The Making of Sonnets

It was nice meeting You

I wonder if it was really (I mean really) nice meeting you! Or maybe it was just an ordinary event, in which case I would not be using the term 'nice'. But, maybe it was an ordinary event and I was using the term 'nice' as a matter of social etiquette!

becoming (by firstcomet)

A dream maker, a freelance heart
That’s what I negligently thought.

Your image, shadowed, dark;
To me, a gloomy season it did remark!

Looking back, you’re far
Far in history, out of sight ...

The chasm and the divide,

and the restlessness I can't hide!

Feeling guilty, of a hubris id
That I've become, out of being,

Being impressionable, being lost,

In a world immersed in lust!

My atomic clock (by firstcomet)

My kitchen and my living room are the same. And if you're not yet impressed, in how many kitchens have you seen an atomic clock hanging next to a water tap?! Kudos to the wonders of modern physics, especial thanks to the Dollar Store!

And what's up with the water tap-atomic clock rivalry? I noticed since yesterday dripping of the water has been synchronized! And yes, the atomic clock sometimes jolts along a single dimension of that spongy continuum; especially when I'm washing dishes!

Talking about sponges and living at the expense of others, somebody got to fix that dripping!

End of why

We are going back to basics again

Questions such as: who are you?

And what is your deal, is it all real?

You hit the bottom once a while

You bounce back, or just

Re-establish yourself along the bottom

It’s a never ending struggle

And struggles can get boring after a while

Just like …

When you swim against the currents

For just about too long!

Okay, tears tears, sigh sigh …

Enough is enough, end of why!

 

A Dream Within A Dream (by Edgar Allan Poe)

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

A Clear Midnight

THIS is thy hour O Soul,
thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art,
the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing,
pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.

Walt Whitman

Confabulate

Am, am not, tick and tock, do and don’t, will and won’t, I invent, moment after moment, the I in me. What about what you see? I wonder, if you know, if you see, that I fabricated me, the will to be, a distinct entity, or just a con, the strawman’s son, willing to do, confabulate to construe, the urge to will, the will to do!

As Is

There is nothing magical here

Only occasional temporary traces

Of tango-like steps

Left on the snow white ground

Near the place where I

Occasionally lay down to

An intimate moment

And a soft music

Filling the air

with some particular magic;

Ah, Ah, facts, general, specific

do not make a big fuss about!

Sometime it’s sweet

Sometime it’s bloody

Sometime it makes sounds

Sometime it stares and smiles!

And then the next song

And then the next voice

And the breath-ins and the breath-outs

And the turn-lefts and the turn-rights ...

And then I try to follow

Those traces that intersect

And diverge before our time

Comes up, and I say:

I think it’s snowing again,

And I need to figure out

what color it is this time!

And you whisper “was that cum-

your emotional brain

or was that cum-

your logical brain?”

And then we both laugh!

An impulse (by firstcomet)!

She came late,
stayed over,
and left around the noon.
A few ectopic beats,
liberation from homeostasis,
and a red dress
leaning against my guitar-stand,
all that is left from that impulse.

Anjou Pear

Red Anjous now can be found on grocery produce counters from late September or early October through the spring months.

The best indication of ripeness for any pear is the thumb test: gentle thumb pressure near the stem will yield slightly when the pear is ripe.

Depending on their level of ripeness when purchased, it may take several days before they are ready to eat. The results, however, are well worth the wait. Red Anjous develop a mild, sweet flavor with very smooth texture and abundant juices when ripe.

La Petite Mort

Having been surrounded, I thought it was going be a real problem … spending the night in a hotel room, queen size bed, windows wide open to the anticipation of a warm sunny day, and two travelers having come hundreds of miles … just to come:

“the pleasures in this world,
soft breeze, soft
thighs, a bit of music,
words that make
a good sound …”

It might cause us to experience some real discomfort, a little death or La Petite Mort!

Signals

So many signals around Fortunate those who decode
Plenty points to be found Where does the secret abode
--Hafez

How do you really know?

I knew it, I knew it! Behind those gazing eyes there was something deeper; an anxious excitement, trying to play it safe while exploring, discovering, and prevailing.

Dancing to the winds
Of the heaven’s dreams,
Your hair of silky willow

You toss and turn
till your neck, finally
finely settles on the pillow

But, how do you really know?

Where does the hand become the wrist? Where does the neck become the shoulder? The watershed and then the weight, whatever turns up and tips us over that razor’s edge between something and nothing, between one and the other.
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16875

"Like an outdated map my borders are changing"

What does it mean to be finite?

To live in a lake, and hide

From waves, sharks, ocean’s wide

To travel down the same creeks

To abide by the same rocks

Take a leap beyond the rim

In the ocean you shall swim

Going beyond everyday whim

Just to find yourself scream

Rejoicing your infinite dream!

Festivus&Kwanzaa

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus

Kwanzaa - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

for or against

“If you want the truth to stand clear before you, never be 'for' or 'against'. The struggle between ‘for’ and ‘against’ is the mind’s worst disease.” - Sent-ts’an, 700 C.E. China

the master

"You may be keeping accounts, and presently you shall walk out of the door
that for so long has seemed to you the barrier of your ideals, and shall
find yourself before an audience, the pen still behind your ear, the ink
stains on your fingers, . and after a time the master shall say, 'I have
nothing more to teach you.' And now you have become the master ..

--Stanton Kirkham Dave

being a cynics

I recently set up a donation box in the main lobby of my dormitory to collect warm winter clothes for a local shelter. Today I saw my roommate donating a bag full of sweaters and shirt. The first think came to my mind was he’s getting rid of his old clothing. This thought was further reinforced with a piece of memory I had from his early Fall shopping spree. But, soon I realized I was labeling his actions as less than a noble act by attaching alternative motives to his maybe “wholly generous action”. Yes, I have become a cynic and I can’t find a way to escape from it! Why do I question people’s motive, and why do I give a higher weight to the less noble one? From a pragmatic point of view what difference it makes what the person’s motive is; all I’m doing is finding a match between a public need and individual’s desire to give away or to donate their belongings. There is no value judgment involved here!