Poetry

by T.S.A.R.

Sonnet I


Infinity is that which laughs at a fool .
Yes ! As your curvature the eye beguiles .
That you could ever sum or school
Your song that waits in endless miles . (?)
But the sum of song is ever touch .....
A sum , like infinity - but not so much !
One’s music should attend another’s ear !
The question being , “ Does someone else hear ? ”
Or.... Was this music made for the creator’s sake ?
The selfish circle of ‘me’ and ‘I’ does forsake !
Songs practice touch - knowing where to go .
The dance of touch being what we know .
The idea of song being immediate feel
Not infinity - but touch on a wheel .


Sonnet II


I know not whether time be there .
As dissonant you call time’s bell ,
“ If only time would wait to care
My ‘ becoming ’ - so to tell ”
Now is wasted rings measured word -
You being ‘ beauty’ , more , it’s voice
Now ‘to be tasted’ even heard
As singing that you must rejoice
In being as you woman are ,
Strong symbol of what is our best .
After we , who struggled , came you so far !
Thou would do well these words behest
Time being no such substance kind .
There being for you now only happiness to mind !


Sonnet III


Eternal dream of our human kind
Will this body last it’s dream ?
In youth and beauty will it find
More that it’s expectation seam ?
Helpless you and I are bound
To the body as we be ........
Left to selfish vice ...... it’s sound
To linger ...... Vainly ...... mirror see
Our reflections better than is just !
As flesh weakens gravity invokes
Wrinkled petals and signaled rust
And the weakening of self - trust provokes .
We are better not dreamers be
And mind over beauteous matter see .


Sonnet IV


What we do say is our life .
The collection of our words our stay
Complexity versus simplicity our strife
In understanding - the relevance of our say .
Compound the words - The sentence long
We prisoners of our own song !
Pretenders we that we never knew
The simple statement - words a few .
Coarse thread stumbles through needles fine
As cork stopping sweet scented red wine .
Nations rise and fall upon their voiced word
But the simple voice is the one we have know and heard .
The lightest words in heaviness fall
Upon our conscious minds as call .

Steeple


I aspire as thousands do ,
Even millions more of me and you ,
To a higher place ...... so high !
Never knowing just so why
That I should reach
Inevitably to the sky
And further ...... than the sky so blue .


The ground is firm and I can walk .
And Providence allowed me to talk
But gravity still binds my goal !
That I should reach to be the equal of my soul (?)
A thought ..... forever taking toll -
It the wind and me the bending stalk !


I aspire as love must cry
To a higher place ...... so high
I know not why I love her so
My reasons drop my mind below
Her presence , when she takes me
Make my heart aglow ......
This is the reason that I sigh .

Getting Ahead


I dreamt that I had gone ahead ,
A plug was in my brain .
I was motorized to run instead
Much faster that a train !
I caught up with the morning light
With a frightful running urge .
Speeding faster that the night
I switched me onto ‘ surge ‘ !
I caught up with myself and then
Tied a knot in time
That I would remember when
I was dreaming of this rhyme !

‘ Tommy ’


Tommy took a reel of twine
And rolled it out to see ,
How deep the ocean really was
And whether it could be
Deeper than his reel of twine
And infinity !


The twine went out with tide and set ,
To go the proper route .
And Tommy’s twine went out no doubt
Until the twine ran out .
The ‘ limit ’ of the ball of twine
Now Tommy thought about .


“ I’ll tie another ball of twine -
I’ll make a simple knot -
To the very end of twine (!)
To reach the unknown spot (!) “
Tommy’s eyes grew oh so large
His mind was getting hot.


He tied another ball of twine
To the end in hand ,
And told himself in silent thought
“ The string has got to land (?) . “
The vision in his mind so tight ,
Like a rubber band .


A gross of balls of twine he used ,
Each knotted end to end .
Each knot a new dimension set
Upon his mind to send -
It going out sea - it went ,
As if to never end !


And Tommy sat for days and nights .
Reeling out the line .
Believing he would find the end
For his balls of twine -
He muttered every now and then ,
“ I’m running out of time ! “


A gross of balls of twine he used ,
Hardly keeping score (!)
He tied his ‘ jumper ‘ to the twine ,
Each knitted row be sure !
He knotted on his vest , his socks ,
And his pants were simply - more !


He used the laces from his boots ,
He knotted on his hair (!) .
He moaned and groaned and mumbled that ,
“ It really wasn’t fair
That now his hair was really gone
People just might stare !”


Now Tommy shivered on the shore ,
With no clothes upon -
He used them down and balls of twine
And all his hair was gone-
All this to find the unknown spot
That deepness sat upon !


But in the end there was no end ,
And you can all depend ,
That Tommy’s mind went out to sea
Each piece a knotted trend .
Yes , Tommy’s brain went rather blank ,
And his mind went round the bend !

“ Heading Somewhere ? ”


I met a man just down the road
Going up a hill .
He said , ‘ I’ve been forsaken
And have to take a pill !
My doctor says I have no head
It’s ever left behind ......
He emphasized the simple fact
That my purpose had no wind !
The pills he gave, extremely red ,
But dark deep blue inside (!)
I took them one by one each day -
( Doctor said, “They’d coincide” ) !
On Mondays , I get up at three
To check one small green vial .
On Thursday’s I wake up again ,
Still looking for the dial !
On Friday’s I go out for walks ,
Running where I can -
Up the downside of my mind .
I’m a very silly man !
On Saturday’s I stay at home
Prying open clams .
I hope to find the obscure trick
That buries them in sand !
It’s therapy for me you see
On Saturday’s prescribed .
Doctor says that clams are sick
And cry their way to hide !
On Sunday I am told for sure
That I haven’t been or done
The things I thought last Sunday
That I had left undone ...... ?
But my doctor says I have no head
He was trying to be kind .
He said , “ You’ll never be again
The man you left behind .”

Empty Shells © T.S.A.R.

Hippopotamus, Cocoon,
and God.


From Eliot's Drain
Part II


The hippo said , as he sat on a stalk ,
" I need a cocoon to take on a walk .
Based on a stomach it must be able ,
To swallow the drains of my elegant table , "
A cocoon wriggled up by the hippo ' s ear ,
" Is it okay if I make my home ' hear ' ? "
" Your duality ' s punny , " , the hippo replied ,
" But , I ' ll not hear my stable of beautiful brides ! "
" My pun was omnific . " , the cocoon said quick ,
" Since metamorphosis is my special trick ! "
The cocoon wriggled by to the hippo ' s nose – in ,
" Can I rest here , while you go for a spin ? "
The hippos replied with a terrible din ,
" My nose will be blocked , and I won ' t smell Grishkin " .
The cocoon , getting desperate , asked him , quite hung ,
" Can I rest down there , right under your tongue ? "
" Good Heavens , No ! " , the hippo did rip ,
" I can ' t stand onamatopoeia near my lip ! "
" Well , what a ' fuzzle ' ! " , the cocoon said , " We ' ll see . "
" Can I rest ' tween your toes , and sleep to a zee ? "
The hippo replied with great consternation,
" You ' ll ruin my rhythmic foot ' s concentration ! "
" Well , " , said the cocoon , " What about your eye ' s location ? "
" Surely , that won ' t ruin your concentration ? "
" You ' ve got me . " , said the hippo , " That ' s Hokku !
I ' m as blind as a bat , and my eyes are for you ! "
" But I ' m puzzled ( ? ) , " , said the hippo , steaming hots ,
" Why did you pick my sensitive spots ? "
" Oh , " , said the cocoon , " Making moths so intense ,
And I can ' t do a thing , unless I ' ve got sense ! "
The cocoon continues , " I do like you Duzz ,
I sit on a stalk , mellowing into a fuzz .
You ' re one million time larger than me , in a lump ,
I too have a question for your largeness to stump .
Why would you walk a cocoon on your back ,
When in fact your size warrants a different tack ? "
" My ! " , said the hippo , " In the night , I have f un .
I run after big butterflies , excitement by ton ( ! ) .
I careen all night , til the trees are all flat ,
And as you well know now , I ' m as blind as a bat ,
I need a cocoon to complete my lark ,
Because a cocoon can see in the dark ! ! ! "
" That ' s profound ! " , the cocoon said ,
Wrapping more cotton around it ' s head !
" What gave you the premiss that I could see
In the dark , as clear as day could be ? "
" On detail " , said the hippo , wanting to be ,
" I ' m fuzzier than a blanketed flea !
But , by some peculiar intuition ,
I work things out backwards , from a conclusion !
Everything comes from my tendency list . – ( ! )
The older the facts – the more now is missed ! "
" I 'm listless myself . " , the cocoon said , defensive ,
" Every fact that comes to my senses ,
I change – to my mind ' s liking ,
Since I see no point in past minds hiking .
I ' m now – whatever I ' m mean ' t to be ,
Metamorphasis has no solidity . "
I twist all images with a faceted eye ,
So many panes true – so many to lie .
I see something coming now my eyes pane ,
I think we had better hurry – it ' s going to reign ! "
I sense your pain . " , the hippo said , " Rain ! "
" I can smell nothing , but miasmal mist drain ! " . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Seeding and the Sower
Hippo's Lament


From Eliot's Drain Part II
Ad Libitum


"Toilest I with words and weeds . " ,
The hippo said spitting seeds .
" The idea's done so much for more .....
For growing ......Veggies on the floor .
The words of wisdom I bequeath
To seeds that stick between my teeth .....
Yes...I spit them on the floor -
And ..... I grunt and groan " no more !'
But ' ants ' that follow on my trail
Tote the seed ..... as if to mail
My rewarding dinners - aft my tail .....
Many moons to come it's sure ''


Such wordy seeds I don't endure .
I spit ..... I cast ..... But I'm not sure
What the seeds are really for .......


Toilest I with words ..... I pane !
I think I'll go and eat more seeds again .

Triskellion
Middling Addition


Ad Libitum


I answered every question then . . .
They said , “ It isn ' t fair !
Your answer ' s from the middle
Which really isn ' t there ! ”


I said that every question asked
Was posed from underground
Or above the sky so high --
Which answers can ' t be found .


They said , “ The links are obvious ( ? ) ”
I said , “ Why the questions then ?
If your absolute is certain ,
Why not write it with a pen ? ”


They said , “ . . . that all the joining ( ! )
When everything was new ,
Was done by something certain
' Who ' joined it with some glue ! ”


I postulated chickens --
That a chicken was the egg ( ! )
They muddled with their answer ,
“ What came first we beg ? ” !!!!


I argued for infinity
Saying only moment can give time .
They said , “ We dare you prove it !
And your answer is but rhyme ! ”


They stuck , “ That glue was made at first
-- Before all other things ! “
They said it with a screaming voice ,
“ That reason . . . it just sings ! ”


I was not the least perturbed
By the screaming voices there --
Or the nasty arguments
That I really wasn ' t fair .


In answer to their ' first made glue '
Before all other things ( ! )
I said that moment is the stuff
That makes the true bell ring !


They said , "That two and two make four
Every time you add ! ”
I said that such a limit will
Drive a person mad !


I posed the thought of synergy
An idea made to mix .
They said , “ That ' s pretty fishy
Because no mind can get a fix ! ”


I said that two and two might add
To three, or five, or more . . .
They didn ' t take this very well
And some left by the door !


“ If two and two does not make four , “
The rest said it very plain ,
“ If two and two does not make four , “
They shouted twice with pain .


Then nothing can be certain said --
Thought ... a needle in some hay ?
Then nothing can be certain . . . Why ,
You can make up what you say . . . . . . . “

Old News and Paper

Ad Libitum


From Eliot's Drain
Part II


The beggar sleeps the corner deep
Paper wraps will do
Old News and the pigeons weep -
What will paper do ?
For warmth does paper truly warm
To newspaper beggars sleep ?
The world flies by the corner room -
Automobiles noisy act !
The music for the beggar’s doom
Nineteen - sixty Cadillac .
The ‘paper-cup’ of warmth a void
To the passer bye .
‘ Empty passer bye ‘ annoyed -
The corner and their eye .
Old News and the pigeons weep ,
McDonald’s wraps astrew
Old News with the Beggar sleep
Waiting feelings should renew .