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Sorry that I have not been around as much to comment etc. I post every once in awhile, nothing new from my pen, just pieces pulled from my forthcoming book.by marc creamore 5 lines, 9 comments, on Nov 17 5:19 PM
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Still trying to find the sacred imprint planted
in my parent`s loins, -
Oh broken age, do not ignore us, we who cradle
the infants of the future in our sorrow -
I’m crawling through the debris of fallen stars,
the litmus test of the soul abandoned -
Oh you maidens who fall asleep
upon the left breast of the moon, -
Oh carry me away from here my love
because the angels, even though they are still around, -
The beautiful obsession mentioned in this piece is the need, or the desire to express myself through poetics. It has been one of my favourite writes thus far and doesn't seem to wear thin for me as time goes on.
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On this night when the chanting voice of India
spills light into my half asleep ears, -
I want to thank you all for the response to Last Poem . . . It has been swirling around inside my head since I initially got the news thatby marc creamore 4 lines, 4 comments, on Oct 28 1:44 PM
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Oh you maidens who fall asleep
upon the left breast of the moon, -
And so I wander once again into the nebulous causeway
of words, trying to decipher the hidden truths -
I do not allow myself to become stranded on the slopes
of a presumptuous nation, -
Oh when I die will I then comprehend
the swirling, confused light that I was introduced to -
Oh aimless be the turbulent volcano that is this world,
Aimless be the minds and bodies served upon karmic -
Through the misted sacrifice of our societal veils
we witness the things that really matter . . . -
— for Wanda Lea Brayton
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Oh where have all the crops gone, where stands
the noble farmer who resists gardens of concrete? -
Yes, I am tired, my energy and lung capacity seems to weaken little by little on a daily basis . . . but then I glance at the pages of AllPoetry and I find myself both galvanized and humbled at the same time. I feel somewhat
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I went out into the forest
to listen to the fluted voices echoing from the lungs -
Ah . . . these False Creek elegies that try to paint
the afternoon with the haunted breath of suffering dogs -
Doing a solitary tapdance across a floor strewn with
the junkyard notes from the throat of Tom Waits, -
The kindness spread my way over the last couple of days is much appreciated. I'm spending my time going back and listening to some of my favourite music, toying with a massive manuscript and watching the leaves softly droppi
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THE PENITENTIARY DOORS ARE NOT COMPLETELY RUSTED SHUT
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Take all these words that I scribble inside the incinerator
of my mind, all these phrases born on the far outskirts -
And so I stare into the moon’s face and find myself
drowning in a massive lake of despair . . . -
The linguistic centipede
crawls across these weary pages -
Today, after a couple of months of probing and poking, it appears that I finally have an answer to my health dilema. I have been diagnosed with non operable lung cancer, thus my time may be short. I guess when I look at myby marc creamore 3 lines, 24 comments, on Oct 8 5:27 PM. In Personal
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Ah . . . to remember awakening from the desolate dawn
of society’s deceptive trance, -
An owl shakes out his wings,
a mole seeks the moon with blind eyesby marc creamore 16 lines, 7 comments, on Sep 1 3:24 PM -
by marc creamore 135 lines, 3 comments, on Sep 1 3:13 PM
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by marc creamore 107 lines, 17 comments, on Aug 12 9:28 PM. In For Rob Ganson, Personal, Thoughts, Society
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Poems by marc creamore, by newest first
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