Idle Mind Wondering• Show poetry

 

 

 

Welcome! 

With the exception of the eagle photograph and member's badge,

all artwork on this page is of my own making. 

 

Getting to know me getting to know you:

 

It started as a great calamity and of all that I had ever known, loved, I am uncertain what remains. I traveled as an embryo out of necessity over an expanse of time to be born of an earthen mother; mid class America. Unassuming and thus un-assumed of the great expectations I hold sacred; I learned how to love amid short demand and have since grown - or withered - accustom to the prevalence of violence and selfishness, though I will never understand either.

 

In time I left my new home far less dramatically than that of the universal origins expanding. I had become a man with a future stifled by silence struggling to ascertain past’s answers. And so, I wondered as if in revival of some modern day bard; only I didn't tell stories - I listened. Everywhere people revealed themselves, threads in a plaid patchwork of humanity. I witnessed murder; so too, have I stood in awe of birth, felt joy within laughter of simple happiness, viewed true sacrifice that gave me hope and was caressed by evil. I took within my life force, sacred, all that was offered by this world to me and the truth is as plain as an iridescent rainbow spreading across an oil slick: It can be very beautiful but there is something dreadfully wrong with this place. It's dying.

 

Now I write riddles hoping just once some fool will have the foresight to exclude the human race when he ponders such questions as intelligent life out there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

```````` ~~~~ If the phoenix bird can fly then so can I ~~~ ``````````~~~~~~ ~~

Elton John

 

 

 

 

 

  "If my poetry aims to achieve anything,

it's to deliver people

from the limited ways

in which they see and feel."
- Jim Morrison

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I write:

 

what is real, what is not,

 

what has been and never will be,

 

what should and should not be.

 

 

I write what is trapped,

 

searching for a voice within my heart;

 

but never so simply

 

that the heartless might understand.

 

 

I write and you read

 

that my moment of eternity

 

might not be spent alone.

 

 

 

Please click Above to join and experience

 

what it means for writers to help writers.

 

 

 

 

I believe I have potential; I believe in magic and I still believe in love. I am growing in my ability to write thanks to my fellow poets and poetesses invaluable comments. I am finding the answers that free my voice

 

 

Please tell me what you think of what I write - good or bad your comment are needed; but, I would prefer that you IM me privately with corrections you might think needed . Thanks Ken

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters

of life’s longing for itself.

They come through but not from you,

and though they are with you

they belong not to you.

 

You may give them your love

but not your thoughts,

for they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies

but not their souls,

for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward

nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bow from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of infinite,

and he bends you with His might

that His arrow may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

for even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves the bow that is stable. ”

 

 

 

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

 

 

 

 

 

My archer is destiny

and I do so love my arrow! 

 

 

 

  Photo courtesy of   Pamela A Lamppa