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Aug 14

Anger in Two Rhythms

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: anger

 

I.
snowflakes falling

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Jun 28

Butterfly

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: thoughts , nature , cinquain form , beauty
Formal
dress required to
compete each dinner hour
with your blossom feed - I wonder,
who wins?
Jun 28

Butterfly 2

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
butterfly
conscious feather
colorful, patterned, powdery
tender trembling delightful stirring
bug
_/_
Jun 28

A Secret Forest's Secret

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: nature , harmony , double sonnet
Afrost with aged and trailing lichens, dim
beneath a crowded ceiling thick with green
competing green, where shadow-fall bedims
a half-lit soil's layered leaves, unseen
a temperate wood stands drenched in years, alone
and trackless; trunks of centuried girth up-thrust
from earth to sky, their thrumming fibers bone-
like, stiff with age and effort, still adjust
in gentle moans of mournful praise to wind.
A winter frost encroaches never here,
nor hibernation's sleep engender thinned
internal rhythms' count of quartered years;
 
through eons has this forest doubly grown,
its fecund summer cycle doubly known:
 
for deep below the forest floor a rock-
encrusted mantle breathes the longer breaths
of stone, where porous halls and tunnels pock
the basalt rind. Throughout its width and breadth
a steaming subterranean river courses,
bubbling heat boiling rocky walls,
the hard-cooked shells transf'ring heat moreso
as dampened warmth percolates through halls
of sweating stone and up, far up to micro-
fingered roots, that reaching thirsty for
its gift, descend into a clime alike to
tropic zones unknown this farther north.
 
So warmed, does forest flourish to this age,
with earth's deep fires lovingly engaged.
Jun 28

On Philosophizing

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: thoughts , Life... , Laugh

In the circle of thought where philosophy swings

is there anything concrete or useful to know,

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Jun 28

Night Walk in the Woods

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: nature , full delight , beauty
‘Take my hand,’ a murmuring wind
speaks soothingly to trembling leaves
in the waiting wood – they whisper sibilant, or
chuckling softly plash applause,  all
chlorophyll drunk in deepest greens.
 
How proudly high the branchings reach!
to tickle clouds in a blushing sky
their play not done, arch upward yet,
silver now in aging light,
their laughter never ceasing.
 
Dusk is dawn for the wood’s night niche –
throughout the wood life skitters fresh
clicking yawn, rustly stretch,
murmur crinkly satisfaction ahhh 
this sleep was good
 
Take my hand, together we can
walk on twisting paths, skirting
sleepy roots of internecine trees,
through patchy moon beneath yet-laughing  leaves
crossing starlight fields.
 
Wide, wide eyes will watch us
silent watchers, as the
sleepless sights and sounds
of life re-echo in the woods
throughout the whole night’s day.
 
And when the sun releases dawn,
in morning’s lesser lights we shall witness
sleepy closings in the wood – circle
tail to nose, bellies full, smacking soft
delicious chops, bidding ‘good night, day.’
May 15

Pet Policy

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: pets , life

“We welcome pets,” is stated in the lease,

“A dog or cat, if small, may join your home.

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May 15

To Alice

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: thoughts , mother , life

I was told

one day I would see you

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May 15

Moving Out

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in Uncategorized | Comments
Tagged in: thoughts , life , changing residence

home a runner’s high

the neighborhood secured in

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May 15

Rock of Age

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: thoughts , identity

I can change neither face

nor wiring - those circuits seemingly fixed at birth,

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May 15

A Chorus of Roses

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: sonnet , roses , nature

The eager rose in springtime blooms apace
beneath the tender rays of lengthened sun
whose warmth enhues with blush the budding face
and gently opens petals one by one.

Perfumed, a  halo limns the growing hour
as arbor, heavy-laden, tincts the air
in blossoms’ scents - a sweet olfact’ry choir
of fragrant flowers singing light and fair.





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May 06

If You Should Die Before Me (revised)

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: thoughts , life , fear of death

We talked of dying, yesterday;

thoughts and feelings linger.

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May 04

January Thaw

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

What will it be like, dying?

The moment it happens, what heft does it have

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Apr 25

Song for Silence

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: silence , night , humor

I sought for silence in the city, in the night, in my room.

I sought the silence of alone after twilight closed the day--

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Apr 25

Humans and Flies

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: nature , humor , Epigram on flies

 

"To each his own," one of Nature's theses.

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Apr 25

Therapy Poems: 6 - Charge of the Light Brigade

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

 

He added them up to make a point—

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Apr 25

Therapy Poems: 5 - Ancient Manuscripts

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

Skin of lamb pummeled smooth, papyrus peel glued in mystery, 
other papers—sheaves of rice, leaves of wood, 
I have found them perfectly preserved to the eye
in pictograms accessible, not Greek or hieroglyphic.

Scrolls unfolding a personal rune deeply etched long ago—
stories waiting all these years for an historian's heartful rendering, 
fleshing out the dry-boned quotidian
zapping with electrifying current
the static log of an ancient state of affairs.






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Apr 25

Therapy Poems: 3 - The Light

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

Robust digger-man mining for precious, 
you work by ruddy light shed from the heart
down here in the dark, in the depths, some call it hell.
You work by ruddy instinct.
Why, really, do you persist? 


klung! klung! klung! Dully sullen, I can hear you
banging away at two-inch solid rounds: 
“Black-steel bars of a prison,”
you say through gritted teeth.
“Fence-staked for a shield,” I do not say but 
defend nonetheless
these revels of Nevelson, boxes and tombs
of pitchy-dark shade upon shadow—
black abyss, black cleft, black cliff—contours dearly known, 
wrapped over years and yesterday in
shrouds and sooty webbing.














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Apr 24

Therapy Poems: 2 - In The Nether Land

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

Shunning Egypt, Egypt-born, a generation wanes, 
chained forever to the past by memory and pain—

a wandering tribe, freed unfree to follow forty years
one giant glowing pillar through the sands.

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Apr 24

Therapy Poems: 1 - One Year Out

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

 

Through ancient currents and oceans' hurricanes
I have weathered storms and swells knowing I am held
by thoughtful anchors I have made: 
chains of iron, Monitors and Merrimacs.


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Apr 24

Therapy Poems: 4 - On Ending

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

 

 

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Apr 24

Remembering

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

Now all the costumes of the day are shed

and put away in closets, bureaus, drawers.

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Apr 24

Rhyming Orange

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: orange rhyme , humor

If algae made Stonehenge

turn orange,

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Apr 24

Acorns

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in Uncategorized | Comments
Tagged in: winter depression , SAD

I put in seeds today—acorns

From trees in the neighborhood:

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Apr 24

Closely Held

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

To freely be a fool and fully free—

most feared at heart yet secretly desired.

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Apr 24

After the Robbery

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: Untagged 
 

A world of things I weave within my home, 
a tapestry of comforts and delights, 
a private interweaving of the outside
coming in, the inside
going out, 
some strands long in rhythm long in time, 
others fleet in puckish charm and change.
All is delight, the long and short of it, 
living strings of memory and now
woven in and out in tenderness.
But someone strange has broken in, 
has trampled barged burgled.
There is a wound—palpable holes
gouged from living fabric
where once were things now gone.
It is not the things, I cry, not the things at all! 
It is the woven and the weaving, the old becoming new, 
threads becoming pathways
moored in a tender loom softly twining
past to now to morrow.
Sure as sure repairs are underway— 
things, symbols, thoughts reworked, 
this is life. And yet, 
how to ease the aching tear where, threads undone, 
was once beginning-then-becoming-something too? 
Recoil. Reweave.
I cannot help but mourn the loss. 

Apr 24

Winter-Strike

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: winter beauty , tree ice

Winter gray the light of day,
winter-gray snow-melt still on the ground
drawn the winter, long the week,
Monday-gray through Saturday.

 


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Apr 24

If You Should Die Before Me - DRAFT

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

Written in one day for submission to a poetry contest, this poem serves as an outline for a more fleshed out treatment. While I have renamed it with "DRAFT" in the title, I will leave it on the site. The revised version takes the original name.

 

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Apr 24

Terminal Crash

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments
Tagged in: data loss , computer crash
My computer died today
after eight years of work and play
much of me was saved in RAM--
all of it was lost today.

Tomorrow I bring home a used one,
one, though stripped, with memory bare,
will bear as yet the imprint of
a stranger's sensibilities.

By happenstance
the software is the same--
a language I have come to know
from years of conversation.

I must remember:
There will be nothing there.
No databases keyed and combed
no photographs I favored,
no thoughts I saved nor pictures drew
and subsequently savored.

There will be nothing there.
Though paths will feel familiar--
doors and hallways so well-known
will lead me not to the welcome warm
of all the self-made works and words
inspirited by me alone.

There will be nothing there.
Tomorrow's paths will open into
only empty space.
Clipped lacunae
where every shadow trace of
human occupation will be gone.

There will be nothing there
until the conversation,
left hard and soft in haste,
begins again.

Apr 24

The Pleiades

Porphery Posted by: Porphery in English Poems | Comments

Somersault of stars

and glittering stream,

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