Freestyle Poetry - The Hanged Man

Image from the Cosmic Tribe Tarot by Stevee Postman

 
I could not so easily guess in my youth
To be the consort of Persephone's daughters
Weeping wise they are
Passing the threshold of maturity
Through dark acts visited upon innocence
Like battle blood staining white roses inappropriately
And I feel the sacrifice and witness the strength,
The awkward understanding
From a glimpse with death unprepared.
I am not allowed to tears
Knowing more than I should
And watching this childish world
Reveal its dark terror
Without regard for who may be playing in the fields
I know responsibility,
The loss of youthful boredom,
The eagle eating my liver for the gift of fire
Mothers hoarding sweet illusions
That attract thieves in chariots
Making sweeter still the binding fruit of Hades.

Freestyle Poetry - A Kiss Like Drowning

Your kiss is like water,
tasting cool blue and satisfying,
as if drawn from a secret stream
in darkness
moon lit and wet with mystery,
a kiss like drowning,
like letting go, like floating --
soft as undetected poison
and sweet deadly.
You release me quietly ...
your kiss so like...
a black cat walking cross,
or deep Earth magic on night summer breezes,
like deception I need,
or a perfect reflection on a mountain lake surface.
There's deep currents, riptides beneath your kiss,
a sexuality too strong for weak swimmers
and vast the immortal death
in the expanse of your murmuring nudity.
A lady of the lake,
awakened,
clutching me gently,
a dove with a hawk's heart,
the dolphin and the shark,
with a kiss like trespass across Charon's river
or on Calypso's isle or in Diana's forest.
Drawn as you sometimes are,
a blade from a jewel encrusted sheath,
tempered steel, Excalibur from the lake,
as the Lady gives it,
in a kiss like yielding (but not) --
that kiss like drowning, like a cat purring,
like a seduction.

Freestyle Poetry - Breakthrough

Something new ... been awhile ... may need some WD40.

Breakthrough

Lost,
Another four letter word,
Like Hate or Love,
Big, profound, terrifying.

I find myself trapped in this word,
Groping blindly for purchase ...
A foothold of Trust unfelt
Drowning
No buoy of Purpose nearby
Only the urge to swim.

Urge, another Fuck four letter word,
Not settled or satisfied like the pleasant Adrift;
I cannot find my Float, my Peace,
My other lovely fives.

I have Lost my Faith.

One damn letter,
But the distance is greater than
The moment I should have kissed her,
And didn't ... Fate,
She bitch slapped me!
For my insolence or ignorance
Or lips that missed ...
Broke me down ...

To Break me Through?

Should I be waiting?
Should I be acting the Fool?
Should I pretend to Purpose ...
And Hope it sticks?

Maybe I just need a really big word ...

Perseverance!

Haiku - Morning

Making up the bed
As sunrise breaks in the East
The cat is waiting

Freestyle Poetry - Frolic

Image by Stevee Postman


Where, O child of mind,
The mystic fires, do burn,
That once upon a childhood time
Did burn beyond a daydreaming moon
Guiding my soul,
Outcast in this dreamless world
Filled with cold practical winds
Blowing frozen the fairy wishes
That not so long ago did play careless
Round my untamed heart,
Naïve and loving tales told
By friendly witches in secret hours
Spent wisely foolish
In search of unicorns and pixies?

Why, O child of spirit,
The mystic fires, lost
That once did ignite
The wild wonder for endless hours
Seeming,
That now I search sometimes desperate
For an ember still hot enough
To keep me warm through maturity’s winter?

Freestyle Poetry - Lancelot to Guinevere

One of my personal favorites!

Lancelot to Guinevere

Dewy fields and sweet fragrant morning air
feign innocence before battle
where across the verdant landscape
march ignoble knights to bring peril.
Who could guess that a thousand swords
could rage against Camelot and not
bend the will of her king,
but our kiss, if known, could shatter
the invincible foundation.
I feel these gentle winds
supple through my armor
and hear the gentle rumble
of steeds bringing thunder,
this moment is, for me, tranquility.
But when I close my eyes
I can still taste you in my mouth
pouring down my throat,
warming me with a pleasure no
victory ever brought.

Freestyle Poetry - Adrift

A piece I wrote in the 1990s that is rather appropriate for me these days.

I am adrift …
not lost, not driven,
floating for the first time
and trusting completely
the river’s wisdom.

My spirit releases a life
spent swimming hard
with or against current.

In this gliding
I do not hope for a calm, cool pond
or fear the rush of rocks;
I am adrift …

I ride the surface,
not confident or concerned,
suspended weightless in the present moment.

I cannot be lost
for I am not searching
and all the shores
delivered by breeze or storm
just so wonderful
in rage or peace,
beautiful,
in a way that drifting,
alone,
can only allow.

Haiku - Afternoon Nap (2 pieces)

The rain falls softly
And the bed is a siren
Singing sweet slumber

I feel slumber's pull
Wrong in the afternoon, but
The cat teaches me how

Haiku - Toys

Imagination
Unlocked with infinite play
Legos and megos