Showing posts from October, 2006
what a jumble, words they tumble through my mind and pour
out via conduit phrase as I attempt to ignore
the meaning while they try and grasp a web to form a frame
when last the final link approaches they dismember, sentence maimed

all in disarray, my prose today, a fool am I
void of means to purge this unyielding, swollen tide
of rhyme fragmented, jumbled, vented, spewed into conscious thought
driven by a need to be, reckless in its’ onslaught
In the absence of a few words from me I would like to share a few words written by John Denver, that I have always found particularly beautiful and that have been going around in my head for several days, since I acquired a copy of the song.

joy was just the thing that he was raised on
love is just the way to live and die
gold is just a windy Kansas wheatfield
and blue is just a Kansas summer sky

If you don't know the song and want to find it, it's called Matthew.
I stood beneath the weeping tree
and shielded by the canopy
heard leaflets whisper olden tales,
revealed in full beneath the veil.
Sometime when the sun was on the downward side of the day
I looked across at mountains, saw the tree line curve and laze away

if I could reach across the gap and hang on to the very peaks
if I could walk on top of crowns, cradled there from underneath

Orange glow and gentle warmth bathed me then from toe to tip
into lower pools of red I sank my feet and took a dip

diving back towards the shadows needles break my fall
I close my eyes and dream, and dream again I'll do it all.