- Books, Literature, and Writing
Scattered Thoughts V.
S C A T T E R E D T H O U G H T S .
Most things that tinkle bring relief,
sleigh bells on a winter's journey home
a late night visit to a porcelain god,
the clatter of fine china as a
sumptuous meal is laid out
rain on a glass skylight
above two lovers heads,
and the wind chimes lonely night song
strummed by the elements that move them.
A phone ringing and a
warm voice whispering
sweet nothings in ones ear.
the list goes on and on
as does the loneliness that proceeds
and follows the tinkling sounds rendered.
If loneliness itself where a bell
it would drive even Quasimodo mad
the cacophony of billions of bells
ringing out their woe
would be almost never ending.
perhaps that's why we have wedding bells
to remind us that there are
better ways too share a ring.
To put words into a dreamlike state is poetry.
to dream words and them put them down
in a permanent state is poetry,
to state words dreamily putting others
in a state of bliss is poetry.
to dream up words as you state them is poetry
To close one's eyes and exit reality,
and then frolic among the muses of sleep is poetic.
to open one's eyes and let the muses frolic
across the white sheets of lined paper is poetic.
I always dreamed in my soul that I'd write poetry,
but it's poetry that righted my soul.
In the vast distance behind us,
when moments are as rare as sea glass
on a public beach and sunset lovely,
we look back often and wallow for awhile
in yesterdays splendors and loves that
caressed our wounded souls with a balm of peace.
It is moments like these that carry us through
the rough hewn hours of despair that loneliness
can carve into the structures of our lives.
Sadly though if one could truly go back
the memories would never match the realities of then,
for we tend to make much greater
and soften immensely those moments of yore,
and the true light of that
long ago cherished remembrance
would reveal flaws hidden in the reflections
of only the lovely parts recalled.
The moon pulls souls together,
just as it folds the endless waves one over the other
it's influences are cosmic on emotions and oceans.
it has viewed the passions of thousands of years
the nuzzling of dinosaurs, cavemen, pilgrims
all of human kind that has been enraptured
by its sway in the wilds below it.
it is always just outside ones window,
peeping through the blinds or curtains
with a fingernail smile or a bright beaming
pockmarked face whose glow illuminates
two sets of lips entwined times ten billion
all over the planet it orbits
the moon is a heavenly voyeur
who helps stir the souls for the scenes
like a director who orchestrates moods
creating the perfect settings
for we who are the actors under his tides of impulse.
A few of us have walked on his dusty face
but he has gleamed in the eyes of
countless coming together
by twos for centuries.
He is the love light, and the night lights
that offers a bit more romance
to passions trysts.