Poetry One
T S Brock
We had been living in Tokyo, but we ventured to other countries 2 or 3 times a year… Money was good… In Japan, near Tokyo, every chance that chance gave us… Well… We often wandered around the country sides of Japan, places not far from our home, but far enough to experience the deeper culture. So I asked my wife to take this photo of an abandoned Toyota… There were fireflies at night and elusive mosquitoes… But the wonder, the natural wonder was the symphony of cicadas making magical sounds all around us, hypnotizing our minds into sleep…
Note: Links to other poetry pages below…
Poem 1 Cicadas
Sounds of summer
no one complains
don’t ask why
their rhythms
bother only
the most sensitive minds
They relieve our heat
and related pains
while their quiet
roaring bells
set us to relax
as decibels
slip deeply
like tranquil streams
into our ancient minds
1000 species across the world
living in the earth
as I’m told
emerging in luster
teen-aged and flustered
What brilliant energy
do they possess?
Their mystique has been
worshipped, feared
cooked and eaten
studied and collected
filed and defeated
On my balcony
my ears are captured
exquisite sounds
and rhythms
never before heard
These are the sounds
of the cicada in mass
presenting their
symphonies
in harmonious unison
How many million changes
Does it take to make
such a miraculous evolution
And now, my wife calls me
And now, I will fall asleep
to the sounds of the Cicada
And I will dream
Poem 2 Communication
(walking from above)
I watched a stream
and became aware
of how music began
water flows across stones
beyond streams
waves meet sand
rain sounds on every object
rain meets our bodies
passes through our minds
and makes a home in our hearts
beating and pulse
the rhythm of life
birds and other animals
making orchestral sounds
across the expanse of planet
creating melodies
calling to each other
for one reason or another
preserving their space
In their competitive place
beasts across forests
jungle and plain
signaled intention
from pleasure and pain
sounds that remain
in our history
no mystery
the musical tones of life
human community
watching carefully
spirited language
borrowing thoughtlessly
In clumsy gestures and expressions
from those animals
both friend and foe
countless ages
of development
evolved our tongues and ears
for speech
when we were finally able
to take care of each other
and accomplish
the miracle of
Communication
Poem 3 Winter Skating
Preface ~
“All the mischief of young people
trying to be in love
While parents hollered
for their children to come home
them slogging with skates
frozen to their love-lorn feet
miracles of endurance”
Story ~
They made their way
slow and desperate
to the ramshackle cabin
at the corner of the ice field
to retrieve their worn-down and
half-frozen shoes
laughing in pain
amid the smoke of
a warm smoldering fire
burning in an antique barrel
stove squat center in the
shack among walls laden
with poetry, graffiti
proposals of love and hate
phone numbers and obscenities
when the old stove finally
lost its heat
the pond became
an oasis of moonlit
silence
dreams descended
then we embraced
and the universe folded
into our heaven-like bodies
https://www.lang-works.com/0-Pompei-07/index.html
Poem 4 Angels
Even Einstein
would agree
semantics aside
spirits could glide
from sea to sea
Of course
winged benefactors
aren’t probable
which is a difference
of mystery
Seems there’s
something looking down
giving us a frown
then waving a wand
trying to cast
a magic dream
like an office
of the lost and found
that has always
been empty
It could be
a four-leaf
clover
that no one’s
looking over
the Universe
is too wide
for me to decide
religions to me
evolved in the sea
and are corrupted
As they emerge
On the shores
of restless minds
and the lesser
of humankind
despite that…
the angel in my mind
comes and goes
endlessly upon
ideas and empathy
Poem 5 Voices
Voices falling from stars
and Venus and Mars
floating like snowflakes
and landing on warm lakes
The gentle fall breeze
brings the tones
to grace
solitude
or shared
the tones move
in our minds
and make our daily work
the music of heaven
End of Poetry Group One
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