Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

in this house

12 August 2013

in this house

 

in this house I lived and breathed

almost free, yet in between

lost in hopes, forgotten dreams

in this house I once believed

 

in this house I lived each day

ate and slept and worked and played

poured my soul out in a way

in this house I cannot stay

 

in this house no longer mine

too many ghosts still reside

I must leave them all behind

in this house, one last goodbye.

11 August, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment

a first, and last, letter to my editor

11 August 2013

a first, and last, letter to my editor

 

In my Collected Works as yet uncollected and unpublished,

I’ve always wished to present each poem on the

verso, and a commentary, or poetic process on the

recto. However, such a commentary is also, unfortunately, unwritten.

It so often occurs what I meant as clever,

is undiscovered, or worse, shrugged off as otherwise. Some

of my poems exist solely as an exercise in

presumed cleverness, nothing more. Sometimes I may have been

lucky enough to also create something resembling poetry along

with the cleverness. Consider it as a dash of

salt and pepper, a seasoning to an otherwise unremarkable

consumption. Only a few poems have ever been written

utilizing white space, or more intentioned concrete form. I

have formatted them the way I wished to present

them. Don’t get fancy. From the very beginning, I

have felt a strange affinity for a single phrase

which I would view as an apt summarization of

both myself and my life. This should be the

title of my collection: " … nothing but words" Also, do

not correct punctuation or anything else unless absolutely necessary.

Some grammatical and syntactical errors are intentional and punctuation

was used regardless of rules and proper use. Also,

do not become critical in any manner of my

naming forms, since most of the time I bastardized

them ignoring conventions and academic insistence on tradition and

blah blah blah. Thank you in advance, for everything.

11 August, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment

out of Eden

11 August 2013

out of Eden

 

I miss the comforting warmth,

that reassuring nearness

the simple magical touch

shameless nakedness.

 

I long for that innocence,

before either of us knew

the need to hide from others

what we most desire.

 

And cursed, we may not return

‘though we seek what we have lost

a perpetual hunger

never satisfied.

11 August, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

privy

11 August 2013

 

 

privy

 

 

(written for The Sunday Whirl # 121)

 

i

 

within,

pebbles tossed into a still pond

scatter dragonflies, that race about

in stark contrast to the gentle

ripples spreading outward,

like breathing. I strain to illuminate

more than their busyness, but

I wallow in distraction.

 

ii

 

I’ve lost the incentive,

grown weary of the race.

Mindfulness requires discipline,

an unbroken circle, always returning

to illuminate darker corners,

places I avoid, afraid

I’ll scatter shadows, or worse,

discover the concrete

is still wet, unhardened.

 

iii

 

 

I wish I could just flip a switch,

rather than striking flint and steel,

hoping for a spark to coax and enflame.

Warmth is both a need and

my incentive, that endless circle,

the incessant strain between

necessity and desire.

A practiced half hitch knot,

tied to illuminate the needfulness

of connection, one thing to another.

But, sometimes, it is too much —

my head is pounding.

 

iv

 

 

pounding the pavement

concrete jungle imprisons

wallow in obscurity

a face in the crowd,

nothing more and nothing less,

carried along to nowhere.

 

v

 

persevering, little victories encourage me

onward. It’s never really one failure after another I

understand. But, giving myself credit for anything

needs a little work. I rarely see anything but negatives,

discount the positive, even when it is valid and true.

I am vigilant though, I keep trying. It’s a secret work,

no one is privy to what goes on inside of me But, then I.

guess that is how it is meant to be.

11 August, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , , | Leave a comment

invitational

11 August 2013

invitational

 

spirited sunlight

trickles through the dark curtain,

illuminating,

unobtrusively waiting

for me to share its delight.

11 August, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment