Some Internal Rhyme for You Heathens by Writer Spileki

Siggghhhhh….

I really love this poet. She makes longer poems that give my spirit room to roam, to ramble, to buck and thrash and pronk like a beastie antelope under endless starry skies…

Here is a small excerpt that rings in my soul!

“…It is easy to see,
here in the dark, how explorers of old could
convince themselves of destiny, cousin to destination,
of a magnet star calling to the magnet in the breast.
Quest is kin to conquest. Scaling these leaves, helmed
ghosts cry out in seven romance languages, Devil
take the hindmost! and flail their way into the surf
of sinuous vines. Like them, I navigate by clutching.”
By Susan Spileki

Enjoy, friends…enjoy

buildingapoem

Don’t take it personally, Gentle Readers. A good friend of mine refers to both her two large cats and her college students as the “little beasts.” It’s a term of endearment. Enjoy the poem.

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Nightview from the Beanstalk, with Moon

I.

Up here, night clouds move like an ocean breaking

against the beanstalk, rolling into charcoal

horizonless shore as if racing to discover new worlds,

ferocious and green. But there are no new worlds

left to discover. There is no green; only heavy midnight

blue indistinguishable from eternity. Without moonlight,

this foliage is primal, reaching out. Jack says,

Navigate by touch as salmon do, heaving themselves straight

upriver, up waterfalls, up to invisible sky. It is easy to see,

here in the dark, how explorers of old could

convince themselves of destiny, cousin to destination,

of a magnet star calling to the magnet in the breast.

Quest is kin to…

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Currents & Tides

there is a tide, red and rough, a red tide
there is a sea current deep and dark blue
they twist together on Time’s spinning loom
or are they the needles that Fate clacks together
to spin out, to weave our quick times?
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deep in my blood flows a tide and a current
twining in red and in blue and the echos
and rumours of beauty are driftwood in me
remnants from dream islands not yet discovered
but whispering of That Place where All Is Well
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and the ancient and old, the fearful and bold
walk the earth in my blood or sail in the blue currents
to woodlands and hills and to mystery legends
returned in the Hope and the Promise of paradise
tidal and twining insistent in me
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Skeleton Woman Come

skeleton woman, you have come
surfaced with hue and cry and thrum
and waters heaving, rising scum
and dead bones clicking and clacking
clikkity-knuckles wrapping and long
dragging in waters where your white hair
stays wet, stays living and ready to tenderly
wrap what it is you have come near to usher
into the womb-waiting death.i have hooked you, and you me,
and i have done with running away.
here…my tears for your bony tongue
drink and be filled, i ask only one thing:

that you be tender, be gentle
take them now, see the rot?
the decay, the deformities, have pity
in your mercies bury them slow
and let your waters feed them
to the seaweed and the fishes

and if you deem it good
and resurrection come to them
may it be ever in the rising of the sun
across the frozen waves
within the shell-pink dawn