Random posts by random folks
Would you help me, my friend?
I’ve had quite enough
for I’m stuck in between
the diamonds and rough.
I could have asked you
to give me a hand
but in fear I declined
since you’d understand.
Please help me, I beg you,
my pride to efface
for I’m stuck in between
this rock and hard place
Just another song
with another story
that I try to forget,
a song I’ve heard
a thousand times before
and a thousand times
since,
but sometimes
I hear him sing
those words again,
when they sneak through
the FM waves,
and I smile at
the fading memories
I have of you
It’s a day later than last week so we ran with it. Episode #2 of the Unnecessary Podcast is up and running on the following sites:
On this first “Stumbling Saturday” we talk about coffee and stumble into random discussions about music.
Are we right? Are we wrong? Who knows?
(If anyone is interested in reading their poetry on the program (or having it read, as mentioned towards the end), feel free to inquire on the contact page or email cdanders91@gmail.com )
Hope you enjoy the episode. Have a good weekend! — Clint
The morning in mourning
did cry in despair
since someone like you
out of dreams couldn’t fare
for
someone like you was all that I need,
I lied to myself but tried to believe . . .
The day broke, no fanfare,
but bright shone the sun
on you and your smile
for the music begun
for
someone like you was all that I need,
but my heart and my mind were not agreed . . .
In words that were spoken
it all became clear
that someone like you
was a thought that I feared
for
someone like you–it simply won’t do—
the place in my heart was empty but knew . . .
Those words were revealing
and it wouldn’t seem
appropriate to
walk away from a dream
for
someone like you would never make do
for someone like me who loves only you.
The small bird whistles
“Cheap!” with feet perched on the wire —
a different power
* * * * *
Sing me the songs sang
sullenly and scarce, show me
with words and a tune
* * * * *
The manic crow laughed
at those who were wrong, no thought
given to menus
Even by the candle’s light
those things which were dim
became dimmer, flickering in shadows
cast on dark walls,
the perception I had of you
dancing without music
to all the beats I’ve missed
in life–
what ballet goes on
without clear resolution?
Yet I watch, the dancing hypnotic,
the silence telling
It feels like Friday afternoon
but not just
any Friday–
it’s the Friday in the fall
when I was younger,
the ever-so-slight smell
of recently cut grass
lingers in the air
as does the question of
whether it will need cutting again
before the first snowfall,
the cool air is new
but not out of place or unwelcome,
there’s no football game
for the disbanded pep band
to play at
yet I feel my fingers drumming
in beat with tunes
committed to memory,
there’s a happy feeling
I can’t explain
and wouldn’t want to,
there’s a foreboding feeling too
that I would happily
throw to the slightly
cool wind.
Sometimes I get caught up
in those old feelings
and leave the memories
to rot.
So
I’ll take a step back
before jumping ahead,
it’s only Thursday, after all.
a most unwilling
suspension of disbelief;
a danse, macabre
* * * * *
shadows of hands and
wrists disappear before cold
incandescent bulbs
* * * * *
the mirror laughs at
stoic poses, then itself
lively reposes
* * * * *
not a stranger, not
a friend, just a curious
distortion watching
I never looked directly
into the sun’s bright rays
to fully appreciate
the splendor as I gaze
at the brushstrokes on the land
and the painted heavens–
a feeling unparalleled,
unmatched in its pleasance.
It’s not that I’ll pay no mind
when our paths intersect
for I’ll still see the splendor
all around, indirect,
and you will still be beauty
and pleasance as you are,
and often I will ponder
of that brilliant star
Here is an excellent take on the question “How is silence conveyed in poetry?”
Enjoy the post and give the Yellow Brick Avenue a follow!
Here for but a moment– an inhale, a comma, a pause,
Silent Silence
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