ㅁ The sea is not what seems to be, instead it sloshes there: a mass of molecules and space that grasps up at the air.
Category: Ballad
Caveat: Poem #2020 “Not what it seems”
ㅁ The moon was there behind the clouds, and lurking like a whale; the sky was like the surging sea: a torn cloud showed its tail.
Caveat: Poem #2019 “Gnomic remarks”
ㅁ The map was drawn by idiots it failed to show the way; instead it lead the gullible to lostness - and astray.
Caveat: Poem #2018 “Announcement”
ㅁ When I was young I liked the rain it always seemed to sing. I'm older now but I still like that tapping, plonking thing.
Caveat: Poem #2018 “Unfortunately delayed”
ㅁ The dream presented seas in flood I had to flee the flow But at my spot along the road the buses were too slow.
Caveat: Poem #2017 “Your loss”
ㅁ The words, they fell like winter rain, they scattered as they fell. Those listening refused to hear, in silence they would dwell.
Caveat: Poem #1986 “Miracle”
ㅁ The cancer grew and made a stand, but doctors made it die The years have passed both slow and fast and somehow I'm still spry.
Caveat: Poem #1983 “Slide”
ㅁ If Christmas were a country road, the presents made of ice then that would be my daily drive and really not so nice.
Caveat: Poem #1901 “Yes, that would be the best dream”
ㅁ If I could choose a certain dream I'd pick a house with halls - with corridors that never stopped, with decorated walls.
Caveat: Poem #1900 “Liminality”
ㅁ A state of liminality suspended me, alone, and slowly I returned to see I'd made my way back home.
Caveat: Poem #1899 “Weatherized”
ㅁ A branch flew past me borne by wind and landed on the ground. The trees were swinging left and right and making whooshing sounds.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Poem #1898 “A praise-poem”
ㅁ The time for poems is past for now, there's nothing new to say. The rain has tired of being praised, it's staying every day.
Caveat: Poem #1897 “Typically unreliable”
ㅁ The rain, it comes on even days and then it comes on odd; the weather site predicted sun - the forecasts, they are flawed.
Caveat: Poem #1826 “Quick! He’s not looking!”
ㅁ I like to watch tomatoes grow but mostly they just wait and only when I turn away do they increase their weight.
Caveat: Poem #1805 “Sampling”
ㅁ The bugs will buzz and fly around because they're testing things, to try and see if somewhere's worth a stop to rest their wings.
Caveat: Poem #1783 “Local sights”
ㅁ the hills are robed in dreaming mists the sea is smooth and green a distant boat adjusts her nets the deckhands barely seen
Caveat: Poem #1780 “On or off”
ㅁ Computers don't believe in things they really only know. Their knowledge spans the integers, from one down to zero.
Caveat: Poem #1779 “False consciousness”
ㅁ It comes with dusk and settles in; it dominates the air: a feel of calm exhaled by trees as if they are aware.
Caveat: Poem #1772 “The goal is more rust”
ㅁ A day of rain seemed just the thing to wash away the dust, but then the clouds decided that more days would make more rust.
Caveat: Poem #1771 “Expressed preferences”
ㅁ So, sometimes out on waters still, at dawn, I'll see a boat. They park there when the sea is rough: they'd rather stay afloat.
Caveat: Poem #1292 “Excessive brightness”
One day I saw the sun come out. It was a big surprise. More often here the rain just falls. It's easy on the eyes.
Caveat: Poem #1205 “Cairnview”
I cut my bits of twigs and sticks to clear my path below; and looking through, down at the road, the rocks I stacked just show.
Caveat: Poem #1204 “A drumming”
The rain insists, its forceful hints keep tapping in the breeze. The droplets fall on barren wood and timpanize the trees.
Caveat: Poem #1112 “The sky made them do it”
Some trees survived to tell their fate to birds that passed them by, but others lost their lives and fell, then, disowned by the sky.
Caveat: Poem #1111 “Distress”
I feel consumed with stress these days; I worry and I sigh. My stomach ties itself in knots; my soul just wants to cry.
Caveat: Random Poem #78 “The cosmological theme”
(Poem #379 on new numbering scheme)
ㅁ The universe extends outward in spirals, cavities and loops of filamentation, vast pools of gravity.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Quatrain #115
(Poem #301 on new numbering scheme)
Some leaves with flashing silver eyes begin to spin as wind attempts to steal from them their trust and leaving them chagrinned.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
Caveat: Quatrain #114
(Poem #300 on new numbering scheme)
Most people seem alarmed to learn I rarely feel alone. They ask me why, insist I must spend time with those I've known.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Quatrain #113
(Poem #299 on new numbering scheme)
I stepped out today feeling rushed - forgot my metaphors. So things were dull, like dirt or jobs. My words waged pointless wars.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Quatrain #112
(Poem #298 on new numbering scheme)
I didn't mean to keep writing these droll, clichéd quatrains, but time stole my initiative and now I'm lacking brains.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Quatrains #109-111
(Poem #297 on new numbering scheme)
Three simple songs were sung among the faces going by. I knew these songs in passing, then, though all the years did fly.
A song of patient worrying came first, a princess true. The second song had deep kindness, but understandings, few.
The third song had the boldest heart, but passions rather wild. These songs departed. But today, a song returned... and smiled.
– three quatrains in ballad meter. This poem is not just a hallucination or metaphor, unlike as is the normal case with most of my poetry. Rather, it has a fairly important and specific subtext, which will make the meaning quite clear.
Caveat: Quatrain #108
(Poem #296 on new numbering scheme)
Parts of the world declaim to others by means of movements small and large, that spiral and conspire to etch scars on us all.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Quatrain #107 “A gothic style”
(Poem #295 on new numbering scheme)
Is there a gothic style, in how we look at abstraction? Is there some kind of reader's gloom that gives a soul traction?
– a quatrain in ballad meter.