By Literary Means

Slipping into ellipsis

The caesura stirs

Periapsides converge

Then

Merge

Oological

Yolkish claims

Inanity birthed

In feathered frame

Fading fast the nether glade

Until

There is that sudden absence

A primitive cursory preemption

Stifling

The energies

Into

Prosiopesis

…the ice covets the skin.

Outtakes From the Block File (Shaping Sounds)

I've been out of it the past few days.  I haven't had the time to really focus on much of anything, and writing happens to fall into this space.  However, as luck would have it, I still had a few words, Perimeter, Radii, Swelling and clay.  So from the last of the most recent session, here is the last outtake from the Block File. 

Perimeter’s

Expanding

With every

Stretch

Circumference’s

Swelling

With all

Within

Diameter

Radii

Side to side

Symmetrical

Mound of clay

Forming

Asymmetrical

Sounds

Anger

Held in check

By foreign objects

Grasped by hand

Solution;

To the puzzling,

Equations of soul

Shut it down

Flip the switch

No, which, up, out

Dissolve

This acuteness

Of obtusely

Framed

Formulae

Happy Thanksgiving

Well, I hope everyone is getting ready for a hopefully pleasant day with friends and family.  I hope everyone is anticipating the feast at hand, some Turkey, of course, sweet potato pie, with marshmallows for sure, some type of vegetable, corn bread or biscuits perhaps, some dressing and all though I can not for it, I know most enjoy their cranberry sauce so I'll included it too.

Anyhow, just whipped this piece up, kind of all over the place, but think I tied it together nicely midway through.  Anyways, enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving.

And for those who do not celebrate this holiday, celebrate life in your own way, as one should each and every day, where giving thanks should, of course, accompany.

A BIT OF A DIFFERENT KIND OF THANKSGIVING PRAYER

We hurt the ones we love,

Yet love the ones we hurt

Primal beast within

Suppressed desires clawing out

A variety of intention unearthed

We dream of life

Yet live in dream

We hold high the standards of the day

Yet the days are standards in themselves

We speak with tongues,

When one language would do

Higher the spirit resists its flight

The mightier the pen grows in its might

Holding back, tension mounts

And from here, plots amass in count

Rigid bylines aptly grieve

Over directions too hard to read

Soft in sections, not in all

Yet biology in and of itself,

Has sectioned each of us extremely well,

Back and forth the flag does flow

Under cloudy cover its stars do blow

Flapping frenetic in the wind

Caring little for the air that’s thin

Shining proud all it bears

Caring only for the colors that it wears

Thanksgiving—for so many things

Home, Family, Country, God

Though reign supreme, on this day of giving thanks

As we bow our heads this very day,

Before a table built by man,

And all his many ancestors,

That labored in condition and sacrifice

To make possible,

All the every fruit we share tonight

Thanksgiving,

For all that is, for all that was

For all the futures distant/near,

We pay homage and give thanks

For the gift of living out each day

And relishing in the every incongruity it brings

Those that makes us who we are

Those that show us who we were

Those that show us who we can be

Happy Thanksgiving

   

Outtake From the Block Files (Masquerader)

Didn't really have the time to write poetry today, so I'll revisit the Outtakes once again.

Masquerade

Illusions

Conquistadors

Of the metaphysical

Vouch for thee

Macabre

Daughters

Of the dancing appellation

Courting

Tomorrow’s rapture

Cloaked vixens

Feverishly pick

Cherrie-blossoms

Along the banks

Of frigid cricks

Removal of the veil

Reveals Neighbors that you know—

Yet never again will see the same 

Number of the Beast (Heart/Spirit/Art)

It's another Tuesday, and we all know what that means?  Yep, it's Open Link Night over at  D'Verse, stop on by for some amazing  artistry by all the great poets that submit their work.  And while you're there, share  one of your own.  It's a great time for anyone who likes to write or read poetry.

Moonstones rubbed for inspiration

Platonic solids textures make

As ideation coincides

With the golden section of                               your mind

Creator

Intellect

Soul

One

Two

Three

Silence escapes a nervous void

With a mesmerizing tonal gaze,

Each vowel bends in me,

An enshrinement of consonancy

Before the hallowed harp doth play

I’m hearing sounds of primacy,  

 Voicing visions debasing me, of all I believed I knew.

It’s as if she’d been granted a gifted tongue—

To speak the words of Malachim

Four

Five

Six

Shifting shapes of angles blend to form

As matter, elements and bodies mix

As conversation eclipses time

Mudras vast beset my eyes

As winter nears

For the first in many years

It does appear

That Demeter, before her trip

Made preparations for

Nourishment

7, 8, 9

The universe and its qualities,

The constituents of the world

Knowing what I do know now

The Decad is the first number to need a second part

Ten.  Fingers-Thumbs.

…and so spins the wheel

When you’re near

I feel the meaning of

All the gifts of touch

Provided by

 Tetraktys

With love.