Grandpa, tell us about the time…

When people were smarter than machines

When government was limited

When there was no surveillance

When elephants and giraffes yet lived

And took biscuits

From your hand with their noses and purple tongues

And you got to drive a car

Unseen by youthful eyes

20220308 for the prompt at

https://dversepoets.com/2022/03/07/eyeing-the-quadrille-147/ this may become part of a larger poem, we shall see

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A hall of mirrors

Why is winter easier to accept than looking into the deep opinion of myself? That one that I never reveal but keep inside and lie to myself with.
That outside snow is just as cold and numbs my fingers like the inside snow does my heart, blanketing my psyche, insulating, but none of the pure white glistening. That outside snow gives the smiles from sliding on it down hills, the inside snow crashes me into trees. Outside, the amusement park is closed. Inside the hall of mirrors is open.

They lie to you though. The goal
Is not to escape, but to find which
One is the real you

20220131: haibun from dverse come join the fun: https://dversepoets.com/2022/01/31/haibun-monday-1-31-22-winter/

Even now is too late

I was only a few months old

When Armstrong printed the regolith

Too young to know my grandfather

Too young to learn his teachings.

What could he have told me

About how to live well in this world?

What mistakes to avoid?

So I unearthed what I could of him

In stories records and old photographs

But like a microcosm of my species

Learning from the dinosaurs, what little

I can find ends up in a museum

Or a gas tank

20220119

A continuation of the previous post, inspired by earthweal https://earthweal.com/2022/01/17/earthweal-weekly-challenge-native-to-the-now/

Nineteen eighty something spaceman

Things only astronauts have seen

Sights that split you wide open

That sense of awe and wonder

Where everything important falls away

Like a spend rocket stage

No earthbound entity can perceive

Space as anything but empty and

Black

So stare into that void

And turn away from it

Here is the blue marble

So small

So alive

Who among us is not an actor

Playing a role called Me

I’ve got this story about who I am

And what Me means.

There’s a pile of likes

Another of dislikes

And what I can get away with.

Others watch.

Then, curtains and applause.

Which is a huge wind in the ego-sails

That fades, deflates

Then the emptiness becomes harder

To ignore.

The story of who I am that I have

And tell myself, serves, to a point.

The places where it differs with reality

Are where all the problems lie, and

All the difficulties arise.

There are a thousand things the story says are ok

But they’re not.

Your heart knows, your head invents excuses.

In one of us, this battle is waged

But in a group of us, a team

A corporation, a government

Where is the Heart that knows what’s right?

20220119: inspired by earthweal https://earthweal.com/2022/01/17/earthweal-weekly-challenge-native-to-the-now/ and an Amazon documentary about William shatner. I was only a few months old when we landed on the moon.

Oh let me be

Oh let me be

Stick your key

Twist my lid

Open my tinned herring heart

Other organs comb and part

Tie my feet to the mantle ring

My fingers hang on to the stars

This slide is freshly waxed

The light falls right along

Catgut vibrating

I will make you a violin

Wrapped in baleen

Played by your hair

Bound in sound

Wraptured

Captured

Captained

Tennieled

Deal!

D’Verse: https://dversepoets.com/2022/01/13/meet-the-bar-with-narrative-nonsense/ Innonsence!

Music

Really?

No dulcet tones crooning

No soothing melodies?

Even wailings or caterwaulings

Are full of lamentations, have

Their value as

An expression of deep grief

But this, fingernails on a chalk board

This wretched noise

Is all you have for me, my

Muse? ick!

20220110

You all know I hang out at d’Verse, the online poets pub, which inspired today’s quadrille check it out! https://dversepoets.com/2022/01/10/quadrille-143-muse-cues/

Pail

Can I just pour my head into this pail?
It’s a bit sore and starting to swell
So I think it would be best
To give my neck a rest
And put my head in this pail for a spell

20211224

Healing

What can I do?

Being just one me

Sing a song

Talk of hope

Put tinsel on a tree

Or to reach into the dark pond

At the center of the forest

Pour light on that old unhealed wound

And finally wash it clean

20211213

Come join us over at d’Verse the poets pub https://dversepoets.com/2021/12/13/quadrille-142/ The forbidden forest is inside you. We each have one. All the hope for the world is down there, in you. I’m doing the best I can to get to mine.