Poetry? Writings and ramblings...stuuuuf!

lunar
Day marries the evening in the sky, mountains pristine white softens into pink
the first star, like a divine herald introduces the union,
the moon shows her partly veiled face approvingly.
Lusty coyotes crazy staccato yips of celebration break into howls,
dissonant laughter melds into one long mournful sound,
echoing, chasing the clouds ‘crossed the moon's pocked face.
Silence fills the space, like the shadow blocking the thin light,
but stillness is broken once again, like a rock smashes into a pool.
Sodden with sound, the air hangs heavy with answering calls,
lunatics whining and yipping, laughing maniacally with heads flung up!
A delicious tingle rises, sparkling with half delight and half dread,
while the moon peeks silvery patches deep in the wood.
An owl hunts on ghostly-silent wing and bats twist and swoop between the skeletal trees,
the fire casts a warm ring, but shadows dance like circus mirror images at the edges
warmth and wood smoke in my face as ashes dance dervishly skyward,
only to be swallowed in the silky, black embrace of infinity.
The clouds gulp the moon, and mist rises on the pond, transforming the eve
Spring peepers, sing tentatively, sleepily marking out their piece of the night.
Wind rushes in with a cool firmness, but sleep eludes those with listening hearts!

Wow..I am so moved...wow....

that is good John

Wow, thank you! I did not expect that reaction -- I wrote that the night I posted it and considered it a first draft... BUT, I do admit an idea may rattle around in my head for quite some time. Sometimes I HAVE TO hold onto some bit of time that was special -- in this case, a night of sitting by a fire alone with the night, watching the moon rise and LISTENING with all my heart and imagination. There is a LOT that slips past if we don't have those times of drinking in life. People sometimes ask me how I go on in the face of daily pain. I think that a dose of suffering brings out a lot of character. Personally, I am laid-back and mellow, but I have a passion and intensity... with a dreamer's soul that I think comes from God. I know He directs my words. I have soooo many things written, but I forget what I have posted and what I have not. Some of it (maybe a lot of it!) is garbage, or at the least is dark, pissed off junk. For me, it is therapy AND it focuses my thoughts. It is like I have a need to write -- even if nobody ever reads it. I'm always blown away that others like what I write -- even more so that sometimes it has different meanings for different people. I know God is in it with me -- the questioning, the seeking, and I love to think while I work or walk, and I really, really like stuff that makes me think. My favorite reading is stuff that makes you think, that draws out some emotion or some universal human experience.

Anyway, THANK YOU for the nice compliments! It really blows me away (cuz of course I don't think my stuff is anything special).

jr

Warrior
There, in the fierce eyes of the eagle --
The rippling muscles of the stallion
I know who I was created to be
Wild, proud and free
But here I lie bleeding --cover me, Lord!
I’m storming Normandy
My heart you cannot cage
My spirit cannot be defined
Tenderly I reach, nurturing the weak
This enigma, me!
I must contend, struggle
I must overcome
Silent strength is mine
Cunning and shrewdness
Deadly strength I possess
For the lion lives in my heart!
My soul is my creator’s
He holds it jealously
With power and might!
Tenderly as a mother her babe,
The stars are his, and his strength mine!
With the blood of my enemies
Will I paint my face once more
Their blood runs, mingling with my own wounds,
But I will not flinch, for I am His image!

(a mandala is a sacred circle. Bodhisattva is one who died, but returns to suffer, so that others can understand. The Navaho have a belief that life is a tapestry. Veiwed from the back, it would all be threads and formless mess -- but the "show" side would have a beautiful, harmonious design. Life here, we see the back and only in "the life beyond death" are we able to fully SEE the beauty and understand the connections)



Mandala
Angels cry at birth
Bodhisattva, retuned as a gift.
My suffering is for you.
Death could not hold me,
nor dust define me!
The universe must expand,
for there is love yet to learn
in this mandala dance.
Under the tapestry,
all is loose threads
and disjointed chaos.
To see the skillful weave
of this tapestry we breathe
we must be at heaven’s open door

CPR
As I lie there
on the line between here and there
fuzzy, bleeding into nothing
consciousness becomes a lone, dark spot
imploding into the universe
such mind-bending confusion
thrown into the world of pain
my shattered world coughs up blood
onto the brave S.O.B.’s who beat me back to breath
life shattered into 10,000 bits of death
forever besieged by horror
there in the eyes of a bystander
echoes of the day I tasted death and sweet mercy
what a beastly gift I open each day
this terrible raging beauty in me
that leaves an insatiable hunger
to taste once more synethesia’s
sounds of taste’s in the smell of colors
delightful illumination suffusing
omnisciently throughout with comfort!

Ewww! I did not mean all that like how I think it reads today -- it sounds like an ego trip... but what I meant to emphasize is God is incontrol and to each of us He reveals things. We bless each other by these gifts and express our likeness to our creator when we join each other, sharing what has been given to express a fuller representation of Him.
Me, I'm just a strange guy that likes words and nature.