tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3483771851312949552011-12-20T04:15:54.334-08:00Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.comBlogger91100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-12898620515387010592008-04-30T16:36:00.000-07:002008-04-30T16:38:33.276-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.poetryman6969.com/images/graybeams.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.poetryman6969.com/images/graybeams.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />An Angel of fierce countenance guards the Western gate<br /><br />wings aflame in the dying sun<br /><br />Eyes like the end of time.<br /><br />Raiment the color of a thousand sunsets.<br /><br /><a href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/">RuneStones...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-1289862051538701059?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-36286808097534265692008-04-21T16:29:00.000-07:002008-04-21T16:32:49.236-07:00Stepping on Stone Faces<br /><br />A water fall crying softly into the depths of the earth<br /><br />a mountain pool at the stony heart of the earth<br /><br />soft stone to the quick by the swift fall of water<br /><br />thunder captured and taken down and surrendered up to the bowels of the planet<br />climbing the years backward out of the depths<br />stepping on younger faces as I rise<br /><br />till at last I breath free air again and see<br />rainbows over a canyon<br />a breathless veil of water falling into the abyss<br /><br />mists rising like the steamy breath of hundred horses<br /><br />an unseen hand blur the river bed with passage of a cold current<br /><br /><a href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/tapestrymoon.jpg"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/">Rune Stones...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-3628680809753426569?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-62618874947461525052008-04-20T14:33:00.000-07:002008-04-20T14:40:22.588-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.poetryman6969.com/SepPanels16.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.poetryman6969.com/SepPanels16.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Rippled dunes like a sandy finger print<br /><br />the drifts along the ripples as though something drew the horizon lines<br /><br />but nothing did<br /><br />the wind blew perpendicular to that<br /><br />it is our lot in life to insist not only order<br /><br />but on following that order until the bitter end<br /><br />some empty horizon on an endless beach<br /><br />when all along, the forces that shaped our lives where neither <br /><br />before us nor behind us <br /><br />but unseen and pushing us from the sidelines.<br /><br /><br /><br />grains of sand lift off and gain altitude but for a little while<br /><br />before landing and facing the wind and the pressure at their backs again<br /><a href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/"><br /><br />Rune Stones...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-6261887494746152505?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-1291615801952232592008-04-16T17:14:00.001-07:002008-04-16T17:28:54.306-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAaWnnfNWSI/AAAAAAAAAHk/nSYv6G08WD8/s1600-h/greydreamcatcher.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAaWnnfNWSI/AAAAAAAAAHk/nSYv6G08WD8/s320/greydreamcatcher.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190001227950020898" /></a><br />a fire in the desert<br /><br />such a futile thing<br /><br />there is nothing to burn <br /><br />but you burn it anyway<br /><br /><br />the power of God in the middle of the desert<br /><br />primal like the buzzing of a billion bees.<br /><br />Scorching the air and the earth<br /><br />Licking the land with a thunder tongue<br /><br /><a href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/"><br />Moon Flowers...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-129161580195223259?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-55421446167837134782008-04-15T17:05:00.000-07:002008-04-15T17:11:40.113-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/greenJewel.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/greenJewel.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />the lake is green--the color of tarnished copper<br /><br />it is surely a chemical soup of some kind<br /><br />high in the mountains where the air is so dry the snow evaporates before it can melt.<br /><br />and stone ores with veins the color or rust<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/">Moon Flowers...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-5542144616783713478?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-80159337599455239992008-04-14T16:12:00.000-07:002008-04-14T17:36:01.252-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAPmPnfNWRI/AAAAAAAAAHc/fNKalmOsG9M/s1600-h/ForestMoon.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAPmPnfNWRI/AAAAAAAAAHc/fNKalmOsG9M/s320/ForestMoon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189244351633250578" /></a><br />at the feet of mountains<br /><br />into the roots of the earth<br /><br />the blood and bones of a deserted wasteland<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-8015933759945523999?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-56721201411820642792008-04-13T18:16:00.000-07:002008-04-13T18:23:15.072-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAKxNHfNWQI/AAAAAAAAAHU/q5IRHjZuedk/s1600-h/greydreamcatcher.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAKxNHfNWQI/AAAAAAAAAHU/q5IRHjZuedk/s320/greydreamcatcher.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188904559590594818" /></a><br />dried up an wrinkled like a prune<br /><br />sand dunes on an endless beach<br /><br />a sky that teases but never delivers<br /><br />an air moonscape gasping for life<br /><br /><br />opening up a rich vein to poor water in<br /><br />scratching the hard earth repeatedly<br /><br />after that indefatigable itch<br /><br />but it is all worth it when the soil relents and releases its sweetness at harvest time<br /><br /><br /> a cloudscape he calls it<br /><br />a universe of fantasmagorical creatures<br /><br /><br />too big and air for dry land<br /><br />behemoths ply the oceans of air<br /><br />the are too big and insubstantial to last long here at dirt level<br /><br />but they can survive at altitude for weeks on end<br /><br /><a href="http://moon.poetryman6969.com/">Moon Stones...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-5672120141182064279?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-18809836898331492832008-04-13T13:41:00.000-07:002008-04-13T13:48:18.325-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.poetryman6969.com/images/graybeams.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.poetryman6969.com/images/graybeams.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />blue black or gun metal gray<br /><br />eyes like lightning<br /><br />voice of thunder<br /><br />and tears like rain<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.poetryman6969.com/images/graybeams.jpg">Moon Stones...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-1880983689833149283?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348377185131294955.post-57104046228962836222008-04-13T08:17:00.000-07:002008-04-13T08:22:24.935-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAIkrnfNWPI/AAAAAAAAAHM/42wtOL3wijI/s1600-h/blueshinymoon.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ieH9OXDjswM/SAIkrnfNWPI/AAAAAAAAAHM/42wtOL3wijI/s320/blueshinymoon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188750052437088498" /></a><br />a small plane blinking it's way across the dawn skies<br /><br />echoes in a tunnel a train calling to itself across the houses with the red tiled roofs<br /><br />almost all the night lights across the lake are extinguished now<br /><br />the palm trees act as dark sentinels to the modern looking apartment blocks<br /><br />all windows dark sitting on a still lake admiring itself in mirrored waters<br /><br />at some point the water takes on a predawn sheen. <br /><br />when the world is fully lit but the sun has not yet shown it's fire.<br /><br /><a href="http://"><br />Moon Stones...</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/348377185131294955-5710404622896283622?l=nationalpoetrymonth.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Poetrymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15405842194336331770noreply@blogger.com0