From “Blooming,” excerpts from Sleeping Beauty

April 29, 2020  :: 0 comments

My oh so bloomy garden auteurist domain, where savored I wholesale poetic license, was far more fantastic than the famed hanging wonder of the world terraced in antiquity for a melancholy missus by her kingly spouse. Still and all I wanted the whole blooming world as my garden my luring organa garden my fata morgana garden brimming in the brightest …

Far and Near

featured in the poetry forum April 24, 2020  :: 0 comments

Wonders of the world abound
on our earthly stomping ground,
in the seven seas profound,
midst the heavens round us wound.

Images from reaches vast
by astronomers amassed
show in varicolored cast,
cosmic glories unsurpassed,

stories of the great immense,
begging questions why and whence,
scenes stelliferously dense,
bringing past to present tense.

Oh how tantalizing to
lose oneself in starry view
of galactic vision new
where a poet’s words ring true!

Tennyson’s ‘Far–Far—Away’,
penned for Music’s haunting play
with the sounds the words convey
as they whisper, swing and sway,

tells of ‘far’ from past long gone,
murmur from ‘his own life’s dawn’?
breath where ‘doors of death’ go on
through an open curtain drawn?

Whether time or space be meant,
or spacetime together bent,
still, whatever sense is lent,
far’s remote in its intent.

After sunset’s crimson blaze
we may raise a dreamy gaze
in escape from troubled days
to celestial splendors praise.

Will our search of cosmic sphere
teach us to esteem what’s here?
Oft stargazers too I fear
must look far to see the near.

editors note:

Just stop to gaze at distant star to learn that cosmic dust we are. – mh clay

Word Sounding

featured in the poetry forum January 30, 2020  :: 0 comments

The sounds of words can shake the skies
or cut an ego down to size,
when knowing sages have their say
of fitting words to seize the day,
conveying wisdom from the wise.

An avid versifier tries
through orphic craft to harmonize
with sense and lyric overlay
the sounds of words.

From inner cosmos may arise
the wordless visions word defies
that seek to find a worded way
with synesthetic interplay,
and thus in poem crystallize
the sounds of words.

editors note:

Our sound obsession… – mh clay


January 25, 2020  :: 0 comments

An Excerpt of Sleeping Beauty There was kiss me under the Golden Bough mistletoe, yes Virgil says it was gilt wholly golden, so named possibly from the clinquant tint the cut limb acquires when kept to wither glittering through a season. Was not the sun’s firelight, or a modicum thereof, supposed to radiate from this shrub gathered all in all …

Falling Off the Monkey Bars — 8

featured in the poetry forum November 21, 2019  :: 0 comments

My cat
comes in at dark
to be petted and fed—

I offer her
my life-long dilemmas.

and sleeps—

lie awake
at the night.

editors note:

How many stars shine down on us because of uncaring cosmic cats and anxious unrest in the night? – mh clay

Picking Up the Thread & Who Me?

October 13, 2019  :: 0 comments

Excerpts from Sleeping Beauty Picking Up the Thread Rumor went round and round the land and even abroad of a most beautiful sleeping princess Rosamond, as you know I was called, who was encircled by an impassable thorn thistle which prickly creeping hedge had plot-thickened year after year after year for nearly ten decades and that within that intriguing aculeate …

From Dust to Dust

featured in the poetry forum September 9, 2019  :: 0 comments

From dust to dust our lives are thrust,
while flames the candle’s brief combust.
We leave the shelter of the bay,
unmindful night will follow day,
to launch our voyage, earn a crust.

All nature seems a sage august.
In paths of promises we trust,
not weighing dreams along the way
from dust to dust.

With age comes waning wanderlust.
The mortal frame’s begun to rust.
In measured steps our scenes we play.
But even stars to death fall prey.
And yet there must be more than just
from dust to dust…

editors note:

With places to go and people to see; we’d like to last eternally. – mh clay

Always More

featured in the poetry forum June 29, 2019  :: 0 comments

A mind inquisitive will find
while looking out upon the world
that myriads of whys unwind
from raveled webs in queries whirled
by skies above and realms below.
There’s always more than we can know.

If contemplating mysteries
of life’s existence here in space
along with astro-histories
within our cosmical embrace,
the awe one feels will surely show.
There’s always more than we can know.

In famous drama by the Bard,
where Ghost is spotted ‘wondrous strange‘
by castle sentries standing guard,
mid ‘sworn to secrecy’ exchange,
says Hamlet to Horatio,
‘There’s more than you can dream to know

‘on earth in heaven, countless things
in your philosophy not taught.’
(And so begin misfortune’s slings.)
To summarize his gist of thought
in passage ever apropos:
There’s always more than we can know.

Some think that memorizing facts,
despite their changing through the years
as seen in how mankind reacts
when ruled by prejudice and fears,
amounts to understanding, though
there’s always more than we can know.

The gladiola in delight
will bloom as forces lure her on.
Bright stars o’er-sprinkle dark of night
but fade from sight with breaking dawn.
Thus Nature’s cycles come and go.
Yet there’s much more that we can know.

Vast marvels may await our gaze
beyond imagination’s ken
by polishing away the haze
to clear enlightened vision, then
shall fountains of deep wisdom flow…
There’s always more than we can know!

editors note:

Never enough, we seek more; here and after. – mh clay

Fast Asleep

May 18, 2019  :: 0 comments

Excerpts from Sleeping Beauty The princess speared her palm on the spindle cusp of the spinning spinning wheel and fell down senseless in a death-like swoon. The old crone started in alarm and tried to undo the damage the spindle prick had done but all her qualms cries pat-a-caking rock-a-bye-babying rub-a-dub-dubbing Mother Goosing ring-around-a-roseying and hey-diddle-diddling failed to arouse the …

Cosmic Calling

featured in the poetry forum April 10, 2019  :: 0 comments

The cosmos calls us when our day is done
as gazes turn above to starry spheres,
concealed in presence of the sovereign sun,
while once again the dark of night appears.

As gazes turn above to starry spheres
where reigning moonbeams serve to light the way
while once again the dark of night appears,
we muse on how what’s passing cannot stay.

Where reigning moonbeams serve to light the way,
the twinkling heavens glory in their prime.
We muse on how what’s passing cannot stay,
within a moment of illusive time.

The twinkling heavens glory in their prime,
concealed in presence of the sovereign sun,
within a moment of illusive time—
the cosmos calls us when our day is done.

editors note:

Look again at this celestial shuffle of sentiments wrapped in rhyme; it’s cosmically clever. – mh clay