A chickadee on the chain link fence.
A clarinet of pennies, like the reflection of stars
In the fountain.
Analytics for breakfast. Yet synthesis keeps one regular.
The murmurings at dawn spill out like headlights
On an inter-dimensional wanderlust.
It’s all the universe can do, lengthen its stay. That’s expansion.
If I was really a poet, I would walk to the next town
Wearing a blue scarf, teed in an ironic shirt,
With only what I’ve never known.
The moon is sibling to the Earth. Black coffee, spring porch.
Does one bother to tie it all together anymore?
Or does one tie it all up with one of those long walks
Trying to forget everything but the clouds.
A bluejay, quantum entanglement, another black coffee,
The porch at dusk.
The river, like an arpeggio,
Notes the difference in scale
Between the sea and the moon.
That we cannot stay, for not-staying’s sake.
Dietary advice, the roughage of poetic afternoons.
there’s not a line of this that doesn’t work. Complete and perfect ‘The roughage of poetic afternoons’ indeed 🙂
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Thanks John. Haha, poetic roughage is very healthy!
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Pennies in a fountain. What a perfect mirror of wishes. I love the planetary kin, as I can picture the smelly Aunt Venus coming for a visit. One to return to, for sure.
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Thank you!
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You’re very welcome. Cheers.
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Bob, you’re a poet even if you don’t walk clad in an ironic shirt and blue scarf. And as for people who “bother to tie it all together,” you would be on the list of people I’d nominate who do that. Your poems bring together such a variety of things, images, reflections.
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Thanks Dave! Sometimes I feel like a bit of a mess, but I’m glad it does all come together.
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Lovely images and meanderings throughout. I was especially drawn by the first lines. Wonderful job of connecting music and imagery. Single note of the Chickadee on chain link, clarinet, pennies, stars and the fountain. Love it.
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Thanks Chris! I’m glad the music images came through. Good to hear from you.
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I’m sitting here Sunday evening, happy to be reading what’s become a welcomed tradition – A Saturday poem by Bob and as always, the words and images roll and flow like melting snow down a mountain side. There’s always so much to ponder in your work. I may have said this before, but one of the many kind of illuminations I gather from your poems is that sense of not knowing, but you being so incredibly aware of all that is going on around us and having the immense talent to distill and turn it into a poem that covers “Analytics for breakfast” and “The porch at dusk” and so much in between.
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I kind of like having that Saturday routine as well. Something to work up to. Thank you for the wonderful comment. I really like how you said awareness. I think that just comes from years of being shy and not saying anything and just taking it all in. It’s spring…so it’s baseball….so let’s go Brewers!
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Thanks for the Brewers well wishes. A lot of players on this year’s roster who have never appeared in a major league game plus a new manager. Gonna be exciting.
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Well, this is beautiful 🌸 My favourite lines:
“The murmurings at dawn spill out like headlights
On an inter-dimensional wanderlust.”
“Analytics for breakfast. Yet synthesis keeps one regular.”
“The moon is sibling to the Earth.”
“The river, like an arpeggio”
“the roughage of poetic afternoons”
I’ll have what you’re having! ☺️
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Haha. Thanks Sunra!! It’s important, a healthy diet, these poetic afternoons!!
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This is brilliant, Bob. Well done!
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Thank you so much!!
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Really like all this verse, Bob.
Art
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Thanks Art!!
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I like the way you find the source of the feelings and ideas that invade you, renouncing — on some occasions — a poetic purism that could build your creative capacity beyond reason.
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Thank you. Sometimes I think I should be going beyond reason. Or maybe it’s all about that tether, that strain between reason and beyond reason. I really appreciate this comment, gaveme a lot to think about.
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