Past Present Presence Potpourri Poetry



Apalachicola Weathered Slip 18 Gazebo

Peeling bench fading among time waves

Interlaced woodwork weaving moments,

Dull wood grain weathered brown streaks

Build solid next to swaying Spanish moss.

Tree trunks twisting vines onto prancing limbs

Breezing poetry lines swinging trawler top masts.

Fishing nets stowed among antennas ‘n running lights

Pelican posts ‘n sea gulls screaming cry perches.

Slip 18 Apalachicola Sunday lazy afternoon,

Fishing pelicans sashaying graceful circles,

Buzzard spread wide wings glide balmy currents,

Loons dancing wings ‘n feet on water into flight.

Fishermen patch’s working on board there sweetheart.

New planks recycling fishing dreams into Gulf streams,

Endless cycle of Apalachicola seashore scene Sundays,

Where a weathered gazebo tries to resists any change.

Yet a tattered-tear missing shingled bare headed roof

Ages to let anyone know that time rusts trawlers

Saltwater ‘n bleaching sun pounds sounds of repair,

Where a Gazebo needs a shingled top hat new wig

Clear coat showing the Apalachicola weather veins

New flowered garden skirt beauty found here in love.

Note: The gazebo has grayish brown streaks fighting the weather, in the this look, it stands on the stamp of time, a clear coat showing in that determination would be so cool, rather than a whitewash painting over its character. A flowerbed of changing season and colors can show the HeArt of Apalachicola, as the trawlers horns shouts there exits and entry into the slips. In fact, one Sunday evening, they can have the Apalachicola Trawler Concert, where seafarers celebrate the memories of going out to the Gulf to make a living, just a thought.

David L. Young  03/30/08© 
De-Terminated poet, somewhere in America not on company time   

Artmosphere Artmospheric Firestorm

Creative explosion from within the dynamic expressions of HeArt Beats

Accelerative implosion in propelled thought impression of Liberal Arts feats

Reigning down sunrise crimson mating with sunset’s purple passion heat

Daisy ‘n rose ‘n wildflower wild ambrosia among silken static scent secretions.

To touch upon the quill of a feather rippling deep within desires making love,

To clutch upon the chill of leather breezing down between the handle bars,

  So much upon the shrill of bellwether leading depths inside the spring’s sounds,

To mulch upon the frill of weather sighing distinct with every ingredient being poured.

America’s Artmosphere of “We the people” writing our minds diverse Free Speech

Painting patriotism in all the colors and hues of God Bless American Liberal Freedom,

Where every living human being is the be treasured as a tranquil piece of heavenly Art.

It is a Free Press medium that unites America in a greater love of divine humanity;

The compassion that is the true “We the people” American Artmosphere Firestorms.

David Lester Young   08/07/08© 
De-Terminated poet, somewhere in America not on company time      

Day After Tomorrow

Praying for the day after tomorrow
Dreaming of the words that might arise,
Words free to express their independence
Finding the democratic eagle’s spirit
Inside the dove’s peace and tranquility.

Miracle of the day after tomorrow
Feeling the faith inside the soul
Finding the right words to carry on
The emotion to fight against all odds
For man is but, a moral flawed being.

Living for the day after tomorrow
In the living suicide to feel all the pain,
Residing in it to climb mountains,
Each razor sharp rock, an obstacle
To be insulated against for protection.

Determination for the day after tomorrow
Starving in the meaning of words growing,
To win the super lotto of your conviction
Mostly for emotional gain of accomplishment
Residing then above the poverty level.

Enlightenment for the day after tomorrow
That poet’s words never be used against them
When it is like a verbal communication release,
That words verbal or written be afforded rights,
Rights that we want Iraq to declare for its citizens.

Truth for the day, after day, after day into eternity
That its power grows from its monumental answers
Never letting our self-determination be intimidated
Blossoming in the debate of an unshackled free press
Separation of individual and corporate dictatorships.

Tomorrow will bring the tears draining my face
Weathered in wrinkles deteriorating in time
Emotional storms demoralizing the psyche
But the day after bring brings the rapture of relieve
Having climbed the mountain to see the heavens.

Tomorrow will bring the hug of humanities compassion.
Tomorrow will bring your children’s, children’s dreams.
Tomorrow will bring the demise of you mind’s words
Record those words well for the day after tomorrow
For today, the time is too precious to do nothing.

D.Lester

Somewhere in America not on company time 01/31/05 ©
The Terminated Free Spirited Poet

Mountain Fresh Spring Hues 2011 

The wisp whispered within the mountain mist 
Whirling with moisture seeding drops to trees. 
Weather hanging heavy in limb moaning twists 
In weight seeping saturation in drooping treetops. 

Ground soaked overcast overnight in morning sunrise, 
Where clouds ride low swirling in the moist air currents. 
Silent creek, now babbling aloud surge to jeopardize 
Forests downstream bearing down rushing flood torrents. 

Slowly the sunshine evaporates away the dingy grays, 
As clouds levitate back to the stratosphere's cyan blues. 
Wind's air conditioner dries things that were in disarray, 
Where leave buds expand to stop dripping - 
To bring natures mountain fresh - spring hues. 

David Lester Young 03/02/11 

Petaluma Energy

Ground vibrations of artistic independence,
Energy force of Mother Earth’s Artmosphere
Rooting veins floating upon spiritual petals,
Divinity of oneself upon free flow Liberalism.

Poetry’s grave meaning soaking upon creativity.
Weathered colors wilting only to be repainted.
Materialism expunged upon simple breathing,
Feeling the mainsails billow inside a Free Spirit
Petaluma dreamscape enlightening the soul.

David L. (D.Lester) Young 08/10/06 © 

De-terminated poet, somewhere in America not on company time

Poetic Zeal

Seal of approval of reader’s delight

Wealth of heartbeats weathering acceptance

Upon roller coaster twisting tragedy ‘n drama

Scripting characters prancing upon poetic zeal.

Seed of removal of weeding blight

Stealth of upstart weather vein descriptors

Upon paper grain germinating panorama

Stripped abreaction upon soul’s peel.

Song cry of vocal vibrating flight

Health spasm resonating radiance inscription

Upon harmonic harmony heart ‘n verse squama

Stringing songbird sensual winged notes appeal.

Sheer the night chill dancing quill starlight

Bill of health sailing midnight ocean descriptions.

Silvery highlight sparkling mainspring cyclorama

Searching horizons medicinal tranquil poetic zeal.

A piece of time’s living zeal

Among a seal of peace.

A piece of time

A seal of peace.

Time

Peace.

Peace of Poetry.

David L. Young   07/05/08© 
De-Terminated poet, somewhere in America not on company time           

Bleached Whale

Gravestone weathers the grave lines

Sculptured on seashore sandstone face

Wailing breezes of a beached whale

Being bleached dry under sun’s rays.

High tide has battered its remains

Sandpaper abrasion scaring terrain

Seagulls stretch scavenge stench

Rotting fresh winds in flesh wounds.

Gaping holes of killer whale ending

Story being torn away in pecking order,

As some stand guard over the trophy

Until the sea eagle circled overhead.

Screeching gravity talons finding its mark

Tearing hunks apart - like razor blades,

Departing among winged saltwater fury

To eaglets perched searing the shoreline.

How the drama in living tragedy develops

Vibrating inside word’s quill universe feathers

Spreading horizontal lines of stage flight

Searching a horizon of decaying imagery.

Picture floating blubber’s stripped skeleton

Nature foraging the dead carcass for life.

Do our words blossom in postmortem epitaphs

Telegraphing foliage blossoms weathering time? 

B)

Does the saltwater tears weave woven fabric

Canvas bleached white to black inscriptions?

That poets can never give up their uni-verse

Free Verse fight for “Truth” skeletal scales

Balancing time among questioning Intelligence

Poetic Scale of Justice being history’s conscience.

David Lester Young 02/10/09©
De-Terminated poet, somewhere in America not on (Mercedes Benz) company time

Can One Weather America Alone

Upon the labels of judgments inside deep dark pits

We weather alone among American judgmental states

Wrinkling recesses breathing in abrasion quivering fits

Trolls lurk in the shadows spring to feed off weight.

Leaving forlorn skeletal remains of isolated individuality

04/28/08