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 15 Mar 2006 @ 04:44, by redwind. Ideas, Creativity
Something moves
in the quiet night,
is the worm-child
making holes... More >
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 12 Mar 2006 @ 22:28, by jazzolog. Ideas, Creativity
The picture is of John Tagliabue in the full flight of reading, at Bates College Reunion '98.
Now, what is poetry? If you say it is simply a matter of words, I will say a good poet gets rid of words. If you say it is simply a matter of meaning, I will say a good poet gets rid of meaning. "But," you ask, "without words and without meaning, where is the poetry?" To this I reply, "Get rid of words and get rid of meaning, and still there is poetry."
---Yang Wan-Li
Poetry, to the poet, is the most rewarding work in the world. A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape and significance of the universe, helps to extend everyone's knowledge of himself, and the world around him...
---Dylan Thomas
If there is any absolute, it is never more than this one, you, this instant, in this action.
---Charles Olson
I wonder whether friend and mentor, John Tagliabue, would agree with fellow poet Olson on that notion. I never try to corner a poet about the Absolute. I prefer to follow them about to see what spouts. Our Anglican priest in sermon today shared the Jewish blessing, "May you be covered in the dust of your rabbi!" The point is get close to your teacher, maybe especially around his feet.
At any rate, Tagliabue sent me this poem recently on sort of the same Charles Olson subject~~~
With sometimes Song
and its myriad descendents
Being
cast with the dice & the stars
there is no winning or losing but
Being More >
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 9 Mar 2006 @ 14:14, by silviamar. Ideas, Creativity
This poem talks about the flowing of life within us. I wrote it originally in Spanish, but I've also included an english translation.
I don't usually make changes in my poems after I've written them, but with this one I made an exception because I felt the need to do so after reading it again a few days ago. Anyway, this is the final version, so it will remain as it is now (well, if you have any suggestion to improve the english version or if there's any grammatical mistake, please feel free to tell me).
More >
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9 Mar 2006 @ 08:49, by raypows. Ideas, Creativity
I began writing poetry when I was 12 years old, the same year I was taught to meditate. I would go into a sort of trance, a oneness, and the experience of automatic writing would happen. as I grew in age and evolution I became more conscious as I dipped into dimensions and simultaneously wrote down the gifts I received. My life has been a process of integrating, embodying the mystic veil that was opened to me as a young man. The world, our culture has been a challenge for me at times and I am grateful for the wisdom of earth peoples who have an understanding of our multi-dimensional nature.
Here are some of my more recent writings. Though not in relationship, some like “I Remember” were inspired by profound connections during Soul (or eye gazing) with another. Love IS a tidal wave that, if we are willing to surrender, shakes us to the very core.
Sanctity Dwells
What is pure must become unpure.
Daily, light changes into dark,
Is purity a fact or an opinion?
Does truth reveal itself to thieves as well as kings?
There was a martyr once who’s blood flowed onto the belly of Gaia,
it rained, and wedding bells were heard.
I’ve seen men dance with flames twirling from their wrists,
Do their hearts burn with that longing?
I remember, so vividly sometimes,
running down the middle of the street, fearless,
somehow, there came a time,
when I believed it was safer to walk on the side,
always checking behind my back.
I found that the middle is where sanctity dwells.
I Remember
How can I not be overjoyed?
Blue stars from the ethers that only I can see,
They look so much like your eyes,
The face of Love,
The moon behind the clouds,
A shadow puppet,
Two lovers embrace,
They dance in the firmament,
I dance in the cool canyon breeze,
The fire in my heart is fed by thoughts of you,
I am drunk, but not drunk,
I am wide awake,
Lucid as the fig whose roots drink from the stream,
Or the double winged dragonfly that lights on my hand,
There is more that I do not know than what I know,
The more pomegranate seeds I eat the more are revealed,
The juice stains my lips,
Runs down my chin,
The sweetest nectar reminding me of you.
There is no either or…
Unbind me,
Take these shackles from my wrists,
let my swollen ankles free,
This body,
at once a prison and the holiest of holies,
Eden and Babylon both in my belly,
My breath keeps missing my heart,
I want this ember to flame,
To burn and glow from behind my eyes,
Illuminating the path before me,
A lighthouse on the shores
of the ocean of Love and Mercy.
This illusion of separateness,
It keeps me tethered in a dream,
Where a camel tries to walk on water,
And fish run thirsty on the desert floor.
Hidden,
there inside my inner smile,
A host of angels,
Oneness with wings,
I must not forget to look behind me,
A tidal wave of Love,
Drown or surf?
There is no either or…
The Wren
How can I quench this thirst?
I could drown myself and only steam would rise,
You could see me glowing in the river,
The sun and I would have a contest,
Who could make the seeds grow faster
And sleep with the moon,
The wren springs to life in my hand
And sings in my ear,
This I understand,
But these longings, they are a mystery to me, More >
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 7 Mar 2006 @ 10:18, by shimanta. Ideas, Creativity
Less than a year ago... More >
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 3 Mar 2006 @ 12:14, by judih. Ideas, Creativity
Surrounded by flowers,
yet mist clouds my mind More >
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 28 Feb 2006 @ 22:52, by poetsong. Ideas, Creativity
The inhabitants of this world go about their business in ignorance, buying, selling, immersing themselves in a variety of of diversions. Yet, a battle rages on for the preservation of their race.
On the borders beyond the western wood a Seer awaits the coming of a monstrous race. His staff has burst into flames, and he will fight again on behalf of the human race.
The clock is ticking and enemy grows stronger. Unless the nations awaken to the threat, the world will be anhilated.
* Photo is property of N Marion Hage. It was taken by Susan Demko and Jim Jasterzinski. Photo Art and Costume by N Marion Hage. More >
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 25 Feb 2006 @ 15:09, by monique. Ideas, Creativity
Welcome to The NCN Poet Tree Anthology...we hope you'll enjoy this evolving, involving and revolving selection of prose from NCN poets, worldwide - submissions are welcomed.
Here's an adornment of our poet tree called Abandono, by Monica Korycinska. The poem has been written in Spanish, but you can find an English translation as well. More >
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 22 Feb 2006 @ 02:16, by jmarc. Ideas, Creativity
I'd been down at the tavern having some fun with a milch cow when a cull
recognised me as the one who put the bite on his jem after I'd gotten him
clear on some Bene Bowse last week, but not clear enough that he'd forgot my
face, it seemed. Anyway, I didn't see the cull, but he saw me and told the
beggar maker who cried beef. The bandog had me in ruffles before I was twig. More >
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 21 Feb 2006 @ 23:48, by poetsong. Ideas, Creativity
A lonely Seer dressed in gold-laced robes still walks this earth, appearing and disappearing as he slips in and out of the in-between realm.
Once a king of men, he was selfish and cruel, but no moreso than all the kings of the earth were in the days when evil prevailed. On the eve of the destruction of the world, this king relented of his wicked deeds, and turned to save the perishing from the nations.
The world as it was could not be saved, and was nearly torn in two, but through his efforts a remnant survived and were permitted to rebuild on the new lands that formed.
He was appointed as Watchman over the nations along with a small host of others, to warn them that the very same unseen evil that despoiled all that went before, was still alive and seeking new victims.
N. Marion Hage 2/25/06
*All pictures and story lines are the intellectual property of N Marion Hage, and copywritten. Please do not use this information without permission of the author.
Pictures were taken by Susan Demko and Jim Jasterzinski. Photoart and costume were by N Marion Hage. More >
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