Poetry from the Writer of Light

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Wednesday, April 30, 2008

FLOOD STAGE

FLOOD STAGE There was a time - lost, now, like the rocks on the bank on which I used to sit, now hidden by swirling water - There was a time when the sight of rivers at flood stage sweeping to the sunset would conjure up within me rivers of words, rivers flowing to the sea of poems. There was a time... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 8:12 PM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, April 27, 2008

WHEN YOUR SHIP COMES IN

WHEN YOUR SHIP COMES IN You're wondering why you're here in this place, you're wondering why you're stuck in this race. You accept being here, you think it's a sin; you're resigned to going 'round and round again 'till your ship comes in. There's no place for reason, no unbelief, no glancing away... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 8:40 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Friday, April 25, 2008

HAIKU #59

HAIKU #59 Springtime afternoon, robin arrives for the feast in freshly turned earth ©T. Patrick Berry Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 8:11 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

MIDWEEK PRAYER SERVICE

MIDWEEK PRAYER SERVICE We come, full of our inner storms, casting with our waves of words and worship the jetsam of a thousand streams of tears upon the Rock of our Salvation. ©T. Patrick Berry Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 9:10 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

ON BEING INVITED TO MY FIRST READING

ON BEING INVITED TO MY FIRST READING Words come surging, demanding release like a pothandle grabbed unawares that slowly, with its hidden fire, persuades the hand to release it and will not be denied. Words come singing their transparent songs, their music heard in knowing nods and smiles and tears... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 9:59 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Monday, April 21, 2008

THE MOTHBALL FLEET

THE MOTHBALL FLEET They ride out the years at anchor, their holds full of nothing now but the cargoes of sleeping memories of wars and foreign ports and the open seas, while like young upstarts the motorboats dart by in impudent, noisy freedom. They travel no longer; their bows no longer part the... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 8:21 PM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, April 20, 2008

THE NESTING GROUNDS

THE NESTING GROUNDS Thoughts and events rise and sort themselves into long straggly lines like the cranes that, taking flight, sort themselves into great V's for the long journey back to the nesting grounds. The thoughts and events will nest there; poems will hatch from their eggs, and the cranes... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 6:28 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Friday, April 18, 2008

AUTUMN SUNSET, SAN FRANCISCO

AUTUMN SUNSET, SAN FRANCISCO The fog lies low, and just when the great oceanbound ship seems lost with all hands in the gloom, the curtain lifts briefly, revealing salmon in the sky, roses in the heavens. Fires from another dimension leave a cloud of fog-smoke in each Marin canyon; as the sun sets... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 7:39 PM | add or view comments (8) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Thursday, April 17, 2008

FIRST INTERCITY TRAIN RIDE

FIRST INTERCITY TRAIN RIDE (At age 41, on a push-pull train between Sacramento and Oakland.) The sensual swaying of the car sings to me like a lullaby, steel cradle rocking me through the mists at a push-pull backwards mile a minute. The raw beauty of backyards and junkyards, bad neighborhoods and... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 7:40 PM | add or view comments (4) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

FOGLAND

FOGLAND Out in the Fogland, there is no color except grey, fog obscuring sky, reflecting on still water under great concrete bridges, all one, all united. But in all the monotone sameness, the distinctions between Earth and Water and Sky are lost, all becoming one, a unity, a oneness that the... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by WriterofLight at 7:27 PM | add or view comments (5) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

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