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Post by wolfbear on Sept 15, 2019 12:21:20 GMT
Come As May
Come as may, I know not where
for every step – a thousand roads
like faceless dreams that dance or fade,
a glance into the setting sun.
And skies are split
like splintered minds, or shattered stone
that still are falling
and every shard
a voice of calling
but when all together they make no sense,
an echo of a voice departing.
Knowledge grows, like still still waters
stagnant as a pond in summer
wells that ran through all deep caverns
have sunk below the rocky bottom.
Black, a vision which once had feeling
now is empty, a vacated womb
and life, which once gave Reason meaning
beyond my reach, with hopes, has passed.
Yet now the search for self has opened
for back is not an option, 'more.
And though my face is in all directions
my legs could only walk in one.
Tongues will wag, and eyes will stare
hands will reach as backs are bared
And love with truth will await my being –
I must become, I must become.
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Post by wolf on Sept 15, 2019 15:17:01 GMT
Come As May Come as may, I know not where for every step – a thousand roads like faceless dreams that dance or fade, a glance into the setting sun. And skies are split like splintered minds, or shattered stone that still are falling and every shard a voice of calling but when all together they make no sense, an echo of a voice departing. Knowledge grows, like still still waters stagnant as a pond in summer wells that ran through all deep caverns have sunk below the rocky bottom. Black, a vision which once had feeling now is empty, a vacated womb and life, which once gave Reason meaning beyond my reach, with hopes, has passed. Yet now the search for self has opened for back is not an option, 'more. And though my face is in all directions my legs could only walk in one. Tongues will wag, and eyes will stare hands will reach as backs are bared And love with truth will await my being – I must become, I must become.
that I see,
is still laced, not with utter despair, but with a patient kind of hope,
fortitude, faith, stoic strength and determination.
Deep dark cool waters of suffering emotion,
where most would sullenly fear and dread to tread.
And I like especially,
as well,
how this one goes with your landscape and sky, your new avatar.
I need to finish my coffee, and come back for another few rereads.
I do love your work. |
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 15, 2019 16:02:52 GMT
These poems I am posting are all from long ago. I haven't written one in a very long time. But I guess as ideas born in your head, they never really go anywhere. They kind of just migrate from the back to the front of your mind, over and over again, lol. I am happy there are ppl who like them (or not, but read them) and have thoughts about them.
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Post by wolf on Sept 15, 2019 16:17:56 GMT
These poems I am posting are all from long ago. I haven't written one in a very long time. But I guess as ideas born in your head, they never really go anywhere. They kind of just migrate from the back to the front of your mind, over and over again, lol. I am happy there are ppl who like them (or not, but read them) and have thoughts about them.
I know I get a lot out from them.
Looking forward to seeing anything new you write,
that you would like us to read,
as well any older work you have too, of course.  |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 18, 2019 17:38:41 GMT
I like my poetry like I like my women… bawdy. |
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Post by wolf on Sept 20, 2019 14:21:16 GMT
I like my poetry like I like my women⦠bawdy.
you'd have a bawdy bard,
to make things hard,
as Bois d'Arc wood!
Got to keep it happily PG,
as not to make an a§§ of me or thee.
For in this forum,
we have the right decorum.
But just next door, there is an agora,
with satyrs, nymphs, muses and flora.
There it is always time
for Dionysius' sweet wine,
quite a few sultry rhyme,
and just a little bit of moonshine.
Erato is there, and it is no wonder,
she has all his craving's plunder.
Poetic songs of firm round globes,
soft lips biting tingling ear lobes.
Her well formed hip,
set tight in his lusty grip.
On Dionysius' lap, she's there sitting,
doing the revelry god's gentle bidding.
Whispering she regales him,
with poems of every sweet sin,
that ever will be, or has ever been.
So delicious devious Dio, go over there,
if you so desire and boldly dare.
Because here your appetites I cannot glut,
for I am simply not a wanton slut.
I'm merely a fun loving flirt,
that rarely ever wears a skirt.
No better companion than bumbler Oy,
I'm just a crazy good ol' tom-boy. 
- Wolf |
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Post by wolf on Sept 20, 2019 17:37:32 GMT
"Beautiful Fallen, Falling the Fall"
Grayly drifting down,
sad gaunt faced angels.
Faded and dried leaves.
Rising and falling rushes of wind,
Arcing wings shaking branches arms,
bending down in low bows,
Dominantly kissing the earth.
Powerful winter's coming,
the cold Principal death.
White cloud masses,
mask the mourning sun,
Virtuously sealing away his warmth,
sighing with resign, obeying.
Water's and field's Thrones chilling,
Cherubic grieving moans heralding,
icy white Seraphic snows.
Wheel turned once more,
the winters must, has to be,
to eventually usher in the glory birth.
- Wolf
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2019 20:46:18 GMT
I like my poetry like I like my women⦠bawdy.
you'd have a bawdy bard,
to make things hard,
as Bois d'Arc wood!
Got to keep it happily PG,
as not to make an a§§ of me or thee.
For in this forum,
we have the right decorum.
But just next door, there is an agora,
with satyrs, nymphs, muses and flora.
There it is always time
for Dionysius' sweet wine,
quite a few sultry rhyme,
and just a little bit of moonshine.
Erato is there, and it is no wonder,
she has all his craving's plunder.
Poetic songs of firm round globes,
soft lips biting tingling ear lobes.
Her well formed hip,
set tight in his lusty grip.
On Dionysius' lap, she's there sitting,
doing the revelry god's gentle bidding.
Whispering she regales him,
with poems of every sweet sin,
that ever will be, or has ever been.
So delicious devious Dio, go over there,
if you so desire and boldly dare.
Because here your appetites I cannot glut,
for I am simply not a wanton slut.
I'm merely a fun loving flirt,
that rarely ever wears a skirt.
No better companion than bumbler Oy,
I'm just a crazy good ol' tom-boy.
- WolfThat's great!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! |
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Post by wolf on Sept 24, 2019 16:42:01 GMT
diobolic glad you like it ,
thanx 4 reading Dio
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 25, 2019 14:33:52 GMT
All the Same
Parade upon parade I watch
people marching forward straight
feet in beat, arms in wave
and All the Same, All the Same.
Am I apart of this Parade
to move and stop at man's command?
My self is lost in All the Same
no trees nor sky, no left nor right –
it's all one wave of All the Same.
One who looks about is lost
when in the sea of All the Same,
and those whose minds are destroyed by silence,
their hearts infected with All the Same.
no longer see, no longer hear
except with eyes, except with ears.
I see a world, a world confined
to senses, slightened, numbed, defined.
And so I look without my eyes
and so I listen without my ears
to see what lays beyond my mind
to feel what lives beyond my heart –
beyond All the Same, All the Same.
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Post by wolf on Sept 25, 2019 18:28:01 GMT
another great one wolfbear , thanx 4 that!
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Post by wolf on Sept 27, 2019 19:31:10 GMT
......"All the same" is a favorite theme.
after reading & thikin about it later, brought 2 mind scenes in The Wall movie.
then a more apt mental image of the living walkin among among zombies disguised as the dead things
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Post by wolf on Oct 1, 2019 2:07:56 GMT
"The Joker Jack"
The Joker Jack,
dressed all in blue and black.
The handsome clown,
that dares to wear
a kings royal crown.
The challenging Card,
the charging chilling bard.
Elegantly regal, there he stood.
On his monk-like hood
bells a-jingling,
on his booted heels
spurs a-jangling.
There the heart wrenching singer,
gold and silver rings
on every other finger.
The guests cups he fills,
from his mouth
poetic elixir languidly spills.
Delectable lyrical arts,
his sowing, building and weaving,
uplifting the hearts
of the downtrodden grieving.
His wild tales relating,
jaded souls and minds elating.
The timid good roused to bravery,
the cruel high and mighty
reduced to impoverished mental slavery.
"The last shall be first,
the first shall be last.
Lazarus outside the door,
shall hunger and thirst nevermore."
Intense ensnaring stare
nigh onto a reproachful glare,
set above a scant smile
hard and sharp as a diamond file.
Riddling puzzling jesting,
defiantly boundary testing.
Glib scathing jibes,
witty stabbing jabs.
Useful dry irony employing,
the arrogant blind, heartily enjoying.
Jaunty brazen joking,
haunting deep thought provoking,
smiles, tears and leers skillfully evoking.
Naturally, effortlessly does he exude,
the most masculine pulchritude.
Sugared terror of a creature, teacher and preacher.
Finely refined of every facial feature.
Lithe precise flexibility,
frightening quick, nimble agility.
Dancing away on the edges of convention,
guests watched and listened with undivided attention.
Magically, wonderfully entertaining,
plebians and patricians alike.
Retelling grand stories of glories,
detailing every vanquishing sword strike.
All by heart he had learned,
epics and sagas of valor earned.
Lute and lyre passionately strummed,
with fingering and strokes of fire.
Sung and purringly hummed,
ballads of love and heated desire.
Praises he sung of the seas and oceans,
revealing their secret magical potions,
hidden in the moon lit waves of emotion.
Expertly he recited all, as the upper echelon had bid,
gave them all they wanted, that he did.
Tragedy to comedy, and all points in between,
regaling with beloved dramas
of all the mysterious seen and unseen.
Eagerly noblemen's hands
reached out to meet and greet.
The ladies fingers, (being tempted, they could not deny)
longed to brush over him as he went by.
Courteously he avoided them all,
agile swift he, so deftly sly.
Into and throughout the day and nights revelry,
he conducted himself with perfect grace and chivalry.
On his last tune and turn
'round the great room,
suddenly a hand grasped his free swinging wrist
his breath rasped, this grip he couldn't resist.
The cool touch so gently strong,
the one he'd waited for, for so long.
He turned, looked and saw,
hurt eyes so pained and raw.
The sad kingless queen, the Red Queen of Roses.
It was she, he's truly touched and moved
with all his poems and proses.
His treasure troves of endless verses,
his literary and poetic adventurous traverses.
His smile brightened,
her sad eyes slightly lightened.
He, she carefully eyed,
as to her hand holding fast
he measuredly replied,
"...oh...it's you, finally...at last..."
His flint hard eyes began to soften,
(something not seen very often)
"Oh, what took you so long.
For years, I have always known,
it's only to you I belong.
And only you I can call my own."
That was the day,
all her woes, fears and tears,
he kindly kissed away.
"I give you my solemn vow,
caught up in now
'the Deep Blue In-Between Sea',
are love demon thee,
and the good devilish me."
Captured and enraptured she,
sighed ever so happily,
".....oh come here YOU, and dance with me,
for now we're both complete and finally free."
-Wolf
That one was inspired by all the face cards (and of course, the joker) in a deck of playing cards.
I think it's alright. Been really busy, tired and a little sick at the moment (but I'm okay).
Thats just the best I can do today.
Maybe I'll do one about the story of "The Queen of Roses". We'll see.
I've got another weather poem thats in the works. Been working on these a little at a time, here and there. When I have time to.
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Post by wolfbear on Oct 2, 2019 18:15:08 GMT
......"All the same" is a favorite theme.
after reading & thikin about it later, brought 2 mind scenes in The Wall movie.
then a more apt mental image of the living walkin among among zombies disguised as the dead things I also thought as read through it that it had a dystopian air about it. I like your take on it. |
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Post by wolfbear on Oct 2, 2019 18:18:33 GMT
"The Joker Jack"
The Joker Jack,
dressed all in blue and black.
The handsome clown,
that dares to wear
a kings royal crown.
The challenging Card,
the charging chilling bard.
Elegantly regal, there he stood.
On his monk-like hood
bells a-jingling,
on his booted heels
spurs a-jangling.
There the heart wrenching singer,
gold and silver rings
on every other finger.
The guests cups he fills,
from his mouth
poetic elixir languidly spills.
Delectable lyrical arts,
his sowing, building and weaving,
uplifting the hearts
of the downtrodden grieving.
His wild tales relating,
jaded souls and minds elating.
The timid good roused to bravery,
the cruel high and mighty
reduced to impoverished mental slavery.
"The last shall be first,
the first shall be last.
Lazarus outside the door,
shall hunger and thirst nevermore."
Intense ensnaring stare
nigh onto a reproachful glare,
set above a scant smile
hard and sharp as a diamond file.
Riddling puzzling jesting,
defiantly boundary testing.
Glib scathing jibes,
witty stabbing jabs.
Useful dry irony employing,
the arrogant blind, heartily enjoying.
Jaunty brazen joking,
haunting deep thought provoking,
smiles, tears and leers skillfully evoking.
Naturally, effortlessly does he exude,
the most masculine pulchritude.
Sugared terror of a creature, teacher and preacher.
Finely refined of every facial feature.
Lithe precise flexibility,
frightening quick, nimble agility.
Dancing away on the edges of convention,
guests watched and listened with undivided attention.
Magically, wonderfully entertaining,
plebians and patricians alike.
Retelling grand stories of glories,
detailing every vanquishing sword strike.
All by heart he had learned,
epics and sagas of valor earned.
Lute and lyre passionately strummed,
with fingering and strokes of fire.
Sung and purringly hummed,
ballads of love and heated desire.
Praises he sung of the seas and oceans,
revealing their secret magical potions,
hidden in the moon lit waves of emotion.
Expertly he recited all, as the upper echelon had bid,
gave them all they wanted, that he did.
Tragedy to comedy, and all points in between,
regaling with beloved dramas
of all the mysterious seen and unseen.
Eagerly noblemen's hands
reached out to meet and greet.
The ladies fingers, (being tempted, they could not deny)
longed to brush over him as he went by.
Courteously he avoided them all,
agile swift he, so deftly sly.
Into and throughout the day and nights revelry,
he conducted himself with perfect grace and chivalry.
On his last tune and turn
'round the great room,
suddenly a hand grasped his free swinging wrist
his breath rasped, this grip he couldn't resist.
The cool touch so gently strong,
the one he'd waited for, for so long.
He turned, looked and saw,
hurt eyes so pained and raw.
The sad kingless queen, the Red Queen of Roses.
It was she, he's truly touched and moved
with all his poems and proses.
His treasure troves of endless verses,
his literary and poetic adventurous traverses.
His smile brightened,
her sad eyes slightly lightened.
He, she carefully eyed,
as to her hand holding fast
he measuredly replied,
"...oh...it's you, finally...at last..."
His flint hard eyes began to soften,
(something not seen very often)
"Oh, what took you so long.
For years, I have always known,
it's only to you I belong.
And only you I can call my own."
That was the day,
all her woes, fears and tears,
he kindly kissed away.
"I give you my solemn vow,
caught up in now
'the Deep Blue In-Between Sea',
are love demon thee,
and the good devilish me."
Captured and enraptured she,
sighed ever so happily,
".....oh come here YOU, and dance with me,
for now we're both complete and finally free."
-Wolf
That one was inspired by all the face cards (and of course, the joker) in a deck of playing cards.
I think it's alright. Been really busy, tired and a little sick at the moment (but I'm okay).
Thats just the best I can do today.
Maybe I'll do one about the story of "The Queen of Roses". We'll see.
I've got another weather poem thats in the works. Been working on these a little at a time, here and there. When I have time to.
This was a really enjoyable read! Loved it. It is rich in depiction and full of just enough details to allow us a natural imagery (as opposed to a forced one). Gonna read through this one a few more times. |
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Post by wolfbear on Oct 2, 2019 18:23:52 GMT
Fall Away Slumber
It is early in the morning.
Darkness is the only one who is awake.
And even the trees,
bowing and waving with the strolling breeze,
appear to be asleep.
And I listen.
I listen to the night.
To the breeze blowing over me.
I listen to the coolness.
To the darkness that envelops me.
There is no fear. No worry.
And my heart and mind are settled,
like the engulfing silence,
in the intangibility of a light gone dark.
***
A leaf will fall, a cat will prowl
the sands will shift, and hoots, the owl.
A table's set, and these that dine
and people sleep through dreams of wine.
Children play, and children grow
as elders pray as elders know.
For now control has been restrained,
a wild beast cannot be tamed.
***
The sky has stepped still further,
now the foreverness is larger still.
And somehow, the ground is downer –
as if my feet will not reach
the comfort of its surface.
As the day opens up his eyes
a road, spread gone into its distance,
lies revealed before me.
Every road can lead to Nowhere,
if that Somewhere is not where you should be.
And thoughts are like a road,
a span of paces taken,
for a road will end where the man has stopped,
though it will not cease until its destination.
I cannot stop.
I may tire. I may slow down.
I might lay myself down upon the ground,
rich with those who have lain before me,
never to rise, to live again.
But a man does not stop,
though he may know of its eternal distance.
***
Wait for me, for I am returning.
My slumber is falling away,
like a dream from consciousness.
I arise from the cemetery world
to walk once again,
though it would have me remain,
comfortable and nice,
a stargazer forever.
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Post by wolf on Oct 3, 2019 14:08:42 GMT
Fall Away Slumber It is early in the morning. Darkness is the only one who is awake. And even the trees, bowing and waving with the strolling breeze, appear to be asleep. And I listen. I listen to the night. To the breeze blowing over me. I listen to the coolness. To the darkness that envelops me. There is no fear. No worry. And my heart and mind are settled, like the engulfing silence, in the intangibility of a light gone dark. *** A leaf will fall, a cat will prowl the sands will shift, and hoots, the owl. A table's set, and these that dine and people sleep through dreams of wine. Children play, and children grow as elders pray as elders know. For now control has been restrained, a wild beast cannot be tamed. *** The sky has stepped still further, now the foreverness is larger still. And somehow, the ground is downer – as if my feet will not reach the comfort of its surface. As the day opens up his eyes a road, spread gone into its distance, lies revealed before me. Every road can lead to Nowhere, if that Somewhere is not where you should be. And thoughts are like a road, a span of paces taken, for a road will end where the man has stopped, though it will not cease until its destination. I cannot stop. I may tire. I may slow down. I might lay myself down upon the ground, rich with those who have lain before me, never to rise, to live again. But a man does not stop, though he may know of its eternal distance. *** Wait for me, for I am returning. My slumber is falling away, like a dream from consciousness. I arise from the cemetery world to walk once again, though it would have me remain, comfortable and nice, a stargazer forever.
You have such a gift for drawing the reader into the events and setting. I can see, feel and hear the place.
Thank you for that, always looking forward to more writing from you Wolf Bear. You always have a satisfying read for us.
And thanks so much for liking and praising my poem. I really appreciate it and I am so very pleased you enjoyed it. |
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Post by wolf on Oct 3, 2019 15:35:13 GMT
......"All the same" is a favorite theme.
after reading & thikin about it later, brought 2 mind scenes in The Wall movie.
then a more apt mental image of the living walkin among among zombies disguised as the dead things I also thought as read through it that it had a dystopian air about it. I like your take on it.  |
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Post by wolf on Oct 4, 2019 2:15:23 GMT
All the Same Parade upon parade I watch people marching forward straight feet in beat, arms in wave and All the Same, All the Same. Am I apart of this Parade to move and stop at man's command? My self is lost in All the Same no trees nor sky, no left nor right – it's all one wave of All the Same. One who looks about is lost when in the sea of All the Same, and those whose minds are destroyed by silence, their hearts infected with All the Same. no longer see, no longer hear except with eyes, except with ears. I see a world, a world confined to senses, slightened, numbed, defined. And so I look without my eyes and so I listen without my ears to see what lays beyond my mind to feel what lives beyond my heart – beyond All the Same, All the Same. |
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Post by wolfbear on Oct 4, 2019 5:44:59 GMT
All the Same Parade upon parade I watch people marching forward straight feet in beat, arms in wave and All the Same, All the Same. Am I apart of this Parade to move and stop at man's command? My self is lost in All the Same no trees nor sky, no left nor right – it's all one wave of All the Same. One who looks about is lost when in the sea of All the Same, and those whose minds are destroyed by silence, their hearts infected with All the Same. no longer see, no longer hear except with eyes, except with ears. I see a world, a world confined to senses, slightened, numbed, defined. And so I look without my eyes and so I listen without my ears to see what lays beyond my mind to feel what lives beyond my heart – beyond All the Same, All the Same. Yep. The meter was very intentional for the all the same feel. Like all of us are moving enmass in a single group to a single rhythem. And now i have to listen to she's waiting, lol |
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