Sunset à la Turner

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Soft fire

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Composition

As if I knew how to orchestrate

my own death by stretching the lifeline

until it snapped due north of nowhere

all things once dear are lost beyond reach

nothing on offer beyond the pale

reasonable epiphanic truth

–––––––––– –––––––

deepbreathing through nightlights and darkdays

chaoscontrolling like a necromancer of the soul

the blooddrops of the hummingsong heartkeys

nothingless pervading the wavespace inbetween neutrinos

to hit the silence, the absolute braincracking silence

to vibrate the music anew

perhaps on a bluemoonday

things will get better enough

to pass the baton

 

How far I've run

Look how far I've run, dad.

You always rehashed how slow I was.

You had spawned the fat kid at the back –

you hated me for that. How much you hated me.

Thirdpersoning me in my face,

setting the table for three

you, mom and sis.

If only you had noticed

the lightness of foot

the startling capacity to swerve.

What you couldn't possibly perceive

was the purpose you were giving me,

the fire you had started inside

and kindled – that rage,

that rage still burns wild, dad.

Look how far I've run

look at all the people who gave up

look now who's still running

look who's left in the dust

panting, their chest burning

by the wayside, defeat in their eyes.

It's you, dad. It's everyone else, dad.

Look, look how far I've run.

For I have never, ever stopped running.

 

Bow to no one

for him ever so humble

that lone rose given

for a lifetime of service

was the greatest gift –

he bowed to the little girl

No country for young men

"I'm fed up to the ears with old men dreaming up wars for young men to die in."

George McGovern, historian, author and US senator (1922-2012)

I couldn't trace the quote, even on QuoteInvestigator. Here is, for what it's worth, it's in the Wikiquote.

One evening, three atmospheres

Click to enlarge :)

The best parts

The best part of the day

was walking you home from school.

I was again too scared today

to jump into the pool –

every pupil mocked and riled,

except you who smiled.

You knew all about my woes

and I knew all about yours.

The best part in high school

was when I held your hand awhile.

I told you to stay cool

and made sure no one would rile.

Of course you never knew that:

you’d have hated and loved it.

We always stayed together

till we were called for dinner.

The best part of us through college

is that, though we met less often

because we had taken different subjects

and had fewer friends in common,

we still hung out in malls and called

and wrote letters as in days of old.

Our dads still told us they’d met one another,

And we’d say we’d plans to meet, always later.

The best part starting our new jobs

and had gone each on each coast,

we still emailed our laughs and sobs

and texted – yet started to ghost –

the other's voice lost its familiar sounds

but still we proffered to be best friends.

We weren't worried by time and space,

we had always been outside any race.

Then we had other best parts of days,

we dated and got married and had children,

we gave middle names in lieu of praise

but hushed why we chose these to christen

our kids. We tried to call but the number was void,

and emails straight to spams were destroyed.

Certainly we did dream of one another,

yet at dawn our brains didn't seem to bother.

So when we finally replied to a stray email

we decided to meet in person;

we told and listened to each other's tale

of betrayal, divorce, abortion.

Yet the worse was to come, because cancer

was eating one of us, the other anger.

This wasn't a best part in our life, we thought,

trying to ignore the knot in our throat.

But we were together, nothing else mattered.

We reminisced our best parts,

glued back sounds which had scattered;

and while we opened up our hearts

we sensed we had missed something important,

something which had always remained dormant.

It was meaningless now to resist

so we faced one another and kissed.

Sciamachy

"There are stars whose radiance is visible on Earth though they have long been extinct. There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world though they are no longer among the living. These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark. They light the way for humankind."

Attributed to Hannah Szenes, Hungarian poet, playwright and paratrooper (1921-1944).

Here's an interesting summary of her life.

Finders keepers

You’d think he is trying to flatten the entire beach

Swish-swooshing left and right and back like a flat pendulum

Or a fallen longcase clock that would defy gravity

Tirelessly penduluming the length and width and breadth

While the sun finishes his course and the moon begins hers

Only because the ocean deigns wane for a few hours

Only when those powers at bay forcing everyone home

But the odd flâneur with a keen eye for oscillations

— all of a sudden the sweeper stops because the clock clicked

Even though this may have only been his mistaken heart

Going wild over treasures which are both here and not here

But all he wants, really, isn’t finding the lost trinket

But digging the magic buried between the grains of sands.