Categories
Ars Poetica Poems

The Clock

I don’t know if I have
That much time left
There’s an urgency
Thumping on my breast
I don’t feel well
And they don’t know why
Their test inconclusive
Their guesses they belie
The truth that’s inevitable
“No one here get out alive”
So what do I do with myself
For what can I strive?
To peck and hen out words
To make another poem?
For if I don’t complete these thoughts
No one will ever know ’em.
My epic will fall apart
My legacy forgotten
No one can read my writing
These seed will never be sewn
Yet in a panic
Poetic will fail
These themes ill conceived
Will just flop and flail
So what do I do
When there’s money needs be made
To care for my family
If I don’t see the next day.
Do I close up this book
And say goodbye to this dream?
Or do I take my last breath
Trying to say what I mean?

Categories
2021 Ars Poetica Poems

Self-deprecation

What radical shapes
Can these lines take
To blow the minds
Of the critical judge?
My rhythms and beats
Would soon hit delete
If held to the academic lens.
My forms seem standard
My themes unenlightened
The topics of today
Shaped by cruelty.
My meter 4/4
My couplets I adore
My birds and trees
Are all that come from me.
What would they have me do
To stand out from you?
The poet deemed better
Than the rest?
What duress must I endure
What heartbreak must I cure
To be considered the
Greatest of this age?
Some sage for the annals
Whose words fill these halls
And speak to a new
Generation as the
Voice and wisdom of the nation?

Categories
2021 Ars Poetica Poems

Gone Fishing

So few times
To Carry me
Through these days
Lately
So little written down
As I toss
These thoughts
Around
As if they
Are forbidden
To see the light
Of day.
Gone fishing,
Off camping
Must work
Or some other
Excuse
To refuse
To record
This poet’s dream.

Categories
2021 Ars Poetica Poems

Write, right?

Write, Write
Everyday
Even if
You have nothing
To say
Make it habit
More than a goal
If you don’t
Just do it
You’re leaving
A Hole
In your notebook
Where thoughts
Should assemble
And emptiness
Is what’s left
To ressemble
That you had nothing
To say
And no one cares
Anyways
So write, write
Every day
Before you’re dead
And left
Something unsaid.

Categories
2021 American Place Ars Poetica Footnotes New Mexico Poems

What Am I Missing?

If I stop and take
A minute to write
Or a photograph
How much Life
Am I missing?

If a notational ear
Or observant eye
Can pull from the landscape
Into Memory than my
Experience my be more enlightening…

What is your approach?
Coleridge’s observational reproach?
Or Wordsworth’s walking as he wrote?
Which will glean and which will gloss?
Who will find meaning? What will be lost?

I find myself quite often
At a loss for themes, my memory softened
If I take too long from my observations
The meter fades and the propositions
Wash away and become forgotten.

Yet if in the moment I focus too much
On this art I offer and the places I touch
Do I leave too little of this world explored?
And proffer false narratives for you to adore?
Not the depths of this moment I’m here to explore…

Categories
2021 Ars Philosophica Ars Poetica Art(i)fact Breaking Muse Footnotes Poems

Prometheus (a sketch)

1 The son of the revolution was raised perfectly
2 Taught music and mastery of mind and body
3 A proud arbiter of the grand vision of The Republic
4 Soon to stand among the chosen few Philosopher Kings
5 Prometheus was a natural leader, a talented student and
6 A fierce fighter — His meter was measured and
7 His corps moved with the grace of the river
8 Yet, in his heart was a discordant song of sorrow
9 Stirred by the tours in the artist internment camps
10 Where those who dared to create were
11 Locked away and insured never to corrupt the culture
12 They were people – passionate, emotional, irrational yes
13 But people of his land, this country he was sworn to protect
14 Now from these people who threaten order with chaos
15 Now condemned for free will, free expression, challenging
16 The rational order of The Republic with their 3rd hand visions
17 Their expressions in word and paint and sculptures of the imperfect world.

Categories
2021 American Place Ars Poetica Footnotes New Mexico Poems

Remove yourself

It’s hard not to insert myself into
The Poem
Of course these are my feelings
Expressed herein
To de-objectify my experience
Is often a poetic sin
For how am I to communicate
These thoughts and dreams
If I don’t put myself at
The Center of Things
My desire to write has come
And gone but it is
My love of Nature that brings
Out these songs
I must denote these beautiful places
That bring me joy in these outward spaces

Categories
2021 Ars Philosophica Ars Poetica Art(i)fact Breaking Muse Poems

Mimesis — Nemesis

Challenging your Philosopher Kings
Our Flights of fancy are presently
Bound to corrupt your perfectly
Crafted warrior spirits

And so easily deceived
These rulers you have gently
Coaxed and coddled through education
Yet admitting we all are too dumb for your nation

My lovely metre and flourishing words
Can outflank your wisdom, ursurp with absurd
Dazzling lies to corrupt and
Negate this learning you’ve planned

While my carbon copy of reality
Corners and craters your philosophy
You think it better I just leave
And not bother your wisdom with creativity.

Your Mimesis Nemesis
I will dismiss
Your plots and plans
With mere language

Categories
2021 Ars Philosophica Ars Poetica Art(i)fact Breaking Muse Poems

What will–?

Guardian
Never to know
The pleasures of
The Arts

What do you
Protect except
For your place and
Your part?

Some great scheme
Of society
Never to be
Questioned

Raised to rule
To kill for
A promise
Unfulfilled

As the Citizens
You’re made to protect
Rebel as they try
To freely expressed

Banished at the gate
Never allowed to relate
Their tales which
Have been judged by the keepers

And what if your
Guardian raised true
Were to pick up your lyre
And sing your heart’s desires?

No Freedom for the programmed to do…
No art for the philosopher to pursue…

Categories
2021 Ars Poetica Bird Song Poems

“Not to copy nature” says WCW

Is it true
What WCW
Says about nature?

That to copy
It is
Shameful?

Is it shameful
To replicate
The bird’s song?

A perfect
Rhythm that
Dances along

And for generations
Has embellished
Their species

Is it imitation
You are after
To emulate not replicate?

I thought you
Were the
Poet

Seeking after
The Laureate
Admiration of your fellows?

If not a
Song writer
You seek to be?

Then how much
Trouble really
Is the song that’s Free?

Straight from the Sparrow’s mouth
It carries through the morning
And out unto the world

Awaiting your lyrical definition
No need to mention
That your tune

Came from the trees
Or just how soon
Its origins fade from memory?

No, not me
I am thankful for
The songs of nature

I’ll copy more of
Those perfect beats
Laid cross the morning dews

They speak to you
You know
They do

So carry their tune
With you
Across the page

For one day
When you’re old and played
You will thank them for the music that they gave unto you!