without
borders
I remain
stationary
where time is unwritten
like a clock
without hands
and a fall in season
recovers
a tattered book
anew.
words
in time
suspended
find their way
in black and white
amongst days
of conventional thought
and forgiveness
while
wings yet fly
above columns
so out of balance
beside a wall
upon a fallen street
of half mast dreams
where riddled numbers
become bullets in pages
within a fallen castle.
though
not close at hand
ink runs
so that my thoughts
might once
again
catch up with it
myself midstream
like a bridge
I have been
many times over
in a song.
finding
somewhere
the foot
to plant
until no longer
touching
is the ground.
I think many of us go through times when creativity becomes null . Its been happening to me lately. Written with depth and precection!....M
Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis (Reader)
Reviewed on December 1, 2008
For me, this stirring poem felt like an inner struggle between the flow of creativity and a certain restraint or hindrance to this flow. While the poem itself speaks to the triumph of creativity, its substance deals much with how elusive the creation often is for the creator. There's a certain "transience" here or "impermanence." Frameless is a delicate piece held securely within and protected by your substantive ponderings.
John, so very good to see your work again -- you certainly have not lost your touch for the mastery of poetic expression -- in your work I sense self reassessment of values -- very beautifully written -- peace to you my friend -- JMW
How lovely to see you again, John! I had been wondering... hope you're well. This is far more than a "toe in the poetic waters of return". It is a deep breath in, taking stock of the view, the height of the sun, the slant of the wind. Youself midstream amid all that running ink, catching up with yourselves nicely and tripping along downstream in anticipation of full flow. I like this burgeoning state. And the inversions of that final strophe are playful and fascinating. You have lift-off, my friend! :)) Good to see you back! Kate xx
Excellently composed and leaves the reader to ponder the depth of your write and the inner reflection you bring out of something lost but fighting to regain.
frameless and timeless. Sounds so much like you're walking the streets composing! Every word chosen carefully. Where have you been; hope you are well? Thanks for brining your personal style of narrative verse back to us...
Later, michael
Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader)
Reviewed on November 23, 2008
John, I have missed you and your poetry which speaks so perfectly what you'd like to see change...and the things that will never change...a bit deep although beautifully written, all my best, Holly
so much visual words here in this lovely poem! much like a journey
this poem flows ...I especially like the line..."words in time suspended find their way in black and white amongst days of conventional thought and forgiveness while wings yet fly above columns so out of balance behind a wall upon a fallen street of half mast dreams" ....to me that means that at different times in our life we are very idealistic in our hopes and dreams and sometimes life puts obstacles in our way but if we give our dreams wings to fly above the walls beyond the fallen street where we may stumble and fall, just to believe in ourselves and put our heart into what really makes us happy in life, we can move beyond what others expect us to be and truly find our potential!!
Hello John! ! ! long time no see, Ile-du-Diable or Alcatraz? you were gone an awful long time! and I see that your poet skills are not only intact but powerfully updated by inspiration.
John, it's been too long, you've been missed!
I'm glad the words and ink found their way back
and you are once again sharing your superb work
and magical netaphors with us!
Somewhere between the earth and the sky, I can see this poem stretching out its arms, and those tall buildings made of words and ink last longer in our hearts than a concrete jungle's vanishing dreams.
Welcome back!
John,
Welcome back! It's been a long while since I've had the pleasure of reading you, and you've returned wonderfully, and this return cheers me immensely. A fine fine poem.
John
What an unexpected treat to read your words once more, my friend! You have been missed! This piece ... well what a way to return! That last stanza.. it gets a WOW! We have much to catch up on... but I just wanted you to know how glad I am to have you back with us.
How many times I have been tempted to write you. I even went so far as to construct a completed paragraph once but decided you needed a much deserved rest from the world of imagination. I do understand that, although we are free to do as we please, we sometimes find ourselves in a moment of immobility—within a place where time stands still and with a need for a moment of calm to collect our thoughts. Our feelings will, subsequently, make their way to the printed page—to be shared with those in whom we have silenced ourselves. We may even think there is a need for leniency from those with whom we have shared so much in the past; however, like the prodigal son, we see that all is quickly forgiven, and so it is time to kill the fatted calf. It has been far too long since I've heard your thoughts whispered on these pages, but now you are back, and all is well with the world once more.
It's good to read your work again John. An interesting and insightful piece. There is only one line that appears out of place to me and that is: 'within a fallen castle' but since poetry is so subjective, I may be the only one that feels this way. Maybe I just don't get it. I loved the flow of the rest of the poem. Great work!
Chanti
YEAH!!! You are back!! I am so happy to read your words again... It is sad to admit, but there have been days in the past few months where suddenly my mind would wander to you and your poetry and I would wistfully long for the days when you...and your elipses...would return... hee, hee... My friend and ... cohort, it is GREAT to have you back!
Now...about the poem...
Before I comment, I have to ask if you really did mean a "clock without hand", or if you meant "without hands"? I stumbled on that line and wasn't sure if you meant it symbolically for something or what.
I must once again say that I struggle to not read this poem in an every other line format. It forms its own form of poetry when you read it that way and tells a slightly different story. But...it is, of course, better read as a whole.
I caught glimpses of so many different possible meanings to this poem. My first thought was that thoughts had been collecting in your head and had finally found their way to where ink spilled upon these pages. But...at a second reading, I caught pieces of wall street toppling...the ticker-tape readings as bullets to those who invested so heavily there...among it all I sense a slight wistfulness and a little bit of nostalgia...and hope of solid ground when you land.
Have a fabulous Thanksgiving, John!
I am thankful for your writes and so glad to read your works again...
Cryssa :~)
Oh John I'm so glad to read your beautiful writes again...Where were you, are you okay, are you staying? We need you here, I need you here. I missed you. This was so beautiful and soul touching. Keep them comin...love and big hugs, Bonnie
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
Contraband Marriage, traveling along the hemline of loving after incarceration, is a love story written in lyric and free form, set in reality with a different ever after.
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Ron
Great to be reading your fantastic style again
WELCOME BACK
Peace be with you
wILLIAM
It's great to read your work again!
And this one was well worth the wait.
take care,
Willaim
Regis
Love,Christine
Later, michael
this poem flows ...I especially like the line..."words in time suspended find their way in black and white amongst days of conventional thought and forgiveness while wings yet fly above columns so out of balance behind a wall upon a fallen street of half mast dreams" ....to me that means that at different times in our life we are very idealistic in our hopes and dreams and sometimes life puts obstacles in our way but if we give our dreams wings to fly above the walls beyond the fallen street where we may stumble and fall, just to believe in ourselves and put our heart into what really makes us happy in life, we can move beyond what others expect us to be and truly find our potential!!
A wonderful poem!!
Bravo!!
Thanks so much. It is good!!
Georg
I'm glad the words and ink found their way back
and you are once again sharing your superb work
and magical netaphors with us!
Love,
Eileen
Welcome back!
Axilea
Searching for words. . . . .
Unattainable.
Doug
Welcome back! It's been a long while since I've had the pleasure of reading you, and you've returned wonderfully, and this return cheers me immensely. A fine fine poem.
John
Always, Myrna
How many times I have been tempted to write you. I even went so far as to construct a completed paragraph once but decided you needed a much deserved rest from the world of imagination. I do understand that, although we are free to do as we please, we sometimes find ourselves in a moment of immobility—within a place where time stands still and with a need for a moment of calm to collect our thoughts. Our feelings will, subsequently, make their way to the printed page—to be shared with those in whom we have silenced ourselves. We may even think there is a need for leniency from those with whom we have shared so much in the past; however, like the prodigal son, we see that all is quickly forgiven, and so it is time to kill the fatted calf. It has been far too long since I've heard your thoughts whispered on these pages, but now you are back, and all is well with the world once more.
From the hills of West Virginia, I am...
Most sincerely yours,
David Lee Thompson
Chanti
Now...about the poem...
Before I comment, I have to ask if you really did mean a "clock without hand", or if you meant "without hands"? I stumbled on that line and wasn't sure if you meant it symbolically for something or what.
I must once again say that I struggle to not read this poem in an every other line format. It forms its own form of poetry when you read it that way and tells a slightly different story. But...it is, of course, better read as a whole.
I caught glimpses of so many different possible meanings to this poem. My first thought was that thoughts had been collecting in your head and had finally found their way to where ink spilled upon these pages. But...at a second reading, I caught pieces of wall street toppling...the ticker-tape readings as bullets to those who invested so heavily there...among it all I sense a slight wistfulness and a little bit of nostalgia...and hope of solid ground when you land.
Have a fabulous Thanksgiving, John!
I am thankful for your writes and so glad to read your works again...
Cryssa :~)