Tag Archive: poetry


Something In The Air

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Today is a special day.
I can tell by the quality
of the poets’ output. Each one
this morning describes the world
brilliantly.

© Chagall 2014

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The Poet Magellan

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If with each word I fall shorter of you
should I then leave it to silence?
I confess the odds are half against
I’ll connect, yet I pursue the bridge,
the aftermath of breaking words, the masthead
on your brow through cortex of vision,
around and about your cape of good hope.

© Chagall 2014

Haiku for Self-Referencing Haiku

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Haiku, constrained words
Arrhythmic rigor profound
Words unveil haiku

© Chagall 2014

Changed Paces

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This poem is unlike the others.
It tells no tale of twin souls,
makes no attempt to pinpoint
the space between here and there,
the real and not. This poem flies
at a level that can be deemed neither
high nor low. Arrhythmic at best,
to say the least, sans discernible
-ameter. The point is all ways shifting
in time, like the bouncing ball of olde,
prompts us to sing-along, for past times’
sake, for those who’ve gone before us,
and wait. If I hold this poem up to the sky
once printed on thick opaque bond,
it can serve to shield the eyes
on days eclipsed by celestial objects
aligning their orbital sine-waves. Folded
as a fan, this poem can cool, or can serve
proxy for one’s hand to wave goodbye,
to a stranger or soul-mate or exiting goddess.
Yes, this poem is not like the rest.

© Chagall 2014

Falling Up

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She climbed the lilac
and fell not thinking
once that she’d be shattered
from scent in the heights
surrounded by petals
that swirled less than she
rode the updrafts
this young pollynose
ascension in moonlight
giggling all the way

© Chagall 2014

Maligned

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A new part of my body
that I’ve never seen before

I’m excited to see
what it’s destined to be

This new part
of my body

© Chagall 2014

Iris In Stars

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I have so much to say today
so I shake you to wake you

Get up! and I’ll tell you
of life that bursts
to get inside

Your mind and your heart,
need I mention the soul?

If indeed there are
such things

Fragile things that come and go
once, or twice, I don’t really know
though I do when it’s only me

I dreamed that I once was atop a hill
wondering which way was down
so I followed the cooler breeze

Was that you where the sand ran
dry to wet at the edge of the dense brush
opening wide to the sea?

Of all that we were and all that we are
in prayer that we’ll someday be

Wake up! I’ve so much to tell you

© Chagall 2014

Space Paces, Elusive Serpents

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In time we find
though never lost
in trimmed gardens

The search alone
we sidle walls
flash furtive glance

In green maze
morning haze drops

The same each time
blurred roundabout
swirl dizzy spires

Endless breathlessness
tiring quicker
than yesternight

Out of rush of flame
comes desire

Sparkling cold
dense stars are lit
the air so thick

Like water we
drown

© Chagall 2014

Carbon

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Incidental solar flare
seeks easement

right of way
to use my being for incarnation

I acquiesce though it’s no small matter
these photons really are

quite lovely little bullets
of light massage

I emanate
rapture on a beam

I burn till I melt
till I liquefy

how splendid indeed
to be deity

© Chagall 2014

In The Stars, Dear . . .

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A kiss rips holes in lightning
and leaves burnt sugar behind

where we once stood

Long lived, we transcend the other
leapfrog our way to a lonely place
deep in cold space beyond the limit

jettisoned
in eternal smooth motions

© Chagall 2014

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