Inside The Hearts' Walls

Next Poetry Club meeting is scheduled for January 4, 2011. We are encouraging everyone to bring a friend along to this first meeting of the new term.

The prompt for the January 4 meeting is something along the lines of: 'I have not yet become who I am'. I'm afraid that's as close as I can recall it at the moment. It's about growing into or becoming who you will be, or maybe about being who you will be, or something like that.

Edit: Enough people wrote poems based on the above rough approximation that I've decided not to delete it, but I do have the exact prompt now. It is as follows:

"All you are you are not yet."

It's apparently a paraphrase of a line from a long poem that I haven't seen and don't know the name of.

No Cigar


Such a thankful word is 'close'
Injected with a potent dose
Of beaming joy and giddy cheer
Churned within from passing near
The zooming car or thund'ring truck
How great it feels to not be struck!

--------------------------


By Turtle Shell
A thanksgiving meditation on highway cycling.

               I T   I N   W O R D S


It is my favorite word,
It describes everything,
It is used by me in place of all big words,
It is like, in words IT fits best,
What it is like, in words, is Information Technology Computerized Processing, OR What it is like, in words, is Magnitude Force of attraction "he is it" or, "she is it,"
What it is like in words is a game of tag,
I'm IT or freeze tag,
You're IT,
It is a noun far above the adjectives and verbs,
Who can't stand it!

         Next time.......


          Next time I would take the path less traveled
And march.... No....
          I'd saunter to the beat of my drum.
Next time I would dismiss that irrational fear as own hang up.
          Next time defeat would not come at me
As a swift horse on the open plains.
Next time I would be there for the birth of my daughter, and next time I would persevere in a struggling relationship. Next time I would tell my friends and family how much I really love them.
Next time I would be there for those who needed me and next time I would care.
Next time I would make that uncomfortable phone call cause next time there would be no need to dial your number. Next time I will confront my issues and next time i will be more introspective.... Next time.... Next time I'd start now... Next time I wouldn't change a thing. Next time i would be a man straight outta the gate, be a real father, next time i wont lie cheat steal and rob. Next time ill pass on addiction.... Nah... Next time I'd do it all again cause next time i might not come out on top and next time I might not get to be the me I am becoming. Next time I might miss out on travails and adversity thus making me a stronger person. Next time I'd wait... Next time I would exercise discernment. Next time I wouldn't hurt my self my friends my family. Next time I'd love myself more, next time I would have a feeling of self worth.. Next time i will be proud of myself and my abilities... Next time i won't sell myself short, next time I will believe in
me like every one else did.. Next time I won't regret next time thee can be mo regret. Ther really is no next time for me. Next time I will act upon the fourth fifth and six chances afforded me by the graces extended towards me by the ones who love me.
          Next time i would live forever..
Next time i wouldn't hurt and I'd stop time
          and time would be tomorrow I'll try again.
Next time I would be more me and less you.
          Next time I'll have opinion and
Next time I will have a foundation on which I stand
          And next time I shall be resolute in my convictions
Next rhyme the I AM I....
          Next time imma gonna stand up
And next time I will make sure I am accounted for
          Beacuse next time i will be a person of substance and not of abuse.
Next time look out, cause next time I dream bigger and change the world and next time there shall be no If's maybes and mights cause next time imma gonna make it happen. Next time i live.. Next time it will be for always...forever and for always.. Next time I will be about eternity.

j?A! M!t(hE//'.....


          ...had to be there.....
There are some things which are too good for words.....
For to me it might be a triple shot of espresso,
Black and tan no sugar no cream,
Kissing the air and catching my nostrils.
Could be the amazing view
From my daughters grandmothers kitchen window
That looks past the empty country hi way
And out to a patchwork green field filled with mono chromatic bovine
Shrouded with an early morn' mystic topped with golden gilded clouds
And angelic shafts of light cutting through the mist, giving ride to arabesque
Evapo Ray shun.....
The quiet beauty of the morning enchants me
And offers escape to a tolkin imagined shire
Where I wait with baited breath hoping to catch a glimpse of Iroquois on horse back
Or majestic bison diffusing this veil of vapor.
Truth be told I half expected a Celt of yore to materialize
And he traverses alone and stoic,
The remnant of some long lost and forgotten war
Where he waged battles in the name of stolen love and lost rites.
I can see him in his musty garb and damp boots as he, crossing the dew slicked asphalt
Ascends the stairs to the sun room only to stare at me as pained as the glass in the frame, with cryptic eyes he would ask in his ancient and glorious tongue for a cup of coffee and a warm hearth by which he might warm his bones as he has traversed many miles and has many more to go and i can say that i ought to have welcomed him in with. A hearty embrace and invite him to share his tale...
               ..............he spun a yarn as I sat captivated,
               And told of far away lands,
                              Of francs and english alike that he vanquished with his own two hands.
               With a far away look he told of a brook
                               That he explored when he was just a lad and how when still young
                He left kin and kith in search of glory abroad.
                                He moaned out a dirge that spoke of maidens fine and fair with
                Skin of silk and long flowing hair
                                That reminded him of his brothers cousins golden mare.
                 Long into the night he spoke of the plight
                                 That plagued his brothers back there
                  And although he loved to roam he missed the loam and felt his wife calling him
                                   To come home.. Come home... All you who are weary come home..
                                    Tenderly earnestly you know your being called all you sinners come
                                      Home......
                    Yep..... Too bad some things are too good for words.....

Of Sky and Sea


I could lay no longer in my temporary home of canvas,
Straining
To hear the chorus of
Songbirds
Under the squawk of the giant crow
Standing guard over our campsite.

I felt in the morning darkness for my sneakers and
Sweatshirt,
And I made my escape,
Finding
It miraculous that the others weren’t awakened
By the noisy zippered door.

I followed the path to the beach, my steps quick and
Eager
To greet the horizon at dawn,
Eager
To leave a fresh set of footprints
Upon the virgin sand.

I climbed the rocks to gaze into pools that just last
Night
Were covered by salty surf,
Pondering
Ebb and flow more than the creatures it left behind.

Something called me on to higher ground, where the incoming
Tide
Pounded the rock beneath me,
Sending
Its spray up to touch my face.

I stood alone, yet far from loneliness, with
Sky
And sea and thought so
Vast
They overwhelmed me. I belonged there,
In that moment.

I carry that place with me, visiting it often in my
Mind.
When the world crowds in and suddenly seems too
Small,
I remember sea and sky, and endless thought.

Where I am alone and not afraid.
Where I stand tall in the face of vastness,
And I am happy.

-rk

Childhood Revisited


Somewhere in the quiet places,
Silenced by the years,
She lives. I am thinking of her.

She stares at me with longing, dare I look?
Hair, thin and brown, blowing about,
Eyes begging that I remember.

And I am happy to see her. Or wait, shall
I say that I am sad?
I swallow hard, breath deep and close my eyes.

Trembling, I reach across time to find myself.
Our tears and dreams entangle, and we, alas, are one,
as we should be. For I cannot live without her,

And this is what it is like. Or what it is like in words.

rk