R.M. ENGELHARDT

Poet Writer Author Albany NY

  • Looks can sometimes be deceiving.

    For every hero there’s a nemesis, and for every genius there’s a nothing. And for every new day there is always a night. The truth is not necessarily what you see or in the moment believe but exists in those things which you have made, created and that stand, that hold meaning. Those things that are treasured long after you’ve left the building or this weary world behind. These are the true works of art, poetry and literature. Our children in both physical & metaphysical, spiritual and living form. There is never an ending to our stories even after we are gone. Every moment is a beginning. Every moment a resurrection.

    WP_20170520_004 (2).jpg

    ~ Talon {R.M. Engelhardt}

    #poetry #Talon #art #Troyny

  • WP_20170805_001 (2).jpg“. . . a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.

    Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not know our mother’s face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.

    Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into his father’s heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?

    O waste of lost, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this weary, unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?

    O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.

     

    Thomas Wolfe,  Look Homeward, Angel

  • Doucheageddon.jpg

    THE PLANS OF MICE AND MEN

    What small minds & small hands you have in common.
    Like penises. Like bombs.
    The need to feel important the need to be the center of everything all things dying long dead and vile as inside like a billionaire’s mind.
    Or a dictator’s

    God is watching

    Not you
    Not God

    Your harsh words
    Inviting
    The mists from the North
    Harbingers of
    Oblivion from
    Another land

    Mine
    Yours
    Mine
    The news

    Mice
    Not men

    Mice
    Men that
    Should just

    Shut
    The Fuck
    Up

    And crawl
    Back into
    Your holes

  • WP_20170520_001.jpgSOLITUDE

    They say that
    To be alone is
    Either a heaven or
    A hell

    I’ve seen both

    These moments
    Something between
    Zen or
    Near suicide
    An epiphany
    Or a failure
    A reckoning or
    A dream

    It’s humanity
    It’s just about
    Being human
    It’s either desperation
    Or the muse
    The silence
    Or the weary
    The lonesome heart
    Of all that is either
    Noble or fair
    Rich or poor
    Loved or unloved

    And in this
    We become
    And in this
    We find what
    Defines us

    For
    The soul
    Is a silent
    Angel merely
    Waiting
    To speak

  • POETRY NIGHT (and Prose) @ Inquiring Minds Bookstore Saturday, August 26, 2017 at 6:30 PM Inquiring Minds Bookstore 68 Partition St., Saugerties, NY Currently Hosted by Brian Dorn FEATURING: R.m. Engelhardt is a veteran poet-writer whose work over the last 20 some years has been published in such journals and magazines as Thunder Sandwich, […]

    via Talon (R.M. Engelhardt) At Inquiring Minds Bookstore August 26th – Featured Poet — The Troy Poetry Mission Troy NY

  • C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_tumblr_otvtphZskG1udc5yco1_250.jpg“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

  • C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_514jk71g6fL__SL1500_.jpgTHE JEWEL

    There is this cave

    In the air behind my body

    That nobody is going to touch:

    A cloister, a silence

    Closing around a blossom of fire.

    When I stand upright in the wind,

    My bones turn to dark emeralds.

     

  • Alchemy .jpgWhat we once had was poetry. Visions and star dust. Translucent. Death to the machine, the grind the walk that we must walk. The everyday pantomime of social media and daily life. I am bored. Asleep in the 21st century.  I want monoliths, transcendence and truth. Moments of humanity that don’t come with a price tag or a sale, a selfie or a headline.
    What we once had was poetry. Visions and star dust lost behind the veil of pretty pictures and smiles. Goodnight sweet prince goodnight.

     

    #Talon. #RMEngelhardt. #poetry

  • C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_11143625_10206452421247066_9089864423179802629_n.jpg“No moon, sun, diamond, hands ~
    fingertip, dot, ray, gauze, sea.
    pine green, pink glass, eye,
    mine, eraser, mud, mother, I am coming.”

    ~ Frida Kahlo