Put me in a basket.
Let me flow into the hands of mine
enemies. Leaves in a brook let
kaleidoscope pleasure ripple
crash upon stones as rainbow
trout slide through commuter’s shadows.
Baskets are born wet.
Awaken like cupped hands holding sunlight.
Hummingbird wings are nature’s magical
slight of hand. They move quickly to allow
the ruby throat to maintain visibility.
My enemies are their own fiction. I haven’t
the heart to participate. The stars laugh and chatter
above me. Spinning in a world of eddies,
I am surprised by hands of wonder. Love
spills from orifices and sings its song.
Language is never a barrier to honesty. Crickets
speak a universal tongue in the late summer heat
promising the peace of winter. Kisses of joy
come in showers. What shall the archaeologist
make of foot prints frozen on a river bank?
The basket is biodegradable. It has no
need of the legends written in its weave.
Coincidence conflicts with predestination.
Murphy is a ghost in man’s plans. My
enemies weave flowers to embellish
their pride celebrate their feelings of creation.
I am the river’s promise and the land’s rich harvest.
These nights are the final harbours of their Gods.
Isis, Osiris and their minions received and put to rest
no longer found stirring amongst the reeds.
This river may be king and a fertile valley
but, no longer is it to be the birth place of God Kings.
Strength is a resource often squandered with overuse,
made slovenly by pride and allowed to fatten with glory.
The river allows the weight of their stony memories to drag
them down into the mud and sand as waters collide.
10:47 PM
August 23, 2006
Alexandria Va
Author notes
Written August 23rd, 2006
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I have no idea where this one came from. It danced from my pen with its own delight, causeing me to pause at times to make sure I was getting it down correctly. I enjoyed the way Moses became a representation for every Horatio Algiers story.
Real success always changes the world. It is the story of history and we spiral around in hate and guilt forgetting that we don't have answers only insights. We can't depend on the past to remain stable either because our understanding changes as we change. We only take what we need and often miss the feast. Love, Tom B. -
I loved this piece, for it used so much imagery, personfication, and a fantastic spiritual background. You have really outdone yourself here.
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LoL... well..... i do speak to Pablo Neruda in my sleep sometimes. LoL... kidding.
and i am not blonde... NO WAY.... i was once though... for about two months. LoL. [but i think the ditsiness may have stayed. lol] -
AGAIN! Another one that hits me home. I think that your wording again is perfecto!! I mean.. dang! You my sweet loving friend are incredible to say the very least... If I were to cut the lines and paste them here to show you my favorites... heck, I would be forced to place the whole poem in my comment. There is not any weaknesses here. Usually I can critique even a wonderful piece... but the last two I have read.. there is not a single thing that henders..
Lovely... I loved it!
Mel
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Next thing I know, You will try to tell me you are a ditsy blonde. Or you will try to convince me that your poetry is channeled from dead poets. Society might buy it, I don't.
Love, Tom B. 
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i also like your metaphors, though i probably don't grasp them as they should be grasped... they sound good nonetheless.
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My enemies are their own fiction. i really liked that line. i won't bother saying this is pretty... LoL. I know you dont' like that. I'll just tell you what I liked about it... and that's that the tone of the speaker is basically 'whatever... you're my enemy, that's YOUR problem...' and you don't let it affect you.
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In terms of Murphy, it is Murphy's Law not the Ten Commandments I was refering to. Couldn't pass up the jibe. I am always hiding my sense of humor, this is probably the most obvious I have gotten in a long time. The basket, the adoption by the enemy all on purpose or the greatest accident. Is our life determined? Are we God ridden? Is the enemy not flesh and blood and full of wonder and love? All these questions and more ran through me when I wrote this. Love,Tom B.
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a masterpiece
WOW, Tomi! it is becoming so rare - this experience of elevation i get when i read a good powerful piece. This is so intelligent (the mythical, historical, cultural background) and so exquisitley rich in simile. I can feel the worfs melting in my mouth like delicious icecream...lol
Murphy whom you mention here - may i ask to whom do you refer? Beckett's murphy? I am intrigued....
thank you for the wonderful read!
rachel -
This piece deserves what I don't know how to say. Most who came before me said anything I could. I could only repeat them. It is amazing. I love the line about the crickets as well. It stood out in my mind. Tom you never pen what is not your best....well done as always...Trina
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this poem is one of the better ones ive read
you realy put alot of thought into this one -
yeah and nay. I was playing with a surrealistic Moses. I almost would have him in a BMW with his friends from court before he crashes into the thrift store of his family's commune. It is the ancient against the modern or are we constantly be reborn to live down or complete our history. We are technocrats who are hacks because we left our soul on the river bank? The jive artist in me wants to have Christ climb down from his tree. The sensualist wants to know all the sensations of betrayal when Christ was fodder for Judas's retirement fund. So with Moses, the messiah of contrasts. Not the first of the last. This Gospel ever changing in its expression but always trying to lead our spirits home. Love,Tom B.
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I clicked on to this poem as I am myself finishing translating a book-length poem (20 cantos) on the last days of Moses, so I was naturally interested.
I have to say, though, that my responses to this poem are mixed. I feel very strongly that if one writes about a biblical, historical or mythical character, all references, images allusions within it should be congruent with the subject. For me, the reference to "Murphy" (presumably he of the "Law") and the "biodegradable" basket completely spoil the atmosphere of the poem). Likewise to speak of footprints being "frozen" on the river-bank in Egypt strikes me as out of key. I also find some incongruities in your use of language. Using older forms such as "mine enemies" is perfectly acceptable (particularly with a piece on a Biblical theme); however, mixing them with such colloquialisms as "doesn't" is incongruent.
Sorry if all this sounds negative! But I do feel strongly that if one chooses an "ancient" subject, the literal meaning of the poem should be congruous with the chosen setting, and that any allegorical or symbolic meanings should be expressed within the chosen historical/mythological context.
Do consider these points.
(Sorry - I have to get back to my "Moses" now... tomorrow is the final, final, FINAL deadline for delivery, and I still have quite a lot of work to do on it!
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You are always welcome to any of my works. As my friend you are welcome to share and participate in my life as you will. I will always feel the love. Tom B.
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BRAVO!
intriguing and majestic ... it does have a timeless quality i like how the story of moses was woven thru ... your imagery is rich ... and the flow is divine.
"Spinning in a world of eddies,
I am surprised by hands of wonder. Love
spills from orifices and sings its song.
Language is never a barrier to honesty. Crickets
speak a universal tongue in the late summer heat
promising the peace of winter. Kisses of joy
come in showers. What shall the archaeologist
make of foot prints frozen on a river bank?"
a most beautiful passage ... -
Oh, Tom! This is gorgeous. The heartspeak, the imagery, the joy, even the explanation...but the basket is magic. and the cupped hands! I love that so much! I wish to print this one out for my notebook, please. Oh, to live in a world where stars "laugh and chatter," where the despicable language of hatred and defamation of God is unknown, let alone utterable, where life is revered. Archaeologists.... we will be gone! Then who shall know the footprints where a beautiful man once stood?
Edited on Aug 23, 11:31 p.m. because ''. -
very good
You have made some excellent statements here, rwally good, but there are places where je ne comprene vous. -
This is majestically executed. I am really impressed by your choice of theme, and the way you have managed the flow, the rhythm, the tone, the language. It's really fantabulous. God bless!
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nutfactor9
. Crickets
speak a universal tongue in the late summer heat
promising the peace of winter.
worth applause alone...
frankly i could almost chant it...
. Crickets
speak a universal tongue in the late summer heat
promising the peace of winter.
. Crickets
speak a universal tongue in the late summer heat
promising the peace of winter.
. Crickets
speak a universal tongue in the late summer heat
promising the peace of winter.
pmsl...
clap fools clap.. -
Very visual write you have penned here - dealing with the senses gives us images that we can relate to. Well written -
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Excellant
A very unique write and extremely well done. Although, I sense you may be talking about more than Moses and the Egyptian gods in this piece. It seems like it could be a timeless poem, in its own way. -
this was FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I loved it it was so well written and right up my alley, the story of moses personified.....great job I especially loved this part:
Put me in a basket.
Let me flow into the hands of mine
enemies. Leaves in a brook let
kaleidoscope pleasure ripple
crash upon stones as rainbow
trout slid through commuter’s shadows.
I loved this it started the poem of great and just flowed so well again amazing!!!!!! I'm adding you to my favorites!!!!!!!
God bless
Becca
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