Soft Commotion and Jubilation


jubilation

Soft commotion

and jubilation

comes at a cost;

we must free ourselves

of negative thoughts;

even the ones we produce on our own,

certainly those grim ideas pronounced

on loud speakers by others.

It seems these days,

the loud speakers are louder than ever.

We know their truth and legitimacy.

there is no doubt.

FEAR suppresses the soul;

But I need a thousand colorful

and unbustable bubbles

to help me smile, sing,

and dance,

I need soft commotion and jubilation.

Don’t you?

Join me at least for today.

 

When We Listen


When We listen

When we listen
we can hear the unspoken words
of the sages of the future

when we listen
the songs of the crickets
are meant to heal our souls

when we listen
we can decipher
the secret whispers
of the butterflies

DSC_1090

Photo by Melba Christie

When we listen
we can hear
the heart strings of a young lover
strumming like an acoustic guitar

when we listen
we can hear
the harp of our soul
playing an opus
to help us become
more aware of who we are

when we listen
there’s no telling
what sounds will resonate
to help us appreciate
the life we take for granted
all the more.

My Mind


Mountain Scene

 

My mind drifts often
Like snow does in a winter storm
It takes short walks to get energized
When it returns
It reminds me of the sweet things in life

It does not allow me to think about the
Times of strife and suffering and of when
Sometimes my soul was not a soul

My mind escapes me occasionally;
It takes vacations to exotic places,
Where everyone is so relaxed,
They forget they exist.
What a wonderful feeling that can be sometimes.

My mind fills with imagination;
It questions the questionable;
It rejects the rejection;
Without exception.

My mind builds mountains
On the dessert.
Makes the moon smile sometimes,
And grows tiger lilies on the side
Of a lonely road to keep it company

My mind
Yes, it is quite unique
Inventive, and sometimes absent
From reality and the truth.

Nature Wins


One of our trees became branch-less after hurricane Sandy. the tree survived and this year a small branch gave birth to leaves. It seemed to me the tree was very proud. The leaves are now slowly turning. Once again the tree seems so proud. Or maybe it’s just my imagination.

Nature wins

Branch-less tree lives

                                                                                                                              Leaves appear defiantly

                                                                                                                                    Nature wins!

Existence


Blue Ecstacy

Existence

Where we are

by far

defines our existence.

But where are we really?

Are we here, in the now, in the present?

Or are we not in existence?

Are we in our own imagination?

A figment?

I like to think I am

inside this painting;

going around in circles

without a worry,

the universe embracing me

until I become a wave.

The Power of Reading


image

Read my child

as much as you can

Read about other people

in far away lands

for it will expand your mind

and your heart

you will never be lonely

even when we are apart.

 

Read to know where you will stand

to make the world a better place

and build ideas upon demand

 

Read to discover yourself

and make of you a masterpiece

Read all the great books on the shelf

they will enrich your imagination.

Reading can take you to any destination

 

The power of reading is amazing

So read my child and you will see

You can create your own fascination.

 

 

My Whimsical Park


NEW Listen to a recording of Whimsical Park by Melba Christie. Please Leave comments.

 

My whimsical park is the

wonderland where my inner child

dreams of tomorrow

even when tomorrow is already today.

Yesterday’s dream

goes back into the fertile

mind of a new dreamer

ready to imagine

the peaceful world

I have longed for

all my life.

My whimsical park,

playground for lovers

of nature,

sacred turf,

no forbidden fruit to pick,

just stillness and love

to gain.

Whimsical Park

An Unexpected Visit from a Unicorn


In this poem I have used some nonsense words I made up.

unicorn

 

The rain breeped through the lofty trees

on this clograyly fall day

The hardy mums left from the summer

were however happy that they had stayed.

 

Golinlimpling down the steep hill

sprinted a beautiful unicorn

eager to meet the lovers

just married in the storm.

 

The unicorn’s voice so sweet and spiritual

whispered secrets from the future

to the sweethearts and their guests

Sunflowers suddenly stood to attention

as the sun sneaked in from the east

a splendid day will be after all

let us feast, oh, let us feast!

 

The soul mates slowly strolled

into the certainty of their tomorrows;

the unicorn confided there would not be any sorrows.

 

The unicorn disappeared

No one has ever seen it since

the lovers are now married forty years

happy and content.

 

 

 

 

When We Listen


When We listen

When we listen
we can hear the unspoken words
of the sages of the future

when we listen
the songs of the crickets
are meant to heal our souls

when we listen
we can decipher
the secret whispers
of the butterflies

DSC_1090

Photo by Melba Christie

When we listen
we can hear
the heart strings of a young lover
strumming like an acoustic guitar

when we listen
we can hear
the harp of our soul
playing an opus
to help us become
more aware of who we are

when we listen
there’s no telling
what sounds will resonate
to help us appreciate
the life we take for granted
all the more.

Firm Persuasion


April is National Poetry Month. I will quote from the poets I love and whose verses have guided me through my own journey as a poet. Read a poem to someone you love.

“Does a firm persuasion that a thing is so, make it so? He replied, ‘All poets believe that it does. And in ages of imagination, this firm persuasion removed mountains; But many are not capable of a firm persuasion of anything.” – From the Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake

 

Looking for A Place to Hide My Dreams


I need to find a  special place

to hide my dreams away.

my memory has left me now

although I begged it to stay

nothing else remains that dear and

time has been so frivolous,

it can’t make up its mind

whether or not,

to stick around

and let me be the one to decide

as to whether

I want to stay

and remember

the moments

that mattered most

to us

like those dreams

I try to keep in a safe place

that never did come true

and are so hard for me to face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Masterpiece


Hidden in her tiny mind

a masterpiece is waiting

A crowd yells, “encore!”

 

 

 

How to write a poem when you are so angry that you would rather not


There should be a rule that says that no one under any circumstances should be allowed to write a poem when angry. Poems should be created when the poet is under the influence of joy and bliss. Anger will taint a poem forever. A poem is not where anger should dwell and be allowed to swell. But poets are human and err like everyone else. Why not give them a venue to vent and manage their resentments and or annoyances. Do not we need as a society to ignite the idea that anger can be channeled through writing about what infuriates us instead of caging the rage like a wild animal?

I propose that we allow poets to craft their poems of fury using a certain format. So here it is:
Poems of wrath must not use profanity. They must not slander anyone. However, if the dander is so intense that it is necessary to madden the crowd about the issue and hang the culprit responsible for the accumulation of said antagonism, then by all means the poet may show his rage. However, it is advised that this type of poem not be published to avoid any issues of liable or possible law suits.

Poems of anger should provide the reader with at least four powerful images. It must include at minimum two hyperboles. The poet will ensure that nothing rhymes. Slang will be accepted. The poem should not be any longer than twenty-one lines.

Depending on the level of anxiety or frustration the poet possesses during the writing of the first draft of the poem, it may be necessary to deflate some of the exasperation by taking three deep breaths each time a very dark image captures the imagination. Pilates are also a good way to calm down and get rid of stress.

Poems of sheer ire must be filled with onomatopoeias to illustrate the explosive nature of the fury. However, avoid repetitions and redundancies. I will tell you right now that you will not get any sympathy from me.

By all means use as many similes as you please. Make sure that the meter is just right. Rile up but keep the flow. Use symbolism sparingly. Now if during your pre-write, free write or brainstorming session you realize that whatever it was that made you angry is not such a big deal after all, then write a poem to the contraire. And if my suggestions aggravated you more then please do not write a poem about me. I was just trying to help.