Standing on a sandy cliff
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Pounding through the waves
jouncing like a cork
twisting in the churning rift
Sinking dip, springing rise
sideways sudden jerk
back and forth across the moon
the mast swings half berserk
Praying it will stop
this voyage can't end too soon
I'll soon be flat out on my back
staring at that moon
Posted by StoneAged at 2:59 AM
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
So qualified and full of sighs,
They cannot wait to criticize,
They know their stuff, these clever bards,
Their game were poker, then their cards
Would always be a royal flush
With all those jokers up the tush.
How could they lose, 'cause they're so wise?
Crouched to pounce should you generalize.
An easy win! Or is it so?
Cheap little victory, but don't they know
That every time we speak
We guide our brains to make the leap
Across the gorge between our words
and trace the course that must emerge.
Posted by StoneAged at 8:26 AM
Sunday, October 10, 2010
In times of past the wings will fly;
and messages carried by pigeons on drafty winds
will, if in time, save the day, fewer will die,
or else vultures will fatten on splayed kings.
O'er such distance flown wrapped round tiny leg,
so urgently come, what must they say?
Rushed scribbles fuming terror, desperately beg:
"You know your dept, now you must pay."
Dark shadows shiver on frozen castle walls,
Torches hissing black smoke through flaming light
gather heroes to answer their dooming call,
air squeezed by dread and drained by whispered flight
Quiet orders prepare restless mounts.
Seers brought forth to foretell fate
quiver wordless as they count
the time left to those nearest Hades' gate.
While far away queering panic numbs
the courage in fleeing breasts. As pagan Mars
whips up the coming storm, they leave their young
to merciless conquerors for their swords to carve.
Evil nymphs out from the forest; they dare
to work their evil covered by terror's nettles,
their victims never knowing from where
the arrows came as to the earth they settle.
Culled victims mouth wordlessly to White Death
while nymphs rob their prey in remorseless theft,
losing all, violated until their last breath,
whence brute ogres spring from their lairs to drag away what's left
Sudden beguiling calm, is this respite?
or the receding tide sucked in by the seething
tidal wave? The silence: Might
the Gods show pity and intervene?
But hurrying demons harvest their last.
A fine yield it was and not much trouble.
The carnage is coming they know, and fast
as they retreat back to shadowy forest hovels.
And warrior waves crash in slaying, screams
terrorize the fleeing, their lives not long
as swishing axes leave bloody seams;
engaged in the timeless making of carrion.
And rescuer heroes on wheezing horses run,
eyes fixed ahead, but they cannot see
the last few minutes of their lives that are done;
and whose carrion will nourish a sapling tree.
that grows up high over hundreds of years,
spreading wide branches whose leaves enchant
us as we retell this tale of long dried tears,
shaded from the sun on green grass so fragrant.
Does it matter anymore what happened here?
Does its tranquility mock unfathomed history?
In a distant flash of time men would die for things so dear,
and be forgotten for the rest of eternity.
And their carrion has fed this tree,
Where we sit so comfortably.
The quiet breeze, the soothing calm,
Where we live so joyfully,
Where they died so terribly.
Oh, Site of carnage, unconsoled fear,
Coated by time, the tumor has disappeared.
And no one knowing what fate did here.
What does the caressing breeze conceal?
And a casual dig ... reveal?
Posted by StoneAged at 6:24 AM
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Are you going to bring me doom,
tales of havoc coming soon,
of draining seas and shattered moon,
of future bleak with pressing gloom?
Or are you going to bring me light
that sweeps all darkness from my sight,
forecast a future only bright
with hope, when goodness holds all might?
Or are you going to bring me dawn,
or offer dusk with shadows long,
or cloudy days that go along
with blue sky breaks and sunshine strong?
Heaven sent and Hades bound,
fate keeps throwing us around.
Lightened up and weighted down,
in bliss we bask, in dread we drown.
Yet always comes another day,
better times or worse some way.
Are not content we who can say
for nothing more or less we pray?
Posted by StoneAged at 1:05 AM
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Trees blur in misty air
over steely flat river
flowing in the glow
of morning's sunrise embers, mountains
grow into the graying sky
Percolating on the rocks
hissing water mutes the shocks
of branches snapping in the sun
the dawn is lit, the day begun.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Come on, take a trip through hell.
Yes, I've done it, know it well.
See the sights, you'll think it's swell.
It's all great, except the smell
of burning bodies; charcoal eyes,
the constant swarm of spirit flies,
the double-talk of constant lies,
mournful pleas, regretful cries.
Stop and take a closer look.
You won't see this in any book.
For every evil thought you brook,
there's one more jerk to set the hook.
So, your time comes, you start the climb
till Satan tightens up the line.
You jump and flail, but there's no sign
of being saved by Great Divine.
Who's to blame? You took the bait.
Evil doings, you couldn't wait
to score a gain, your greed to sate.
But now that you have seen your fate,
you'd take it back, but it's too late.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Grey clouds sink
into the sea, I think
they dye the waters, too,
to match their own cold steely hue.
White surf grinds
pebbles into grains quite fine
'Cause without salt the swirling sands
make up a soup that's rather bland
Wave tops crash
whipping creamy foam, they mash
sea creatures into paste
then mix in sand and salt to taste
'Tween split cracks
in timber planks of wood sea shacks
the cold wind sneaks to make a play
at stealing warmth from us today
driftwood bulkheads. Wind torn
sea grass holding fast
in hollows safe from gusty blasts
Clam shells gasp
for breath, shell hinges rasp
as op'ning to the rising tide,
they fill their gills till satisfied
above the waves; I heard
pounding surf accompany
a cawing seagull symphony
Posted by StoneAged at 6:00 AM
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Twenty years had passed since then
Young and dreamy they had been
Passion driven, that was when
They thought they'd found their way to heaven
Now their eyes reflected hair
gone gray and straight from years of care
No more blinded by the glare
of faces once so smooth and fair
Where lust once ruled now friendship reigns
Where feeling governed mind has gained
Like knees and joints that now complain
They talk of dreams that time has maimed
Drag of memory once so strong
Progress held in check so long
Knot unbound, the burden gone
Their paths once crossed, then life went on
And here they cross once more today
Oh, the tricks that time does play
What felt so close, like yesterday
Is really very far away
He doesn't love her anymore
Was this the man she'd once adored
Wounds have healed, no longer sore
Waves break calm on a sandy shore
Posted by StoneAged at 11:32 PM
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Sometimes the past creeps up on me and taps me on the shoulder
Startled, I look back and forget that now I'm older
Your ghost is standing there, flirting with me like you always used to
But for all that, you might just as well be a clay gray statue
There's no touch, no warmth, no teasing eyes, none of those things at all
Just dour heartfelt hope for nothing more than an image I recall
Dreaming of the past, once again I make that crucial mistake
of yearning beyond all possibility for what was, and making my heart ache
Sometimes when I stand on those high wally cliffs, looking out over the sea
I remember you. Do you remember me?
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Glistening seagulls don't complain
about the wet, about the rain,
floating on a hard sea wind
just outside my window pane.
Crashing blows come wave by wave,
flinging surf-born stormy spray,
Herring swimming 'neath white caps,
don't know how cold it is today.
The seagull roosts upon a log,
blending into racing fog.
Splat'ring dots of rain on glass;
ocean sands turn into bog.
Folded wings in restful pose
spread a bit in gusty blows,
then settle back. I see it all
in misty sea dreams while I doze
beside my window, the sea my show.
Posted by StoneAged at 11:44 PM
Thursday, May 20, 2010
River roaring, water pouring
over walls of rock.
Bubbles seething, upwells heaving,
gurgling waters talk
Brown leaves floating, insects boating,
slowly swirling pool.
Shadows bathing, green ferns wading,
lapping in the cool
Rapids flashing, white foam dashing,
gouging out the shore
Branches dunking, boulders clunking,
Ripples glitter, fir trees shiver,
trembling pines and leaves.
Whirlpool whirling, backwash curling,
in the sudden breeze.
Posted by StoneAged at 9:24 PM
Labels: river forest stream upwells insects ferns shadows rapids boulders branches ripples pines breeze poem poetry
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Gotta hand it to them,
to them the credit they're due.
All is owed their courage:
their lives instead of you.
Fire raids that take the cake,
bombs that smash the view,
storms of props that fill the air,
trading blood for you.
White hot concrete flat as stone,
taking planes out from the blue.
White hot sands spell paradise,
and set the stage for you.
You'd never have been ever born
to live as you now do.
Or met me in the victor's land
where I found love with you.
The winners also losers,
thousands never knew
the bliss of life, the gorgeous time
that I have known with you.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The closer you are, the cooler the air,
the higher you climb, the bolder the glare.
Frostier feelings take over: I swear
I can't figure out how this could come
about. 'Cause when all is said and done,
the closer I get, the colder the sun.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Nostalgic ashes in the fireplace
are all that remain of winter's embrace.
Gray bare branches, freezing winds, snowflakes race
from memory, leaving not a single trace.
Posted by StoneAged at 10:59 PM
Thursday, April 22, 2010
While the muse cavorts with others, our eyes sometimes meet. She will give me a polite, rather dry smile, and then turn back to her banter with the prettier talent. But I know a flirt when I see one. She knows she can't fool me.
Because I know that only the extraordinary, the exceptional, the sublime fascinate her. The rest are mere diversion. And while her coquettish ways rouse in me a desire for her affections, I rather settle for that bare look, whence these modest works spring.
Welcome to Shipwreck Poems.