Oh, silent soul
that never sleeps
as dreams I dream
within the deep.
I go beyond
And question not
the wonder seen
as wonder sought.
I stir again
and wonder why
it seems so real
I can’t deny.
As shadows move
beneath my eyes
And ancient whispers
Release their sighs.
Toward the light
I search for seas
and sail thru them
in pleasant breeze.
In distant stars
your form appears
Transcending light
defeating fears.
In silent thought
of true delight
Two spirits join
in awesome flight.
Reunion’s home
all known before
To stay or roam
through open door.
Before the past
you soothed my tears
The first is last
there are no years.
Again we’ll meet
and take a vow
embrace today
the here and now.
Richard Lynn Livesay
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Chicken Bones
Stop! Let me off this bus of shame
I see the bridges broken,
Houses cracking,
Chicken boned children, starving.
Rib meat torn from their sides, trying to survive.
Lesser children of the garbage;
Unnoticed, unwanted,
Unloved, uneducated and unspeakable.
Bus ads want me to buy suntan lotion.
Drink tequila on sunny beaches and
enjoy my lucky heritage.
.
I sink uncomfortably into the seat of electro-introspection,
Thinking of oily bank accounts and Saudi harems,
I try in vain to re-write a poem.
Soon, we stopped for coffee in the city of critics.
I hoped to get a brain transfusion
Or maybe some new delusions, (grand or false)
The bathrooms were short on toilet paper
So I left them one of my manuscripts,
They seem to like my crap.
Then someone ask if I was famous.
“Yes”, I said,” I’m famous for not being known”
I adjusted my leg irons and re-boarded the bus,
Reported my SS number into the mic.
“When does this tour end?” I ask.
“There is no end” said the red faced driver.
I was perplexed.
I continued looking at the broken down towns,
Gagging in the smelly urinals
And forcing down “famous” cow burgers and oily fries.
Peering out, I
saw an unshaven soldier with one leg
drinking wine in an alley;
the chicken boned children
offering him a crusty piece of bread.
Uncomfortably a tear rolled from my eye
As I dozed, I thought about this species called human;
We kill;
We hate,
We fight and injure,
Lie, cheat and steal
And then hypocritically judge others.
I awoke to someone shaking me.
“Hurry, we’ll be late to church!”
Richard lynn livesay 2008
I see the bridges broken,
Houses cracking,
Chicken boned children, starving.
Rib meat torn from their sides, trying to survive.
Lesser children of the garbage;
Unnoticed, unwanted,
Unloved, uneducated and unspeakable.
Bus ads want me to buy suntan lotion.
Drink tequila on sunny beaches and
enjoy my lucky heritage.
.
I sink uncomfortably into the seat of electro-introspection,
Thinking of oily bank accounts and Saudi harems,
I try in vain to re-write a poem.
Soon, we stopped for coffee in the city of critics.
I hoped to get a brain transfusion
Or maybe some new delusions, (grand or false)
The bathrooms were short on toilet paper
So I left them one of my manuscripts,
They seem to like my crap.
Then someone ask if I was famous.
“Yes”, I said,” I’m famous for not being known”
I adjusted my leg irons and re-boarded the bus,
Reported my SS number into the mic.
“When does this tour end?” I ask.
“There is no end” said the red faced driver.
I was perplexed.
I continued looking at the broken down towns,
Gagging in the smelly urinals
And forcing down “famous” cow burgers and oily fries.
Peering out, I
saw an unshaven soldier with one leg
drinking wine in an alley;
the chicken boned children
offering him a crusty piece of bread.
Uncomfortably a tear rolled from my eye
As I dozed, I thought about this species called human;
We kill;
We hate,
We fight and injure,
Lie, cheat and steal
And then hypocritically judge others.
I awoke to someone shaking me.
“Hurry, we’ll be late to church!”
Richard lynn livesay 2008
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
What is Poetry?
"A poem is a performance in words" - Robert Frost
"A poem should not mean, but be" - Archibald Macleish
"In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
The raw material of poetry in all its rawness
And that which is on the other hand genuine,
Then you are interested in poetry" -Marianne Moore
"But even the greatest and most famous kings
Feared and with reason, to offend the poets
Whose songs are marble and whose marble sings" -A. Macleish
"Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light" -Dylan Thomas
"A poem should not mean, but be" - Archibald Macleish
"In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
The raw material of poetry in all its rawness
And that which is on the other hand genuine,
Then you are interested in poetry" -Marianne Moore
"But even the greatest and most famous kings
Feared and with reason, to offend the poets
Whose songs are marble and whose marble sings" -A. Macleish
"Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light" -Dylan Thomas
Poetry
So be, my words like silent fog,
Feel not the harsh of Sunday's call
But give inspired, a new dialogue.
Fly with birds, to see the sights,
With open eyes before the pall.
Breathe in time with pure delights.
Be mute awhile and smell a rose
Bathe in sounds as bubbles fall.
Be still, dispeling sorrow's woes.
Just smile away the grey of day.
Forget bad memories upon the wall
Then love someone in your own way.
Write true poems through your own eyes
Painting a picture of feelings and all.
Reveal your mysteries, the chord of sighs.
Richard Lynn Livesay 2009
Feel not the harsh of Sunday's call
But give inspired, a new dialogue.
Fly with birds, to see the sights,
With open eyes before the pall.
Breathe in time with pure delights.
Be mute awhile and smell a rose
Bathe in sounds as bubbles fall.
Be still, dispeling sorrow's woes.
Just smile away the grey of day.
Forget bad memories upon the wall
Then love someone in your own way.
Write true poems through your own eyes
Painting a picture of feelings and all.
Reveal your mysteries, the chord of sighs.
Richard Lynn Livesay 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
EAST OF AETHER'S BLISS
Solar winds reach Diana's phase,
Moon-glow lights, a golden haze.
Leaning toward, your warmth within,
I touched your soul, where it began.
As you were there, before my past
You cast your spirit, into the vast.
Dancing in soft, green fields of form
We rolled and played, like young newborn
Transcending smoky, whispers known,
Above the ancient, spirits thrown,
I joined you in the prophet's cave,
To understand, what heroes gave.
Saw thunderclouds and flashing bolts,
Felt whaling winds of stinging volts.
Then was revealed, the form of Zeus
And Titan-spirit gods let looose.
Through clouds of mist, we watched the dawn,
As Holy Beings sang their song.
Then, Heavenly secrets, released our fears
And we flew into dimensional years.
Broadcasting Truth, to those that hear.
With those who love and those who care,
We'll be together, Forever to share.
Moon-glow lights, a golden haze.
Leaning toward, your warmth within,
I touched your soul, where it began.
As you were there, before my past
You cast your spirit, into the vast.
Dancing in soft, green fields of form
We rolled and played, like young newborn
Transcending smoky, whispers known,
Above the ancient, spirits thrown,
I joined you in the prophet's cave,
To understand, what heroes gave.
Saw thunderclouds and flashing bolts,
Felt whaling winds of stinging volts.
Then was revealed, the form of Zeus
And Titan-spirit gods let looose.
Through clouds of mist, we watched the dawn,
As Holy Beings sang their song.
Then, Heavenly secrets, released our fears
And we flew into dimensional years.
Broadcasting Truth, to those that hear.
With those who love and those who care,
We'll be together, Forever to share.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
To Get Away
Like life, you hide so much,
Covering multitudes in blue-green liquid.
Your salty attitude, so mysterious.
Sure, you wave at me
Like a friendly roaring giant
But you can be ruthless.
Foaming and expanding your height,
Continuously crashing upon the sand.
Your temper is notorious.
But so is your kindness and beauty.
You let us play upon your rolling back.
A deep blue home to evolving creatures.
You lift ships and provide food,
Then present us with shiny shells
Like payments for disasters.
Your mysterious tides come and go,
Reflecting the heavens on moonlit nights.
Sometimes, I walk beside you, to get away.
Covering multitudes in blue-green liquid.
Your salty attitude, so mysterious.
Sure, you wave at me
Like a friendly roaring giant
But you can be ruthless.
Foaming and expanding your height,
Continuously crashing upon the sand.
Your temper is notorious.
But so is your kindness and beauty.
You let us play upon your rolling back.
A deep blue home to evolving creatures.
You lift ships and provide food,
Then present us with shiny shells
Like payments for disasters.
Your mysterious tides come and go,
Reflecting the heavens on moonlit nights.
Sometimes, I walk beside you, to get away.
Track Back
It runs through my brain like a train,
like a train on a black track,
Clickity-clack, clickity-clack
Oh, I'll be back...to go on through, to you .
Making sense, or not, don't try to stop
No, don't even try to get by...
Me?
I'll run through your brain, like a whistling refrain;
Sparks fly'n
Lips sigh'n
Eyes cry'n
and brain fry'n
Clickity-clack, I'm back...like a sack of Jack!......
...+ much more
( + 11 more verses)
like a train on a black track,
Clickity-clack, clickity-clack
Oh, I'll be back...to go on through, to you .
Making sense, or not, don't try to stop
No, don't even try to get by...
Me?
I'll run through your brain, like a whistling refrain;
Sparks fly'n
Lips sigh'n
Eyes cry'n
and brain fry'n
Clickity-clack, I'm back...like a sack of Jack!......
...+ much more
( + 11 more verses)
Epic Empires (from 6000BC to present)
SUMERIAN
We have come together at the rivers,
No longer nomads of the Eastern plains.
Joined in hands and minds for civil union,
Within the Fertile Crescent's reedy canes.
Between the mighty Tigris and Euphrates,
Planting, plowing with oxen in the fields.
Crops of biter vetch, barley, flax and peas,
Digging water ditches, increased our yields.
( + 8 MORE PAGES) This is a work in progress,
included my book, "Poetic Perceptions" (aprox.35 poems-$15.00)
Poems of Empires from Sumer to Present.
We have come together at the rivers,
No longer nomads of the Eastern plains.
Joined in hands and minds for civil union,
Within the Fertile Crescent's reedy canes.
Between the mighty Tigris and Euphrates,
Planting, plowing with oxen in the fields.
Crops of biter vetch, barley, flax and peas,
Digging water ditches, increased our yields.
( + 8 MORE PAGES) This is a work in progress,
included my book, "Poetic Perceptions" (aprox.35 poems-$15.00)
Poems of Empires from Sumer to Present.
By Begone
Rage not in beige but dark red hues,
Then sing a song of buttered blues.
Oh, Holy Jesus, a group of Jews,
Screaming alibis from bloody pews.
Fungus creeps like moss in fall,
Below, above and in the hall.
I can't contain the whole damn flock.
All around, they've stopped my clock.
Be ware, be brave, be gone, be by.
Be broken brushes that cannot lie...
..........
........ and more verses )
Then sing a song of buttered blues.
Oh, Holy Jesus, a group of Jews,
Screaming alibis from bloody pews.
Fungus creeps like moss in fall,
Below, above and in the hall.
I can't contain the whole damn flock.
All around, they've stopped my clock.
Be ware, be brave, be gone, be by.
Be broken brushes that cannot lie...
..........
........ and more verses )
Perceptions
Enter slowly, my daunting dreams,
Before the glow, of morning's light.
For what it seems and what it means,
Will be explained, throughout the night.
( +5 more verses )
Before the glow, of morning's light.
For what it seems and what it means,
Will be explained, throughout the night.
( +5 more verses )
Chicken Bones
Stop! Let me off this bus of shame.
I see the bridges broken,
Houses cracking,
Chicken-boned children, crying.
+ ten more verses
I see the bridges broken,
Houses cracking,
Chicken-boned children, crying.
+ ten more verses
Some Wonder
Point my pen, to a rhyming word,
Walk my mind into spaces blank
Reverb the sound, I've never heard.
Speak in ancient silent symbols
Feel strange words, carved into stone.
Explode the history, like crashing cymbals.
Then shine your light, where all began.
That we may see how light transcends.
Illuminate wisdom, revealing, when.
Heaven opens, that we may dream.
Talking to angels, divining what seems,
Like white swans at death will joyously sing.
I go beyond this Earthly crawl
And lift the veil of illusion's pall,
Instilling strength, so not to fall.
Then rise above this mundane sphere,
Nurturing spirit, while drying a tear
To be, not of, without any fear.
Experience wonder, as with a kiss,
Explore a mystery, almost missed,
Then create magic, in cosmic bliss.
Some are TOLD of a candle's flame
Some SEE the flicker of it's fire.
Others are BURNED to reach the NAME.
Richard Lynn Livesay 2009
Walk my mind into spaces blank
Reverb the sound, I've never heard.
Speak in ancient silent symbols
Feel strange words, carved into stone.
Explode the history, like crashing cymbals.
Then shine your light, where all began.
That we may see how light transcends.
Illuminate wisdom, revealing, when.
Heaven opens, that we may dream.
Talking to angels, divining what seems,
Like white swans at death will joyously sing.
I go beyond this Earthly crawl
And lift the veil of illusion's pall,
Instilling strength, so not to fall.
Then rise above this mundane sphere,
Nurturing spirit, while drying a tear
To be, not of, without any fear.
Experience wonder, as with a kiss,
Explore a mystery, almost missed,
Then create magic, in cosmic bliss.
Some are TOLD of a candle's flame
Some SEE the flicker of it's fire.
Others are BURNED to reach the NAME.
Richard Lynn Livesay 2009
Gray Day
'Tis wonder as wind excites the hedges.
Inside it is January '09.
Winter bit off all the green edges.
All, quick frozen, waiting and still
I stare out fixedly into overcast
A staunch picture of nature's will
I can feel the cold wind stinging my flesh.
But here I sit, warm behind my desk,
Knowing how now and past can mesh.
Sense and thought meld and I shiver,
Then I imagine a winter wonderland,
A frosty snowman, from the mind's quiver.
I record my thoughts with poetic word,
Thinking how the mind creates poetry
And sigh, to think, it may never be heard.
Richard Lynn Livesay '09
Inside it is January '09.
Winter bit off all the green edges.
All, quick frozen, waiting and still
I stare out fixedly into overcast
A staunch picture of nature's will
I can feel the cold wind stinging my flesh.
But here I sit, warm behind my desk,
Knowing how now and past can mesh.
Sense and thought meld and I shiver,
Then I imagine a winter wonderland,
A frosty snowman, from the mind's quiver.
I record my thoughts with poetic word,
Thinking how the mind creates poetry
And sigh, to think, it may never be heard.
Richard Lynn Livesay '09
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