Dangerous Consequences

Deeper and bolder truths be careful, my friends, of avowing;
For as soon as ye do all the world on ye will fall.

Friedrich Von Schiller

THE WUMBERLOG (OR THE MAGIC DOG)

Whilst all the tow was sleepy
Crept a little boy from bed
To fained the wondrous peoble
Wot lived when they were dead.

He packed a little voucher
For his dinner 'neath a tree.
'Perhumps a tiny dwarf or two
Would share abite with me?

'Perchamp I'll see the Wumberlog
The highly feathered crow,
The larfing leaping Harristweed
And good old Uncle Joe.'

He packed he very trunkase,
Clean sockers for a week,
His book and denzil for his notes,
Then out the windy creep.

He met him friendly magic dog,
All black and curlew too,
Wot flew him fast in second class
To do wot he must do.

'I'll leave you now sir,' said the dog,
'But just before I go
I must advise you,' said his friend
'This boat to careflee row.'

'I thank you kindly friendly pal,
I will,' and so he did,
And floated down towards the land
Where all the secrets hid.

John Lennon

Prayer Of Remembrance

The semi-trailer, lost in the night and wailing upon overturning wheels,
nestles its sound around my mind and lifts me from my sleep.
Certainly no mind has ever encountered the horrors of the late-night loneliness
and been less than challenged.

It is there,
hiding from the monsters,
under our blankets and breathing through a crack...

There we find our dragons and learn to ride.

Once again I cast a leg over his scaly back and look upon the clouds.

I remember...  and smile.

S.A.M. Tanner
2010

 oldviolin wrote: 
thanks, I'm stealing that too. try and stop me. 

"No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity
But I know none, and therefore am no beast..."

From Richard III
WS

 oldviolin wrote: 
I'm gonna post this gem on my FB page and send it to my famblies - thanks, I haven't enjoyed a poem like that for a long time!

Punch Song 

Four elements, joined in
Harmonious strife,
Shadow the world forth,
And typify life.

Into the goblet
The lemon's juice pour;
Acid is ever
Life's innermost core.

Now, with the sugar's
All-softening juice,
The strength of the acid
So burning reduce.

The bright sparkling water
Now pour in the bowl;
Water all-gently
Encircles the whole.

Let drops of the spirit
To join them now flow;
Life to the living
Naught else can bestow.

Drain it off quickly
Before it exhales;
Save when 'tis glowing,
The draught naught avails. 

 Friedrich von Schiller

 The Wanderer

I met him at the crossroads, a man with but a cloak and a staff, and a veil of pain upon his face.
And we greeted one another, and I said to him, "Come to my house and be my guest."
And he came.

My wife and my children met us at the threshold, and he smiled at them, and they loved his coming.Then we all sat together at the board and we were happy with the man for there was a silence and a mystery in him. And after supper we gathered to the fire and I asked him about his wanderings.

He told us many a tale that night and also the next day, but what I now record was born out of the bitterness of his days though he himself was kindly, and these tales are of the dust and patience of his road.

And when he left us after three days we did not feel that a guest had departed but rather that one of us was still out in the garden and had not yet come in.

Kahlil Gibran

 oldviolin wrote: 
sweet

Addendum To A Prayer
or Why I Follow The Sun

Driving home, looking to the west
Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter
The setting sun a yellow/orange ball of wax
Melting dripping honey sky
It was then I would call her
Ask her to step outside and gaze with me
Remember me from afar
Tell her what troubled my fractious mind
The road beating against my soul
Her voice in my head
Saying
You are a special boy
Never forget
The Sun Is there for you...

b

 Manbird wrote: 

 oldviolin wrote: 

 Manbird wrote: 

 oldviolin wrote: 

 

Soul Memories Of Soles

If I'm hearing a screen door slam
And see linens billowing on the line
If I hear the call of a jay
Then there must be an oak and a pine

If a dirt road stretches smooth and acrid
From pitch being heated by the sun
And my bare feet are black on the soles
Then I must have been free to run

If the path through the wooded shroud
Is worn with the wearing of faces
Then I must be dreaming of home
In the haunting of all of my traces...

b

One September Afternoon

Home from town
the two of them sit
looking over what they have bought
spread out on the kitchen table
like gifts to themselves.
She holds a card of buttons
against the new dress material
and asks if they match.
The hay is dry enough to rake,
but he watches her
empty the grocery bag.
He reads the label
on a grape jelly glass
and tries on
the new straw hat again.

  ~ Leo Dangel ~

Affair To Remember

There is a gap in the air
where green eyes viewed rough Tudor construction
and now forgotten shoe styles trod narrow cobble stoned streets
in the dead night of a German winter
and yet; living there still
is the exhalation of youth expended
for the love of something
other than boredom...

b

 Manbird wrote: 
In The Electric Shadows

 oldviolin wrote: 
I'm down with eraser head.