Kingsley Station

Original Poetry | 11/25/2003 | January24th

[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!

[Camachee]

consider
an ego
self-absorbed
adoring
audience
of mist
understanding
only the fog
of performance
and the
redundant
perfunctory
encore
of hollow
echo
refrain
and disdain
missing the
amusement
of drugged distillation
and inhalation
of the
moment

[Soaring Feather]

for the silence
of an adoring
sigh

So pretty.

[Kay Syrah]

Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry "Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!"
THOMAS PARKE D'INVILLIERS. (Epigraph to The Great Gatsby)

setting sale

hi hats,
and fast foot work

gold bouncing
symbols hopeful
lovers selling
the open notes
and closing the deal
in the beat of sweat
and concentration
trying not to close
the vibrations
of possibilities
but remembering
the price of everything

while accepting
the consequences
of successful
pedaling.

"tomorrow we will run faster, stretch our arms out farther… And one fine morning-
So we beat on, boats against the current, born back ceaselessly into the past.”

history

I guess everything
is bookended
between first
aspirations
and last gasp,
and shuffling
the order of
the volumes
requires that
the set
be complete.

[Soaring Feather]

Hat high dripping
gold symbols
smoky, hot nights
the beat goes on
gowns lift in heat
swirling desert winds
blowing wild, free
in a sellers market

Open bidding, hands flash
one finger, two fingers
for smoky night vibrations
of no consequences
having made a dancers deal...

[January24th]

i can't be bothered
numb
and numbered days
stack up against
the odds
and even deals
are hollow feints
a show of
hearts on sleeves
hoping for more
or less

to cheat
the fated hand
shall I gamble
with other people's money?

[Kay Syrah]

Nice.


green lights
shadow yellow
faces and refine
the tonalism
of everything
regreted in red
but unrepented.

[Soaring Feather]

Come paint a picture
with me
use pastels for the sea
Grey for white caps
blue for the sea
and please use aqua
when painting Hawaii
Alabaster white for statues
you see, and lots and lots
of greenery
for passions use vermilion
for Eastern skies use Cobalt blue
use lots of thinner for light blue
cause it's the color that I best do....

[Kay Syrah]

shall I gamble
with other people's money?


What isn't borrowed
against a tomorrow
we assign
to consequences
of prepaid sorrow?

[Kay Syrah]

use lots of thinner for light blue
cause it's the color that I best do....


It's not a transparent
stain that I think about
when you paint,
but the heavy impasto
that loads light
into the grey
and requires an unflinching
hand smacking canvas
with more than brush
and colour.

[Soaring Feather]

My canvas is covered in color
lots of purple and vermilion
I guess there must be a million
pot marks of wear
it's okay I am here
And someone said the subject
was roses.
Paint them well
so one can smell the sweet
aroma like a new love
paint the thorns to remember
love gets bumpy over the years
and one can drown in tons
of tears...
But all the years of living alone
do not atone for a wild night
dressed in red and not be
embarrassed

[Kay Syrah]

I guess there must be a million
pot marks of wear
it's okay I am here


Nostalgia's charm
requires the knowledge
that we really did
make it thru
tho the outcome
was in doubt
at the time.

I guess we
all need
that certainty
to mark memories
piquancy and
make us think we'd
do it all again.
I would.

LOL

[Soaring Feather]

There is a song Do It For Love....
I would too, in a New York second...

[Camachee]

i know
i shouldn't write
for what purpose
is served save
a public moment
on a silent stage

but i remember
galapagos gulls
and lava quails
and so many sails
white in the dawn
set against
the grey promise
of storm petrels
pelting the deck
with random crys
of surfing
blue swales
where great whales
really do abide
and wonder
if you can
ride my dream

[Camachee]

when poetry
mimics
music
is it less
or more
than
the melody
you brought
to the party

[Soaring Feather]

I would write you name across the sky
if I could ride your dream with you
if I could watch the storm clouds move
across the far distance of graying skies
or walk the sand dunes hand in hand
sip a cold tea
munch a biscuit and toss the crumbs
to the pelicans and gulls
listen to jazz and a sexy sax until three am
or dance on wet sand by bonfire lite
and act a little crazy because live is so short
it's better to dance and ride someones dream
if they are willing to share
than to walk mirrored halls alone

[Camachee]

tired
i succomb
to the caresses
of red sheets
silver blankets
and you

[Soaring Feather]

In red satin robe
carefully coiffured hair
the touch of red sheets
the warmth of silver linings
a private dancer
is conducive to
tiring body vibrations
late night music
short poetry
and fabulous dreams

[Camachee]

she claimed
to be
the mauve gray
of daylight

[Kay Syrah]

I stood across
the shifting faults
of phoney self
satisfaction,
and the black
white abstraction
of distilled ennui
dispairing of colour
and bitter as old tea
settling into cold
forgetting
I once embraced
the smokey
hot pungeance
of possibilities
till I heard
your song .

And welcomed
a moment when
certainty slipped
again into beauty.
Sometimes
the reason for singing
is more and less
than the singer,
the song, or
the accidental
listener.
And applause
is an affront
to each.

[Kay Syrah]

Tule fogs slide in
their own smokey eddies
brushing each others
backs in the street
lights, gliding across
the shadows they cast,
cats rubbing smiles
into each others faces
and fading away
into the day.