Morning Triku # 174 ~ Good Starts

No Down Side

Creativity’s
not about making things up,
it’s making things work.
~

Conundrum

If love made as much
as the time I spend writing,
I’d no time to write.
~

All Good

Love is beautiful,
when all else is not. Love is
all when from the heart.

~*~
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Always Free

~*~

I tried to force a poem today.
But poetry doesn’t work that way.
Seems all my words are kept at bay.
Thoughts simply sculpt what hearts convey.
With wheels unturned can’t play with clay.
That doesn’t mean my mood’s cold and gray.
Or that my feelings for you have gone astray.
Flourishes flounder, neigh to stay.
Gladly “I love you” I can always say.

~*~
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The Return

Outside my window perched in a tree
Tis a winged demon that caws at me
At me it caws and caws all day
Till darkness consumes then caws go away

Tis then a candle lit, awaiting peace
Creative spark await release
The hourly chime hourly chides
This spark within creatively hides

Searching I pace in this tiny room
From shadow to shadow returning to gloom
Going in circles around in a square
Till wearily I slump back into my chair

Through random lacy limbs I spy the moon
With gentle breezes the patterns I swoon
Patterns swooning dance on dingy walls
The net surrounds and the demon calls

Consciousness concedes, silence relieves
In the dark the dark the mind believes
Rest and wait or rise and scream
Choices few at the edge of a dream

Wax drippings lapping pages bled
Of serpentine spine and heavy head
Blackness cloaks the demons night
Their quills aplenty shade the light

Demon, oh demon please let me be
Yet still they tap, tapping for me
Tap tap tapping on my foggy pane
Tap, tap tapping with no refrain

Without refrain demons tap in kind
Tapping demons tap, tapping my mind
Is this tapping, tapping to remind?
Or is it tapping to seek and find?

Oh demon cloaked with hidden face
To take from you is my disgrace
Your gifts adored left on my sill
Yet to rest on your back I am still

To be only still is reverse
Dive or fall, a lover’s curse
To soar or sink is to immerse
The spirit wishes to guide the verse

This spirit and I of common goal
Each to rise from the hole
One to fly, one to scratch and claw
Each may fall, one to caw, caw, caw

Our bond’s made to find a link
If to trade my soul I wish to think
I wish to think another’s ink
Of golden quills and wine to drink

In gilded glass I wish to wink
Then step away until I shrink
Till all is gone with a blink
But for the ink, I wish to think

I think I think, I think I see
I think I see light shines on me
Sight and sound now distortion free
The path’s clear toward tranquility

If to be a final rest, now’s to be the time
Drifting in an open mind is to be sublime
Or if to rise and most joyfully find
I’ve awakened as a different kind

To be warm of heart and cool of mind
Forward moving and never behind
Of filigree hands to align and chime
Tis then the taps return, tapping in time

Taps on the window from arms of the past
To embrace their grip the future’s cast
When cracks appear in my shield of glazing
The demon swoops for the dawns hazing

With inky beak and beating wings
Caw, caw, caw the demon sings
They dance upon the empty pages
Quills ablaze their fire rages

Then morning breaks the lidded seal
Illuminating all thought real
Am I to be taker or to consume?
Or wake to sunlight returning to gloom

Betwixt the shadows exposed by the light
Tis demons craft conjured last night
With nary a blotch nor stroke askew
Flawless leaf scribed by I know not who

I dare not share these words unknown
Through my window they have flown
The prize of demons cawing in a tree
Thus return I must this gift given me

 

 

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My Pencil

My pencil in hand – mind set free
Erasing the chains binding me
Safe in my world of poetry
A better friend there cannot be

No rhyme or reason there’s to flee
No shackles of society
No meter of conformity
No question of sincerity

No judge, jury or guilty plea
No door can stop my slender key
I’ll wander through infinity
Another side of life’s journey

Draw lines that know no boundary
Return with words for all to see
Arrange them well – create beauty
Then thank my little piece of tree

~

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Testimonia Miscellanea

~

I know not what of poetry.

If it sounds Latin it’s Greek to me.

Yet pages turned new words learned,

emotionally concerned more is yearned.

.

Emboldened by fantasy I ward off attacks.

Slivers of truth yet slip through the cracks.

In a masquerade of hither and yon,

a poet’s mask is what I write on.

.

Sadness lurks beyond a child’s grin.

The truth bleeds hidden within.

All parabolic permutations I can’t define,

calculating the depth of every line.

.

So I’ll jump up and down, rattle around,

feet in the air and ears to the ground.

I’ll hear the sounds I note before bed,

where arranged tomorrow, unless I’m dead.

 

 

~*~

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Selfscape

~

On a canvas of life we paint every day.

Some burst with color, some dull and gray.

Each stroke has consequence, broad or precise,

all mediums large though most will suffice.

~

Hue’s all made one from another.

Texture’s built on a base we smother.

Shadows lurk in black and white.

Brilliant moons portray the night.

~

Love is felt on glowing skin

Hate pours from the blood within.

Seas of green churn, gallant ships tossed.

Crews-o-many flounder, all forever lost.

~

Happiness’s awash in the bright blue sky.

Sadness gives it time to dry.

Realism reflects an instant in mind.

Abstract’s more real when meaning you find.

~

Yet in two dimensions we do all conform.

Our edges and corners define the norm.

Then we sign, frame and place on a wall.

There hung with the others, all very small.

~*~

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