Yes, all of the world is a stage my friends At least it is told what the people say From when we begin until our time ends Our too brief ride held in Sol’s sweet sway And it matters not what part we will play For as prince or pawn is roll of the die At Act I, Scene I: curtains rise: we all cry
Tonight at dVerse Frank challenges us to “is to write a poem with seven lines.” For those who want to go a further we are challenged to make it like a Chaucerian stanza/Rime Royal – is a seven-line poem in iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of ABABBCC.
And I don’t want the world to see me Cause I don’t think that they’d understand When everything’s made to be broken I just want you to know who I am “Iris” by the Goo-Goo Dolls / “City of Angels” Soundtrack
Some question my sanity year after year That I’ m not quite right is abundantly clear Stepping in and out of darkened lucidity The voices in my head are mostly a minor din But that yellow dress you wore that day did me in It was the red cape to the bull of my insanity And the voice gained control was full of hate As you stepped to me smiling sealing your fate For my mood was downright ugly And I don’t want the world to see me
I don’t deny what I’ve done to some women is sick But you weren’t like those yacht girls who fall so quick All their smiling as they think I’m at their command They dangle promises of a young love so sweet But it’s me holding their hearts, feeling their heat And then ripping it from them with my bare hand But you, you disregard all concepts of my deceiving My inner voices wondering why aren’t you leaving Never having had an experience like this firsthand ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
False yore flows from my cruel lips with ease Yards of lies with an inch of truth to please The truth a means of passage, merely a token So you yawn in my face, knowing it’s unwise And yet you laugh seeing the truth in all the lies Behind every filthy word I’ve ever spoken From you the truth shines bright and sure The lightness of your heart, ywis so pure But can I believe your heart is solid – oaken? When everything’s made to be broken
And so you survived more than just the night Even knowing down deep I may never be right For goodness knows I really didn’t give a damn If you drowned in all the tears you yield Brought on by all these damn fears I field ‘Cause you were never part of the program But you’re still here and nothing denies How I yearn for the feel of your light in my eyes But mine are the eyes of a tragedy ma’am I just want you to know who I am
<>========<> Today’s form is one of my favorites, called a Glosa.
Swearing up a blue streak The grain of his outer staff Perfectly matching my inner sculpture I weather the frothy current Tinkling down the esophageal path In a flight of carnal – carnival – carnivore joy The apparition of the newly dead bird laid to rest
I went to my office to work. On a much needed break to …
rest my eyes and
absorb some sunshine to replenish my Vitamin D stores
… my work wife and I go to the only place that is open around the immediate office area.
Until this past weekend, we have had back-to-back rainy or at minimum dreary days. This did absolutely nothing to ease to ease the cabin fever that was beginning to sink in. Another reason I was grateful when my work wife offered a ride as she was going in as well.
Let’s see… Be in a car for 40 minutes with a person I know is not sick or spend over an hour on mass transit around who knows how many strangers who either are not able to observe the at least 6ft of social distancing being asked of us while riding the subway or who simply refuse to observe. I think you can guess which path I chose to take to work.
Three weeks ago in the New York City before Covid-19 there were scant signs heralding the early spring season; not so any more.
The very first of the tulips planted annually had begun to bloom! Even better was the sight of these…
The Cherry Blossom trees had blossomed! I had not realized how much I missed seeing these annual harbingers until I saw them. For a moment it felt like a normal spring day. Then a masked person walked into view.
Still, I smiled at the reminder that THIS is what’s normal and we will get back to it soon enough.
My waters flow over her
It cleanses, refreshes
and she rises forth
an African Aphrodite
pristine in my waters.
Life springs from her merest touch
a casual toss of her hair
can coalesce into
a summer's shower
or winter's gale
Yet his still waters roil
in the tempest of his anger
I can not burn
My Adonis Nubian
his waters peak
my mountains white
I can not freeze
Within the deepest flow and ebb
of his love though I am
in the silken currents
I cannot be drowned.
Nor can my thirst
ever be quenched.