| The Frog Pond |
[Dec. 15th, 2008|01:04 am] |
This pond is lime green,
Willowed dream,
Webbed between,
A rough birch
And sunken sky.
Yearn fully
Reflecting
Its dotted projections,
It cries.
The tears,
Build up
And sink down,
Till the girth is dank and void.
Gills extracting,
And retreating,
With a gutteral glitch
At its throat. |
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| Within |
[Oct. 1st, 2008|01:49 pm] |
In a room,
Many shapes and sorts
Of moving patterns,
Play with shadows,
Light dancing on milky panels.
Windows look out onto a busy street,
Layers of reflective glass,
Sealing cries and beeps.
Above a sun-drenched lamp,
A picture hangs
Of a deep ocean,
Clay-like in still motion,
With textures of rippled life,
Slowly approaching,
This world of captured waters,
The square overwhelms the space,
As the room floods with thalassic waves. |
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| the red mask |
[Sep. 21st, 2008|02:23 am] |
stained upon his skin
with scarlet winds,
he saw a burnt sky,
raging out from a sunken sea,
along the reflective point,
running through a forest of skinny trees,
and fallen leaves,
dilated,
black irises,
circled bright whites.
children would stop and stare,
others would avoid with eyes fixed,
some would watch over woefully.
he wore a mask
that foretold
a marked victim
awaiting red death;
they never said anything
so he never knew
and began to forget.
as his eyes drew heavy
and his face turned bloodless,
watchers gathered
with turned heads and coloured cheeks. |
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| Inwardly |
[Sep. 11th, 2008|03:55 pm] |
My heart is pounding,
In a valley of brittle stems
And dusty air,
Veins grow thick,
In this darkened landscape of
Dehydrated hills,
All alone
Outwardly,
But not inwardly,
Branches extend from my spine,
Inwardly,
Reaching out above the valley,
Bending with the branches,
As I walk along myself,
Towards nothing or some form of nothing,
I move backwards and forwards along myself,
Towards the gardens that rest on my eyes,
The rivers that flow through my Soul,
And the trees that take root in my mind,
I walk along myself as my heart pounds out of the dry valley of my existence. |
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| The Visitor |
[Aug. 23rd, 2008|01:29 am] |
There was a tapping on my ceiling and what do I see; a little moth fluttering above me. It appeared out of nowhere; my window was shut tight and we were both rather startled by each others sight. I crept upon my mattress to open my window wide, in hopes of guiding this spirit outside.
As I approached the powdered husk before my bed, I raised my finger to guide it over my head. Instead it flew down, right out of reach. I moved my bedside table to find before me, two paper thin wings hiding underneath.
It stood very still, no shift from its feet. Exposed with wings spread, no desire to retreat. I found a soft tissue and right before I swept I cried “I don’t want to kill you; it's not your time yet!" The airy veil gently covered its frame as I slipped my hand underneath, feeling the feathery tentacles graze my skin.
As I lifted the fabric I was surprised to find, the winged peri was not on my palm. I looked back down, there it still was; a mottled moth fixed to the ground. So I tried again and still once more, the sandy sprite stayed on the floor. Was it dead from the fall? Oh no, I killed this ethereal creature after all!
In grief, I cocooned the ecru shell from beneath. As I did, I saw in disbelief, slight and furred legs taking two steps forward away from the sheet! I sighed in relief, "You clever little fay, I thought you passed away!"
I cradled this delicate being up to the windowsill and I watched my new found friend depart; flittering past my eyes into the dark. Floating through blades of grass out in the night, leaving a trail of gingery dust as he goes by. Goodbye lovely moth, Goodbye. |
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| How Far Does the River Go? |
[Jul. 23rd, 2008|03:16 pm] |
Sitting by the river,
As it flows,
Wondering strangely,
Which direction I'll go.
Watching the river,
Endlessly move,
River oh river,
I want to be you.
Take me dear river,
I'll follow you home.
Wherever it maybe,
Or if it never comes to be,
I don't know.
Guide me dear river,
As I step into you,
Let my body become your waters,
So I can follow you.
Soothe me dear river,
And absorb my Soul.
I'm asking you river,
How far do you go?
Please dear river,
Let me know,
Can I become you?
And grow the length of your Soul. |
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| Cradled with Mother Earth to Dream |
[Jul. 5th, 2008|11:15 pm] |
What is love?
I ask,
As merely a wistful dreamer,
For the idea of love has always followed me.
It is with me when I sleep,
It lumps up my throat as I eat,
It clouds my judgment while I speak,
And flushes my face when I see;
That love when two strangers meet,
Captures time instantly,
And in a moment too quick to see,
The earth cuts beneath their feet,
And swallows them whole of all other needs.
(dedicated to Mathew and Kirsten) |
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| Mathew's response to The Frightening Man |
[Mar. 10th, 2008|03:06 pm] |
HI Anna,
I was very moved by your poem. I called the little man
of the first part "the demon of the world", and the
"smallness of the spirit of man in the cosmos." Then
in your dream when you come across the man alone, I
said, "he is the one who has is under the spell of the
demon, or better who has the small spirit tucked away
inside him." You, the dreamer of the lonely man with
his demon, are amazed at such a man, who rules the
world in smallness, and you want to unmask him. But he
gets the better of you, since he is more profound. You
point out to him how he lives, but he points out to
you how he hides. He may be concealed and resting in
his own shadow, but he knows he still is a sun. You
were looking for the sun all at once, for the sun of
'this sky'. But he knows that in a night sky which is
full of many suns, the suns will not be bright to each
other, but will be twinkles: they will appear small.
"What did you expect?", the only man asks. Through
that question you learn to appreciate the imp-spirit,
and the daimon of the world that guards the lonely
man, both for what it is openly and what it is in
secret (the sun of its own sky). The poem is very
mature because of this insight. It is worthy of
Nietzsche's chapter about this imp-spirit, and this
man-alone, which you must now read: "Of the Vision and
the Riddle."
(http://www.hamilton.net.au/nietzsche/zarathustra/zara056.html).
Love,
Mathias.
My response:
wow mathew... that is so interesting, i wrote it thinking it was a funny story about the narrator, i guess could represent me, who is amazed and dumbfounded by the life of a man who lives small...he is very much apart of the earth and lives with the earth
the town represents the sheltered existence the narrator is probably used to.
however, the whole part about the devil stemmed from the idea that the narrator was small-minded therefore would think this man couldn't be alive... he couldn't be HUMAN...he had to be an imp spirit, for we never saw him during the day... he hid in the earth....i sorta pictured this whole scenario happening over 100 years ago in the country.
anywho... and the part about the sun was because this man was living an opposite life to the rest of the people the narrator knew...the man points out, why must I live my life according to our sun?...but i like how you intrepreted it as the man himself being a sun and living duriing the time when all the suns are visible and small...because, yeah that is totally the idea...It creates this sense of unity and acceptance which I think is found in the man's spirit and represents his knowledge and who he is.
i am glad you didn't get the impression the narrator was mocking, the narrator is quite an intelligent and curious person... the narrator is obviously drawn and inspired by this man... knowing he is more profound and wishes to understand. I also liked how you intrepreted the second part as a dream sequence when as I was writing it I imagined the narrator actually going over there and speaking to the man. But I guess that can be left up to the reader to decide, it works either way!! |
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| The Frightening Man |
[Mar. 8th, 2008|01:11 am] |
Our own town was scared of one man,
Who lay upon the devils hand.
Half dead,
We didn’t know for sure,
For he seemed other-worldly.
An imp spirit,
He lived off the land,
And never properly bathed;
Sand and reefer permeated from his bruised skin,
He never saw my gaze.
He was in his own little world he was,
And I began to wonder…
What a frightening man does:
Much richness in my fortitude,
Came along the bitter waves,
That seized and splashed past my eyes to It;
Where purple moon began to rage!
I crept upon a blackened night,
Which lead me to a horrible sight!
A man alone,
Dear God…what’s this?
Laying his brittle back against the cool earth,
Whistling to the stars above…
I ask:
“What lies here in this darkened hole?
That you nest in day to hide?
You sleep your way through light,
I only ever see you come up for night!
You feed and feed off soil and stone,
Until you become nothing less than a fright!”
And with a look that queer ones give,
He peered above and quickly spit; “What eyes have you my dearest lad?
For the sun isn’t the only star in the sky we have.” |
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| Soil versus Sky |
[Jan. 16th, 2008|11:02 pm] |
|
I was lying against the crisp, damp earth; looking up at the milky clouds that seemed to slip in and out of the atmosphere. The little hairs on my arms began to stand as if to reach way up high, and when I closed my eyes I felt my mind melting with the sky. I saw myself living in the cracks of the stars and the lines that distinguished my form began to blend into the celestial canvas. When I lifted up my arms I felt my torso smoothly float and I could sense my body was being swallowed whole by the moon. The slivers of grass that gently connected my bare skin to the field kept me from drifting away and I awoke slowly sinking in soil; with my eyes gazing straight above me. |
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| Cool blue sea, |
[Sep. 3rd, 2007|12:49 am] |
If only you could move side by side with me,
On those long and lonely days;
When the sky feels so high and my insides begin to fade.
How small I feel against this vast and distorted plane,
That stretches far and wide towards the shore;
You call my name.
So let me dive into you to wash away this pain,
For when your body of water surrounds me it’s the only time I feel secure and safe. |
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| Drive |
[Sep. 3rd, 2007|12:45 am] |
Trees begin to fade into lines,
Row after row they dot the cement,
Outlining the pathway that bounds time.
Sharply approaching the turn,
I wished for one more moment in between,
To stay still and breath in the seconds that pass each hour
Along this vacant street.
On I go,
Down the straight road,
With the exit passing me by. |
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| Tourist |
[Jun. 16th, 2007|04:55 am] |
Lively sounds and musky air permeates above my windowsill.
Gazing towards the deeply burnt streets,
So many hands are tangled in the heat.
Faces direct,
The people all speak,
One over the other,
They crowd their own speech.
Yelling trinkets to sell or nothing to eat,
Wearing robes so long it hides their feet.
Up here against the darkened skies,
A strange new world unfolds before my eyes. |
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| Sink |
[Jun. 10th, 2007|06:09 pm] |
Black,
I spit out.
Tastes bitter,
Like mud around my tongue.
Lips pressed so close they bruise and stain,
Filling my mouth up with jaded grains.
Waste me away towards the sky;
I fly,
Someday.
I'll guard my dreams,
On the edge of a cliff.
Falling through clouds,
I slip away.
My being melts quick,
Like sand sinking into the soft earth.
My shamed cucoon.
I hide,
Like dirt. |
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| Driving with the Moon |
[May. 20th, 2007|04:12 pm] |
The Moon follows me everywhere, to Daddy's place and back again. Watching over me, dreamily, to make sure I am not alone. "He's smiling at you," my Mamma says as we drive beside the big, bright, Moon and I smile and nod along. We travel as three against the big, black, sky. All my fears are set aside when the Moon shines on my side.
Sometimes the Moon hides behind buildings as my Mamma drives me home. I search and start to worry that the big, tall, buildings squashed the Moon. How sad the sky would be on its own. What dreadful buildings, won't you leave us alone? Then the Moon appears again and I'm relieved to see it was only a game. Hide and seek, the Moon and I play as Mamma drives me home.
(This was inspired by a memory of a thought I had as a kid)
-Anna Warnes |
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| Faces |
[May. 12th, 2007|11:37 pm] |
Resting behind glass windows,
One by one they crowd my eyes,
Far apart yet intertwined,
All within themselves,
I'm left inside.
They dart and move,
Pass me by,
Sideways and behind,
Stern expressions,
Dented lines,
Faces fill the streets outside. |
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| Moon |
[May. 1st, 2007|12:24 am] |
I live by the Moon,
The enchanting Moon.
With so many secrets and hidden thoughts.
I want to you know you Moon,
I want to see inside your Soul.
Let me be in you,
Let me become you.
I just want to crawl away and live through you,
Let me hide. |
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| Imitating Space |
[Apr. 8th, 2007|06:11 pm] |
Searching along the avenue,
Shadows play with the dusty moon.
Cemented into a blackened gate,
The cracked pavement twists and breaks,
Opening to a fate we choose to make,
Towards the powerful search for our escape.
Morning disguised,
We can't find the light,
Breathing in comas to survive.
Down in the darkness,
We feed on the stars above us,
Grasping for a piece to take and involve our spirits with space,
Laughing and crying when it all falls in place,
This is the vision we wish to create. |
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