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Simply Poetry

Simply Poetry

For you I wish that these poems were rubies, borne by my own caravan from Xi'an out of Shaanxi, through Persia, along the northern Silk Road
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"Letter to Neruda"- http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2009... - #poetry via @Semaphore -A love poem, ars poetica, and tribute to #Neruda the literary hurricane
'Celebrate' - http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2009... - #poetry via @Semaphore - a celebration of life, love, and longing
And those that I have left unspoken, left unsaid, I celebrate in silence, instead
AlI these I celebrate
The song of your mouth, entwined in unison with my own song.
The spiral sculpture of your ear, knotted inside itself like a shell
Your eyelids, the coverlet through which the world filters into your dreams
AIl these I celebrate
The incandescent camber of your back, ribbed and smooth, arched in surrender
The hollow where your shoulder blades curve into my caress, delicate, like a bird
The nape of your neck, soft and white beneath the aromatic tendrils of your hair
All these I celebrate
Let me celebrate parts of you so secret, even you have not seen –
"Celebrate" - http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2009... - #poetry via @Semaphore - a celebration of life, love, and longing
"Celebrate" - http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2009... - #poetry vis @Semaphore - a celebration of life, love, and longing
'Lithium' - http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2012... - #poetry via @Semaphore - A triolet, through the haze of lithium
The night evaporates around me, a white, bipolar flame. I waken into dreaming.
The night evaporates around me, a stuttering of stars that taunt, confound me, until this fragile sphere has lost all meaning.
I waken into dreaming, into a lithium ocean that engulfs and drowns me.
The night evaporates around me, a white, bipolar flame.
Lithium" - http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2012... - #poetry via @Semaphore - A triolet, through the haze of lithium
"Lithium" - http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2012... - #poetry via @Semaphore - The world through the haze of lithium; a triolet.
As I unwrap this evening’s meal, red snapper, its simmered warmth dimming in my frigid breath.
Amid wood whittlings, molded clay, you smile.
Unaware, you smile. Imprisoned as you are under this pauper’s roof
The carver’s craft, the lithographer’s ecstasy of creation, swallowed by the world’s usurious maw.
They would see them seized from me, trammel these remnants of my soul in glass encasements, bars
Lots drawn against my few possessions, sculptures, sketches
I hang my coat, leaving in its inner pocket creditors’ papers, promissory notes
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