Closer

[Saturninus]

...And the night will not come so soon to cover your face with her linen of light; the night will not come, or her dusk.

I am smoke. -Manfred Winkler, from Sadness

Moving closer toward unknown phantoms,

unheard liturgies,

unseen sunsets;

The earth shakes - oceans melt;

Steaming mountains shroud the moon.

We disappear in vapor.

Tomorrow has forgotten us.

We fail to remember history's

gifts or lessons.

Clawing at redemption

as phantoms gnaw

at the gates.

_________________

[RevRainbow]

Nice one.

[Qryos]

~ That's lovely Wayne! Thank you for sharing that.

[SilverRose]

same opinion here-- very nice!!!

[Saturninus]

Many thanks for your kindness!

In blessing, Bless

-Wayne

above poem from TWILIGHT, A Collection of Poems in honor of Leonora Alice Wilkinson Sept 20, 1920-December 22, 1997. Published by Madman Express ©opyright 1998.

_____________

Qyros,

I offer this in hope that you too will explore the possibilty of publishing your words. Many small press publishers exist to promote little known authors. Once upon a time, I was editor -n- chief of Earspank, the first audio poetry magazine dedicated to underground poets and their words. That was in 1997-2000. Whilst I no longer publish said audio-tape journal, I do have a heart for the metaphysical poetry of writers.

In blessing, Bless

Wayne

[Qryos]

~ Ahhh, jeesh! Not you too?

{There's a whole thread down there somewhere about nagging me to publish...}

How about everyone goes & plays at bforloveandjoy ?

I've been dumping crap there all lonesome-like. Go play.

I don't mean to get crabby or anything. I have edited a few books for others poets that got published.

I know it's a freakin' pain-in-the-tush, trying to craft such personal art & thoughts & imagery to be 'popular'.

I have had some of my own poetry published.

& y'know what? They're just words. That's all.

Poets don't write for money or fame, just to be heard. {Because there is no money or fame! The money thing would be nice though! } It's a need... A compulsion to connect.

the fire burns

heating the rafters

cobwebs drift down

I'm sorry to go on so long here Wayne, I know it's probably annoying. I appologise!

Edited November 30, 2007 by Qryos

[Qryos]

~ Oh my... I'm so sorry! I was afraid I'd posted that.

I'm a drunk. That doesn't excuse that tho'!

I am so very sorry.

You are generous & thoughtful Wayne, Thank You

I do appreciate your thinking of me!

And a friend offers a gentle light to break the darkness,

Yet I shout and snuff it out...

I cripple myself with fearsome noises that make no sense,

Chasing away the hope I desire.

I'm my own truest enemy, constant and secure,

Hovering and protecting me from happiness.

[Saturninus]

Hi Qyros,

Thanks for the notes. No apologies necessary. I beleive that we each approach writing poetry individually to attempt a connection or re-connection to G*d, others and ourselves. Several years ago I wrote these lines:

"I am a poet, I am supposed to get drunk

rage and wallow in word-mud

and feel like crap..."

Of course I was going through a heavily influenced Bukowski period. Not very "spiritual" but it was honest.

That is what I admire most about your words, Claire. You have authenticity. Whether or not we ever get paid with money for our writing, at least the dividends come in the form of integration.

In blessing, Bless

Wayne

[Qryos]

~ Thank You.