frog,
to sick to croak.
Telephone poles
drunkenly propped themselves on sticky wires.
With a sinking feeling in my stomach,
I called you in the city.
After you informed me
the diamond on your ring
lost its luster,
I mushed the handset into the cradle,
like a lump of clay.
All at once
the moisture fell out of the air.
I looked at the careless sky,
stars swirled in
as the sun went black.
Remember to forget to remember.
Stitch 1992
Thoughts
Only those concerned, listen well.
The rest, doubly well.
How now to die in peace?
You cannot. For now, only in
violence, by your own hand
Or another's. Rarely die in
Peace, you do. Though such
We may say we rarely do.
Is not death even a violence unknown?
This poem is begging for a melody-maybe jossambrose can come up with one
I’m getting that Kindle to read your book. Dale’s perspective is something I know little about and am interested in knowing more and I like your style of writing. Everybody has their strengths, I’m a novice here; but working hard to catch up. Poetry I’m good at. Sincerely, John
P.S. in the movie I identify with the guy who worked with John Galt and fixed the train before Dagny took off in the plane.
you will refer to AS alot I bet. I do. the search function and the highlight feature is great. also the note taking feature.
When you recognize the subtle evil men are capable of you could adopt the philosophy of FTW and drink to oblivion, which in the book Jeff Allan did (and me in real life).
Like Dagny, he didn't realize the point of no return had been passed and he hoped (denied reality) things would turn around.
What have I not noticed? What big picture have I tuned out? Even the hardest, smartest working individual is weighing effort in their own life with putting themselves out there and speaking up. Maybe if they just work harder, they'll do fine despite the fact they know everything is going the wrong direction. lol kinda reminds me of parenting. Obvious and easy in theory and hard and sometimes overwhelming in execution.
excellent discussion, spin
“You can deny reality but you can’t deny the consequences of denying reality.” Dale eluded to social reality as you quoted recently, and that’s the rub. Social reality is the mob and the majority. I focused on Thomas Sowell’s quote by Sdesepio. They don’t know how to think, they only know how to feel. Think of how a suggestion could be framed to persuade you to come to a conclusion by swaying the way you feel and you don’t think it over, you go with how it makes you feel. There’s that Evil Ayn Rand talks about.
Thank you very much, you should play Dagny in part 3.
I was thinking of myself when I wrote that. I often deny the consequences of reality when I become overwhelmed. I try to adjust, sometimes I fail, try to figure out why and move on. I used to beat myself up over it, now less so. Dale never had the "beat myself up over it gene" and often beats me up over beating myself up. lol you know how that goes...I just want a dag-gone good Dagny. They better give us some rushes so we can weigh in. ha!