Day: March 11, 2020

I sit here with no thought
Lost in a poet’s maze
Not trying hard to find myself
Or a way out to peace
 
I am sitting in a place called nowhere
Nobody knows me or I them
No expectations may be made
I’ll crawl my way home again
 
I scratch out some words
They sound deep and absurd
I’ll put them in a different order
Maybe my frustration will be cured
 
My body is tense as I sit
Anyone could tell I am stoked
Black ink blots on white paper
My musing looks purple and choked
 
I do not know the time as
I sit here in a place not known
They are calling for a poet’s dance
I will definitely dress as a clown
 
Stanski
March 11, 2020^

I arrive and step out
Totally aware of
The sound; the song
A melody of nature
I hear it and feel humbled
 
Fragrance in the air
If of the earth, so familiar
I feel a rush, an urgency
There is smoothness
I must have more
 
I see the sky, the stars
Light of the moon, nearly full
I imagine a spiral staircase
Wish I could climb and reach
I want to run and stand still
 
Waves tinkle the ivory of the shore
The beat is authentic; lovely
A tune fills me up; lifts me
This is space; my space
The song will be repeated
 
I step in the sand
It is combined with snow and ice
The crunch is like percussion
Music that hypnotizes me
Oh, to embrace it all
 
It expands as my mind opens
The earthen musk defines me
Orchestration of sounds overwhelm
The visuals in the sky stagger
A tension runs through my center
 
This cannot end, but it will
Enjoy the moment, the hour, the night
Morning will make its assault
I will be ready then as
I am unable to hold any more
 
Stanski  
March 10, 2020 ^