Caressing my frontal lobe slowly probing,nudging
Whispering thoughts to the fore
Seeping slowly, thoughts-profound
Hints of genious peeking from grey matter...
-Distraction-
Scares them away
Leaving only an after-taste, a hint, wispy like
The memory of a rose's smell.
Gently retreating emotive thought carrying with it,
The insight of dreams.
John Reed Clark 8-22-94
Friday, December 18, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
My Painter
The canvas came alive-more and more
Stroke after stroke
The illiterate girl, with no voice smiled
as she painted.
Dab of Brilliant yellow on a summer hat
Touch of coffee brown on his shoes
The picture moved of its own accord
And my girl with no voice, smiled.
The picture’s couple was hand in hand
Smiles on them both.
The painter coyly accepted my praise.
The scene developed more-the background came to fore
The river was their handrail as love consumed them.
Off in the distance a bridge, large and
graceful, spanned the gentle river.
And upon the pine green bench were two birds, leaning close
The woman in the painting was
Looking at them, still smiling that smile
Of satisfied love.
And the man, with his coffee brown shoes
Held the same smile, also gazing at the birds.
The girl, my painter, cleaned her brush
And this time caressed the sky
With subtle blues, whites, tinges of grey
And a splash of lavender all beautiful and in harmony.
My hand on her shoulder as she
moved the brush, feeling the strength, the will in her warm body.
As my Illiterate silent genious
Stared at me, I noted the smile, it was
The same as that in the picture.
We met, our lips, our bodies, our souls.
When the conscious mind was again mine to control
I looked around, and smiled.
She was with me hand in hand
As we looked at the birds and the
River. The sky was an incredible lavender, blue, and white.
I felt a tickling at my feet, and
Out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed
A large paint brush coloring my shoes, a
Coffee brown.
john reed clark 9/9/92
Stroke after stroke
The illiterate girl, with no voice smiled
as she painted.
Dab of Brilliant yellow on a summer hat
Touch of coffee brown on his shoes
The picture moved of its own accord
And my girl with no voice, smiled.
The picture’s couple was hand in hand
Smiles on them both.
The painter coyly accepted my praise.
The scene developed more-the background came to fore
The river was their handrail as love consumed them.
Off in the distance a bridge, large and
graceful, spanned the gentle river.
And upon the pine green bench were two birds, leaning close
The woman in the painting was
Looking at them, still smiling that smile
Of satisfied love.
And the man, with his coffee brown shoes
Held the same smile, also gazing at the birds.
The girl, my painter, cleaned her brush
And this time caressed the sky
With subtle blues, whites, tinges of grey
And a splash of lavender all beautiful and in harmony.
My hand on her shoulder as she
moved the brush, feeling the strength, the will in her warm body.
As my Illiterate silent genious
Stared at me, I noted the smile, it was
The same as that in the picture.
We met, our lips, our bodies, our souls.
When the conscious mind was again mine to control
I looked around, and smiled.
She was with me hand in hand
As we looked at the birds and the
River. The sky was an incredible lavender, blue, and white.
I felt a tickling at my feet, and
Out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed
A large paint brush coloring my shoes, a
Coffee brown.
john reed clark 9/9/92
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Cross To Bear
Wallow hatchling
Continue, flap your featherless wings
Attempt to soar
But falter too busy-
Watching your siblings-coward
Watching them
Judging them
Attacking them
Contempt and envy your only caw.
Too busy-to
Walk across the street
Can’t even imagine what it looks like
Let alone ask-why?
Clutch mates are urged on-by you!
Only to flatten on pavement
As you snicker-breathing exhaust.
You-proud; with shallow victory,
Still haven’t got a clue
Why they tried to cross the road.
jrc 5-6-96
edited 12-08-2009
Continue, flap your featherless wings
Attempt to soar
But falter too busy-
Watching your siblings-coward
Watching them
Judging them
Attacking them
Contempt and envy your only caw.
Too busy-to
Walk across the street
Can’t even imagine what it looks like
Let alone ask-why?
Clutch mates are urged on-by you!
Only to flatten on pavement
As you snicker-breathing exhaust.
You-proud; with shallow victory,
Still haven’t got a clue
Why they tried to cross the road.
jrc 5-6-96
edited 12-08-2009
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