It Is Poetry …

“It is poetry that effortlessly moves the heavens and the earth,
awakens the world of invisible spirits to deep feel, softens the relationship between men and women, and consoles the hearts of fierce warriors.”

~ Japanese Poet Ki no Tsurayuki
905 AD

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Something …

Hard pressed to

Write a poem I

Remember the illusion

Of a moment.

 

 

Something about

A haiku.

__________________

~ R.M. Engelhardt

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A smoke, a book, a cup of coffee. 

“
These are the little things that get us through this sometimes weary world and all the rainy days.”
~  R.M. Engelhardt
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THE  LAST  CALL

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When stars fall out of the sky and
all lights fade into silence.
When you grow cold
Eyes grow old
Touch grows cold
Stars fall out of the sky

And lights still fade.

After years
After hours
After moments
That never mattered

You grow cold
Love grows cold
Eyes grow old

And love fails..falls,
Fucked up and silent
Foolish and waiting

In the corner.

When the universe no longer
Yields to your commands

When the mirror finally breaks
And all you are left with is glass

You grow old
touch grows cold
eyes grow old

And all of the stars still
Fall out of the sky

It’s time for the last call.

 

_________________

 

~ R.M. ENGELHARDT

JESUS ISN’T HERE

 

So the other day

The witnesses came

And knocked upon my door

 

Both dressed in black suits

And they wanted

“Information”

 

They tried to come in

And they tried to hand me pamphlets

And they tried to make me confess

And they kept asking me this

“Have you found Jesus yet?”

So I told them

That I didn’t know anybody named Jesus

And that I didn’t know who he is or where he lives

And that I don’t know anyone named God

Or anybody named “Peter”  “Paul” or even

A Baptist supposedly named “John”

Let alone some woman named

“Mary”, the Pope or anyone else of

Any importance or of any significance

At all.

All I told them was that

I know this guy who lives

Down the block named “Noah”

Who is always in his backyard working

On his boat.

Both of them then looked at

Each other a little bit puzzled,

But they did not seem to believe

My story. And after saying something

About this guy that they were looking

For being quote “My savior” in an annoyed

And confused manner

Left.

So I closed the door and locked it

And then told Jesus that the coast

Was clear and that it was ok for him

To come out from behind my curtains.

“Whew!” That was close he said.

They almost got me that time!

 

I told him “Listen bro” Your secret’s safe with me.

Cross my heart.

Jesus scratched his beard

And made a peculiar face

“Very Funny” he said “Very Funny”

And with a wave of his hand

Made us some more wine

And we got drunk.
________________
~ R.M.

On Myth …

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“In older myths, the dark road leads downward into the Underworld, where Persephone is carried off by Hades, much against her will, while Ishtar descends of her own accord to beat at the gates of Hell. This road of darkness lies to the West, according to Native American myth, and each of us must travel it at some point in our lives. The western road is one of trials, ordeals, disasters and abrupt life changes — yet a road to be honored, nevertheless, as the road on which wisdom is gained. James Hillman, whose theory of ‘archetypal psychology’ draws extensively on Greco–Roman myth, echoes this belief when he argues that darkness is vital at certain periods of life, questioning our modern tendency to equate mental health with happiness. It is in the Underworld, he reminds us, that seeds germinate and prepare for spring. Myths of descent and rebirth connect the soul’s cycles to those of nature.”

~ Terri Windling