Here’s five small poems I posted on Facebook. The first two followed on from last week’s Mazzy Star musing; the third was mused by Annicke Shireen’s Release You song/video, and the last two today were just because I was posting this, and had just had a nap; so thought I may be able to dive down into my mind and stay down long enough to fill up a Facebook word limit for a colourful background!
Sinking so deep into sky, birds imagine I fly by, showing me thermals, where a mind can rise, tipping a wing, future will bring…
Wake up to wind down, slumberous sea, floating flotsam, jetstreaming jetsam, diving deep as can be, seeking poetic pearls of wisdom..
All that die↓, Earth body returned; All that fly↑, Sky spirit freed; All that why?, Mind used as should be.
Only dare dive deep, with head full of sleep, coral’s bleaching, still reaching, for those that fit; or have wit; reversing it ←
Traverse to surface, sunshine reimburses serotonin, half-baked drying thoughts on rocks; seagulls steal shiniest, leaving least!
Sand Gazes Out of Hourglass, Wishes Put Out to Grass
D’ evil to fill lower void life’s gra-in-dients to avoid thinking it’ll fall straight under
sands of time, yours and mine
learning too late gravity rules never seeing glass controller meaning one becomes two added time
*The heading paraphrases “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.” I thought it was Shakespeare, but attributed to Abraham Lincoln or Mark Twain!
*The Poem D’ evil wordplays devil. gra-in-dients: grain and gradients. yours and mine: everybody. gravity rules: double meaning, rules of gravity and gravity rules! exclamation. one becomes two cross references ‘yours and mine’ and how evil multiplies the ‘sand time’ already given, and can become a part of you, such as time in prison being an all embracing main ‘partner’; or just guilt/regret in the brain.
Hourglasses have been written about quite a lot on this site, as you can see by searching, and are in my last poetry collection.
They’ve probably been of renewed interest to my neurons since one was featured in the The Pretty Reckless song/video 25:
The songs in my head sang books that I read merging in words shared writing thoughts I dared dig out of my mind bared from a time when I cared how the whole world fared free running feelings snared ability to function impaired whole pages of my life teared leaving nothing to be, or not to be, spared that is the question; and answer, that’s all there is to be said!”
*To be or not to be, that is the question: Shakespeare.” *Song I worked out inspired it, after starting to think the first lines was The Pretty Reckless: Going to Hell.
The night before I’d watched a documentary about 1000s of indigenous native women and children going missing and being killed in Canada. Many had been abused in monotheistic homes, like the British Homes children. Now we’ve got it happening to indigenous British Homes children by the new wave of monotheists! Others had been sold by their families, or pimped by men in the community. They seemed to presume the deadly culprits were white, but Canada is very multicultural now. There seems no end to humanity’s inhumanity!
mistYmuse Further Clarification
Concerning the endurance race analogy, the sun has already returned to the start point of the course, a month either side of midwinter, and now it continues on into and beyond the city.
While Y-day was the half way point in the mistYmuse, if it was to be the halfway point of the sun’s journey, mistYmuse would have to run from October 21st to February 21st, with 2 months either side of Midwinter.
However, the clocks going back at the end of October would mess around with the time, and it wouldn’t run until the spring equinox, which gives the muse its acronym: midwinter until spring equinox.
This is how this small poem developed to fit a colourful Facebook background; the editing fits with the poetry advice I remember reading, to take out all unnecessary words, so that everything is vital.
As my generation ripened and matures we may think the orchard ages with us, but we are not trees, and other fruit will follow, as we sprouted from seasons of yore.
2. We may think the orchard ages with us, but we are not trees, and other fruit will follow, as we sprouted from seasons of yore.
If you like the above, my books are full of advice and examples:
While I hopefully showed the skills I garnered/used to get my PhD over the last ten days, defending my demographic, I don’t really enjoy that; although the evidence was so easy to find, as I already knew the information, it was quite rewarding; and like with my university research, I’m glad to finish it. That’s why I took up creative writing afterwards; to freely write what I enjoyed more, although I still had an ideology within; animals, environment, class, feminism etc.
The personal value of blogging is that I record my writing, as well as promoting it. I’d forgotten about Femen until seeing that photo yesterday; it seems a long time ago now. And Femen are still going, with a campaign I like: blasphemy is good.
Makes me think the British Establishment’s promotion of immigrants from the most sexist religious countries; and the use of ‘racism’ to shut down blasphemous freedom of speech is to counter such groups as Femen; I haven’t heard of them for years.
Anyway I digress, here’s a few of my latest philosophical poetry snippets I first posted on Facebook, with some heavy rain last week inspiring the first few. if you really like any, please post to Brainy Quote!
Comfortable cloud, all fluffy about, but nature rains, rules flushed out.
Lucky drops of rain land directly on grain brewing nature heaven on Earth mixture.
Only the insane, sunbathe in rain if I was a steam train, my streaming smoke’d explain, the direction I’m going is the other way.
Race and religion are just clouds of confusion I want to ascend above to my single point of love…
Sleep is closer to reality, point of singularity, mind space as one, free of body bone.
Is the sun one big alien, or are aliens based on sun, on Earth it’s not known to anyone, searching smoking gun!
There’s NO going back: … ON …
For all humanity knows, there could be giant billions-years-old space creatures that use stars as we use fires, and the planets orbiting around them are cooking like marshmallows.
Taking the single path isn’t less. It’s more in some ways. Like getting a double cone of the same flavour; instead of different.
I am life, until I am death. It might seem that middle-age is half way between the two, but you are much longer dead than alive. In one body anyway. So in middle-age you are still life. Moreover, your life might live on through your descendants, or you could be reincarnated, or just your life remembered in memories, history and the arts.
I hope you don’t mind the slightly maudling introduction, but I’m just trying to connect Marc Latham’s latest Folding Mirror poem with the next reflection from his 242 Mirror Poems and Reflectionsbook.
I fear I may have indulged in a little introspective philosophising myself.
Our age is one of great importance,
for it is the only one we’ll know.
New Mirror Poem
That reflection does have some connection to Marc Latham’s latest Folding Mirror poem, freshly imported into the greenYgrey world today.
After the top half of the poem focuses on natural inspirations in the outer world, the bottom half focuses on how our mind interprets those prompts. Here it is:
Entrancing Haze, Thoughtful Phase
moon never told a story
ocean didn’t create a rhyme
but waves can sound sublime.
sun wouldn’t sing a song
air can’t write musical lyrics
but wind can breeze idyllic.
natural noise, interpretative imagination
hearing sounds sparks creative cell
nervous system neurons spark new
ingenious ideas begin to brew .
however our brains have evolved
knowledge from more silent times
cultural memes travelling laid lines.
Marc Latham’s latest Folding Mirror poem mixes sight and thought, memory and recall. Thanks for reading this, and I hope some of it, or something on this site, is worth recalling sometime.
One Way Optic Nerve, Visual Cortex Return Signals
some times you see what you look for
other things just come into view
often the scenery is normal
occasionally it’s surprising too
sky changes colour at least twice daily
although clouds often obscure the view
time changes everything, memory records moments
but best times always fly obscured
in mental zone of ephemeral thoughtless focus
when brain runs automatically
like yoga master body lotus
other times images enter the mind
some things only register when triggers prompt us