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Kingsley Station
Original Poetry | 11/25/2003 | January24th

Posted on 11/24/2003 9:52:48 AM PST by January24th

This is a thread for readers and writers of poetry. You are welcome to join in this quiet room, but please respect a few rules that will assure that this thread is easy to read, loads quickly, and maintains the confidence of the poets and readers.

1. Only original poetry, please. All poems are the property of the posting poet. Please do not copy or reproduce in another area.

2. Shhhh! Please keep chat or comments to a minimum.

3. No huge graphics, blinking smiley faces, etc. Just words, please. Let your words paint the image! (Plus, it's easier for dial-up friends to browse.)

That's it. Now, get busy and write!


TOPICS: Miscellaneous; Poetry
KEYWORDS: poetry
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To: January24th

Thank you for pinging me. This is lovely. I was flying home today and trying to jot down some random thoughts. This is what I got. Seems to fit. LOL


Sculptor

She chips the hard
places with an exacting art
and keeps the man to the hard
outline that she had in mind
when she called him to her.
And she struck with the sure implements
of her craft to a form that only
love could limn, and rested upon
her completed image, that became him.


1,141 posted on 03/14/2005 8:25:09 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah

Clock radio

Dreams lacking resolution
drip the dawn slowly
into awareness.
She stirs and he rises
to a landscape etched
with the expectations
of future perfect
and the importance
of being on time.


1,142 posted on 03/14/2005 8:28:01 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah

throw me something

caparisoned,
the parade of descriptives
beggar the crowd
with trinkets that bestow
the favour of a cheap generosity
that keeps them wanting more.


1,143 posted on 03/14/2005 8:34:26 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah

did boswell journey
for the sake of a journal
or for something else?


1,144 posted on 03/14/2005 8:52:57 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah

lift off

keeping the faith
when the moment of launch
is fueled by the expected
destruction of the past
leaps aren't cheap,
but its a cost
easily distributed
to others.


1,145 posted on 03/14/2005 9:07:56 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Camachee

oh my. all the little piggies escaped without having their faces washed. Ref# 1141, s/b keeps her man to the heart's/
#1143, title missing the "mr." #1145, second line omitted, s/b in business class, and finally this little baggage got lost altogether but proves itself in its own little theater of the absurd.

Jet lag
is the time
between
the getting there
and the being there.

LOL.


1,146 posted on 03/15/2005 5:09:55 AM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah; January24th; bentfeather

yellow wheat rises
i'm acquainted with summer
fall makes me wonder


1,147 posted on 03/15/2005 8:06:41 PM PST by Camachee
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To: Camachee

poetry
is always a function
of the friction
of lies
and the reluctance
of truth


1,148 posted on 03/15/2005 8:22:09 PM PST by Camachee
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To: Camachee; bentfeather; January24th

Webs

kept dreams sleep like fate
weaving silken traps that wait
for random travelers.


1,149 posted on 03/16/2005 4:08:22 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: bentfeather; January24th; Camachee

Hot and cold

We steam in the rain
and make a fog that resolves
to separate us.


1,150 posted on 03/16/2005 4:10:11 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah
and keeps the man to the hard
outline that she had in mind
when she called him to her.

Pygmallion redux
leaves nothing to rue... :)

1,151 posted on 03/17/2005 5:53:27 AM PST by January24th
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To: January24th

um....yes, sorta.



Earth mother

Formed in her womb, the stone
that waits for its final form
to be carved and hewn along
the planes of visionary designs
that cannot know the hidden veins
along whose lines the best plans break
to defy the sculptor’s lust for shape.

But still we will seek to bend
instead of trying to attend
to what the rock will need to be
in spite of all our vanity.
So when we ourselves project upon
the matrix already formed and set
what we see is what we get
a doubtfully domesticated
Gaia pet.


1,152 posted on 03/17/2005 7:07:48 AM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah; bentfeather; January24th
St. Paddy's Day? I think that requires a limerick, don't you?

Ahem...

a cat is a curious creature
whose habits will frequently feature
a lick of the paws
a flash of sharp claws
and a smile for the last one who feeds her

1,153 posted on 03/17/2005 6:18:33 PM PST by Camachee
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To: Camachee

The mouse considers the theosophical implications of freewill and election

The cat keeps the paradigms shifty
my continued existence is iffy,
if a good game I give
She just might let me live
I’d say my odds are about fifty-fifty.


1,154 posted on 03/19/2005 6:59:59 AM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Kay Syrah; January24th; bentfeather

by crimson dawn
she had archived
the details
of my dark death


1,155 posted on 03/22/2005 5:29:46 PM PST by Camachee
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To: Camachee

circuits

You think maybe the sunrise flows like solder,
and mends the disconnections of night
and day, the ones that seem to make
strangers of each other but need the fusion
that forms the joints channeling
all communications?

The flux of bright sun promise,
(Hot baby, mmmmm morning has broken)
keeps the base metal river of doubt tight
to the night and sticks it to the dawn ;
alchemy that needs directions like glass needs a frame.
but still everything is shiny when it’s new even lead,
which makes glass crystal and holds
it in place with gentle joints that remain
flexible through the ages, making possible
the stained glass message but gets no credit
for the effort.

Bite on a piece of foil and prove
to your self that you are a battery
(an electrolyte solution )
of unattached electrons seeking
the equality of charge, while radio waves
are scavenging for fillings
to receive their transmissions of daily events
to fill in the gaps for the news hungry
who swear that the mystery isn’t in
the news, but who gets it, connecting with
yourself can be such a jolt.

Aunt Beulah once told me to make sure
all the outlets were covered or plugged up
with some cord or other, cause the electricity
would leak into the room, and then, and then,
I wasn’t real sure what was supposed to happen
I guess like the tooth filling radio, the horror of
not having an off switch was just
too much to contemplate: something that just
wouldn’t stop, she wished aloud that kids
could be modulated frequently, as she despaired
for a toggle that would turn us off.


But you stand there in the morning light
that holds you in its corona describing
the circle of your aloneness. Your shadow describes
all that connects to you and I can only
wait till the room fills with something
that I cannot turn off, and everything flows
lead to gold, circuits complete,


1,156 posted on 03/22/2005 5:38:32 PM PST by Kay Syrah (:Ö:)
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To: Camachee; Kay Syrah; January24th

Crimson dawn and you
in sand and the seaweed
knew there was no stand

between the dune
and midnight blue
just the moon
with me and you


1,157 posted on 03/22/2005 7:03:24 PM PST by Soaring Feather (IS IT SPRING YET?)
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To: bentfeather; Kay Syrah; January24th

some nights
are more perfume
than purpose
and still
there is
tomorrow
unrequited
lingering


1,158 posted on 03/22/2005 7:47:04 PM PST by Camachee
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To: Camachee

i miss
some poets
silent


1,159 posted on 03/22/2005 7:57:28 PM PST by Camachee
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To: Kay Syrah
You think maybe the sunrise flows like solder,
and mends the disconnections of night
and day, the ones that seem to make
strangers of each other but need the fusion
that forms the joints channeling
all communications?

You have always doubted reductionism. Try this.

sunrise flows
like solder
disconnected by night

1,160 posted on 03/22/2005 8:16:00 PM PST by Camachee
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