My love
said to my love
I am here.
Be with me,
and fan the flames
of true existence.
My Love Said to My Love
Reply
Category Archives: Wisdom
Naked
Naked we come into this world and
Naked we go out,
And In spite of all
Our coverings,
Little do we
Control or know
Of consequence,
Except with out a doubt
For our behaviour.
Did you Hear ?
Did you hear
Leonard Cohen died
His family, and his lovers
by his side.
Did you hear
Leonard Cohen died.
The music and the words won’t be quite
so gravelly
deep.
Did you hear
Leonard Cohen died.
Won’t be long before Irving and Abraham
Are by his side.
Did you hear
Leonard Cohen died,
Discarded mask
And costume that he wore,
To slip behind a curtain.
Did you hear
Leonard Cohen died.
A village and a nation sighed.
Did you hear
That last
First
soft breath open:
Go by brooks love
Where fish stare,
Go by brooks love
I will pass there.
Boatman’s Comtemplation
The boatman sits
In the bright sun
Wearing a tall black hat.
Crouched over
He plays
His stringed oar mandolin.
He stands,
stretching his thin
White clothed frame.
Smoothing a greying beard,
And taking off his hat,
Reverently
He contemplates both
Grace and the grave,
And all the islands,
And the shores across the way.
Then he deftly sits again
to play,
The new melodic moments
Eternal
In the day.
Young Hemingway
Young Hemingway,
His new grown beard still black,
And rough,
Walks between
The cars
with an empty paper cup,
Acting tough,
And just before
he would
Have gotten paid,
He turns away,
And waves his arms
In circles to the sky,
Saying
Enough is enough.
Leave Me
Who has said to death,
Go and leave me
For a season.
Let me rest easy.
You are a shirt
Blue and white
Or black
That will go
to Goodwill;
You are
wrinkled papers
and other things
Folded waiting
in the pockets
of time;
And we must make a
New start in
This latter time,
We must have the patience,
And be willing to say :
Leave me for
a season,
As a coursing
Resolute
Heart,
fresh in new thought.
The Boatman Ages
The boatman’s black hair
has grown long
And his beard a peppered grey
His body has grown thin and older
But he still plays
His oar turned mandolin
and keeps his many golden secrets
as he sits and moves across the
shore.
Hemingway Mimes
Hemingway
In a toque and white
Beard
Doing pantomimes
In the air, looking up
And smiling;
He’s gone beyond
Even the simplest
Of words …
To meaning,
On Mother’s day
The Boatman Sits Peacefully
The boatman
Sits peacefully
Cross legged
On the shore,
Strumming
Strings
Looking both
Left and right
with his
Golden eyes
Aflame.
Golden Eyes
The boatman ‘s
Eyes in fact
are sparkling
Once again ;
no longer dark.
It was an intentional
And wholehearted act
of charity.
PWChaltas 