Instinct

Detail from Their Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room by Nancy Denommee

Detail from Their Eyes Met Across a Crowded Room by Nancy Denommee

 

 

 

 

 

 

When matters of the heart affect mankind
an innate aura is at once engaged
from some internal impulse ill-defined
by scientist, philosopher or sage.
It doesn’t matter what this instinct be,
it’s something that’s enriched by being abstruse;
be thankful that it strikes so naturally
for to invoke it may dilute its use.
How else could one feel startled, awed and stung
on meeting eyes across a crowded space,
a visually transmitted force that stuns
then draws both on in spite of time or place?
How else could poet’s pen detect a vibe
and, bypassing the brain, could yet describe?

Codicil

bowtie

 

 

 

 

Please dress me in my three-piece midnight black
To suit me for this funereal occasion;
Donate my chequered ones to those who lack
The pattern of my life’s bright inclinations.
Then knot a fine bow tie to flaunt my tastes
The yellow one adorned with red carnations
But do not cross my arms or fingers lace,
I’ll not go in a stance of supplication.
On coffin’s silk please place near my right hand
All memories of my childhood and my children
And at my left the greatest dreams I planned
Achieved or not, they formed my apperception.
The volume of love’s pain and grief won’t fit;
Good riddance then, I’m finally free of it.

Living Large

adobemac november-10-2006-flickr-creative-commons

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes when living large we meet a squall
Or turbulence perturbs our arrowed aim,
Quite commonly some barrier forestalls
Or vague hint that our path might end in pain.
At other times approaching zenith nigh
The altitude has queer effect on sight,
We squint to see if we have gone awry
And then we find a stop-sign glaring bright.
Instead of hedonistic fame and power
A better gauge to measure life’s success,
Would calculate time used to smell a flower
And calibrate health, love and happiness.
A barrier can serve us to remind
We’ve left the purpose of our course behind.

Fire Art

That troglodyte I egged him on as quizzically he held
The brand that fell from cavern hearth just as a quake occurred
He focused on the smoldering tip, brow furrowed, stick upheld
I screamed out in my voiceless dream and magically he heard.
He took a sheet of withered bark and peered as if amazed
Then with the firestick in his hand he drew across the grain
With one more geometric stroke a thickened eyebrow raised
As there before his startled eyes a crooked cross was stained.
I bellowed, woke and all the blankets from my bed were cast
I’d seen the perfect pyrographic act my dream had urged
A fire now blazes in my blood to learn and use his craft
It’s in my DNA, our genes through double helix merged.
I still can sense his firestick though I use electric brand
I drew another cross today, his touch cloned in my hand.

Crois Ard copyrighted bright

Shakespeare Today III

Introduction:

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:

(Shakespeare, Sonnet 30)


Shakespeare Sonnet 3 Final

While writing plays for public approbation
On youthful lovers or a woman’s temper
My whole life I have hid my real vocation
For my true calling was to be a jester.
For Seinfeld I’d with much ado play George
Or even be straight guy for Ray Romano
I’d swipe the stool from under Victor Borge
Ventriloquize with Yorick’s empty cranio
Rude Sarah Silverman – I’d tame that shrew
I’d act the ham – let Russell Brand be droller
Midsummer nights with Tina Fey would cue
Crude jokes about my codpiece from Ms Poehler;
Perchance to pilot on prime-time TV…
To flee or not to flee to comedy?


Previous:

Shakespeare Today I

Shakespeare Today II

 

David Gilmour with Bill Shakespeare

David Gilmour of Pink Floyd interprets Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.