#0069 - Advice

I promise I am not controlled
by failure or by fear.
I simply take advice where I
can find it, far or near.

And I have learned a simple thing
about others' advice:
that those who give wise words are oft-
-en scarred and bruised by vice.

The best advice will come from those
who've rolled and bathed in mud,
and those whose countless leaps of faith
have colored them in blood.

The best advice will come from those
who've felt their kind hearts shatter,
and those who stare at blades and rope
and into murky water.

The best advice will come from those
who've screamed and fought and cried,
and those poor souls who've been betrayed
or to whom others lied.

Though when the times are good the on-
-ly thoughts I need are mine,
in darkness I'll take words of those
whose times are worse than mine.

#0067 - "When have I ever given the impression that I am emotionless?"

When have I ever given the impression that I am emotionless?

Is it strange to say that I need not smile to be happy?
Is it strange to say that I need not cry to be sad?

Is it strange to say that I need not sulk to be disappointed?
Is it strange to say that I need not boast to be proud?

Is it strange to say that I need not kiss to love?
Is it strange to say that I need not insult to hate?

Is it strange to say that I need not waste my time to embrace permanence?
Is it strange to say that I need not treasure my time to embrace transience?

Is it strange to say that I need not be opulent to be rich?
Is it strange to say that I need not be destitute to be poor?

When have I ever given the impression that I am emotionless,
Compassionless,
Mindless,
Thoughtless,
Or any other -less when compared to anyone else?

#0065 - Memoir

I don't need this memoir, this souvenir.
I never liked these memories,
and I don't now,
and I still won't for a long time.

But I'll keep this anyways.

Maybe one day,
once I'm old and senile,
I'll have forgotten all of the bad
and this will only bring to mind good times.

#0063 - Haiku VI

Wind moving through leaves:
It makes them fall gently, and
Without brazen noise.

#0062 - Life Personified as a Connoisseur of Art

Here,
Take that moment.
No, no; that one.
Yes, that one right there,
with the gorgeous horizon
supplemented by colours that just explode in brilliance,
and highlighted by the clear, idyllic passions of the artist.
Perfect.

Alright, put it up on...
That wall.
Yes:
that backdrop will truly make that landscape shine
like a sky of endless blue.

There you are.
But no, it's a little crooked.
Tilt it to the left, please.
There.
No, no, no.
Stop!
That's too much.
A little to your right.
Apologies, I meant to say my right.
Little bit more.
A minuscule amount more.
There.
Perfection.

It's a little high, though -
the distance between it and the ceiling is far greater
than the distance between it and the ground;
can you raise it a bit?
Yes.
Oh, my.
Perfect. Outstanding.
Now shift it a little to the left...
A little more...
There we are.
Now let me look at it for just a moment.....

Hm.

On second thought,
I don't really like the sunflower in the corner -
the splash of yellow is totally unwarranted.
There's some tinder in the attic:
could you just burn that moment in the backyard for me?

#0061 - "I guess this is what Prometheus felt like"

I guess this is what Prometheus felt like
after achieving the unachievable
- taking the fire of the gods -
and then being exiled
to a lonely existence
upon a jagged mountainside.

This is how he felt
when the world became null
and the only sensation he experienced
was that of bloody vultures plucking out his innards.

#0060 - "There is a man in the Sahara right now"

There is a man in the Sahara right now, I assure you.
He is thirsty and hungry; I can assure you of that too.
While you’re complaining about the coming rain,
His blood-red, sun-kissed arms create a world of pain
That he survives with gritted teeth, day in and day out,
Whilst you blindly fail to recognize the clout
That you’ve expressed upon the fortunes.
He trudges through fields of cacti, over desert dunes
As you walk with clear exasperation up a flight of stairs,
And while his breaths shorten and his dry, ravaged skin tears
Open, you’re traversing down a mindless path, devoid of cares.
Maybe there’s simply nothing else that you know,
But you’re not in a harsh, merciless desert right now.
If only you would acknowledge that you’re living in blissful fatuity,
Living in beautiful frivolity.

#0059 - Haiku V

Obserwuj kiedy
Spadam, miliona mil nad
Parzącą wodą.

#0058 - Haiku IV

Metallurgy is
Finding beauty in crudeness.
It's not unlike love.

#0057 - Silence

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

Silence.

Noise.

...you can hear the monotony of the world.

#0056 - "Sometimes my poetry is a puzzle"

Sometimes my poetry is a puzzle or struggle;
a challenge overcome, a mystery to be solved.
The word I choose to rhyme with “stomp” or “sell” or “sea”
is an answer to a question in a game of Jeopardy.

Assonance in my tertiary troubles
turns out to be a tool of the trade.
Alliteration also,
and always alluding to Ares and Achilles -

Greek legends, unique, but both bound by war;
not much different from men -
whether writing haikus or taming wolves,
always drawn to bullets and pikes.

The pieces come together.

Sometimes my poetry is a river:
it flows and flows and doesn’t stop until it’s run dry.
Even a mountain won’t stop it;
rather, earthen masses simply split one stream of consciousness into two.

Sometimes my poetry is a painting
I’ve stared at for hours without finishing,
and sometimes it’s an accidental coffee stain
from which I draw my inspiration.

Here or there,
this or that,
my poetry is always the universe of my mind
finding its way into tumultuous reality.

#0055 - Somber Thoughts

They fill my head like sludge.
Like tar.
Like quicksand.

They're ubiquitous like air or death,
weighed down to form a
5-ton paperweight that holds down thoughts
like a suffocating slough of venomous snakes.

I am Atlas,
bearing the weight of the world
and twice that.

I am Prometheus,
Constantly having my innards plucked out
by a swarm of gloomy vultures.

I am Icarus,
burning like a gasoline-coated match from the Sun's heat
any time I try to rise more than a meter from the Earth.

I am all of the gruesome Greek legends and tragedies
rolled neatly into one
pitiful,
suffocating,
drowning,
somber
mess.

#0054 - Thought 14

Here I sit,
waiting in silence
for the arrival of Hell.

#0052 - "My mind is often thinking of an end"

My mind is often thinking of an end
To all I hate and, more so, all I love.
I think of how I could somehow append
More time to life: I fear both goat and dove.
Yet flowers never wish they could live on
Once seeds of theirs have spread across the land:
As soon as offspring are assured 'pon yon-
-der hills, they quick succumb to time's bleak hand.
Old canines, felines, insects and the Jay,
Once coming near their end, they simply lie:
They do not dramatize their deaths, and they
Don't mope 'pon knowing that their time is nigh.
     It's strange to know that death I always fear
     When everything its end must one day near.

#0051 - Cinquain II

Fire rises,
Always heading
Upwards to the blue sky.
I wish I could emulate its
Courage.

#0050 - "Wake"

             Wake
             Walk
             Stop
             See
             Think
             Speak
             Do
             Return
             Sleep

Wake             

Travel             

Pause             

Comprehend             

Understand             

Ask             

Perform             

Return             

Dream             

#0049 - "Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass"

Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass.
Experience the passing time with ardour,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

Though one can't see the Earth in all its mass,
Nor pinpoint each and every linen pucker,
Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass.

Do not think never-ending growing grass,
Do not think never-ending florid verdure,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

The world can falsely pretty be. Alas,
Perceiving what it truly is is harder:
Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass.

Be wary of assumptions quick and crass:
Your moments, gifts, are ephemeral succour,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

Don't give yourself to thoughtless, dull impasse:
Live in the moment with an innate fervour.
Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

#0048 - "I apologize if I am anachronistic"

I apologize if I am anachronistic or be-
-hind the times. I promise I don't mean to be.
This is the tumultuous hive of the bumblebee.

These sounds and colours are my muse; they're
Ever-present and never lacking in their
Brilliance. I at once am not and simultaneously at once am here and there.

It isn't just an éclat of unmoving colours I see,
But rather a swirling, turbulent sea
Of something like alphabet soup, since each wave forms a rolling "C."

Under the surface of the waters, everything is a manta ray
Whose slick skin is alight with the sun's ray.
A singsong voice in my head sings do and re

With an eventual, sonorous mi,
Which expresses its perception of the world to me.
I adore but never mimic the sun and moon and moon and stars in their beautiful bigamy.

#0047 - Haiku III

Placid pondwater.
Even a slight breeze of wind
Can form ripples, waves.

#0046 - Cinquain I

The sky,
In all of its
Everlasting beauty,
Is too distant: I can never
Touch it.

#0045 - Exploration #1

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NaPoWriMo 2016: Retrospect

Throughout the month of April, I wrote one poem every day in recognition of National Poetry Writing Month.

I must say, it was a fun experience. More than anything, it gave me me quite the literary adrenaline boost, which I feel will likely cause me to be considerably more eager to write more poetry than I may have otherwise. It's a good feeling, being part of a mass movement of poets from across the nation and across the globe. I will admit, some days I was bogged down by the various obstacles that life has to throw at you and ended up writing four - or even just two - short lines of text for the day. That in itself was also a good experience, though; that is, learning how to use words not just when they are in abundance but also when they are wanting. Well, I thank Maureen Thorson for having started this wonderful event, and I hope to participate again next year!