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The Space Between Words
Posted by John White
did you hear that
did you hear a sound
it’s unlikely you did
since there was silence
right there
in between the words
falling among phrases
the pause separating
the chosen sentences
there is a meaning there
it’s often not what’s said
it’s the space between
the words
did you hear that
it’s there
right there
there’s meaning in
those spaces
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Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: DoubleU, John White, Poetry, The Space Between Words
Colors of Life
Posted by John White
soaked in sepia
mass of monochrome
listless grays
between black and white
these exanimate days
.
now to seek splashes
of the colors of life
to signal that someone
inhabits these spans
from dusk to dawn
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Master
Posted by John White
to be the master
of all that’s surveyed
must come with
many pitfalls
but to serve
an unknown
invisible master
can create
an inescapable
prison
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There
Posted by John White
there
it may be played on
a different instrument
there
it may be sung in
a different tongue
there
it may be paced in
a different rhythm
but there
as it is here
it is the song
of death
the march to which
we parade toward
the grave
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Annum
Posted by John White
Ding dong it is midnight.
The wicked witch will remain.
She will be marked in daily blocks,
As we leaf page-by-page,
Through hardware-store calendar.
.
Her evil spell will be felt,
Throughout the coming dozen,
The 52 repeated stretches,
From Sunday through Saturday.
.
A toxic brew which she conjured,
Especially for our benefit,
A blanketing pox under which we live,
Will cover the days we inhabit,
An inescapable, personal burden.
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To Be A Good Son
Posted by John White
If I bend my beliefs,
To what you hold as true,
Would you consider me,
Acceptable?
.
If I reshape my will,
To meet your desires,
Could I be counted as,
Faithful?
.
If I seek after goals,
Of your choosing,
Will my life and times,
Bring you pride?
.
If my knee remains bent,
In submission,
Can I be called a,
Favorite?
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Doors Locked
Posted by John White
back then, living in squalor
in that far-too-expensive
apartment, with little
if anything in the fridge
or the cupboard and the
door constantly locked
my true friends were
Kurt Cobain, Eddie Vedder
and Chris Cornell – the only
guys who seemed to
understand me or what
it all felt like to be there
today it may be different –
different days, different
circumstances
my friends haven’t changed
but the doors are still locked
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A Life in the Day
Posted by John White
George Martin: 1926-2016
I have read the book
its cover lies closed
the blackbird now
with her folded wings
floats within the sky
among precious stones
.
the dirt will be wiped
from our hands as
we march from the grave
the whole world came
you helped to give us love –
all that we ever needed
.
now you have followed
the path of your sun
into the waiting arms
of your Lady Madonna
you’ll now forever roam
immortal fields forever
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Storms Like These
Posted by John White
rain – the kind of rain
you’re sure will bring down the sky
wind – the kind of wind
you’re sure will bring down all around you
thunder – the kind of thunder
you’re sure will crumble the walls
lightning – the kind of lightning
you’re sure will puncture the ceiling
.
while others choose to cower, I revel
storms like these remind me I’m alive,
display a power over which we have no control,
clear out the cobwebs of a humid day,
and can reshape the landscape
.
storm – the kind of storm
you’re sure will end it all
but what a show and what a feeling!
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Words Like Leaves
Posted by John White
Lifted from language, from a native tongue,
Words fine-tuned, sharpened to a razor’s edge,
Made into the mysterious, sublime.
To metaphor, simile, parable,
They are fitted neatly and uniquely.
Each grouping a singular character,
Expressing new ideas and emotions.
But can these vehicles of expression,
Be effective out among so many?
These drivers of feelings aimed into hearts,
Must cut through the noisy din, the clutter.
They are numbered like the leaves of the wood,
Crash to earth as if constant autumn.
Where might they fall; by whom will they be heard?
Will they fall withered, scattered like refuse,
Or sound out a new voice, a special chord?
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darellphilipA really interesting piece! I hope that you're keeping well and still writing! 😊
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SaloniDoors are still closed. Loved it! There is comfort in music. Specially when you want to retire from
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michnavsI cant find you in my reader i have to go check on your post thru my stat
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skramblingeezerTook a while to fully comprehend your full meaning here. Hurry back, this space has turned into a vo
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cote8050I love this!! So true :) I have missed your writing, my "reader" doesn't show me the people I follow
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kutukamusAh yes, the silence With all its traces.. :)
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