Patterned Thoughts - Prying up Scattered Pieces of Poetry

Something in the lacklustre light, the chai tea seeping into my marrow, the morning lethargy of this coffee shop, transforms this dawning day into a poetry and "thoughts organization" day.

I was going to transform this one into a story, because it has a melancholy aspect that I suspect might make a tragic tale with, perhaps, a heartwarming (or devastating) end.

Rain pitter-pats down the roof
A faucet taps an equal tune
In a room where a carefully constrained fire coughed with the old man
Sitting in the rocking seat
Each dying of consumption.
Trophies mounted along log walls
Glazed eyes glaring down
Matching his now vacant stare
Remembering times both wild and strong, once unlike that old man
Staring there, past nowhere
Just sitting, listening now
Watching the dying fire.

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A floaty composition. Not so much a story as a dreamy compilation of words.



A dirge of footprints, en passant
Sorrow-filled, awash with want
Lamenting distant days and daydreams
Tie your hands tight to balloon strings
And sail away

Through stormy days and sunbreaks
Past sleet and rain and jet planes
Still racing on
Passing people holding hands, sharing smiles
Then waving, waving

Down below the city’s lights
Are fireflies
Mimicking the heavens
Dreaming stars in silken radiance
Floating on

Bursting bubbles, shifting sands
Falling falling
To fields of goldenrod and thistledown
Drifting round
Taxi
Beneath cherry blossoms and midnight moon
A dance, a song, a distant tune

(unedited, but finished)

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Yet the leaves drift with the wind

Iron bleeds in the soil here
A distant fear's great debts
Bought and paid in a crimson age
A soldier's high priced gift

Are they but men, our heroes dear?
Serving freedom you blithely wear
Iron seeps in the soil here
Yet the leaves drift with the wind

(unfinished - two incomplete stanzas)

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These last few days, my muse has been overactive in artistic contemplation. However, despite the absurd influx of ideas, everything has been stymied in a frenzy of life activity, disorganization, an over-enthused escalation of summer plans that has asphyxiated my attention to detail. Here are some things I wanted to write about: legos and the creative process; competition and its evolution; the great romance of the seas; Esther; and the Night Circus; Gambits and stories (Notebook, Ocean's Eleven, Fantastic Mr. Fox). I think there were a few more, even, but ideas often fall by the wayside. I'm certain I've captured at least a few in a journaling capacity.