I read a post on Sleepy Eagle’s site tonight titled A Songwriter, a Monster, and a Myth. Sleepy Eagle wrote, “I never really knew the man, all I had to go by were myths and stories passed down by a family that seemed to hate him. He was abusive, unfaithful, drunk, and stoned on some strange combination [...]
The carnage wreaked its vengeance on those they led into war. The dying and dead lay about them and blood flowed over the land. They eyed each other, swords drawn, knowing for one or both this may be the last few moments of existence. One looked around and saw his comrades no more. He realized he forgot why [...]
I live in the north part of North America. The area which “enjoys” a minimum of four months of snow every year and advertises four distinct seasons. The last few years, since I moved back from the temperate climate of Mexico, has been an eye opener. My garden didn’t survive last year and this year [...]
Archive for A little bit of fun from Coal's Bin »
Yi-Ching’s waking up new camera strollings :.Something is brewing you can sniff it in the air someone is stirring springs squeak their complaints muffled shuffle of slippered feet ancient hollows blackened alcoves palpable fear replete Something is awaking you can feel it in your bones someone is approaching palpable contraction of intestines pangs like hunger tormented imagination imminent destiny convenes Somewhere it’s happening you can sense it through your glands someone is encroaching unfamiliar footwear on the tiles hushed breath [...]
Once sampled the sweet nectar of lexical love rests on the lips as a kiss would oh temptress is she that I can’t resist her clutches she beckons to the lonely wordsmith helplessly lost in the fading twilight and fosters his spirit hence he may spread his wings in glorious soul flight
When will we be ready then? When we’re all siting quietly, cross-legged on the lawn.. Or in front of the telly.. I can imagine… “This is a CNN ‘Breaking News’ event… we go live to Mount Everest where the lord God is due to make a sensational live public appearance.. stay with us.. after a this message [...]
Archive for Tigercity's Growls »A formless puddle Of energy Rippling, softly Here I float Surrounded by Light I swell In rapturous harmony Existential delight ! Must I go ? Must I choose The trauma And heartache Of this Life ? Darkness descends A bloodied womb My cradle The beating heart My only constancy Oh the pain ! I wince My face distorted Squinting at the brightness Reluctantly I emerge Into the cold
Oh Soul so tender
How You flinch at my touch
A purplish glow
Replaces the light
Revealing the bruises
Inflicted by
Life
Why choose this suffering?
Divine creator
of chaos
I cry…
And I plead
Take me back to the beginning
Oh how I yearn to know!
I am willing
Heart wide open
Listening…
Waiting…
For enlightenment
to unfold
stealthily in search of the key we dip into pockets near and far yet to discover the illusive freedom exists within
Archive for Colleen's Sprinkles of Light » | Coal [17] |
 | y [12] |
 | LuRain & theCodifyer [9] |
 | 47whitebuffalo [7] |
 | bouzouki [6] |
 | Colleen [5] |
 | Tigercity [2] |
Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times
Come, yet again, come, come.Classic words by the Persian Poet Rumi.
We
the Brewers of Strange
Love to share
Our musings
with you
We delight
in having you
Share
You ruminations
Please
Leave a poem
Or a rhyme
For all
To treasure
While
Life flows 
the following is from y:
Popularity: unranked [?]
snake rope on a stick tongue flicks flicks flicks boy scents swirl damns apple eating girl wojcik@
Archive for buffalo roamings » | Jarvis Sandau on visit to the past |
 | Verlene Canedo on Book from 1994 |
| LuRain & theCodifyer on no fool like the old yule :: theCodifyer |
 | mark on visit to the past |
| bouzouki on visit to the past |
 | Gabrielle Bryden on visit to the past |
 | Gabrielle Bryden on Love...by blissbait and coal |
| LuRain & theCodifyer on Love...by blissbait and coal |
| LuRain & theCodifyer on Haiku Bayou :: theCodifyer |
| Coal on Haiku Bayou :: theCodifyer |
dead guy’s battered trunk :. w7whitebuffalo :.| M | T | W | T | F | S | S |
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| « Jun | ||||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ||
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Life is an illusion
For technology and power
Are not the answer
Somewhere in the mystery
Of myth
There may be the clue
That satisfies
Our thirst to know
And if does not
Satisfy
At least
In our minds
We know we tried
simple elegant
elusive creations still
boil toil all a foil
[...] http://ichabodsview.com/?page_id=125 [...]
Whatever lights your fire
is that which you require.
Whatever quenches fire
will help you to perspire.
Water causes wet desire.
Thirsty longs just to expire.
Hi Uncle Tree;
Loved your poem and thought I would impart one to you
My mind wound around
Those last two lines
Searching for something
To illuminate
The feeling of expiration
And
Wet exhilarations
And decided
To stay with the fire
Without the water
Coal, this sounds a tad like having a libation straight up and neat..
Yep. Now if you can write poems about ‘that’–you can take dictation from Bernie with ease. LOL. Right Bernie?
Good Fridays call for good firewater, Coal!
‘Tis a strange brew you serve here.
Cheerz to quenching fairy!
Uncle Tree! How kind of your to call and leave a poem card too! So glad you found the Den–and Coal too. UT, you’ve inspired more poetry from Coal–and that’s a darn good thing me-thinks. “Whatever lights your fire”–hmm..guess I’m going to have to light some fire-flies soon. Hope you’ll visit again, UT. grins.
You know, Eva…that little diddy has been sitting
at the back of my journal for 6 years, and now
it has a welcome, and heart-warming home.
Title is as of yet undiscovered. Hello!
Uncle Tree, that’s a long time for a ditty to wait for some ink/print. Hey, titles come and go and when it comes I hope you’ll post it for show.
I love your artwork, Eva!
Thanks for giving that 6 year old ditty a home.
It definitely needed a drink. Strange as that may be.
Actually, Uncle Tree, that does’t sound strange at all–but perhaps that just says more about my mind than anything else. LOL. Glad you enjoy my art.
two oysters lie
on ocean’s floor
encased
in single
shell, exquisitely
aloof from
other creatures
of the sea
Hola Planet! Merci for your lovely oyster poem–the making of pearls in the depts–nice stuff–oysters like planets–worlds unto themselves. Hey,, if you’ve got an image to go with your poem–post it here or link or something–if you wish. smiles–thanks for calling.
I spoke to my ego today
“Why are you so quiet?”
Asked I to me.
“You confuse me,” my ego replied.
“How so?”
“You’re supposed to stand tall and proud,” my ego cried.
“But I’m short and bald,” I said.
“How can I exist if there is no pride?” my ego lamented.
“You’ll be the only ego in the world who knows humility,” I countered.
“Damn, that’s something to be proud of,” my ego smiled
mango trees once lined the street
feeding passerbys
sweetness reaching
waiting for a friend for three years
wasting time with a machine, no match for a friend
he will need a match if his pony makes it
We’ll pony up to the frig and taste a strange brew, much like you
only different
I want my eyes to cloud over, discussing chinese philosophy in the dark
feeding mosquitos tainted blood
I wonder if alcohol is a danger for pregnant mosquitos.
Perhaps it should be written on every bottle to protect their tiny lives.
it came true
every last bit
now we sink into sleep
a moment of oblivion
you may remember seeing someone after a long absence,
a joy that time can not dissolve this bond,
and for this short moment
i can recall something of every previous meeting.
You may wonder what makes a joyous occasion
stand out, like that naked fantasy that you hide so well,
we know the fruits of no labor, hold no truths to be evident,
and seek no message that hints of meaning,
but being friends, we examine memory
We share a meal
like the shared stories, giving us context
So there is meaning behind this,
how could you know
the friendly banter, the outrageous claims
that flow into our stories.
Friends know
You cannot buy this, it is only given to those that linger
years later,
a conversation, touching memory of friends
conversation at a dinner table
what can match that?
Alcohol and Pregnant Mosquitoes
A point Bouzouki brought up
I wonder if the FDA
Is concerned
About the dangers to
Our winged friends
That fly into a bar
Looking for a feast
And hit a wall
On their way out
As they are dead drunk.
Hmm, between bouzouki and Coal–me sniffs a new brew here. Intoxicated blood suckers! This could be the start of some strange and entertaining mosquito escapades!
flying drunk late at night
gets a horde of bloodsuckers
smacked into a fourwheeler’s headlights
your rain arrived just
this afternoon and our
galoshes are already
conversing in colorful
tongues, casually
sealing covert
kisses
in mint puddles
.
20090828:1254
y
oh, so the hyperlink Does work…it gave me an error the first time around, so i tried again without hyperlink. in fact, the last comment i posted also gave me an error again, and i had to retype it…
your rain arrived just
this afternoon and our
galoshes are already
conversing in colorful
tongues, casually
sealing covert
kisses
in mint puddles
.
20090828:1254
y
http://ylphoto.wordpress.com/2009/08/07/rainy/
Hi y;
I love your pictures and poetry. I am going to move this up to the page so people can see it
aww. that’s so sweet of you. thank you for enjoying both photos and poetry (smile).
awww, you are too sweet. thank you for enjoying both photos and poetry! (smile)
Y–hi! So nice to read/see you here. “mint puddles’ –mmm. Oh Bernie will be so pleased that you brought along a photo of some of her folk. grins
this makes so much sense now…by “her folk,” i initially thought you meant new yorkers (grinning).
I wonder
About the things men think of
In the middle of the night
When the world is asleep
I feel as if the night
Protects me from life
A time of peace
For reflection
Of day’s actions
I see the orange moon
Up in the sky
And sparkles of stars
Floating above
I wonder why this exists
Why we are alive
To enjoy what is
The feeling of
Appreciation
Of being allowed
To share this creation
Settles on my being
And takes away
The desire to know
And leaves a sense
of knowing
Smoke, hazy horizon,
Red sun morning,
Burning eyes, sneezes
Is this how we know progress and technology?
define ‘progress’, bouzuki–yes, you are NOT alone here! What’s on your brainpan, rambling man?
this is not my best
I’m tired and sore,
too old to labor out in the heat of the summer sun.
This is not my worst,
writhing in pain
an agony that catches me,
unable to just be
This is not how I am,
lost for a word or phrase
grasping for a metaphor
instead of the real thing
This is not mine
although given to me
with the intent
that I can set it aside
Crawling from the cul-de-sac
One way out, one way back
The driver squints against the haze
A thousand nights, a thousand days
To find his place among the masses
All thinking they’re reaching the higher classes
By tracing steps across potholes
A path defined by all these light poles
Invisible by day
Invaluable by night
He has a lawn that’s manicured
A team of people he’s never heard
They go from lawn to lawn
Each morning, they come at dawn
And long before night, they’re gone
They must live closer into town
Where streets are straight, not round and round
Their homes, very few alike
Their yards have toys, an errant bike
People stop and say hello
They don’t have so far to go
A cul-de-sac, one of many
Twisted in a soulless city
A line of cars drive in and out
Only the gardeners are out and about