Being caught

***

Entrapment

/

do spiders ever sleep

or do they spend all night
spinning webs

crisscross
each open path

a lattice of
silk strong
as steel

and by morning
anticipate in shadow
and shade

a network
of weave

catch sunbeams
en-golden

catch me

/

a spider web in the trees

Somewhat more absent from the web known as the internet lately due to my current love of long walks along park connectors and through nature reserves.  The year is coming to an end and it's generally been a good one, though seems I'm kinda lost when it comes to one's direction in life. I haven't any kind of "dream" if anybody were to ask me what it is. I've been blessed with kind friends this year, but might have also lost connection with a few that seemed unrecoverable. I discovered I dislike certain things yet tolerate them for certain relationships and it just doesn't work out as resentment builds. Funny how the older I get, I seem to be confused about how I am than ever. I love those nature reserves, those trees, the water, all the sounds; when I'm on those walks, just feels good.

Note: Wordpress Blogs // Why reposting comments is a pain.

I've tried to leave comments on a few wordpress blogs today and yesterday, and they have not seem to register. I'm very annoyed by this.


Thoughtful comments

i

a prickling of emotion,
a finger tip dipping
a stagnant pool of memory

a glass chain linking
understanding
carefully strung into words
in response to words


ii

blind faith for words
to be delivered. is lost
because of a broken script
 in empty space


iii

what I said,
I said so much
it's hard to remember

next time
I will keep it simple

just in case
I have to say it again.


iv

I liked it. I was saying (why)
I like it. and it has effect on me.
   and I'll remember it.

Games children play

 ***

Pass the note, begin the silent treatment

Let's pretend she's gone un-visible

and talk about her funny eyEs

laugh at her

                           fu.n.ny

            c

                  r       y

-- it's nothing to cry about

-just-kidding around-

come on now;

let's pretend to cry too/let's pretend to be her friend/lets

give her a hug!

        After lunch,

let's pretend

______ was never here.

***

Reptiles do not think as we do.

 (...)

A monitor lizard

                ,snake-like,

tongue flicking at

the humid morning air

for molecules

               tastes my being

               coming

before I 

see him;

he creeps

              into a run

 and

        slithers

into the underbrush

I look         for him

         and I see him --

scaly earthy ancient

body and tail

thick

     like the roots

           of a sea-grape tree;

a leathery stonehead with stygian eyes
shiny stares    at

 me

        or is it just the green water

       beyond?

I leave him be.

***
Updated: 8 June 2013

Quiet, and where to find it in a city that sleeps very little.

***

The space to be

Cars go by every few

sleeper's

exhale;

in between

crickets,  

in between

recalling trees

and mountains.

***

Updated 19th July 2013

How Bats Get Through the Day...

(...)

Under a flyover's concrete span,

fruit bats

     hang upside-down

clinging together

in shadow, old-world

creatures rehomed

in an urbanized jungle.

The fruit trees

have been replanted,

the forest reforested,

nature is reserved;

but the caves

are long-gone, dug through

for highways

and high-speed trains.


***


Victoria has written an awesome article on the subject on poetic voice on dVerse Meeting at the Bar.  "Your Voice - Let's Hear It." So lets. 

[updated May2020]

All the sweet candy of free games

[]

Those little games cost nothing (usually)

It takes a capable mind

to burn time

at both ends;

where is the pause

when at every interlude

between calls

he plays a game?

tap tap...

Up, up score rewards.

tap tap...

away the little spaces for thought.

***

Submitted for DVerse Poetics. An Evening of Short Verse is being hosted by Fred Rutherford. It'd be fun to blog hop today too. :) 

It didn't used to rain like this in Feburary.

Going out after the rain has stopped

Rows of diminishing raindrops

hanging on park benches, fences,

leaves, occasionally falling

one-two, 

       one    (two&one)

falling into

    joining

            puddles

rippling the reflection

of retiring storm clouds

         leaving town;

a young school girl

holds out her hand

palm open to the sky:

all she catches is sunshine.

She steps out remembering

the umbrella in her bag.

                 

***

Work has taken quite a bit of my energy lately. I've decided I'll just ride with the ups and downs.

Given that one has limited time in the evenings

Fragmented TV time

watching TV / playing angry birds

watching TV / i should read a book instead

watching TV / waiting for the news

commercial / loo / water / snacks + crackers

watching TV / surfing the web

watching TV / making a draft, jotting down notes

watching TV / i shouldn't / what am I watching

watching TV / checking facebook / sketching / outlines for a poem

news is on / depressing, new document / outrageous

watching the news / i need a break / one thing at a time! / relax

watching the news / watching the news / bored / just let me play / paint

watching the news / an object -finding game / channel surf / so many games

watching the news / almost time for bed / already half-way there / tomorrow

**This was originally for one of the week's dVerse Poetics hosted by Brian I think. I didn't post it that time because I didn't know what I was doing with it.

The world is a stage, literally.

 (...)

Sock-puppeteer

Sock-puppeteer

performing roles

siding debate

in his favor.

Mocked and banned,

returns again and again.

Same hands. Same brain.

Different names.

A sockpuppet is an online identity used for purposes of deception. The term—a reference to the manipulation of a simple hand puppet made from a sock—originally referred to a false identity assumed by a member of an internet community who spoke to, or about himself while pretending to be another person.[1] The term now includes other uses of misleading online identities, such as those created to praise, defend or support a third party or organization,[2] or to circumvent a suspension or ban from a website. A significant difference between the use of a pseudonym[3] and the creation of a sockpuppet is that the sockpuppet poses as an independent third-party unaffiliated with the puppeteer. Many online communities have a policy of blocking sockpuppets. - Wikipedia.

It's like things have been boxed away and forgotten...

****

(...)

Dust blanket

                           the two of us

                           excavating in the attic

                           of a teahouse

break, fine-waltz in brownian drift

as windows are opened

and moth-ravaged curtains drawn

letting in the sunlight;

the room remains stubborn

ash-dull.

                      artifacts containing proof memories -- grandfather stories

                      we recalled in bits

                      told to us when we were children

                      when we can believe anything

                      yet possessed little attention

All the disintegrating

cardboard boxes

stale, rat-nibbled;

silverfish devouring the old

albums and scrapbooks, slither out

vanishing

into the cracks of the deadwood boards.

****

Linked to Open Link Night #79 at dVerse Poets Pub. A toast to all!  (I initially draft this poem in response to Victoria's prompt last week "The Medium is the Message" for Meeting at the Bar. )

The new verb

 ***

To "Unfriend"


I watched a friend devolve
on the assembly of white boxes,
parading for egos addicted to sharing;

and now she's playing tag --
sharing names with strangers
and best-forgotten ex's;

hurling insults in pixel print,
the monsters escape
and all anyone can do is like it.

I remind myself, these specters
are contained behind the glass
but still

I hover a finger over her name,
unable to decide
the kind of friend I'd be.


***


The definition of "unfriend" according to the Urban Dictionary.

Posted for Open Link Night #78 at dVerse Poet's Pub.

Scent of Tears

(...)

The scent of tears,

its salty breath
saturate the air,

move waves,

black the sea;

swim in and drown,

otherwise, stay

on the beach,
watch the waves,
breathe in the salt.

***

The original was written quite many years back.

Our constant search and labor

(...)
 

A lack of muse is no excuse

begins a trip to nowhere;

starring down a grey wide open empty road stretching long and sure towards a peach and strawberry sunset,

and everything, even a sewer cover, turns into gold.

***

You might have come across pictures of sewer covers in Instagram and wonder why people take them, if not why they suddenly seem interesting.

Set on automatic

 ***

PreMonday Start-ups

watching clock ticks flick

gear shifting back to numb-state automaton

safe-keep poetry heart under lock-key

re-routing to routine workday cycle

batteries fully charged to go

forcestart system at 0600 in the morning

login suits by 0800 ironed and ready

logoff day at 1800 in the evening

sleepmode set from indefinite to 2200 at night

***

(edited: Jan 2, 2013; 1400hrs)