Monday, July 21, 2008
String Quartet
It is a mess at first
The bow strikes and glides across a single string and back again
The note wobbles for a moment
Then settles to a steady call
Joined then by the rocking and striated rhythms
Of another set of strings
And another
Then another
The tatters of sound assemble
Like clouds and squalls
Of a sea storm
Then silence before the storm
Slowly comes the rain
The thunder
The wind
Singing softly its message
We are awash in a sea
Of harmonies and melodies
Here it is useless to navigate
This storm will take us where it wills
Surrender is always
The best option
When accosted
By beauty
-Theo
NOTE: The local Eastern Music Festival brought four young people to play before a group I attended last week. I was inspired to write this piece after their tuning and playing.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:08 PM
|
It is a mess at first
The bow strikes and glides across a single string and back again
The note wobbles for a moment
Then settles to a steady call
Joined then by the rocking and striated rhythms
Of another set of strings
And another
Then another
The tatters of sound assemble
Like clouds and squalls
Of a sea storm
Then silence before the storm
Slowly comes the rain
The thunder
The wind
Singing softly its message
We are awash in a sea
Of harmonies and melodies
Here it is useless to navigate
This storm will take us where it wills
Surrender is always
The best option
When accosted
By beauty
-Theo
NOTE: The local Eastern Music Festival brought four young people to play before a group I attended last week. I was inspired to write this piece after their tuning and playing.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:08 PM
|
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Awarded - Arte Y Pico Award
John has been bestowing stuff again. Among the stuff he has been bestowing about the place is the Arte Y Pico Award… which he has apparently bestowed upon me:
As with all such bestow-able items, it comes with its own list of rules:
1) Pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.
2) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
3) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
4) Award-winner has to show the link of “Arte y Pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award: Arte y Pico.
So here are my selections.
- AP (Alcoholic Poet) - Here you will find RAW passion and an amazing torrent of poets images and angst. I always leave moved and often wrenched.
- Michele - The most amazing community has evolved from her games, welcome and simple hospitality. There is laughter and blogging whimsy here. Her design is simple and crisp.
- Unguarded Utterance - S. L. Corsua writes the some of my favorite poetry on the web. I am humbled by her knowledge, technique and creative power.
-intothequiet - Another Poet and prose writer worth your time. Her community of visitors is packed with talent as well. The design here appeals to be, as well and this blog is easy to navigate.
-Dena Harris - And to prove I love to laugh, I finish with Dena's blog. Dena (she is more than a "cat" writer-really) writes regular and often humorous posts about her life. Her stuff is real if a bit twisted through her creative/retentive/over structured existence.
So now. Get your mouse clicking and visit these fine cyber spaces. Be sure and tell them that they have been award this high and holy honor!
Go. What are you still here for?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:34 PM
|
John has been bestowing stuff again. Among the stuff he has been bestowing about the place is the Arte Y Pico Award… which he has apparently bestowed upon me:
As with all such bestow-able items, it comes with its own list of rules:
1) Pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.
2) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
3) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
4) Award-winner has to show the link of “Arte y Pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award: Arte y Pico.
So here are my selections.
- AP (Alcoholic Poet) - Here you will find RAW passion and an amazing torrent of poets images and angst. I always leave moved and often wrenched.
- Michele - The most amazing community has evolved from her games, welcome and simple hospitality. There is laughter and blogging whimsy here. Her design is simple and crisp.
- Unguarded Utterance - S. L. Corsua writes the some of my favorite poetry on the web. I am humbled by her knowledge, technique and creative power.
-intothequiet - Another Poet and prose writer worth your time. Her community of visitors is packed with talent as well. The design here appeals to be, as well and this blog is easy to navigate.
-Dena Harris - And to prove I love to laugh, I finish with Dena's blog. Dena (she is more than a "cat" writer-really) writes regular and often humorous posts about her life. Her stuff is real if a bit twisted through her creative/retentive/over structured existence.
So now. Get your mouse clicking and visit these fine cyber spaces. Be sure and tell them that they have been award this high and holy honor!
Go. What are you still here for?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:34 PM
|
Monday, April 14, 2008
In From the Sea
When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear
The crackle of palm fronds breaking free from the heat
The hiss of sea oats defiantly bowing inland
The whisper of sand celebrating its lofty release from gravity
The sputter of foam cascading skyward cut from wave caps
The chimes of delicate shells dancing across dunes
When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear
The prayers of ancient mariners reaching home
-Theo
The above poem is dedicated in loving memory of my grandfather who was, among many things, a sailor.
Posted by: Theophany at 1:31 PM
|
When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear
The crackle of palm fronds breaking free from the heat
The hiss of sea oats defiantly bowing inland
The whisper of sand celebrating its lofty release from gravity
The sputter of foam cascading skyward cut from wave caps
The chimes of delicate shells dancing across dunes
When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear
The prayers of ancient mariners reaching home
-Theo
The above poem is dedicated in loving memory of my grandfather who was, among many things, a sailor.
Posted by: Theophany at 1:31 PM
|
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Regret
yesterday's deeds descend on raptor's wings
talons flair and slice into my mind
tearing through the carefully constructed facade of hope
i bleed, into tomorrow
ancestral wounds reopen with vengeance
deforming logic and maiming reason
proclaiming the torment of self loathing valid
i bleed, fill with sorrow
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 8:35 PM
|
yesterday's deeds descend on raptor's wings
talons flair and slice into my mind
tearing through the carefully constructed facade of hope
i bleed, into tomorrow
ancestral wounds reopen with vengeance
deforming logic and maiming reason
proclaiming the torment of self loathing valid
i bleed, fill with sorrow
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 8:35 PM
|
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Red House Talking
heat scared twisted tin
metal remains of the shelter of generations
once marking the boundary between security and sky
seasons' harsh torments of ice and wind
once shielding mother and child and keeping
home hearths warmth within
sentinel timbers stand charred
remnants of hard taught lessons
essential knowings of word and truth
those shadows of learning that stand undaunting
proclaiming our way through life's course
holding us to right of way
paneless windows black and lost
tell of now absent eyes peering outward
watching for familiar faces and tracing memories
in winter vapor smudged glass and then speak
of curtains drawn tightly muffling the magic
giggles of life long love and randy youth.
now the boundaries of roof and wall
yield openly, freeing lives long bound here
prolific gaps grasp not even nature's breeze
but, to have it dance delight
fully resting
on my mind, heart and dream
then wafting on, free.
NOTE: I wrote this after visiting Levering Orchard in 2005.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:55 PM
|
heat scared twisted tin
metal remains of the shelter of generations
once marking the boundary between security and sky
seasons' harsh torments of ice and wind
once shielding mother and child and keeping
home hearths warmth within
sentinel timbers stand charred
remnants of hard taught lessons
essential knowings of word and truth
those shadows of learning that stand undaunting
proclaiming our way through life's course
holding us to right of way
paneless windows black and lost
tell of now absent eyes peering outward
watching for familiar faces and tracing memories
in winter vapor smudged glass and then speak
of curtains drawn tightly muffling the magic
giggles of life long love and randy youth.
now the boundaries of roof and wall
yield openly, freeing lives long bound here
prolific gaps grasp not even nature's breeze
but, to have it dance delight
fully resting
on my mind, heart and dream
then wafting on, free.
NOTE: I wrote this after visiting Levering Orchard in 2005.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:55 PM
|
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Half Way
And now I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way insane
And half way away from you.
The thought of moving own
Chills my spirit, aches my bones
I how can I live without you
How can we live as one?
Still here I am
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.
There's a half moon in the sky
Half light to drive me
Half dark to hide me
Too bright to find shelter, too dark to see my way.
I'm stopped here
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.
Half full or half empty
The thought does not matter
For I'm too thirsty for half of anything
Too parched for half measures.
Along this road
I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.
I have less than half of this life to go
A half life gone that seems too long
Half life left seems too much
So, I go
The half way back to you
Turning round to you
Half way back is better
Than all the way home.
Half way to you
Half way alone
Half way, moving all the way
Away to you.
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 3:15 PM
|
And now I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way insane
And half way away from you.
The thought of moving own
Chills my spirit, aches my bones
I how can I live without you
How can we live as one?
Still here I am
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.
There's a half moon in the sky
Half light to drive me
Half dark to hide me
Too bright to find shelter, too dark to see my way.
I'm stopped here
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.
Half full or half empty
The thought does not matter
For I'm too thirsty for half of anything
Too parched for half measures.
Along this road
I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.
I have less than half of this life to go
A half life gone that seems too long
Half life left seems too much
So, I go
The half way back to you
Turning round to you
Half way back is better
Than all the way home.
Half way to you
Half way alone
Half way, moving all the way
Away to you.
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 3:15 PM
|
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Minerva's Memories
in these pretty things
these broken fragments
of our dreams, hopes, courage
the light does sparkle
a bit
in these pretty things
these shattered shards
of our faith, ideas, will
the shimmers do run
on us
in these pretty things
these scattered particles
of you, me, us
the flickers of memories
are born
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 2:32 PM
|
in these pretty things
these broken fragments
of our dreams, hopes, courage
the light does sparkle
a bit
in these pretty things
these shattered shards
of our faith, ideas, will
the shimmers do run
on us
in these pretty things
these scattered particles
of you, me, us
the flickers of memories
are born
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 2:32 PM
|
Friday, September 14, 2007
Memorial
Often shouted words loose meaning
Repetition, redundancy, familiarity
Turn does the phrase
Into sentiment void of power.
What shall we call these things
Courage, commitment, dedication, belief
Pallor the soul
To sigh and ache?
Can we speak of heroes anymore?
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 9:31 AM
|
Often shouted words loose meaning
Repetition, redundancy, familiarity
Turn does the phrase
Into sentiment void of power.
What shall we call these things
Courage, commitment, dedication, belief
Pallor the soul
To sigh and ache?
Can we speak of heroes anymore?
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 9:31 AM
|
Monday, August 20, 2007
Michele
A dispenser of joy
Full
Dancing fervent spins
Inviting
Lives lined with smiles
A creator of playgrounds
Uncluttered
Swirling merry-go-rounds
Unfurling
Laughter, laughing out loud
A hostess of light
Brilliant
Casting crisp shadows
Defining
Undefiled contrast, beauty
-Theo
Happy Birthday!! (Yesterday) Thank you for all you do here, Michele
Posted by: Theophany at 1:21 PM
|
A dispenser of joy
Full
Dancing fervent spins
Inviting
Lives lined with smiles
A creator of playgrounds
Uncluttered
Swirling merry-go-rounds
Unfurling
Laughter, laughing out loud
A hostess of light
Brilliant
Casting crisp shadows
Defining
Undefiled contrast, beauty
-Theo
Happy Birthday!! (Yesterday) Thank you for all you do here, Michele
Posted by: Theophany at 1:21 PM
|
Friday, August 17, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Old Sheets and Old Dreams
In my bed
time
remembering
the lines, creases, cravings
gone
the stains, pools, smells
faded
the longings, needs, desires
remain
i wish i could forget
-Theo
Obviously, I've been over at Alcoholic Poet's, again.
Posted by: Theophany at 5:52 PM
|
In my bed
time
remembering
the lines, creases, cravings
gone
the stains, pools, smells
faded
the longings, needs, desires
remain
i wish i could forget
-Theo
Obviously, I've been over at Alcoholic Poet's, again.
Posted by: Theophany at 5:52 PM
|
Friday, August 10, 2007
Mundane
My day tomorrow will consist of mowing the lawn and getting a hair cut. After these tasks, I will be tired and no doubt spend the rest of the day watching some TV and/or apathetically clicking my way through blogs.
I cannot express how desperate I am for some passionate encounter to bring some wonderfully distracting zip to my existence. Is this what life has come to?
Mundane Me
There is a dampness
A cold, mildewed deposit
Resting on me
Testing me
It clings and twists
Entwining, cellular piercings
Into my self
Loathing me
I want to be free of
this...me
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 4:29 PM
|
My day tomorrow will consist of mowing the lawn and getting a hair cut. After these tasks, I will be tired and no doubt spend the rest of the day watching some TV and/or apathetically clicking my way through blogs.
I cannot express how desperate I am for some passionate encounter to bring some wonderfully distracting zip to my existence. Is this what life has come to?
Mundane Me
There is a dampness
A cold, mildewed deposit
Resting on me
Testing me
It clings and twists
Entwining, cellular piercings
Into my self
Loathing me
I want to be free of
this...me
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 4:29 PM
|
Monday, August 06, 2007
For You
There are those that we know
Seldom doubting
Always seeking
Fatigued much in such
Matters of faith and being
Yet
Those are the ones
Souls of our understanding
Often touching us
While discovering their
Own truth
So
We continue believing within
Often doubting
Never looking
Energized much in such
Details of living and hope
Together
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 7:44 PM
|
There are those that we know
Seldom doubting
Always seeking
Fatigued much in such
Matters of faith and being
Yet
Those are the ones
Souls of our understanding
Often touching us
While discovering their
Own truth
So
We continue believing within
Often doubting
Never looking
Energized much in such
Details of living and hope
Together
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 7:44 PM
|
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
Questionable Conviction
The pounding of shallow theology imposes unbearable constraints
Christian rocker
Leaves hanging, strung out
Entwined by discordant beliefs and strangling doctrine
Sweet screamer
Hung here
Ravens of sorrow tear
Impending wounds bleed
Inevitable
Complexity troubles certainty
Endlessly taunting while seconds tick
A-Cross tender, gaping places and broken faiths
Nailed eternally
To
Timbers and sinew of
Discontent
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 9:12 PM
|
The pounding of shallow theology imposes unbearable constraints
Christian rocker
Leaves hanging, strung out
Entwined by discordant beliefs and strangling doctrine
Sweet screamer
Hung here
Ravens of sorrow tear
Impending wounds bleed
Inevitable
Complexity troubles certainty
Endlessly taunting while seconds tick
A-Cross tender, gaping places and broken faiths
Nailed eternally
To
Timbers and sinew of
Discontent
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 9:12 PM
|
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Unrefined Contact
Recumbent desires and cumbersome guilt affords us little in the way of meaning. You shouldn't look at me that way, if you don't want my delicate demands. I can't say what ferment swells and requisitions our future from clasped hands. Nor do I dare impart a wish to want more than fanciful moments, minuscule ticks off our kindness. Your seemly essence troubles us.
Is that enough?
Hello?
Why won't you listen to us anymore?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:07 PM
|
Recumbent desires and cumbersome guilt affords us little in the way of meaning. You shouldn't look at me that way, if you don't want my delicate demands. I can't say what ferment swells and requisitions our future from clasped hands. Nor do I dare impart a wish to want more than fanciful moments, minuscule ticks off our kindness. Your seemly essence troubles us.
Is that enough?
Hello?
Why won't you listen to us anymore?
Posted by: Theophany at 8:07 PM
|
Monday, July 16, 2007
Rubber
such terrestrial protection
affords us small and withered
members
lost and incased
lonely and more
despairing
-Theo
Inspired by Alcoholic Poet
Posted by: Theophany at 9:47 AM
|
such terrestrial protection
affords us small and withered
members
lost and incased
lonely and more
despairing
-Theo
Inspired by Alcoholic Poet
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 9:47 AM
|
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Vigilant
The insane rhythm of self destruction is easy
Natural
Instinctual swirls in the sand
Traced by the hand of an ancient
Child
The vigilant discord of self care is demanding
Foreign
Learned rubbing on the tombstones
Scrapped by the gnarled fingers of youthful
Maturity
We keep what we have only with vigilance
-Theo
Today is the eight year anniversary of my recovery from drug addiction.
Posted by: Theophany at 7:45 PM
|
The insane rhythm of self destruction is easy
Natural
Instinctual swirls in the sand
Traced by the hand of an ancient
Child
The vigilant discord of self care is demanding
Foreign
Learned rubbing on the tombstones
Scrapped by the gnarled fingers of youthful
Maturity
We keep what we have only with vigilance
-Theo
Today is the eight year anniversary of my recovery from drug addiction.
Posted by: Theophany at 7:45 PM
|
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Viscous
Viscosity is one of those wonderful words that sounds and speaks much like it means to me. It doesn't flip off the tongue. It requires more effort, more intent to pronounce viscosity.
Depression always makes me think of trying to move through life dressed in a wet, wool blanket. Every effort is increased and life has an unrelenting cool dampness about it. You can't just try harder and get through. It accompanies you when you move and when you give up.
Those times when life is tuned less intensely, but still something resists you are well described as moments of high viscosity. Some relationships are viscous.
Our Viscosity
Viscous interactions
Entwined emotions
Caught
I would want to leave
I would desire relief
Released
Such effort defines
Our togetherness
Lost
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 8:08 PM
|
Viscosity is one of those wonderful words that sounds and speaks much like it means to me. It doesn't flip off the tongue. It requires more effort, more intent to pronounce viscosity.
Depression always makes me think of trying to move through life dressed in a wet, wool blanket. Every effort is increased and life has an unrelenting cool dampness about it. You can't just try harder and get through. It accompanies you when you move and when you give up.
Those times when life is tuned less intensely, but still something resists you are well described as moments of high viscosity. Some relationships are viscous.
Our Viscosity
Viscous interactions
Entwined emotions
Caught
I would want to leave
I would desire relief
Released
Such effort defines
Our togetherness
Lost
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 8:08 PM
|
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Attacked
Humming tunes
Amid
Casual wanderings
Bouncing in rhythm
Freedom holds laughter
Levity in motion
Descending shadows
Falling
Guilt dampened shroud
Shame and worry bring
Anxiety's encasement
Disoriented movement an awkward
Stumbling
Bludgeoning blows of self doubt
Confusion, chaos' melody
Sings
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 10:52 AM
|
Humming tunes
Amid
Casual wanderings
Bouncing in rhythm
Freedom holds laughter
Levity in motion
Descending shadows
Falling
Guilt dampened shroud
Shame and worry bring
Anxiety's encasement
Disoriented movement an awkward
Stumbling
Bludgeoning blows of self doubt
Confusion, chaos' melody
Sings
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 10:52 AM
|
Monday, November 20, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
Half
And now I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way insane
And half way, away from you.
The thought of moving own
Chills my spirit, aches my bones
How can I live without you
How can we live as one?
Still here I am
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.
There's a half moon in the sky
Half light to drive me
Half dark to hide me
Too bright to find shelter, too dark to see my way.
I'm stopped here
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.
Half full or half empty
The thought does not matter
For I'm too thirsty for half of anything
Too parched for half measures.
Along this road
I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.
I have less than half of this life to go
A half life gone that seems too long
Half life left seems too much
So, I go
The half way back to you
Turning round to you
Half way back is better
Than all the way home.
Half way to you
Half way alone
Half way, moving all the way
Away, to you.
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 9:59 AM
|
And now I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way insane
And half way, away from you.
The thought of moving own
Chills my spirit, aches my bones
How can I live without you
How can we live as one?
Still here I am
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.
There's a half moon in the sky
Half light to drive me
Half dark to hide me
Too bright to find shelter, too dark to see my way.
I'm stopped here
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.
Half full or half empty
The thought does not matter
For I'm too thirsty for half of anything
Too parched for half measures.
Along this road
I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.
I have less than half of this life to go
A half life gone that seems too long
Half life left seems too much
So, I go
The half way back to you
Turning round to you
Half way back is better
Than all the way home.
Half way to you
Half way alone
Half way, moving all the way
Away, to you.
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 9:59 AM
|
Friday, October 06, 2006
Refracted
When mired in angst and loneliness
Leaden are the limbs
That would reach out
Groping for release
Then hollow are laughter and smiles
Lifted on the swirling breeze
Becoming mocking tributes
Deepening the bog
Talk of beauty when standing among decay is painful.
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 3:11 PM
|
When mired in angst and loneliness
Leaden are the limbs
That would reach out
Groping for release
Then hollow are laughter and smiles
Lifted on the swirling breeze
Becoming mocking tributes
Deepening the bog
Talk of beauty when standing among decay is painful.
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 3:11 PM
|
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Dreams
The memory of you, a wisp of desire known through twilight's veil, holds me gently as the morning comes. Thank you for crossing over to my world, my daylight of despair. I will cling to the faint melodies of you, my muse, and know a small measure of hope.
Today.
Posted by: Theophany at 6:31 AM
|
The memory of you, a wisp of desire known through twilight's veil, holds me gently as the morning comes. Thank you for crossing over to my world, my daylight of despair. I will cling to the faint melodies of you, my muse, and know a small measure of hope.
Today.
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 6:31 AM
|
Monday, September 25, 2006
THE FILLING
ever left, turn right
through light's mangled night
straight ahead, back again
my pain filled longing
within my soul's maze
i wander endlessly dazed
lost and alone
helpless to atone
when will you free me
when can i be
rested and peaceful
freed from disease
when will my eyes dry
finish their crying
when will this longing
cease wanting for dieing
time swirls in a chaos
demanding my loss
tearing the shear fabric
so wonderfully tragic
i grasp with each breath
i scream as a wraith
arms taunt in despair
"please, freedom draw near."
broken, empty i fall
with one last gasp i call
"take me. you've won
no more i'm undone...undone.'
a mere shell i remain
empty of all, even pain
broken shards of the potter's
failed craft, shattered shards
then the filling begins
a dance from within
swirling dervish rising
bright eyes radiant shining
clarity comes waltzing
beauty's voice again singing
hope settles within me
like a gift i stand free
what powerful happenings
that waits for my falling
to kindly bequeath life
again
-theo
Posted by: Theophany at 9:19 AM
|
ever left, turn right
through light's mangled night
straight ahead, back again
my pain filled longing
within my soul's maze
i wander endlessly dazed
lost and alone
helpless to atone
when will you free me
when can i be
rested and peaceful
freed from disease
when will my eyes dry
finish their crying
when will this longing
cease wanting for dieing
time swirls in a chaos
demanding my loss
tearing the shear fabric
so wonderfully tragic
i grasp with each breath
i scream as a wraith
arms taunt in despair
"please, freedom draw near."
broken, empty i fall
with one last gasp i call
"take me. you've won
no more i'm undone...undone.'
a mere shell i remain
empty of all, even pain
broken shards of the potter's
failed craft, shattered shards
then the filling begins
a dance from within
swirling dervish rising
bright eyes radiant shining
clarity comes waltzing
beauty's voice again singing
hope settles within me
like a gift i stand free
what powerful happenings
that waits for my falling
to kindly bequeath life
again
-theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 9:19 AM
|
Monday, September 18, 2006
Inspired
While reading today over at Unguarded Utterance, I was reminded of...
Those thoughts, those ideas that I regularly had while in an altered state, the thoughts that mixed such wisdom and needs to produce profundity, and yet in the light of the next morn seemed trite and empty.
Such is the way of malformed ideas when put to the test of reason and beauty, in whose mix of detail and chaos is something worth consuming, with a twist of lemon!
Cheers!
Posted by: Theophany at 5:51 PM
|
While reading today over at Unguarded Utterance, I was reminded of...
Those thoughts, those ideas that I regularly had while in an altered state, the thoughts that mixed such wisdom and needs to produce profundity, and yet in the light of the next morn seemed trite and empty.
Such is the way of malformed ideas when put to the test of reason and beauty, in whose mix of detail and chaos is something worth consuming, with a twist of lemon!
Cheers!
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 5:51 PM
|
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Remembering
I'm posting here a poem I wrote 9-12-2001. May the love that life intends prevail for ALL people...
Eagles Weep
Eagles weep the dust of fury
Glory hangs in a breeze filled sky
Trumpets howl forth silence
Sightless eyes gaze on dust and bone
Paradox rains upon sweltering souls
Discordant melodies find no harmonic tone
Dreams of romantic horror in daylight come
Sleeping giants slumber on
Restrained talons long to tear
Flesh and bone.
Retribution wails
Bridled shouts from viper lips
Broken tongues speechless, still
This chaos, grief born questions
Here lies the doubt, fear, taking root
Anger and pain beget rage
Tearing the shroud, death.
Then, blasting through heart's cage
Cries, screams and eternal rage
Why! Demands our soul
Why?
Defiant voices entreat
Into this realm of despair
Touching sinew of exposed care
Lifting corpse-like remains
Our Hope stands, lifted hands
In a speechless voice the whisper comes
Gentle words rock our perilous stance
Words carefully spoken, deeply heard
Faith, Hope, Love the specter calls
Glorious birds might find their songs
Heavy banners be lifted by the gentlest of breeze
The clarion call of brass resound, proclaim
Life has come and will remain
September 12, 2001
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 8:32 PM
|
I'm posting here a poem I wrote 9-12-2001. May the love that life intends prevail for ALL people...
Eagles Weep
Eagles weep the dust of fury
Glory hangs in a breeze filled sky
Trumpets howl forth silence
Sightless eyes gaze on dust and bone
Paradox rains upon sweltering souls
Discordant melodies find no harmonic tone
Dreams of romantic horror in daylight come
Sleeping giants slumber on
Restrained talons long to tear
Flesh and bone.
Retribution wails
Bridled shouts from viper lips
Broken tongues speechless, still
This chaos, grief born questions
Here lies the doubt, fear, taking root
Anger and pain beget rage
Tearing the shroud, death.
Then, blasting through heart's cage
Cries, screams and eternal rage
Why! Demands our soul
Why?
Defiant voices entreat
Into this realm of despair
Touching sinew of exposed care
Lifting corpse-like remains
Our Hope stands, lifted hands
In a speechless voice the whisper comes
Gentle words rock our perilous stance
Words carefully spoken, deeply heard
Faith, Hope, Love the specter calls
Glorious birds might find their songs
Heavy banners be lifted by the gentlest of breeze
The clarion call of brass resound, proclaim
Life has come and will remain
September 12, 2001
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 8:32 PM
|
Thursday, September 07, 2006
What Does This Mean To You?
Sometimes the light shines so brilliantly that it hurts, but oh the pleasure of it!!
NOTE: I came upon this thought inside my head recently in the most random of moments. I pondered what it might mean, and now I ask you, "What do the words above mean to you?"
Posted by: Theophany at 7:18 PM
|
Sometimes the light shines so brilliantly that it hurts, but oh the pleasure of it!!
NOTE: I came upon this thought inside my head recently in the most random of moments. I pondered what it might mean, and now I ask you, "What do the words above mean to you?"
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 7:18 PM
|
Monday, August 28, 2006
Self Exploration
The way is familiar enough, out the door of a momentary failure - a simple mistake, or the gaping hole created by willful wrong - and I'm on the path. I meander along backward, passing any number of re-membered piles of oozing lessons of my own darkness and creation. I can stop anywhere here, be it to ache as I cozy up to yesterday's wrong turn, or further down, perhaps I can settle into a reunion with my more youthful meanderings through dishonesty and self abuse. Not today. I have another destination.
Beyond the frequently known, seething moments of discord and despair that so willingly surge forward with any brief taste of guilt, shame and remorse, I trudge on. I am off today beyond these proverbial creatures of my past. I march to the very precipice of my being, and look out into the abyss of the unknown. There lies my way. There on a pencil thin ledge winding down into the obscurity of, of, of what I do not know...
I descend. If you are of courageous heart and tolerant spirit, wait. I may return.
NOTES: This week of travel and Conference, have exposed me to some timely truths that require my consideration. In my adulthood, there seem to remain some remnants of severe immaturity (I am not speaking of child-like playfulness, for I hope never to lose that, but childishness) that must be addressed. The words above strike out from the emotions and fears I feel as I begin the journey to address those tenacious remnants.
Posted by: Theophany at 6:19 PM
|
The way is familiar enough, out the door of a momentary failure - a simple mistake, or the gaping hole created by willful wrong - and I'm on the path. I meander along backward, passing any number of re-membered piles of oozing lessons of my own darkness and creation. I can stop anywhere here, be it to ache as I cozy up to yesterday's wrong turn, or further down, perhaps I can settle into a reunion with my more youthful meanderings through dishonesty and self abuse. Not today. I have another destination.
Beyond the frequently known, seething moments of discord and despair that so willingly surge forward with any brief taste of guilt, shame and remorse, I trudge on. I am off today beyond these proverbial creatures of my past. I march to the very precipice of my being, and look out into the abyss of the unknown. There lies my way. There on a pencil thin ledge winding down into the obscurity of, of, of what I do not know...
I descend. If you are of courageous heart and tolerant spirit, wait. I may return.
NOTES: This week of travel and Conference, have exposed me to some timely truths that require my consideration. In my adulthood, there seem to remain some remnants of severe immaturity (I am not speaking of child-like playfulness, for I hope never to lose that, but childishness) that must be addressed. The words above strike out from the emotions and fears I feel as I begin the journey to address those tenacious remnants.
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 6:19 PM
|
Monday, August 14, 2006
Still Waters
placid ripples radiate
out from the stone's wake
it falls into silence
downward
from a nameless toss it came
flying in a moment
failing to break gravity's spell
downward
descending the abyss
parting waters of primeval ways
stirring the reservoir of rage
downward
what life lies beneath
what longings to be stirred
what hopes become reacquainted
down there
a small pebble settles on deepest sediment
nests into it's new dark home
and something ancient, disturbed, moves
down there.
-Theo
Notes: Years ago, a young teen that I knew well and loved, reached the point of dispair and hopelessness that washes away all vitality and will for life. She took her own life. I wrote this to remember her.
Posted by: Theophany at 9:32 AM
|
placid ripples radiate
out from the stone's wake
it falls into silence
downward
from a nameless toss it came
flying in a moment
failing to break gravity's spell
downward
descending the abyss
parting waters of primeval ways
stirring the reservoir of rage
downward
what life lies beneath
what longings to be stirred
what hopes become reacquainted
down there
a small pebble settles on deepest sediment
nests into it's new dark home
and something ancient, disturbed, moves
down there.
-Theo
Notes: Years ago, a young teen that I knew well and loved, reached the point of dispair and hopelessness that washes away all vitality and will for life. She took her own life. I wrote this to remember her.
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 9:32 AM
|
Monday, July 31, 2006
Life's Stage
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears or ease my pain
see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
i see your faces, swoons and frowns
watching fixed, puppet take puppet down
they are not real, your thoughts remind
while i silently die here behind
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
with human hate they dance for you
showing the worst the we can do
superb, delight, encore' your shouts
so once more the toys come out
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
the lights are gone, empty isles now
i fall broken wondering how
these hands will heal, gather strength again
so, you can live through my gift, friend
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man
-Theo
Notes: Much of my life I have pleased others. The roll I chose in my childhood was to be the entertaining, helpful child. Being the youngest of three in a dysfunctional family (is that redundant?), I developed quite the skill of performing for the approval of others. This behavior followed me into adulthood, and soon became unhealthy. When situations demanded me to sacrifice my own well being to appease others, I would often yield. The result was self-inflicted destruction. I simply did not care for myself emotionally, sometimes to the point of not even knowing what I truly wanted or needed. I performed. The poem above came from the awareness of this struggle.
Posted by: Theophany at 8:07 PM
|
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears or ease my pain
see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
i see your faces, swoons and frowns
watching fixed, puppet take puppet down
they are not real, your thoughts remind
while i silently die here behind
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
with human hate they dance for you
showing the worst the we can do
superb, delight, encore' your shouts
so once more the toys come out
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
the lights are gone, empty isles now
i fall broken wondering how
these hands will heal, gather strength again
so, you can live through my gift, friend
pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain
see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man
-Theo
Notes: Much of my life I have pleased others. The roll I chose in my childhood was to be the entertaining, helpful child. Being the youngest of three in a dysfunctional family (is that redundant?), I developed quite the skill of performing for the approval of others. This behavior followed me into adulthood, and soon became unhealthy. When situations demanded me to sacrifice my own well being to appease others, I would often yield. The result was self-inflicted destruction. I simply did not care for myself emotionally, sometimes to the point of not even knowing what I truly wanted or needed. I performed. The poem above came from the awareness of this struggle.
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 8:07 PM
|
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Even Though
even though
our hands have never touched
skin on skin, fingers playing gentle games
our eyes have never looked
upon the crystal hues of longing
our lips never met
in the passions of a lover's embrace
our breath, never mixed
in the words of the early dawn
even though
i know you
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 10:20 PM
|
even though
our hands have never touched
skin on skin, fingers playing gentle games
our eyes have never looked
upon the crystal hues of longing
our lips never met
in the passions of a lover's embrace
our breath, never mixed
in the words of the early dawn
even though
i know you
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 10:20 PM
|
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
More Than Shadows
When dreams become more than wisps of shadows
Caressing latent longings to the surface
Streams of want filling cavities now cracked, neglected
Then, awareness cocks its head
Points a boney finger into mental darkness
Searching for something more than faint tendrils of artistry
Shadows become more
Dreams as real as the loins of entwined lovers
Lusts materialize
Upon unkempt linens, covering no secrets
I awake to the dawn dripping
Searching again, wanting more
When shadows become more than whispers
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 9:50 PM
|
When dreams become more than wisps of shadows
Caressing latent longings to the surface
Streams of want filling cavities now cracked, neglected
Then, awareness cocks its head
Points a boney finger into mental darkness
Searching for something more than faint tendrils of artistry
Shadows become more
Dreams as real as the loins of entwined lovers
Lusts materialize
Upon unkempt linens, covering no secrets
I awake to the dawn dripping
Searching again, wanting more
When shadows become more than whispers
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 9:50 PM
|
Monday, June 05, 2006
Friday, May 12, 2006
Amusing Awareness
Why do you remain
There
A brush by my world
Radiating
Passion against my senses
Leaving
Me longing for more?
Your voice sang today
Mournful
Lyrics of loss and hope
Ascending
Tones of fluttering union
Scattered
Eternally within my mind
Haunting.
-Theo
Posted by: Theophany at 6:38 AM
|
Why do you remain
There
A brush by my world
Radiating
Passion against my senses
Leaving
Me longing for more?
Your voice sang today
Mournful
Lyrics of loss and hope
Ascending
Tones of fluttering union
Scattered
Eternally within my mind
Haunting.
-Theo
Labels: poetry
Posted by: Theophany at 6:38 AM
|