Daniel's Window

You ask for wisdom, I deny the page
upon which you would have me demonstrate
the warmth that is antithesis of rage,
and secrets that lie cold upon my plate.
Desire is not what love has promised us,
no simple education of the living.
Hard rain rolls down my back and shades my lust,
cool respite that counters what you’re giving!
There’s no question of our hearts intention,
the light of what we know and who we are;
pity is the cousin of invention
and sorrow but the shadow of a scar.
My passion is all yours for the taking;
my silence, the sound of one heart breaking.

The present was forgotten as we spoke
about our lives and what we’d done with time;
incredibly the years that silence broke
coincided like rhythm in this rhyme.
Each struggle matched by struggle of a kind
blended with our misery of each turn;
compelled by reasons of a common mind.
We both knew, but somehow did not discern
the bond that separation cannot sever,
the chasm that no substitute can fill,
tenderness that kindness cannot ever
restore in us the things that such love will.
Beware of moments past that will not fade;
sun’s light does not wither because of shade.

Winter is the sweetest of the seasons
despite that some may shiver with the ice
and linger in the longing for reasons
that might explain the need for sacrifice.
Each morning brings us promises of spring
without accommodation for despair,
I picture secret moments as I sing
of summer wind that’s captured in your hair.
Fading shimmer is autumn’s gifted tone
as harmony restores me in its wake,
the beauty lost, I now must mourn alone
with shining remnants left for you to take.
Winter dances in cold symmetry
with all that is within you that’s in me.

Good day, everybody!  I had a wonderful Thanksgiving week off for total of nine days including the two weekends.  I got a lot of things done, spent a rare night hanging out with my two younger brothers and stuffed myself at my sister's house on Thanksgiving day!  2007 has been a long year, sometimes difficult, but I am thankful for each day.   I hope all of you had a great week and you're looking forward to December 2007 and January 2008 as much as I am.  No matter what, don't forget to smile!  Here are a few more scribbles from my notebooks.

Daniel

Harvest Prayer

I struggle,
but not against death;
I will sing,
accepting
what comes
because I am through
with fear
and the sad rhythm
of loss.

 
I embrace life,
rejoice in it
even as I squander
the majesty
of its breadth.
I hear children laugh
as the hint of winter
kisses my door;
my cup waits.

 
Drink me
or pour me out
in a rush of
thirsty rejection.
I am hardened
in a timeless
way that cannot speak;
It is what you cannot hear
that screams at me.

 
Hold me here
in this moment
of peace
before I travel
from this place
you know.
Remember, it is
not what I give,
but what I take away.

Shelter In Time

 
I would swing from the slender limbs
Of old man Willow,
Helicopter blossoms would glide
Gently to the ground,

 
Aerodynamic, filled with spring
Spinning in my head,
In tune with time and its passing.
I learned to read there.

 
Sometimes, during a raging storm,
I would run out and
Dive under the weeping branches
Of dubious shade

 
Redolent with damp earth, clover
And dandelions,
Replete with eternity and youth;
Protected from rain.

 
My mother would yell from the house,
Warning of lightning,
Colds, falling trees and fresh cookies
Inside.  I'd relent.

 
I would stare out of the window,
(The sound of raindrops
Mixed with chocolate chips and milk)
Watching the Willow

 
Wave frantically in the wind,
Calling me again,
Beckoning the wild inside me
To seek its shadow.

 
When it rains, I see the Willow
In my mind, calling
I long for its shade and shelter,
Its place in a storm.

 
I miss my friend, the Willow tree
In my old backyard,
Right next to the Crab Apple trees
And the Rhubarb patch.

Awakening

Beware these three:  paucity, love and truth!

Basic Complexity

Precede me in my ignorance, find me
Regretful in the cool green shade;
Evoke me as you touch me spiritually.
Color me with paint that needs no brush
Even when the canvas is saturated,
Drenched in sunlight, yet cold,
Enlaced with pictures uncreated;
Numinous in stories, still untold.
Titillating in memory, this prelude
Sings of subsequent acts predicted,
Relinquished with a grudging attitude.
Unliberated, although unrestricted,
Lugubrious, yet joyful in the knowing;
Eros wind we've ridden is still blowing.

Good Day fellow bloggers.  It has been another week of crowded trains, problems and solutions, but this Wednesday brings a smile to my face and propels me to another Friday.  I've been a little moody lately, but I have great expectations for the years ahead and I wish nothing but the best for all of you.  Here are a couple of poems for the week from one of my notebooks.

A Better Place

 
There you are,
Through the little window on the door;
I can see you,
I can see your body move quicker
Than my mind can accept.
You're like lightning
Flashing and banging,
Burning and brilliantly
Gone, too quickly to follow
With my tired eyes.
I watch the door
As my memory fades
And your heat remains
Bundled up in the air
With the smell of
Your favorite shampoo
And salt water.
I feel just like a tourist
In Paris,
Wonder at every turn
Of my head
And every blinding
Reflection of the sun.
You're cross-legged
On the floor of your apartment,
Drinking a toast with me
As I sit on the floor
Looking into your
Big, unavoidable eyes.
I see you there
Through the little window on the door
Digging for your keys
Or some change,
I don't know.
You're radiant in blue,
Your father's favorite music
Tumbling from your stereo,
Bouncing off of my nose
Into your smile.
You're so far away
And then you're right there
On the other side
Of a small rectangle of glass;
I see you,
And think about your coffee table.

The Perfect Storm

 
My words break in a myriad of ways,
Swirling in a stormy sea of anger,
But, in a moment's pain, I drag the days,
Kicking and howling, from dark to danger;
The sun, restless, rising and receding,
Blue skies turned to black, thunder in a bang,
Phrases turned upon themselves, revenant
Thoughts, reversed and bleeding!
The clouds themselves roll over in refrain,
In chorus with the distant horizon.

 
Come watch the sky with me, and you will see
That stars come down to earth, dance with seagulls
And rip the comfort from the agony
Of losing something irreplaceable.
Lightning cracks the misery of desire,
All bright, suffused with simple suffering
Beyond the need that brings you to this place;
You the song, we the choir!
Sing, sing!  For I shall hear your sweet voice ring
Within the forgotten of your calling.

 
Do not forsake what cannot be reclaimed:
The harvest, the broken earth, the beauty
That's real, despite its lie by which I'm maimed.
Witness my shadow; in the storm I'm free,
Wild, returned to form, inexplicable,
Undeniable, resplendent in gray,
Irreverent, implacably moody,
And you, irascible!
Spin me like a hurricane, shake me up,
Leave; I'll remember your version of truth.

Good evening, Bloggers.  I thought I would post some poems on different topics that are all related to the fall season.  I write all of the time and poetry is the form of writing that I love the most.  I hope you enjoy and please feel free to ask questions, comment or add some poetry of your own. 



One Leaf

 
Leaves of fall surround me
In your multicolored rest, deep and bright,
Enchant me with your daytime songs
In the darkest moments of each night.

Enfolded thus I'm supple
Like the limbs you once adorned
Though I'm fallen I am lifted
Like an infant, newly born.

Leaves of fall surround me
In your parting, now conjoined,
What is whole will soon be broken,
Once created soon destroyed.

In this cycle I'm revolving
As the earth runs 'round the sun
On your whispers I am drifting,
As each leaf, I am but one.

Leaves of fall surround me
Collect with me in mounds
Tremble not in bitter winds
As they rip us from the ground.

We are one, yet we are many
To each victim we are spoils
So much like the ones who scorn us
We are water when it boils.

Leaves of fall surround me
I am weary, worn and weak
I am battered, yet determined
To recall each fallen leaf.

Somewhere In October

 
Beyond my old familiar stage
I squeeze the pleasure from my pain
As laughter trickles through the rain
And losing strikes forgotten rage

I mend the what of who and how
With when and why that I profess
Has almost left me in distress
Without the blessing of a now!

I practiced lines that I was sure
Would generate the joy we sought
From bitter days where we were caught
Between the illness and the cure,

But words have failed to move the acts
That I was bent on playing here,
My phrases blended with my fear
And rounded me with sacred pacts.

A final act and tragic scene
Depending on a mortal wound,
The audience applauding you
Is bowing to your majesty

Without a thought to circumstance
And all that generates a smile,
Through time and cross a thousand miles
Lost in your music and its dance!

Transformed

 
Now I seek another schism
To disperse the tired thrum
That reveals itself in rhythm
Like the beating of a drum.

Like a circle that's unbroken
In a dream without surcease,
In this thought that's now bespoken
I have bled and found release.

In the miracle of waking
I have blessed the dawning glim
With the hope of not forsaking
What was found in midnight's whim.

Lost in congeries, I ramble
Twixt the many and the few
With the lessons found in failure
Bound with images of you.

Here, a picture of you smiling;
There, the shadow of your hips.
Here, the remnants of your promise;
There, the mark left by your lips.

In a mystery of motive
I'm bartered for and traded,
Slowly harnessed, then exploded;
Now whimsical and jaded.

 
Prodigious

That one night was the moment when
We knew that we were more than friends;
Beyond the steam of Paris rain
We cursed the morning after pain.

Mere hours of pure, intense delight
Make rules seem wrong and love seem right;
Now months and years of separate claims,
They flicker here like candle flames.

I see her at each rainbow's end
More treasured than the coin we spend;
I hear her in each sparrow's song,
Much sweeter than our path is long.

I burn for what I knew was lost
The instant that I learned the cost
Of truth expressed in passion's breath,
How loss of this could be like death.

Now time has blown like winter's storm,
I'm back within this uniform;
My name, embroidered cross my chest,
Is matched by one above her breast.

Ironic, how I see her there,
Cross-legged upon a folding chair;
Wide-eyed, she sees me as I near
With memories that we both fear.

Hello, I say, it's been a while.
She answers with her secret smile;
I shiver, as I hold back tears,
How well she's weathered all the years.

Between one night, one mission more,
I feel the love we shared before.
How cruel this world can sometimes be,
Yet now it brings her back to me.

I love Paris and Prague in the spring, but New York is pretty nice too. Here's a picture trail from Queens to the Bronx to Rye New York last May.

Grammy

The following Blog post contains a few poems that include some specific poetic forms and some free-form verse. Please feel free to add some of your own and discuss some of your favorite forms and poets.

The Artiste

You paint me with the colors I abhor,
your brush strokes shade my immediate smile,
mixed tones of gray and blue marking each mile
That you alone can say you’ve traveled more,

but I am no canvas, no sketch-book page
where inspiration’s masterpiece lingers
like desire in your elegant fingers
enfolding me, or starting to enrage

the gentle burning I must now accept
as wisdom will embrace a throbbing pain
like rhythms dancing in my crowded brain;
I can't erase the moments I have kept.

Mark me with your grandiloquent design,
showing me how you will always render
reflected images you’ve surrendered
to the passion of matter over mind.

Cajole me with the breadth of your reach,
convince me with the melody of lust;
pretend for me that we will always trust
The comfort we desire and we beseech!

Connotations

A word is less than truth, something,
but not the thought it expresses;
the emotion, the blistered din
of now is closer to the breadth

of sweat, fear, or hope that has passed.
Remember, because forgetting
is like death, the slow, tortured kind
that wraps around your face, aping

the drunken fool in paradise
watching a sun that doesn’t set.
Believe, because your giant heart
has spoken with tiny whimpers,

thirsting, longing to be shifted
from the stagnant focus of shame.
We excel in self depletion
as the hour shifts in autumn ticks,

the steady rhythm of seconds
seducing us with its madness.
Forgive, because your song is not
alone, your pain no hidden price;

a smile retains its power in
the chaos of the universe,
submerging the end of desire,
warming us with the heat of life.

De La Rosa

How brightly starry nights reveal your face,
Although your absence lingers through the day;
And you might just as well be deep in space
While all my passion flits in restless play.
No plea, though well intended, bends your ear,
Though I, in concentration, try in vain;
With you, in fruitful practice, so I hear,
You've blended with the joy that shadows pain.
If time can grant you one brief moment free,
Please look up at this same white twinkling glow;
And somewhere in refraction, picture me,
Upon the trails that life has bid you go.
Some stars will fade and some forever shine,
Just as your heart shall always burn in mine.

The Prism Effect

I am safe here,
Though only for a moment;
This paradise will shimmer
As it softly fades away.

I will move through the border
Of this peaceful dimension;
Emerging where my heart beats,
Where devils dance in solitude.

I am calm here,
But in this depth of silence
I am bathed in energy,
Lifted secretly.

I will stumble on my private hell
In a second of bliss,
Erupting in a blur of motion
Where order has its way.

I am happy here
In this realm of rhythm;
I am twisted through openings
That suffuse me with light.

I will awaken in sunshine
While angels chase your shadow;
In ripples I will expand,
Bending reality as we collide.

Bearskin

Euphony, you, in peaceful slumbered pose
And all the gathered members thus inclined
To be as rested in their own recline,
Protected as the thorn protects the rose
Laid out as art in loose aesthetic rows,
And treasured as the love I thought was mine;
You tempt me as I find my place in line
And soothe me with your head between my toes.
Now altered by the comfort of my feet,
Destroyed by those who did not know your worth
Surprised by hunters no one cares to meet,
Tracked down until you died upon the earth;
As death has brought you here beneath my seat
Your skin, in death as life, does warmly serve.

            The rain was cool and drenching, but I didn’t care.  I ran out of the stifling air filling Penn station and on to Seventh Avenue, diving into the sudden storm with something resembling relief.  I glanced down to my right as a small girl in a bright yellow rain coat splashed delightfully in a big puddle at the edge of the curb.  Even though the water splashed all over my well-worn jeans, I had to smile at the thought of such innocent fun.  I had started the day in a similar fashion as I rode the Long Island Railroad to Massapequa, eager to see my girlfriend, Karen, after a week of expense accounts and filings at the engineering company I worked for on Park Avenue South.

            I had just turned 19 and I was feeling pretty good about myself.  I had a good job with a major design and engineering firm in Manhattan, a great new apartment, and things seemed to be getting better in my on again, off again relationship with Karen, my high school sweetheart.  She had called me in the morning to let me know that her father was going out boating all day and that we would have the house all to ourselves.  Needless to say, I wasted no time getting ready and managed to make the 9:15AM train to Massapequa with just seconds to spare.  If I would have known what would happen to me that day, I would have stayed on the train until I got to Montauk and lounged around on the ancient dunes.  Instead, I relaxed in the vinyl seat, smiled at the conductor as he punched my ticket, and thought of what a great Saturday it would be.

            Karen was 18, with long, wavy, strawberry blond hair, piercing big brown eyes and a smile that always warmed me.  She was a talented flute player at FDR high school in Brooklyn when we met.  I was rehearsing for a musical we were putting on at the school when she first slithered her way into my heart.  I’ll never forget standing up on stage and hearing her play for the first time.  I searched through the somber group of band members in the orchestra pit and almost fell off stage when my gaze reached her face and I saw her smiling at me with an intense scrutiny that tingled down my spine.  Although I was usually pretty slow at catching hints, there was no mistaking the desire I saw in her eyes that day.  

            “Massapequa,  Next stop is Massapequa Park!” bellowed the conductor over the loudspeaker, jolting me from my reverie violently, like coming awake suddenly at the feeling of falling when drifting off to sleep.  I swung out of my seat in one motion and jumped down off the train, taking the stairs from the elevated platform three at a time until I hit the ground on the side of Sunrise highway.  The sun was still far to the east as I watched the traffic whiz by below a group of singing birds perched on the telephone wire that swung gently in the mid-August heat.  The day was crystal clear with a light breeze, causing the trees to sway slightly as I made my way to Cherry Lane and Karen’s house.

            Karen was waiting for me in the front yard, sprawled out on her front steps, deftly applying a bright red hue to her toenails as she looked up and hit me with one of her smiles.  I bent over and gently kissed her lips as I sat down beside her and wordlessly offered my thigh as a support while she finished her nails with an almost professional flare.  “How was the train?” she asked politely, as she shifted her weight onto my willing legs.  “Not bad at all.” I replied, “there were only two other people in my car and I dozed off for most of the trip.  It felt like a five minute ride.”  “That’s good,” smiled Karen, “I don’t want you falling asleep on me today!”  I had to laugh at that.  Karen knew damn well that the last thing on my mind was sleep.

            As soon as she finished, Karen slid her legs off of my lap and pulled me towards the front door.  “C’mon,” she offered sweetly, “I made some breakfast before and I’m starving!”  Not needing to be asked twice, I chased her through the door and up the stairs to her kitchen, immediately smelling the cheese omelet she quickly laid out on her best china.  We both sat down and started eating, with silence as testimony to our hunger and her cooking.  Finishing my last bite, I pushed my chair back and said, “Thank you, Karen!  That was delicious!  You must have read my mind.”  “Don’t I always,” she grinned, “have I ever failed to satisfy?”  Smiling like a cat in a catnip garden, I embraced her in a clean sweep, pushing her hair back with one hand as my mouth found hers.  I don’t know how long I held her that morning, but it will never be long enough.  She pushed me away suddenly, and I fell to the floor, surprised and confused.

            Sitting on the floor in a heap, I looked up at Karen expectantly, realizing before she spoke, that something was terribly wrong.  “Kevin…,” she started hesitantly, “we need to talk.”  We need to talk, Just four simple words that I had never before heard in quite that way.  Just four simple words that I was doomed to hear repeated many times although I didn’t know it that day.  Even then, the first time I heard that phrase from a woman, I knew it wasn’t good.  I managed a lame reply.   “Karen!  What do you mean?  Haven’t we been talking?”  “Kevin, please just listen to me.  This is hard enough without you making it any more difficult!”  I said nothing.  I just stared into Karen’s beautiful eyes as she looked to the side and continued.  “I met someone else Kevin.  I’m so sorry, really!  It’s just so hard with you living in the Bronx and me living in Long Island.  I get so lonely.”  My eyes closed and I felt tears building up behind the lids.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!  Just when everything seemed to be going my way, Karen was dumping me!  “Kevin, please try to understand.  I met David at work a year ago and we became good friends over time.  I never intended to develop any feelings for him, but I did.  I still love you, but it’s just not the same.  You’re so far away and David is right down the street.”  I had heard enough.  I jumped up and went outside to sit on her front steps, tears rolling down my face as the sun reached the middle of the sky.

                        I heard Karen breathing in the doorway behind me and I caught a faint whiff of her perfume mixed with her scent that I can still clearly recall.  I sat there for a moment, lost in memories, and then I slowly turned around to face her again.  “How long has this been going on?  What the hell?”  I questioned bitterly. “Why didn’t you tell me this before I came out here?”  “Kevin, please!  I couldn’t just tell you this over the phone!  I wanted to look you in the eyes.  I’m tired of hiding my feelings for David, and I’m sorry, but I’ve been with him every day you were not here for the last six months.”  Karen looked at me while she spoke, but I couldn’t look at her anymore.  I couldn’t look into her big round eyes without losing myself in the brown swirls of her irises.  I got up slowly, concentrating on the green and brown leaves fluttering on the oak tree in her yard.  Karen was still talking, her voice rising with the wind that blew my hair across my face, but I wasn’t listening.  I walked down Cherry Lane for the last time and I never looked back.

            I shivered in the August heat as I leaned against the shelter on the Massapequa train platform.  Beyond regret, I studied the gathering clouds above and waited for a train that held no pleasant destination.  Eyes burning, I looked up at the sound of sneakers squeaking on concrete, surprised to see three male teenagers materialize before me.  They sauntered towards me and I straightened, wondering at their intentions.  As if in answer to my silent question, the biggest kid of the three stepped up into my face and swung his fist towards my mouth.  As I ducked instinctively, his knuckles glanced off my clenched teeth and smashed into my nose.  I tasted my own hot blood as it dripped past my lips, and watched, fascinated, as he reached back for another swing.  His two friends leaned forward, laughing, but stopped abruptly as I grabbed their punch-happy friend by his hair and smashed my knee into his face.  Blood was everywhere, dripping and spraying across the platform and onto the tracks as my unknown foe fell to the concrete, his head slamming the hard surface a second after his body.  “Hey you kids!  Cut it out right now,” Yelled a uniformed cop, running down the platform towards us.  I leaned back against the wall, exhausted, as the two teenage boys still standing pulled their fallen friend to his feet and started running down the nearby stairs.

            I watched the running officer race down the stairs as his partner approached me with some tissue held out in front of her.  I accepted the tissue silently, and tried to wipe off the blood that was already congealing on my face.  The other cop came back up the stairs slowly, puffing and wheezing, his arms lifted in a sign of defeat.  “They got away.” he gasped out finally.  One hour later, after filling out a police report and washing my face in a nearby diner, I waved goodbye to the cops as they drove off down Sunrise highway.  I walked back up to the train platform just in time to board the 2:15PM train to Penn station.  I sat down next to the window, ignoring the strange looks of my fellow passengers as I stared out at the speeding blur of houses and trees.  I looked down at my jeans and almost smiled as I saw the blood stain that was almost perfectly covering the heart that Karen had drawn there one year ago.  Just before the train entered the tunnel that would take us into the city, the sky opened up with a bang and angry raindrops slapped the train’s window.

            I started to cross Seventh Avenue going east, but jumped back suddenly as a taxi swerved towards me and stopped with a muted, damp screech; water from the street spraying my face and stinging my sore nose.  I was about to walk around the back of the cab when I noticed the face of the umbrella-holding woman who was stepping out into the rain.  “Kevin!” she exclaimed loudly.  “How are you?  You look a little down.  What’s wrong?”  I looked into her deep black eyes and managed a grin as I replied, “It’s a long story, Felicia.  Do you have time?”  She laughed and grabbed my arm, leading me down Seventh Avenue to a warm, dry, welcoming cafe with tall wooden booths.  I hadn’t seen Felicia since high school, the day she saw me kissing Karen in the hall.  Secretly, I relished the irony of running into Felicia at that precise moment, a coincidence or maybe just dumb luck.  We ordered some food and Felicia leaned back, smiling straight into my eyes.  “Okay, now tell me your story big nose!”  I grinned back at her, amused, and began my tale.  “It all started during rehearsal one day when I heard this flute playing…..”

Hey folks, happy spring! Several people on the blog have asked me how to insert photos into their blog posts, so I thought I'd share the following:

Step 1. First, you should have some digital photos on a PC or MAC that you want to upload into your blog. (This is the easiest way, but there is another method that I will explain later.) Of course, you need to be connected to the internet and logged onto your myfox account using a browser such as Internet Explorer, Firefox, Netscape or Safari.

Step 2. Look for the "my photos" link at the top of the page (right under the welcome message)

Step 3. When you click on the "my photos" link for the first time, you will see some links that will allow you to add photos and albums. In this area, you will have the option to name your albums and add photos. Remember that you may have to wait as much as 24 hours before your uploaded photos are available. It often takes much less time, but give the overworked staff at the myfox blog some time to get to your photos.

Step 4. Now that you have your photos up on the myfox blog, you can really start to have some fun. Click on the "my blog" link and then click on the "write a post" tab. Most of you will have seen this before and have used it to write and edit your blog posts. To add one of your photos, click on the "Insert/modify image" icon that looks like the sun over two mountains.

Step 5. Once you click on the "Insert/modify image" icon, you will be allowed to browse your uploaded photos in order to select the image you want in your blog. Once you select your photo as I have done below, you will see the image appear in your blog post at the point you were editing when you clicked on the "Insert/modify image" icon. This is because the default image alignment is set to "baseline." Before inserting the image, you have the option via drop down menu to select an alternate alignment such as top or middle. I encourage you to play around with these options to see how they look in your blog post.

I like to place a line on top and bottom with the "horizontal rule" icon (this one looks like a line, go figure!) to give a frame effect to the images. You will notice several other options in the default tool bar that I encourage you to play with. They are as follows from left to right when the editor is maximized: The Maximize/Minimize editor icon (definitely good to maximize during editing), Font selection drop down, Font size drop down, Bold, Italic, Underline and Strike through symbols (You might recognize these from MS Word or Word Perfect), the remove formatting icon, font color icon, background color icon, current style symbol (applies current style settings to selected text-useful when editing), Your standard justify symbols; left, center, right, full, an Ordered list icon (think numbering), a bulleted list icon, a decrease and increase indent icon (useful when editing for text placement), the horizintal ruler icon, an insert weblink icon (good for those times when you just want to post a link to something on the internet), the insert/modify image icon (the star of the show), and last, but most certainly not least, the Toggle HTML Source button for those of you who want to edit the raw HTML code (fun stuff!)

You may also insert a photo or image into your blog with the same icon, but instead of browsing your uploaded photos, you can paste a link from somewhere else on the internet into the annotated field provided. Be aware that you should have permission before posting somebody else's images on your blog post and if the source website changes, the image may no longer be available. Please let me know if you have any questions on this process and I will be glad to answer any questions that I can. Fox admins, please feel free to post any needed corrections or additions to this blog post. Have fun and I'll see you all on the myfox blog!

Daniel