Delsol

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Delsol
Clearwater Poet
Posts: 22
Joined: Tue Dec 18, 2001 12:01 am
Location: Miami, FL
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Delsol

Post by Delsol » Fri Oct 25, 2002 10:47 pm

<center>Poems by Delsol</center>

<a name="#index">Table of Contents: </a>

<a href="#one"> It's All the Same to Me </a>
<a href="#two"> Master's Smile </a>
<a href="#three"> Disbelief </a>
<a href="#four"> Mouth of Columbia </a>
<a href="#five"> one of mine </a>
<a href="#six"> Stomach Ache </a>
<a href="#seven"> Saundra </a>
<a href="#eight"> Epistolary Garden </a>
<a href="#nine"> My Woodlands </a>
<a href="#ten"> Anima </a>
<a href="#eleven"> A few French flavors </a>
<a href="#twelve"> Tea </a>
<a href="#thirteen"> In Music </a>
<a href="#fourteen"> tunnel vision </a>
<a href="#fifteen"> Old Wetsuits </a>
<a href="#sixteen"> Trifles </a>
<a href="#seventeen"> Spin Me Again </a>
<a href="#eighteen"> I Have no use for Words </a>
<a href="#nineteen"> The Spirit Wants </a>
<a href="#twenty"> dead bird </a>
<a href="#twenty one"> Mascara </a>
<a href="#twenty two"> Deep Blue John </a>
<a href="#twenty three"> You Never Listen </a>
<a href="#twenty four"> Janis </a>
<a href="#twenty five"> It All the Same to Me </a>
<a href="#twenty six"> Loving On the Cusp </a>
<a href="#twenty seven"> A New Form </a>
<a href="#twenty eight"> It Writes Itself Upon Me </a>
<a href="#twenty nine"> Beautifully Transparent </a>
<a href="#thirty"> The Well is Dry </a>
<a href="#thirty one"> Partial Silence </a>
<a href="#thirty two"> I Sleep in Shades of Ochre </a>
<a href="#thirty three"> Another Wave </a>
<a href="#thirty four"> Origami Woman </a>

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Delsol
Clearwater Poet
Posts: 22
Joined: Tue Dec 18, 2001 12:01 am
Location: Miami, FL
Contact:

Delsol

Post by Delsol » Wed Oct 30, 2002 10:14 am

Poems rescued from cold storage:

<a name="#one"> It's All the Same to Me </a>

Life curtsied low, left a rose –
strolling past, I watched it die.
Petals do conceal their thorns;
but I know flowers lie.

Death bowed for me, left a weed –
deliberately, I took the bait.
Ugly roots display the truth;
there’s honesty in hate.

Yet, life or death, it matters not -
each needs the buzzing bee.
Plants thriving here or dying there;
it’s all the same to me.
<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#two"> Master's Smile </a>

His eyes uphold a universe;
my Master’s face in dreamscapes -
spreading love with smiles instead of hands.

Unbearably bright, he beams elation;
visage crinkling in bliss - and I tumble!
Rising in laughter, too happy to see.

No one dies in Master’s gaze,
nor ages, becomes ill or pounds the ground with
selfish fists, screaming “Dear Lord what next?”

For there is no earth in His domain, and
tears are remembered with gay amusement;
tiny drops of God that once wet our cheeks.

His smile never says ‘I love you’ -
there is no ‘I’ nor ‘you’ within this view;
buoyantly aware he shares, “We ARE love!”

And I hear his smile louder than thought;
above familial good-byes and friendly praise,
breathlessly listening in tune.

Oh, His eyes reflect Reality!
My Master’s face in dreamscapes -
spreading love with smiles instead of hands.
<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#three"> Disbelief </a>

I felt You as I fought from the womb,
barely formed, stunned to silence.
You warned me of a hard life,
but I didn’t believe You.

I heard You spew hatred from my
own mother’s lips, teeth bared,
eyes soaked with blatant loathing -
but I didn’t believe You then, either.

You appeared as mean children,
dirty little hands, teasing, mocking –
pointing out my shyness, throwing stones.
Did You think Your costume clever?

You’ve tripped me many times,
laughed as I landed on unsteady feet -
daring me to cry as I hissed in anger,
an indignant cat; unconvinced.

I recognized You in my darkest hours
when fear and blackness loomed,
threatening to drown me in confusion,
but even then I knew it was all a lie.

My tail wags though You beat me,
for each curse is but a test –
I believe only in Your boundless love;
and learn from all the rest.
<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#four"> Mouth of Columbia </a>

He says he prefers rivers;

Spirit gurgling swiftly
o’er rocks, channeling life
through valleys; ever moving –

claims we are all like that.

But I see only murky waters -
shadowed like my weaker parts,
too soft and quick to hold.

“Give me the ocean!” I cry,
“Torrential waves of joyful tears -
salted Souls too rich for earth!

Beyond each gorge is sea, you know -
and all your streams rush to it.”

Image
<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#five"> one of mine </a>

imagine my surprise,
expecting mirrors

in his eyes;

likeness of Self –
the one of We

staggering similarity.

yet peering in i saw
not one soul, but All

beyond mere reflection;
clear windows to Creation

blinded by beauty, I knew -

all are That.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>
<a name="#six"> Stomach Ache </a>

My stomach aches today -
I forgot Him in the ice-cream;

gorged, delighting in
chocolate and bananas -

carnal; like sex without love,
I smiled but consumed nothing.

Yes, it hurts a little -
not upset by what it ate;
but by what I didn’t.

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#seven"> Saundra </a>

My Medusa, not of marble,
but mortal woman, grieved.

birthing statues for babies,
children sculpting themselves from stone.

She glimpsed formations in reflection,
perhaps it was her eye.

Had my skills been formed,
I might have gouged it out,

freed her. Instead
I carved my own.

ORIGINAL

saundra

she was my medusa;

not of marble, but a living thing -
mortal woman, grieved.

birthing statues for babies,
she glimpsed formations in reflection;
children sculpting selves from stone.

perhaps it was the eye.

had my skills been formed,
i might have gouged it out, freed her.

instead -

i carved my own.

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#eight"> Epistolary Garden </a>

Seeds fall from fingertips
in elegant pen strokes, planting
thoughts on cottoned paper
that blossom in our eyes.

Saplings drift beyond each page
taking root in fertile soil.
An epistolary garden grows;
love blooms in scented ink.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#nine"> My Woodlands </a>

They have yet to wake;
low forests in my forehead -

somnolent willows,
quaking aspen.

They vibrate, twitter -
unfurl 'neath shadowed sun.

Backs sway to snapping,
aright, bend then sigh again.

Slothful firs prick widened eyes;
painfully lush, we wait.

Sap flows o’er fertile mind;
still, my woodlands sleep.

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#ten"> Anima </a>

A white anemone;
my flush-blushed anima
blooms delicately -

expectant, forsaken,
unlike audacious rose.

Open, it trembles - dissects
countless cloven leaves;

seeks Self in whorls of petals.

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#eleven"> A few French flavors </a>

Vinaigrette

amorous garlic
makes love with bashful basil
on a lettuce bed

Fromage

exultant goat cheese
pungently acquaints us with
the feet of angels

Cassoulet

five meats stewed in fat
molesting lazy legumes
climax on the tongue

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twelve"> Tea </a>

jai

chai patchouli spice
amber scented sweetness
spirit steeped
milked-orange honey

earl grey, pearly lady
sipping perfume

oo la la! oolong-long
slurping ecstasy
asian born epiphany

tea

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#thirteen"> In Music </a>

In b flats and discords,
He strums, vibrates, resonates;
courts me in haunting melodies.

He weeps through piano keys,
whispers my name with each refrain;
pleads for devotion, I hear Him.

Each bar is nearly madness,
too poignant for sensitive ears;
hopeful Lovers - merged in music.

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#fourteen"> tunnel vision </a>

he stands perplexed
seeking big pictures
in tiny portraits

i watch from afar
as vision once grand
turns towards tunnels

elfin shadows cast
myopic epiphanies -
eclipsing cosmic acuity

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#fifteen"> Old Wetsuits </a>

God and guru sit on a shelf

amidst paintballs, snow shoes and snorkels.

Dust gatherers;

junk from borrowed lives.

Men and their hobbies - easy collectibles.

But even His novelty dims when

Sufi season ends -

and the yogi's robe looks

remarkably like that old wetsuit

that never seemed to fit.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#sixteen"> Trifles </a>

What joy! What joy!

You ask for a token -
it departs on wings, effortlessly,
in song filled zephyrs
born from a nest in my heart.

Gratefully, it flies nearer -
soaring in purposeful bliss.

Who am I to deny trifles,
when He deemed you fit for life?

Take from me please, take more!
Impatient doves await.

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#seventeen"> Spin Me Again </a>

How silly You are,
making me spin like a dancer -
twirling in air.

You playful rascal,
putting up rainbows
forcing me to follow,

lifting my skirt in circles
tickling dimpled knees
with a joyful breeze.

I am laughing upwards
in bubbles, out of breath,
too dizzy to stop.

How fun to be Your plaything -
Oh please, spin me again!

Image

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#eighteen"> I Have no use for Words </a>

I have no use for words -
small drones that fail to carry
the capaciousness of Love.

This voice is merely breath -
a heady exhale drifting on.

My phrases sigh in silence -
divinely done before begun.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#nineteen"> The Spirit Wants </a>

How cleverly You hid
my essence in the blood.
Hunger, lust, fatigue;
each pain felt more than You.

I consumed a thousand meals
sought a dozen lovers,
slept through countless hours;
never once felt satisfied.

So fused within the flesh was I
this body seemed my master;
now I know that spirit wants -
it’s Love that I've been after.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty"> dead bird </a>

even the mountain’s beauty
brings no solace -
i scan the hills for soft earth,
a place to dig, bury

i am a dead bird,
suddenly without song -
killed in flight against a cliff
while surfing blue skies

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty one"> Mascara </a>

Image
Her raccooned eyes ferret charms
in hedonistic streams of gin.

Lissome paws swat at unweened young.

Their Hunger thwarts her hunting,
and reminds her of her Own.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty two"> Deep Blue John </a>

Daddy got a seaman’s bag,
he ain’t been back, Jack.
Got a parcel in the post;
puzzle box from Africa -
no clues, deep blue John.

Pretty shiny, damned blue eyes
made my momma cry.
Wish I was a red head -
trade me for some gin.
Make it better, bros.

Ten years past, got a name;
bought it from a judge.
Married well, been to Hell
found God in grass, not sea -
Deep blue John, remember me.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty three"> You Never Listen </a>

“You never listen!” he’d declare,
and I with proud, indignant air -
would wonder what he said.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty four"> Janis </a>

Feathered and smiling,
she guffaws as cameras click.
Blind photographers pause.
Eyes flash, I see it then, her pain.

A voice that bleeds,
transfused, I drink her, feel her
in my Janis place, where words
too dire for speech are moaned.

Wailing, flailing, we undulate
in misery, Southern Comfort
a kind neighbor in the hell
of childhood dis-belong.

Mother never heard my woes,
but Janis sang them all.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty five"> It All the Same to Me </a>

Life curtseyed low, left a rose –
strolling past, I watched it die.
Petals do conceal their thorns;
but I know flowers lie.

Death bowed for me, left a weed –
deliberately, I took the bait.
Ugly roots display the truth;
there’s honesty in hate.

Yet, life or death, it matters not -
each needs the buzzing bee.
Plants thriving here or dying there;
it’s all the same to me.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty six"> Loving On the Cusp </a>

My love is a lion crab
living sideways -
through sand and jungle,
leaving tracks others find strange.

When the tide is low
he crafts a den ‘neath the rocks -
mutes his pelt in brackish waters,
refusing sustenance, my company.

But when the moon is high,
he wakes from oceanic reverie -
seeks warm hearted feline frolics,
and the Scorpio in me.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty seven"> A New Form </a>

How small it was;
the ember thinking itself a grand fire
though no flames boasted vast heights.
Contented, it smoldered long.

A zephyr, without purpose,
changed its course on passing by;
It stoked the cinder just below
as if to test its might.

A gentle wind, a tiny spark;
one could engulf the other - yet
together they created much;
a new form amidst their wonder.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty eight"> It Writes Itself Upon Me </a>

With worn spine and heathered binding,
it writes itself upon me -
words replace my fingerprints
with marks of more than ink.

With a cover of uncounted colors,
it intoxicates my vision –
passages supplant my eyes;
tattooed insights for each lid.

Each page I turn dispels to dust,
and clouds the air I breathe in –
yet magic flows through every mite;
my lungs transform in bliss.

Pure wizardry, this book exists!
It reads me now; as I read it.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#twenty nine"> Beautifully Transparent </a>

Your tender man makes me weep.
His eyes flay me with serenity.

Oh Lord, protect me from such beauty.
It makes me tremble when it's late.

He sees right through me.
We are too beautifully transparent.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#thirty"> The Well is Dry </a>

At last, the well is dry.
Walls, once damp and green
expose their flinted lining;
rain dares not puddle near.

A thirsty bird dips his beak
in a reservoir of air;
then flies away as if surprised -
to find no comfort there.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#thirty one"> Partial Silence </a>

How cruel to tell a lady
that her broken heart must beat -
Better to let it pause with his,
than to bear the partial silence.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#thirty two"> I Sleep in Shades of Ochre </a>

My days are hectic,
filled with demands, yet
I feel You constantly;
holding my heart,
helping me to see.

At night, my pillow
becomes Your lap.
I lay my head upon a
silken robe, inviting
You to speak, dream.

Visions surface in
opaque shades,
penetrating the darkness;
waves of love caressing
me to sleep (awake).

I am a blank page.
You are my Master.
My pillow is white, but...
I sleep in shades of ochre.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#thirty three"> Another Wave </a>

Cradled in a tidepool,
I think, sleep, then dream;
commune with distant memories.

Pressure overwhelms -
I become the sea that holds me
and cannot be confined.

Defying nature's rhythm,
I break early from the womb;
a flood eager for release.

God's breath - my first epiphany!
I am not the endless ocean...
just another wave resurfacing.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

<a name="#thirty four"> Origami Woman </a>

Folding back into script,
my carapace clamps down.

A stenciled mind
mistaken for flesh, folds.

I am but an origami woman -
bent into pleasing patterns.

Word shapes, parchment
rhythms; pick a premise.

<hr>
<a href="#index">Return to Table of Contents :arrow: </a>
<hr>

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GoddessErika
In-a-Sense Lost
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Joined: Wed Oct 20, 2004 11:53 pm
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Post by GoddessErika » Fri Aug 19, 2005 9:02 pm

<center>Edit complete 8/19/2005 ~GoddessErika</center>

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heinzs
The Fat Cat
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Joined: Tue Dec 18, 2001 12:01 am
Tag line: Do no harm
Location: Novato, CA
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Post by heinzs » Sat Apr 21, 2007 5:15 pm

alphabetizing
**************************************
An' it harm none, do what ye will. Blessed Be.
Image
***************************************
My Poet's Page Archive | Topics I've started

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gordy
Windfall Prophet
Posts: 1459
Joined: Thu Apr 18, 2002 12:01 am
Location: HAMILTON OHIO

Re: Delsol

Post by gordy » Fri Nov 21, 2008 1:35 pm

Epistolary Garden

Seeds fall from fingertips
in elegant pen strokes, planting
thoughts on cottoned paper
that blossom in our eyes.

Saplings drift beyond each page
taking root in fertile soil.
An epistolary garden grows;
love blooms in scented ink.


still my favorite poem on the pages!!! :thumbsup:
-----------------------------
Image

My Jesus hung out with thieves and sluts and liars, which Jesus do you worship?

---Todd Agnew


Perfection is my enemy
Procrastination is his cohort
Persistence is my sword

---Gordy

User avatar
heinzs
The Fat Cat
Posts: 8300
Joined: Tue Dec 18, 2001 12:01 am
Tag line: Do no harm
Location: Novato, CA
Contact:

Re: Delsol

Post by heinzs » Fri Nov 21, 2008 7:16 pm

The html links no longer work, but at least the poems are there for anyone with the desire to look for them.

I sincerely miss Shannon and Erika... (and so many others...)
**************************************
An' it harm none, do what ye will. Blessed Be.
Image
***************************************
My Poet's Page Archive | Topics I've started

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