Submissions by fishead
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
A Tear for Birds and Mountains
I waken in the morning as a glorious sun is dawning.
I lie there full aware of sounds around me.
I thrill to Magpies scolding, to Bluejays loudly holding
That the sun will soon be blazing high without me.
The Robins seeking crickets, the Warblers in the thickets
All are singing: Oh, how great to be alive!
I know the Trout are waiting; but I lie there cogitating.
On the depths of nature's music do I thrive.
As the Morning Dove are cooing, from the sleeping bag I'm moving
And I dress and leave the tent to face the day.
Then, what a...
I lie there full aware of sounds around me.
I thrill to Magpies scolding, to Bluejays loudly holding
That the sun will soon be blazing high without me.
The Robins seeking crickets, the Warblers in the thickets
All are singing: Oh, how great to be alive!
I know the Trout are waiting; but I lie there cogitating.
On the depths of nature's music do I thrive.
As the Morning Dove are cooing, from the sleeping bag I'm moving
And I dress and leave the tent to face the day.
Then, what a...
170 reads
1 Comment
Garden Within The Child
Behind the house, sloping down to the creek
Lies the rocky, almost flat expanse of weeds and mud,
Two houses wide by three deep - the house is small.
A spade in the shed is waiting - the oldest son not ready;
First spade - then weed - then fish.
The Buckies are running - seeds grow well over Buckies.
Cool breezes, gentle with the smell of spring,
Cool not my heart - heavy as the rocks amid the weeds.
The rocks grow among the greens,
flooded by warmth from the sun.
My heart grows in its garden, choked by its own weeds,
flooded by...
Lies the rocky, almost flat expanse of weeds and mud,
Two houses wide by three deep - the house is small.
A spade in the shed is waiting - the oldest son not ready;
First spade - then weed - then fish.
The Buckies are running - seeds grow well over Buckies.
Cool breezes, gentle with the smell of spring,
Cool not my heart - heavy as the rocks amid the weeds.
The rocks grow among the greens,
flooded by warmth from the sun.
My heart grows in its garden, choked by its own weeds,
flooded by...
160 reads
1 Comment
To The North Pond: REQUIESCAT IN PACE (or: After Cremation I Go Swimming)
You saw me first, nary three feet tall,
A broken fish rod in my hand,
A wee scared lad who had answered the call
To explore your waters and land.
I've travelled since then to many a shore,
From Ontario's wilderness,
To the Rockies where snow driven waters roar,
To the Great Smokies timelessness.
I've fished the high mountains, plateaus and deep valleys,
Fished the waters from salty to clear,
Always searching for corners in pristine alleys,
Where my life could stand still without fear.
Yes, fear is the word and, my God,...
A broken fish rod in my hand,
A wee scared lad who had answered the call
To explore your waters and land.
I've travelled since then to many a shore,
From Ontario's wilderness,
To the Rockies where snow driven waters roar,
To the Great Smokies timelessness.
I've fished the high mountains, plateaus and deep valleys,
Fished the waters from salty to clear,
Always searching for corners in pristine alleys,
Where my life could stand still without fear.
Yes, fear is the word and, my God,...
226 reads
4 Comments
Time
What is time? From where does it come?
To where does it go? The concept whirls around me
like an eddy in my favorite trout stream.
I see a particularly graceful swirl...
a May fly on the water travels down the pool
to feed a waiting rainbow; but no, the time is wrong --
cross currents intercept its travel and plans
for happy meal forestalled, the hungry trout retreats.
The swirl of time blends quickly
with another space. An image flashes up-- GOD!
Such a smile I have not seen since…when?
Where were we when we could both...
To where does it go? The concept whirls around me
like an eddy in my favorite trout stream.
I see a particularly graceful swirl...
a May fly on the water travels down the pool
to feed a waiting rainbow; but no, the time is wrong --
cross currents intercept its travel and plans
for happy meal forestalled, the hungry trout retreats.
The swirl of time blends quickly
with another space. An image flashes up-- GOD!
Such a smile I have not seen since…when?
Where were we when we could both...
198 reads
2 Comments
Tranquility - Reality
The mountains rise before my eyes
Like a magnet they draw me near
To a quiet brook in a shady nook
With a cabin and big eyed deer
To a house in the trees with the birds and the bees
And a loving mate to cheer.
But as sure as the Sun over cold has won
This vision sharp and clear
Will fade to the truth, that savage truth,
Which I recognize and fear.
The meadows blend, the Aspens bend,
The mountains disappear;
For forces fall, with sledge and maul,
This vision now to queer.
The reality of life, you see, ...
Like a magnet they draw me near
To a quiet brook in a shady nook
With a cabin and big eyed deer
To a house in the trees with the birds and the bees
And a loving mate to cheer.
But as sure as the Sun over cold has won
This vision sharp and clear
Will fade to the truth, that savage truth,
Which I recognize and fear.
The meadows blend, the Aspens bend,
The mountains disappear;
For forces fall, with sledge and maul,
This vision now to queer.
The reality of life, you see, ...
200 reads
2 Comments
Insignificance…or… The Moon Is My Measure
I am to the Moon
as the Moon is to the Earth
and all the Planets of our Sun
and all the Suns of our Universe
and all their Planets
and all their Moons
But I am Me
and that is All
I need to be.
as the Moon is to the Earth
and all the Planets of our Sun
and all the Suns of our Universe
and all their Planets
and all their Moons
But I am Me
and that is All
I need to be.
209 reads
0 Comments
Surreal Expectations -- December 1989
The legacy of the more affluent few
who have attained their goals
atop a mountain of weeping flesh
The dreams of our Young
too young to have yet had their dreams
ground into the mud of life under the
heavy boot of a tyrannical mother
or an incest prone father
The hope of the Black
who has not yet been tarnished
by the bitter sting of the WASP
The beginning of a new life for the women
who have finally been vomitted
from the guts of the oppressive male
The end of the Gay Man's fear
the...
who have attained their goals
atop a mountain of weeping flesh
The dreams of our Young
too young to have yet had their dreams
ground into the mud of life under the
heavy boot of a tyrannical mother
or an incest prone father
The hope of the Black
who has not yet been tarnished
by the bitter sting of the WASP
The beginning of a new life for the women
who have finally been vomitted
from the guts of the oppressive male
The end of the Gay Man's fear
the...
174 reads
0 Comments
Gifts From Our Higher Power
Permission to feel what we have to feel –
Pain that’s been buried becoming real;
Strength to do what we have to do –
Courage to fear and then carry through;
Tears to cry when we must cry –
Grief uncovered – released to die;
Freedom to laugh when we want to laugh –
Joy inspired on our behalf;
Memory to bank the Good and the Sad –
Judgment to treasure
Our Joys and be Glad......
Pain that’s been buried becoming real;
Strength to do what we have to do –
Courage to fear and then carry through;
Tears to cry when we must cry –
Grief uncovered – released to die;
Freedom to laugh when we want to laugh –
Joy inspired on our behalf;
Memory to bank the Good and the Sad –
Judgment to treasure
Our Joys and be Glad......
242 reads
0 Comments
Hope
Please stop the world, I'm trying to get off.
I've tried so hard to live a normal life.
But every turn leads on to sharper strife
And every tear erodes a deeper trough.
The way of life has caused me long to scoff
The righteousness so shallow yet so rife
Which cuts the harried person like a knife
And causes him his self esteem to doff.
I've found a little hope, a few new friends
Whose quiet presence helps to make amends,
To turn around this sense of emptiness
And break away the bar of loneliness.
Please, let the world go...
I've tried so hard to live a normal life.
But every turn leads on to sharper strife
And every tear erodes a deeper trough.
The way of life has caused me long to scoff
The righteousness so shallow yet so rife
Which cuts the harried person like a knife
And causes him his self esteem to doff.
I've found a little hope, a few new friends
Whose quiet presence helps to make amends,
To turn around this sense of emptiness
And break away the bar of loneliness.
Please, let the world go...
159 reads
0 Comments
Ivanhoe's England
When men were men and
women were appendages
of their man's importance.
When Jew was second
to the Christian England.
When the masses were illiterate
bow carrying poor.
When horse came before rider;
When the mace and ax were not considered
cruel and unusual punishment.
When anything done in the name of God
was just.
When the end justified the means.
Was it so different then than now?
women were appendages
of their man's importance.
When Jew was second
to the Christian England.
When the masses were illiterate
bow carrying poor.
When horse came before rider;
When the mace and ax were not considered
cruel and unusual punishment.
When anything done in the name of God
was just.
When the end justified the means.
Was it so different then than now?
133 reads
0 Comments
Man-Woman
Woman knows She has the power.
In her - life forms and grows -
Is nurtured - loved -
Blossoms in her energy
To its own power.
Man believes He has the power.
He plants his seed in her
Just as farmer plants
The seed in earth.
The seed grows in the earth
And becomes great.
The earth is still the earth.
Man is Ego -
Strong - Possessive.
Woman is Gentleness-
Compassion - Love .
In her - life forms and grows -
Is nurtured - loved -
Blossoms in her energy
To its own power.
Man believes He has the power.
He plants his seed in her
Just as farmer plants
The seed in earth.
The seed grows in the earth
And becomes great.
The earth is still the earth.
Man is Ego -
Strong - Possessive.
Woman is Gentleness-
Compassion - Love .
168 reads
0 Comments
Not Guilty
For thirty years the shit of guilt piled high
And a bitter wife was adding more each day.
My workplace brimmed with wrenching bitterness
That added even more than I can say.
The children did unwittingly their part.
They could not understand the searing need
To fly away to safe and sane abode,
To wash away the smelly, filthy load.
And now, again, I face the same offensive state,
The need to prove myself…Worthy…
Of trust, of love and respect.
Why must I work, every time we meet,
To prove that I can be trusted?
You say...
And a bitter wife was adding more each day.
My workplace brimmed with wrenching bitterness
That added even more than I can say.
The children did unwittingly their part.
They could not understand the searing need
To fly away to safe and sane abode,
To wash away the smelly, filthy load.
And now, again, I face the same offensive state,
The need to prove myself…Worthy…
Of trust, of love and respect.
Why must I work, every time we meet,
To prove that I can be trusted?
You say...
161 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by fishead