Will I sleep one hundred years,
My first night ‘neath your summer eaves?
Will I shed one hundred tears,
Sorrows clatter like autumn leaves?
Away from me ~ forever away
Your lips brushing my tears away
Fall into slumber, the sleep of peace
As in your arms I lay
Will I dream while embraced in you,
Coupled neath linens clean and new?
Wakened to find my dreams come true,
And lost within your eyes of blue
Sing to me a familiar song
Lips brush mine ~ our breath a song
Like the gentle susurring sea
Rock me soft the whole night long
One hundred years may each night seem
Forever may each day so be
And parting, but a shadowy dream
That has no life in the love we see
Smiling true in eyes bright and shining
Lips caressing ~ wet, soft, and shining
Shuddering, and rising again to fall
Held in your embrace entwining
Will I sleep one hundred years?
Hands brush all my cares away?
Sorrow erased and gone my fears?
In your arms, and in peace lay?
Time and love will tell
Time and love will tell
ELAshley
18 March 2002, 1:10am
Revised:
102907.022026.1
103007.012656.6
010309.011016.1
091109.110403.1
1122209.031102.6
Without Excuse
It is spinning
Uncontrollably, or seeming so
Finite eyes cannot grasp a pattern
Finite minds cannot fathom the depths of hue and timber
If there is a pattern
We are too close to see it
Too close to the fire
There is too much comfort in glowing embers
Tended with patient mindless devotion
That the depths of cold empty space between us
Might seem less
Empty
Finite, yes—our human capacity
For perception
Bound by a spectrum
But an atom’s breadth wide
Yet this is the lie we tell ourselves
The lie we have come to believe
For we have no wish to step back
And search for patterns
We cannot acknowledge what cannot be seen
Right?
Or mere rationalizations
That do more to call us by name
Than the names we call ourselves…
Faithless…
That is what we are
Knowing deep within
The shape of patterns within the world
Like lace
To acknowledge the lace of our lives
Our meetings and partings
Seemingly random—yet not
Is to acknowledge patterns
We’d just as soon not recognize
That we own more control
Over unfathomed depths of locus—
We control more than we like
Like more than we wish
Wish less than we could
We stab out our eyes
To avoid seeing
Drive spikes through our ears
To avoid hearing
Cut out our tongues
To avoid confessing
Yet the world still spins
Truth still works the shuttle
Of Life’s warp and weft
Leaving us in the end
To understand our ability to work the loom
Is not hampered
By self-mutilation
And we are then left without excuse
ELAshley
051507.021212.1
Revised on:
052407.120559.1
Uncontrollably, or seeming so
Finite eyes cannot grasp a pattern
Finite minds cannot fathom the depths of hue and timber
If there is a pattern
We are too close to see it
Too close to the fire
There is too much comfort in glowing embers
Tended with patient mindless devotion
That the depths of cold empty space between us
Might seem less
Empty
Finite, yes—our human capacity
For perception
Bound by a spectrum
But an atom’s breadth wide
Yet this is the lie we tell ourselves
The lie we have come to believe
For we have no wish to step back
And search for patterns
We cannot acknowledge what cannot be seen
Right?
Or mere rationalizations
That do more to call us by name
Than the names we call ourselves…
Faithless…
That is what we are
Knowing deep within
The shape of patterns within the world
Like lace
To acknowledge the lace of our lives
Our meetings and partings
Seemingly random—yet not
Is to acknowledge patterns
We’d just as soon not recognize
That we own more control
Over unfathomed depths of locus—
We control more than we like
Like more than we wish
Wish less than we could
We stab out our eyes
To avoid seeing
Drive spikes through our ears
To avoid hearing
Cut out our tongues
To avoid confessing
Yet the world still spins
Truth still works the shuttle
Of Life’s warp and weft
Leaving us in the end
To understand our ability to work the loom
Is not hampered
By self-mutilation
And we are then left without excuse
ELAshley
051507.021212.1
Revised on:
052407.120559.1
Dogs Day
..::In Eight Parts::..
Part VII
"Pitch Gives Light to Glimmers"
It comes ~ it comes!
The labor of hope
Whence glimmers of light
Down the long corridor
Spark like embers rising
From the ash of our burning
Birthed from pain and
Brought again to life alone
The world has not changed
But I certainly have
The leash is slipped
And I have run
It comes ~ it comes!
Glimmers bright
Like the midnight sun
On frost
Caught in the fur of a dead seal
And the seal now shattered
Its water broke
New eyes upon an old world
Looking upon a world ever changing
Where I have not
Yet the leash is slipped
And I must run
ELAshley
083103.115136.6
Part VII
"Pitch Gives Light to Glimmers"
It comes ~ it comes!
The labor of hope
Whence glimmers of light
Down the long corridor
Spark like embers rising
From the ash of our burning
Birthed from pain and
Brought again to life alone
The world has not changed
But I certainly have
The leash is slipped
And I have run
It comes ~ it comes!
Glimmers bright
Like the midnight sun
On frost
Caught in the fur of a dead seal
And the seal now shattered
Its water broke
New eyes upon an old world
Looking upon a world ever changing
Where I have not
Yet the leash is slipped
And I must run
ELAshley
083103.115136.6
Dogs Day
..::In Eight Parts::..
Part III
"Light Gives Way to Pitch"
I can’t seem to understand
Why the shapes and colors have changed
And I can’t hear
No matter our cries
The familiar shapes of brothers unchained
Where is the world I knew?
Bathed in warmth tight pressed and secure
Heartbeats resounding
A fluid comfort
Brothers and sisters all clean-slated pure
Oh, for the slip
Of the chain and we run
New and untroubled
Beneath the bright summer sun
Oh, for the leash
Our protection and lead
But oh, for the slip
Of the chain and we run...
I don't understand the light in my eyes
Why shapes and colors should exist at all
Why everything now
Wide open and wild
And the newness of brothers unchained
And oh, for the slip
Of the chain and we run
Long limbed wastrels
Playing in the sun
Oh, for the leash
And the warm caring arms
That hold us tender
And keep us from harm
As we run
Let slip the chain and we run
Oh, for the slip
Of the chain...
We run
ELAshley
090405.012120.1 / 1st five lines
121511.125600.6 / remaining lines
Part III
"Light Gives Way to Pitch"
I can’t seem to understand
Why the shapes and colors have changed
And I can’t hear
No matter our cries
The familiar shapes of brothers unchained
Where is the world I knew?
Bathed in warmth tight pressed and secure
Heartbeats resounding
A fluid comfort
Brothers and sisters all clean-slated pure
Oh, for the slip
Of the chain and we run
New and untroubled
Beneath the bright summer sun
Oh, for the leash
Our protection and lead
But oh, for the slip
Of the chain and we run...
I don't understand the light in my eyes
Why shapes and colors should exist at all
Why everything now
Wide open and wild
And the newness of brothers unchained
And oh, for the slip
Of the chain and we run
Long limbed wastrels
Playing in the sun
Oh, for the leash
And the warm caring arms
That hold us tender
And keep us from harm
As we run
Let slip the chain and we run
Oh, for the slip
Of the chain...
We run
ELAshley
090405.012120.1 / 1st five lines
121511.125600.6 / remaining lines
Untitled
I was given an orchard
To tend and to manage
Many long years ago
That has since grown savage
I cared nothing for pruning
Neither harvest nor toil
I cared nothing for weeding
Or tending the soil
Yet as day lay setting
I survey what was mine
And there'll be no breads
Or late summer wines
For the grain fields have perished
The arbors are thin
No figs on the bough
'neath these gables of sin
I'll reap what I have sown
Which is little of worth
For Him who so gifted me
With rich fertile earth
I must seem ungrateful
With so small a yield
Of the promise of bounty
From orchard and field
Pitiful in comparison
To His mercy and grace
I am filled with shame
To be given a place
As a welcomed honored son
Oh, what mercy is mine
To be so utterly loved
By One so graciously kind
ELAshley
071207.075430.6
To tend and to manage
Many long years ago
That has since grown savage
I cared nothing for pruning
Neither harvest nor toil
I cared nothing for weeding
Or tending the soil
Yet as day lay setting
I survey what was mine
And there'll be no breads
Or late summer wines
For the grain fields have perished
The arbors are thin
No figs on the bough
'neath these gables of sin
I'll reap what I have sown
Which is little of worth
For Him who so gifted me
With rich fertile earth
I must seem ungrateful
With so small a yield
Of the promise of bounty
From orchard and field
Pitiful in comparison
To His mercy and grace
I am filled with shame
To be given a place
As a welcomed honored son
Oh, what mercy is mine
To be so utterly loved
By One so graciously kind
ELAshley
071207.075430.6
Her Name is Hye Jin
Her name is Hye Jin
The compulsion that draws my eye
And thought. Sermons notwithstanding
Prayers offered heavenward
The shaking of hands in greeting
The constant prayers that I sin not
In thought
Her name is Hye Jin
What am I to think of singleness?
Forty-six years of singleness
How do I continue to await the Lord’s good pleasure
While Hye Jin sits a mere three pews forward?
What is concentration if not the constant struggle
Of focus, and how do I concentrate
On messages
On prayers
When every other thought aloud in a room of outward prayer
Is, within her own hearing, desperate appeals to God
To guard my heart from sin?
Her name is Hye Jin
The impossible eventuality
Whose hand in mine, in innocent prayer
Perhaps overheard every appeal I made to our Lord
That I sin not
In thought ~ And as He inhabits our praises…
Her name is Hye Jin
ELAshley
010107.010440.1
With the scent of her skin all too fresh in my mind.
Help me Father to ward my thoughts!
No revision necessary!
Personal Note: In full confession...
She is perhaps 20 years my junior, and if I ever needed the prayers of my brethren in Christ it is now.
Matthew 5:28
----
This constitutes ELAshley's official New Year's poem. Not the typical fare for a New Year's poem, but... this is where I am...
Sincere and honest prayers are greatly appreciated.
The compulsion that draws my eye
And thought. Sermons notwithstanding
Prayers offered heavenward
The shaking of hands in greeting
The constant prayers that I sin not
In thought
Her name is Hye Jin
What am I to think of singleness?
Forty-six years of singleness
How do I continue to await the Lord’s good pleasure
While Hye Jin sits a mere three pews forward?
What is concentration if not the constant struggle
Of focus, and how do I concentrate
On messages
On prayers
When every other thought aloud in a room of outward prayer
Is, within her own hearing, desperate appeals to God
To guard my heart from sin?
Her name is Hye Jin
The impossible eventuality
Whose hand in mine, in innocent prayer
Perhaps overheard every appeal I made to our Lord
That I sin not
In thought ~ And as He inhabits our praises…
Her name is Hye Jin
ELAshley
010107.010440.1
With the scent of her skin all too fresh in my mind.
Help me Father to ward my thoughts!
No revision necessary!
Personal Note: In full confession...
She is perhaps 20 years my junior, and if I ever needed the prayers of my brethren in Christ it is now.
Matthew 5:28
----
This constitutes ELAshley's official New Year's poem. Not the typical fare for a New Year's poem, but... this is where I am...
Sincere and honest prayers are greatly appreciated.
After the War
Let's move to the shore
Where the salt laden air
And surf-song thunder
Ease the pains of war
Where the scars we share
That near drew us under
May find peace once more
Let's move to the sea
And lay rest to our woes
That echo our loss
Each new sun we see
Brothers and heroes
And the rivers they cross
Spared their heartaches ~ free
Let's move to a place
Where the gulls cry forlorn
In endless refrain
Our sad fall from grace
Where memories borne
Through war's cold sodden rain
Steels peace at last 'pon our face
ELAshley
102706.104811.6
Needs revision... but... I don't see it happening...
Revised
111108.095236.6
revised
042709.101755.6
..::Original Comments::..
The end of a war cannot bring peace.... only an end of its beginning can. Smile.
Posted by clown on 10/30/2006 01:40:33 AM
Perhaps, but people rarely think in those terms. People tend to think of Peace as a creature that stalks strife, waiting for an opportunity to attack and kill War. Few of us believe as you suggest. True peace isn't something that "comes"... It is a creature that "is", and wholly ignorant of War, strife, and envy. It is an illusion... An impossibility... A Unicorn, perhaps.
Posted by MuslinOpaque on 10/30/2006 04:12:22 AM
Where the salt laden air
And surf-song thunder
Ease the pains of war
Where the scars we share
That near drew us under
May find peace once more
Let's move to the sea
And lay rest to our woes
That echo our loss
Each new sun we see
Brothers and heroes
And the rivers they cross
Spared their heartaches ~ free
Let's move to a place
Where the gulls cry forlorn
In endless refrain
Our sad fall from grace
Where memories borne
Through war's cold sodden rain
Steels peace at last 'pon our face
ELAshley
102706.104811.6
Needs revision... but... I don't see it happening...
Revised
111108.095236.6
revised
042709.101755.6
..::Original Comments::..
The end of a war cannot bring peace.... only an end of its beginning can. Smile.
Posted by clown on 10/30/2006 01:40:33 AM
Perhaps, but people rarely think in those terms. People tend to think of Peace as a creature that stalks strife, waiting for an opportunity to attack and kill War. Few of us believe as you suggest. True peace isn't something that "comes"... It is a creature that "is", and wholly ignorant of War, strife, and envy. It is an illusion... An impossibility... A Unicorn, perhaps.
Posted by MuslinOpaque on 10/30/2006 04:12:22 AM
Unfinished Wantonness
She comes and goes as she pleases
Caring nothing for my needs
My dreams, visions ~ Now fickle as wind
I'm left to search the thickets and weeds
For wanton inspiration
Beauty, ever-present before my eyes
What word of late from Mnemosynes' Daughter?
Naught but wind through willows ~ Sough and sigh
In all the fields I sought her
My wanton inspiration
...The world may as well be dead when she is gone...
...What new whisper ~ Caress of breath in my ear...
ELAshley
Began:081706.121726.1
..::Original Comments::..
Would you like to finish your wanton-ness or will you rather take it unfinished? Beautiful poem. Smile.
Posted by clown on 09/08/2006 08:42:53 AM
I'll finish it, but it may take years.
Posted by MuslinOpaque on 09/08/2006 02:47:56 PM
Caring nothing for my needs
My dreams, visions ~ Now fickle as wind
I'm left to search the thickets and weeds
For wanton inspiration
Beauty, ever-present before my eyes
What word of late from Mnemosynes' Daughter?
Naught but wind through willows ~ Sough and sigh
In all the fields I sought her
My wanton inspiration
...The world may as well be dead when she is gone...
...What new whisper ~ Caress of breath in my ear...
ELAshley
Began:081706.121726.1
..::Original Comments::..
Would you like to finish your wanton-ness or will you rather take it unfinished? Beautiful poem. Smile.
Posted by clown on 09/08/2006 08:42:53 AM
I'll finish it, but it may take years.
Posted by MuslinOpaque on 09/08/2006 02:47:56 PM
Warring the Specious
Closed mind, closed heart, dead soul
Ever forward and no thought for goal
Searching ~ For what? They never know
Dying each step, and unable to grow
Spacious ideals, but Specious design
Ever relating the banal and benign
Searching for what? An argument true?
Or the lie most easily believed by you?
Lift up your shield and brace for the blow
Let Mind not war 'gainst Battles' ebb or flow
Hack and Slash, Cut and Riposte
Destroy each lie of the cunning Host
Keep your wit-blade unstained and bright
An open mind, heart, and courage through night
A soul filled with love and naught can destroy
The life of him to whom truth is a joy
ELAshley
070206.775059.6
Spurred of the moment with intent of purpose
and no desire to revise or amend
..::Original Comments::..
Pretty evident of the moment that made you write it... we really shouldn't revise what our heart makes us create.... for by doing so we decide to detach the moment that gave birth to a thought, from us. Smile.
Posted by clown on 07/04/2006 12:43:16 AM
Thank you for the comment on my drawing. I too seek truth, if that is your path. What are the devices we have at our disposal for revealing that piece of the immeasurable?
Posted by primitivegroove on 07/17/2006 03:34:47 AM
The only tool we've ever really needed was our God given conscience... the one tool rarely employed by man.
Posted by MuslinOpaque on 07/17/2006 04:08:02 AM
Ever forward and no thought for goal
Searching ~ For what? They never know
Dying each step, and unable to grow
Spacious ideals, but Specious design
Ever relating the banal and benign
Searching for what? An argument true?
Or the lie most easily believed by you?
Lift up your shield and brace for the blow
Let Mind not war 'gainst Battles' ebb or flow
Hack and Slash, Cut and Riposte
Destroy each lie of the cunning Host
Keep your wit-blade unstained and bright
An open mind, heart, and courage through night
A soul filled with love and naught can destroy
The life of him to whom truth is a joy
ELAshley
070206.775059.6
Spurred of the moment with intent of purpose
and no desire to revise or amend
..::Original Comments::..
Pretty evident of the moment that made you write it... we really shouldn't revise what our heart makes us create.... for by doing so we decide to detach the moment that gave birth to a thought, from us. Smile.
Posted by clown on 07/04/2006 12:43:16 AM
Thank you for the comment on my drawing. I too seek truth, if that is your path. What are the devices we have at our disposal for revealing that piece of the immeasurable?
Posted by primitivegroove on 07/17/2006 03:34:47 AM
The only tool we've ever really needed was our God given conscience... the one tool rarely employed by man.
Posted by MuslinOpaque on 07/17/2006 04:08:02 AM
Rhythm of Pain
Despondency danced a bitter turn
Each step attuned to the rhythm of pain
And ague ~ Oh, what an insistent pill
A tyranny desirous of a last resort
Where pain is safely put to bed
Clubbed mercilessly and staining the sheet
One pill ~ One retreat and saving grace
And despondency cleansed and senseless in the surf
ELAshley
062006.063721.6
75 minutes of brain-cramping toil
...and a migraine in the wings
..::Original Comments::..
If the pains anywhere other than your cells, the pill kills time and not the pain... it's like a hiatus, and not retirement. I loved the use of language in this poem. Smile.
Posted by other-clowns on 06/22/2006 07:22:25 AM
Ahh..that sweet brown bottle, so snidely smiles at me too. My little blue friend. Is that my saving grace? It seems malicious that such a sublime thing, life, should mock my admiration of her with a pill. Yes, as the Clown put it, it is only a hiatus. Yet the resting sage, our light and dark mediator, may too give nostrum to that rhythm you dance, and we all dance. Ask him. And later the senseless makes sense once again. Good metaphore
Posted by primitivegroove on 07/07/2006 10:14:12 PM
Each step attuned to the rhythm of pain
And ague ~ Oh, what an insistent pill
A tyranny desirous of a last resort
Where pain is safely put to bed
Clubbed mercilessly and staining the sheet
One pill ~ One retreat and saving grace
And despondency cleansed and senseless in the surf
ELAshley
062006.063721.6
75 minutes of brain-cramping toil
...and a migraine in the wings
..::Original Comments::..
If the pains anywhere other than your cells, the pill kills time and not the pain... it's like a hiatus, and not retirement. I loved the use of language in this poem. Smile.
Posted by other-clowns on 06/22/2006 07:22:25 AM
Ahh..that sweet brown bottle, so snidely smiles at me too. My little blue friend. Is that my saving grace? It seems malicious that such a sublime thing, life, should mock my admiration of her with a pill. Yes, as the Clown put it, it is only a hiatus. Yet the resting sage, our light and dark mediator, may too give nostrum to that rhythm you dance, and we all dance. Ask him. And later the senseless makes sense once again. Good metaphore
Posted by primitivegroove on 07/07/2006 10:14:12 PM
Not Sumo
They grapple like Titans
Pneuma and Earth
Thews locked, knotted, and glistening
They collide like Behemoths
Flesh and Spirit
A struggle evident to anyone listening
Ideologies of Darkness and Light
Soldier of the wholesome
Bat'ling that of the blight
One cast down
And one set right
One victorious
In the Eternal's sight
One cast headlong
Down into night
ELAshley
061606.062646.6
nowhere else to go for now... set it aside
..::Original Comments::..
Darkness and light is a concept of great possibilities.... would like to see how far you wish to go with it... keep posting. Smile.
Posted by clown on 06/19/2006 01:46:44 AM
Although in blogsource I feel like home, lately I've also been feeling a bit limited in the freedom that blogsource gives you in customizing your page. So, I've created two new pages in blogspot for posting the same stuffs (which doesn't mean that I'm leaving blogsource in anyways and you might have to bear me longer than you expected). This, however, is not a promotional comment but is just to let you know that I've added you to my favorite's list in both the blogs. Please check out the quotes that I've used from your blog (without your permission) there. If you're dissatisfied with the way it potrays your blog you can always suggest something else. I'd be very happy to have your approval or choice on the quote. Thank you. You can visit my blogs at: "other-clowns.blogspot.com" & "absolute-joker.blogspot.com"
Posted by clown on 06/19/2006 01:47:06 AM
Pneuma and Earth
Thews locked, knotted, and glistening
They collide like Behemoths
Flesh and Spirit
A struggle evident to anyone listening
Ideologies of Darkness and Light
Soldier of the wholesome
Bat'ling that of the blight
One cast down
And one set right
One victorious
In the Eternal's sight
One cast headlong
Down into night
ELAshley
061606.062646.6
nowhere else to go for now... set it aside
..::Original Comments::..
Darkness and light is a concept of great possibilities.... would like to see how far you wish to go with it... keep posting. Smile.
Posted by clown on 06/19/2006 01:46:44 AM
Although in blogsource I feel like home, lately I've also been feeling a bit limited in the freedom that blogsource gives you in customizing your page. So, I've created two new pages in blogspot for posting the same stuffs (which doesn't mean that I'm leaving blogsource in anyways and you might have to bear me longer than you expected). This, however, is not a promotional comment but is just to let you know that I've added you to my favorite's list in both the blogs. Please check out the quotes that I've used from your blog (without your permission) there. If you're dissatisfied with the way it potrays your blog you can always suggest something else. I'd be very happy to have your approval or choice on the quote. Thank you. You can visit my blogs at: "other-clowns.blogspot.com" & "absolute-joker.blogspot.com"
Posted by clown on 06/19/2006 01:47:06 AM
Unafraid
Two shadows
Mine and yours
Pushed before us by the afternoon sun.
Wishing that I could but hold your hand
I see my shadow
Unafraid
Touching you
While I cannot
ELAshley
Written sometime in '88
..::Original Comments::..
Perhaps, this was the beginning of your preoccupation of darkness and light. Wonderful early poem.
Posted by clown on 06/13/2006 06:45:25 PM
Mine and yours
Pushed before us by the afternoon sun.
Wishing that I could but hold your hand
I see my shadow
Unafraid
Touching you
While I cannot
ELAshley
Written sometime in '88
..::Original Comments::..
Perhaps, this was the beginning of your preoccupation of darkness and light. Wonderful early poem.
Posted by clown on 06/13/2006 06:45:25 PM
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
