Major P's Poems

Liberation

Helpless
in dependence underground
streams cry joyously
of freedom,
Falling further into the earth.

How we wandered
reached stifled
dreams
(the finish line...
we hardly dared
to hope -)

Our immortal, molten
masters
glow down
here. We rush
to meet them.

 

Paper Crown

he wore a crown of paper,
not of proper laurel leaf --
for he was no King
no conquering hero, he,
but a man of whiteboards and calculations.

he was not old,
but his head bore a question mark,
soft and pale.
the children loved him for his strength.
some girls dreamed,
but would never admit

that it broke their hearts
to watch him smile
and wear a paper crown

 

Hello! I have not been here for a long time. But now I am back. ^_^

Ohio Swamp

I smell the Ohio swamp in this shower.
Shampoos grows in hotel bathrooms like local flowers -
here they are clover white, in Wilkes-Barre they're soft lilac,
in Hubbard a daisy blue.
They sprout up in baskets to be picked, and at night
I ease my way under the hot foreign bulb-lit rain
to get soft again after a day of blacktop, white-line,
swerve in shards of glass jetset from the grey mass above me,
and I stand there breathing and getting soft under the hard water,
and I bathe in nectar.

In the steam of the night I cool at the window
and hear the bullfrogs shuffle in their pond across the street -
an hour ago, I saw the giant red sun
set over wet housing developments near the highway.
I breathe in coal, and rubber, and the trees,
and ignition, and the hood cooling in the parking lot,

and a boy knocks at the screen door in my mind
to smile with me, and to tell me who I'd miss
if I left and stayed away and never went back.

 

Una

so much spent an been
few unfound
unfurled, unbound
so much said an seen an done
how fixed the crowd
an listless one

 

both of your latest were wonderful... especially -ohio swamp- such wonderful imagery. took me away for few! enjoyed mucho

 

I liked Paper Crown a lot! Such a gem.

 

Climbing the Stairs with Laundry

How clean,
the white shirt laundered
after breakfast,

after sitting awhile,
after reading the paper;
How airy

is its light, its weight
it's here,
nesting on my arm

As I climb
the stairs,
New against my skin,

breathing morning,
awake,
Unstarched,

Unfolded.

 

Climbing the stairs made me smile, thanks! Airy indeed. Lovely.

 

A Near Time

He is married,
a father of three,
a strong-jawed modern Man
with a mind to do right
by all involved.

In the spirit of things,
I do not suffer;
when he is gone,
I can say I never really believed.
But when he is near,

I do my best
to intrigue -

And now you tell me
he said he is worried
about me
that he thinks I don't
get enough sleep
that he wishes
I'd take it easy;

and everything I see
is tinged
with a heartbeat.

 

i love your way with words.good job

 

Song of the Red Desert

so much spent an been
few unfound
unfurled, unbound
so much said an seen an done
how fixed the crowd
an listless one

As I proceeded on my way
across the windy desert day,
the sweeping cinder of the sky
enlisted me to have a try

in leaving sounds and sands behind.
In haste I moved, upset, unkind,
unbending in my will to please
these new and swirling entities.

Then to my face my daughter cried,
"Oh, Papa, do not leave us -
the strafing winds will seize us -"

I looked upon her face and smiled.
Said, to my only living child,
"Forgive me, please, I cannot stay;
the desert winds will have their way,

and I am but a glove to time."
I turned from her, began to climb
the dune that sheltered tents and pans,
and camels tethered to the sands,

where I had lived for twenty years.
And lest the dry winds see me,
I let no moisture leave me.

Now shifting to the present tense,
I tell this story, ages hence,
far from that flight of sound and form,
where all my sighs will do no harm,

and I am well removed from me
as I existed in that sea
of shifting gloss, of sun-bleached wind.
But know that time has got me pinned:

I never reached the shifting line
that heaven urged me on to find.
I cannot go back to my friends
or family to make amends,

for when I saw I was misled,
by then too far I'd drifted-
and all the dunes were shifted -

Though skies excised me from the sand,
I never reached the promised land;
though cut I am from earth and soil,
still in the desert I must toil.

so much spent an been
few unfound
unfurled, unbound
so much saved an sought an won
how long the light
an red the sun

 

Bomb

Serendipitously, I find
the Bomb.

My word, but it is cold
Crystalline
An insect of jeweled eyes
and plastic wings,

black, and attached
to the bottom of the driver's seat.
I have found the Bomb

in my car. Here.
I start
and stop, my eyes

pinned
to the glint of yellow
Light reflected
on its thorax.

 

Bomb...frightening. I dig all of your words. They are so many, your words. And I begin to wonder maybe I'm borrowing your words, because you own them so well.

May energy's unseen find you and guide your night, into luminous light.

 

Sake

Beckon the brick men
who've broken the pattern
of wobegone wilderness,
wicker and cloth.
Wreckin' and trickin'
will crack a neutrality;
staunch surreality
flits like a moth.

Truckin' and struttin'
along in the nothing -
a merry old time,
for a fox or a hare.
Sittin' and seconds
are free for the taking
but freedom will flouder
for sake of the flail.

A midweight competitor
swore in the hall:
"A cancer on reticence,
Pox on it all!"

 

hi there
this is the best you have posted i feel
it engulfs the person with such
a reality in which the human
becomes accustomed to live...
and needing to be free from it all...
lovely piece lovenpeace from saff.

 

To My Intelligent Friend

It's not so much the spark in your eye
as the twist in your lip
when you smile and know
what to say, and how to say it -

How you flash, a leopard
of cyclones and silence broken,
that first shout
in a hall of echoes - Visible,
bright, and made more wise
as you realize your elequence
is not for good.

I should kiss you if I would,
were we four eyes and not forty -
but oh! - How I am proud
that as many ears have heard,
reckoned, learned.
I smile, for I must wait.
I anticipate, and I know
that four eyes in the dark
will say more than two mouths
ever could.


--

 

"I anticipate, and I know
that four eyes in the dark
will say more than two mouths
ever could."

That part was my favorite. Very awesome, and true.

 

Lull

It's the quiet of the ocean,
in between waves -

When the moon,
in stripes, barely ripples;
when shells' roaring yields
to that blanket calm
of woven sand, and a sky so close
that blinking leaves a visible trail.

It's then they fade, the rushing
and breathing, stewing
and seething elements.
In one voice they sink into the sand,
the inhalation before a verse.

Such a Still on this water,
gathering for another expression
of Might -
should -
Will -
Until the buildup is irresistable,
and a crest breaks - crashes
in on itself,
and sound -

Sharp water;
beneath, rocks clack
in protest and resettle.

 

Very talented. It's easy to see you observe everything around you and take it in so well. I'm envious of your ability to transform these images into such beautiful words.

 

Haha, you all are being so nice... thanks very much, you are quite generous... but could you please offer some constructive crit? Don't hold back, I'm here to improve ^_^.