Friends, lovers and tapeworms
fabric folded, creased
ceases to be just another blank page.
Returning to images
memories steal into shadows
change the color of dreams.
Wouldn’t matter how much I claimed to forget
who I am is found
in too many hearts.
Even if all the hands are gone,
graves or jail or don’t give a damn,
finger prints are immutable
even when my memory fails me.
Anyone who loves me
shares a crowded bed
even when the party is over
and everyone goes home.
When I am still,
the wind moored briefly upon a branch,
I can hear the resonance of the present
steal into me, pulling me, orange segments,
from the rind wrapped ‘round me.
7:53 PM
08/23/09
Alexandria, VA
Please tell me what you think, what it makes you feel, how you are moved.
Comments
1 - 31 of 31
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its nice and there are Many good lines in this write. Good job, I enjoyed it.
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Thanks.
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Fantastic!!
I'm wishing you all the best, and write on, Poet!! 
Peace & hugs,
xx Cyn xx
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Thanks for all the support.
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I especially liked your title and your final stanza of this wonderful piece, Tom. The image of origami lends itself well to poetry, I think, as well as to memory. When I worked in the college library, I had an employee, a work-study student, who constantly made me origami figures. It was always such a delight to see what form he would create next. Much, too, as in the writing of a poem, I suppose. Well done, my Friend. Good to see a posting from you in the feature section. 
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When I was young and hyper a norm, my grandmother introduced me to the art of paper folding. I have done the same for my son. Many a teacher has been amazed with how he pays attention while creating folded magic with his hands.
When you open up the paper, when you look at the trails of creases in a sheet -- do you see the crane or the story of memories it took to discover flight? "Every picture tells a story." The plans of the architect are not the building. It is the building that shows what a memory of planning becomes.
Thanks for all your kind words,
Tom B.
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Good...
It has been some time since I've seen one of your writes. You've been quiet, but this write brings you back to my favorites list with a powerful punch. Good work, good words Thomas.
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I would love to be writing, but life got in the way.
Glad you enjoyed this understanding that wrinkles and creases are often remnants of paths forsaken, but walked to long to be forgotten.
Peace,
Tom B.
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good stuff, i enjoyed this fine write, take care
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Thanks
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"Friends Lovers and tapeworms" what a great intro!!! i had to read it twice. you painted so many different images in my head. Thanks!!! I loved it!!
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To be valued enough to be re-read. Ah such things go straight to my head. I have taught my ego to sit and stay but it is still a glutton at every meal.
Peace & Light,
Tom B.
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If you can't find my fingerprints, just look for footprints across your heart; I have been making tracks there for a while now, along with the myriad others. I can't really feature you as orange segments, though--more like the trees along the Oregon coast that look like bonsai, only they are large evergreens sculpted against the wind on the cliffs. They've weathered a lot of storms, and definitely have changed the shape of their dreams, and have such stories to tell of worlds I've yet to explore.
~Karen
P.S. I don't think bonsai have to put up with tape worms. They have to beware of bookworms, though.
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Worms are an important part of decomposition and my myriad of compositions recognize that the dust that collects between my lines must come from somewhere
Your footprints in the soil and fingerprints all over the crystal. In the snows of Mt. Hood I can be heard laughing down through the falls and chasing salmon up the leaps alongside the dams.
Love,
Tom B.
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Friends, lovers and tape worms
As soon as I saw that I knew I would love this piece, and I was right.
Gorgeous choice of words -
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Ah, another soul who can laugh at how we are nothing more than worm food in the end. Thanks.
Peace & Light,
Tom B.
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great!
Although an authors note on interpretation would be helpful, i still think i catch a gist ...im very impressed with the choice of words on "anyone who loves me shares a crowded bed" I really like the expression. Very good expression and great phrasing. thank you for sharing
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Browning once said, "When you have read my poem and given it your interpretation, you have made it your poem. If it is similar in meaning to what I intended then we have shared the poem and I can feel I have written a good one." All paraphrasing my bad memory. I hold love becomes larger when shared.
Love,
Tom B.
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Smile
For some reason this makes me want to smile at you...
Two verse captured all that lays within this write.
Wouldn’t matter how much I claimed to forget
who I am is found
in too many hearts.
Anyone who loves me
shares a crowded bed
even when the party is over
and everyone goes home.
Still smiling...
Love,
~LisaP
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I have come to learn that I have made a large difference in many lives. It both humbles and frightens me. We forget how much we are lost to the hearts of others when we have been fully alive. We are as large as our sharing and as rich as the echoes it leaves in our halls.
Love,
Tom B. -
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echos of a true friends words i can always here in the empty times ...they bring me back to realities of who i am seen through their eyes.
a good thing... 
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damn it this is gud stuff
I can hear the resonance of the present
steal into me, pulling me, orange segments,
from the rind wrapped ‘round me.
hell this is creative and pretty well done.
orange paart and rinds...stealing into you....buddy ..i checked this one till last....check mine if you are inclined. -
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We are so many things and still the one we are. Life dances through us.
Peace,
Tom B.
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who I am is found
in too many hearts
Oh, I so know this one.
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This is one of the sounds of one hand clapping when your not there to share the joy. Harrow the fields, but share your heart.
Love,
Tom B.
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Wouldn’t matter how much I claimed to forget
who I am is found
in too many hearts.
and that's the way it is. isnt it a wonderful feeling?
love,
jin
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Remember
When you are using yourself for boxing practice, the love that lives within you and without you.
Love,
Tom B. -
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ohdarlin, I quit doing that long ago.
now I just write about it.
much less messy that way.
love,
jin -
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Lessons writ large.
for the shadows on a rainy day
my shoulders aren't softer than pillows
Love,
Tom B.
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You are so amazing, Bro
"Returning to images
memories steal into shadows
change the color of dreams."
I love reading you
Lynda
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What can I say but Thank you
So much reflection, and the pond is still and clear, then gray, then rippled with rain.
Love,
Tom B.
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