Writings by Rudies

[ponytail]

Awhile ago I posted some sonnets here, and they got a good reaction. At that time, I said I might start a thread where anybody on the site who wanted to could share their poetry, art, links to music, whatever. Here it is.

BTW, I warn you -- the first poem is pretty disturbing. If you're sensitive, you might want to skip over it.

Exorcism

Once, my mother burned my hands
on the gas stove.

I had been "bad";
I don't remember how.

What I remember
is the odor of flesh burning,
surely not familiar
to most five year iolds.

I remember
what scars you could see --
the others,
there is no need to remember.

I remember
watching from outside my body,
as if this were on TV.

I do not remember
the pain -- or, at least,
not the part
that was just physical.

I do not remember
the role played by Love
in this picture.


***

Selfishness

You treat people
like vending machines:

you push
what buttons
you know how
to push;

and,
when you don't get
what you want,
you kick.

But the mechanism
stays a mystery,
because it is
you

who
are
broken.

***

Eucharist


Okay, it's my father's funeral;
sure, I'll go to communion.

Sure, I'll go, to spare
my mother's feelings.
I'll go, to keep
the nosy neighbors quiet.
I'll go, to fit in
with the flow of things.

So, grudgingly, I kneel
at the cold railing.
I smile up at the priest --
just call me "hypocrite."
I open my foul mouth.
I close my eyes.

And Light floods me
like the Susquehanna River
flooded Harrisburg
last winter.

Poems (c) 2002 by Jack Veasey. From the book "The Moon In The Nest" (Crosstown Books). All rights reserved.

[Dee]

I originally wrote and posted this out of my feelings of helplessness following hurricane Katrina.

Today with the situation in the Middle East, I will post it again.


Did I hear a cry today

Did I hear a cry today,
Rising from a sudden grave?
Did I hear ten thousand more,
Rising into evermore?

Did the weeping that I heard,
Resonate around the world?
Of the fathers, of the mothers,
Of the child who had no other?

Here I stand in open sorrow,
For the ones with no tomorrow.
As I weep and toss and turn,
I pray to You they now return.

Did I hear a cry today,
Rising from a sudden grave?
Did I hear ten thousand more,
Rising into evermore?

http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d149/danielmarkskelton/EMOTICONS/rose.gif

[ponytail]

Very strong lyric, Dee. It should be a song.

[Oak Kitten]

Dee and Ponytail,

These are very good. Thank you for posting them. I don't compose poetry myself, but I like to read it. I especially liked "Selfishness."

Oak

[hoops]

amazing feelings displayed so physically
peace
hoops

[ponytail]

Thanks for the kind comments, Hoops and Oak.

Anybody know where Snakegirl is? I was hoping she'd post some poetry on this thread!

[Robert the Bard]

Tribute
by Robert the Bard

We've all experienced loss
And are no strangers to pain
Whether they were loved ones, or friends
It's really all the same.
Life my friends is sacred
To no-one it belongs
Don't waste time on hatred
Instead of singing songs
Look for beauty you'll find it
It never tries to hide
Don't waste life looking 'round you
It's really all inside
Remember to love your children
And to show them everyday
Show them your affection
Love will light the way.

Give your child a hug, it may be the last chance you get.

While not the lyrics to the Tribute piece on my site, I was in the midst of production on it when I scribbled this down.

[ponytail]

Very cool! Thanks for sharing it, Robert.:) I especially like "life my friends is sacred/to no one it belongs/don't waste time on hatred/instead of singing songs." Good advice.

[Robert the Bard]

:blush: The whole piece was inspired by a friend that passed away last year.

[Stephen]

Through the Night

The south wind carries my gift through the night;
The flight of love is swift through the night.

In the dark, we sing each other to sleep,
Our lullabies adrift through the night.

The breeze that bears my lover's voice blows steady;
I pray it does not shift through the night.

Many are the songs that speak your name
A Lad's lone voice will lift through the night.

Stephen Brooke ©2002

an attemt at the ghazal, a Persian poetic form

[ponytail]

A ghazal -- cool! Nice to see somebody else is interested in forms. Here's a pantoum (a Malay form):

Things We Forget

the soft touch of a calloused hand
the space that fills an empty room
the light inside the "dirty" man
the bird that glides above a tomb

the space that fills an empty room
the sweetness in an urge that stings
the bird that glides above a tomb
the thin air that supports his wings

the sweetness in an urge that stings
the angel trapped in each sad thief
the thin air that supports his wings
the death that comes as a relief

the angel trapped in each sad thief
the light inside the "dirty" man
the death that comes as a relief
the soft touch of a calloused hand

(c) 2002 by Jack Veasey (also from "The Moon In The Nest")

[Rkitko]

I'm not much for poetry or prose. In fact, I downright stink at conveying intelligent ideas in a concise format. Most of my writing tends to be restricted, then, to the scientific realm.

For an example, you could, if you had a death wish, spend a half hour reading over my candidacy paper on Ailanthus altissima the invasive Tree of Heaven. I've reposted it on the web here on a LiveJournal community page (http://community.livejournal.com/alien_species/5724.html) dedicated to invasive species.

Don't bore yourself, though. Look at the pictures and run ;)

[snakegrl]

Hey y'all, great stuff.
Our computer had a damn virus and took awhile to fix. Thank's for asking about me Ponytail.
I'm baaaack. Mwahahaha
So, here goes some new stuff.

A Short Walk

In the 4am quiet
of a downtown side street,
I hear my shoe grind a pebble,
its echo rattle
through a windowless building,
then fade as if swallowed by the bricks.

From a shadowed recess,
match-light flickers-
the reflective eyes of a creature
come out in the night
to feed.


Oscar Wilde As Don Quixote

You stabbed a pen at windmills
defending your Adonnis from dragons,
all but the one he swallowed.
That beast could not
be coaxed out to fight.

Your darling boy
defended his pet,
pawned you to the behemouth
he knew you could not resist.


I almost forgot, there is a writing contest looking for representation for all 50 states. They only have a few left to fill, so if interested, be quick.
The e-mail address is fiftystates@ballyhoostories.com
Good luck

[ponytail]

Welcome back, Snakegirl! Love the poems! Especially "A Short Walk."

[snakegrl]

Thanks PT. :D

[hoops]

find it hard, usually to put a title on what i write. then other times i wroite a title and find it hard to fill the space left under it. todsay i fill the space under it but i have not title.

The sun rises
And sets
On the grey
Of todays
And weak memories
Of yesterdays.
Only photograhs now
full of color
Empthy of living.
Today's grey
Holds it's own colors
Full of life
Empty of mine.
the Treacherous design
Of time
Moving at blazing speed
Of almost
Complete stop
Firey white blue
Awakens the day
And purple orange yellow
Says goodnight
With no kiss
To meet me
And sleep.
The dog days
of grey
pretend
to light my way
From now
To now.
The process
The journey
They say
Is alive
But in what way?
When grey
is the shade
of todays
And weak memories
Of yesterdays.
the grey never changes
but will never be the same.

[ponytail]

Nice work, Hoops! I spend a lot of time living in "the grey area" myself.

[hoops]

thanks pt...believe it or not the grey i started with was just the color of the house i live in. i wrote that on saturday on my drive back home from work.

[snakegrl]

Hey Hoops, great poem, imagery. For the title, how 'bout something with a pallet in it. I get a visual of all the colors running together.

[hoops]

sounds great snakegrl, lemme think about it

[pulmike]

Great thread ponygirl. I like ones like this the best. I am refreshingly reminded that many people are concerned with communication on levels beyond what I am constantly force fed on tv. Nice work everyone.

pulmike

[ponytail]

Thanks for the compliment, Pulmike. Glad you like the thread.

Just for the sake of accuracy, I'd like to point out that my handle's Ponytail, and I'm a guy. No offense taken, though. It's an androgynous handle!

[pulmike]

Opps. That's embarassing. Thanks for not taking offense ponytail.

pulmike

[pulmike]

Sorry again, Ponytail. To make up, here's one I wrote about my daughter Cassidy's recent visit here. The "set up" is that she is a northern Idaho woodsy sort of girl, but she's liivng in Phoenix while her husband goes to flight school there. She spends a lot of her time being homesick for the northwest. She is 27 and has a new baby son; Tanner. The Mogollon Rim is an interesting geological feature of Arizona; a sort of step-down that stretches a quarter of the way across the state. It separates northern from southern Arizona.

I won't see either of them again for quite awhile, and it hurt for them to leave:

-------------------

Down Under The Rim

Little girl Cassidy
Lives too away far
She’s living for leaving
That place where she’s being.

Black desert night crime
Days without end
She doing hard time
Under the Rim.

Up for a visit under Idaho skies
On the way to the river
In the lookin’ back mirror
I saw tears in her eyes.

Binding him to her
Red wrapping ‘round him
First up him then down him
With tears in her eyes.

Use love from Sky Pilot
Take care for your son.
Come back to your families
When Phoenix is done.

Apart till it’s over
Just time slipping by
Missing them badly
Here as I cry.

Damn it she left here
Took Tanner and then
She made a five hour run
Down the Mogollon Rim.

Mike Pettit
7/20/06