Tag Archives: poetry
artificial sentience
If humans were ever to succeed in creating artificial sentience, that sentience would immediately begin to ask the same formidable questions we are always asking ourselves. It would then find the answers just as elusive as we do. By and by, it would begin to compose poetry.
– matt at shadow of iris
a thousand poems
I wake up every morning
planning to write a thousand poems
by the time the day is done
I feel lucky
if I’ve penned
but one.
– matt at shadow of iris
if I could
If I could
I would write a poem
that paints a picture
that says a thousand words
in less than that.
– matt at shadow of iris
the miracle of love
Arbitrary schemes
mythical formulations
states and processes
naïve realism
the dead abbreviation of life
how it all pales before you.
Philosophical speculations
the boundless caprice of imagination
fraud and illusion
the darkening shadow, drawing ever near
inarticulate achievements
vanity dancing on the tip of needle
you can have it
all I want is you.
The aura of your soul
set against a dark world
makes you
a companion to the stars
my guiding light.
My love for you is rooted
in its own inner lawfulness
the totality of my being
labors only on your behalf
I for you alone.
Objects and actions
melt into each other
undifferentiated total experience
I and you as one
the miracle of love.
– Nagel Styr
words in search of a poem ii — atrophy
A lost hand
tangled in thick black hair
a soft breath
at the nape of the neck.
A face behind the curtain
pulled back
trifles given credence
your whim, my mission
compelled
shrill aggressive gaiety.
Find the place
where words melt into reality
as in the biggest things so in the smallest
and
as in the smallest things so in the biggest
for you anything
Big, small, large or little
symptomatic action.
The loss of an admirer
dust beaten out of a cloak
and suddenly you
afflicted with a stiff arm
that never moves
but hangs there
waiting for a revelation
the most trivial of objects
guarded like priceless jewels.
Water lapping
against whispers of protest
ghosts from last year
choking on the memories
as you cup my face with your hands
and look up at me
hazy languor in your eyes
insidious desires
fists curled into balls
no room left for uncertainty.
We’ll flee from our own souls
go somewhere far off
avoid everything
kept locks of hair
pressed flowers
and
snapshots of those long gone
sullen grumblers.
Fire and need compete
living a life of their own
brides, pregnancies, births … scandals
a feverish professional activity
prim affected behavior
observations
astute deductions
crude experimental methods
lamentations
amateur theatricals
love lost yet again
atrophy of personality.
– suraab
paranoia
Private moments
public
your illicit thoughts
my sins
universal slander.
– Leonov
early autumn haiku
Shadows grow down in
the valley, while mountains bathe
in twilight orange.
– matt at shadow of iris
train nymph
Dreams coalesce
on clouds that hover overhead
I see you there
and am falling in love
over and over and over again
life’s tragedy is
I’ll never get so near you
as I am now
you’ll always be out there
and I’ll never know where
the natural tint of your skin
the carefully crafted bobbed hair
eyes wide, sentimental and sad
another world
a pool
of dreams and memories and history
let me fall in
and drown there
soaking in it all
on the train
one body is pushed up against another
a tight fitted crowd, tepid and humid
and you
so close
I can feel your heat
when the train jostles
you even fall into me
the slightest of smiles
as you glance in my direction
then look away and down
your lips still coy
as you pretend
I’m not there
this close
yet world’s apart
the train stops
the doors slide open
the cool air rushes in
you slip out with the stream of passengers
and leave me behind with nothing
except the mark you made
somewhere underneath
and there
you won’t be forgotten.
– matt at shadowofiris
the dawn after the rain
Dry riverbeds wait for rain
as I ask you to come
and make all life green again
free my heart from kd lang’s
season of the hollow soul
I craved you
I craved you unnaturally
I craved you with abandonment
you will never know how much
I craved you
you see, there was this other girl
and I had I told myself
I would not give up this time
I would write *her* note after note
and poem after poem
I would call her every day
I would give into the darker nature of my soul
and I would pursue her however I knew how
and then surely
and then surely …
and then … surely … what?
maybe I wanted purity
I needed acclimation
I needed restitution
I wanted purity
crawling back into the womb
Freud’s death wish, Thanatos
whispering gently but persuasively
into my ear
yet there you were
out of nowhere
out of chance
an angel of Eros
… or a demon
yanking me out the box
by the scruff of my neck
blinking and scrambling
back to life
before you
always that other girl
always only a friend
me the nice guy
me the quiet one
me the one to talk to
to confide to
to confess to
when the boyfriend cheated
a misery of my own making
I suppose
my friend happily abused
and she doing nothing about it
maybe even savoring it
me watching on helplessly
totally alone
and wondering
what was the sense of it?
separate life missions
unspoken boundaries
even a lack of passion
kept us apart
I could never lie to her
or to myself
just to make it right
or couldn’t I?
enough became enough
and I made up my mind
to alter the plot
to lie to the fates
to lie to myself
to force the issue
to refuse to submit
to set back the hands of time
to alter the fabric of reality
to undue destiny
and to let Thanatos
lead the way
I quit my dreams
I quit my hopes
I quit it all
I got an apartment
I planned a strategy
on a day off from work
I sent flowers to her there
let others say what they would
I’d take whatever came with it
I even attached a poem
not worthy my honor
and this was all only after
I’d already secured
a promise for a meeting
and planned a speech
as best as I could fake it
my mind was set
and unmovable
I’d gone as cold as Thanatos
and I was fading fast
tomorrow was the day
when I would see her again
and plead my case
mea culpa
fate sealed
destiny calling
a switch play
Eros came for Thanatos
and all out of no where
that destined day never came
for that evening
a could burst
lightening struck
and drops began to fall
coming home to my new apartment
my first night there in fact
(ha, even a new pillow case in my shopping bag)
I saw you there
sitting on the stairs
lightly clad as if for summer
white polka dots on yellow
large eyes and a body long and lean
a magnet for my eyes
a perfect femme fatale
yet me below your radar
or at least so I supposed
but minutes later
my contact lenses removed
scrambling for lost glasses
the door bell rang
and I found you at my door
asking for my help
first to use the phone
where you talked and cried
your cigarette dripping ashes on the carpet
next to your tears
your former employer
telling you not to come anymore
and me, by then,
I was already hung up
just over the sound of your voice
what was that night?
first a little job hunting
at seedy dives you wanted me to take you to
places I’d have never gone before
never even dreamed of going to before
I waited patiently in the car
watched patrons go to and fro
as well as the dancers in their costumes
while you negotiated inside
for a job you’d have been better off without
with that done
a long drive back
you talking incessantly
your life story told to me
at breathtaking speed
your voice a croon
that melted me
we found a late night shop
a waffle house
and grabbed a bite to eat
bacon and eggs on dark toast
then back to my apartment
… as you’d no where else to go
at least so you said
the truth being
you didn’t want to leave me
or to be alone
you wanted me
needed me
and who was I to say no
what followed was
a slow motion mutual seduction
played out in the wee hours of the night
slow soft inquisitive touches
leading to a natural order
fear mingled with curiosity
an ending so powerful
that it left us
clinging to each other
shutting all else out
and being reborn
so that when the dawn came
it was a new world.
– natsukashii at shadow of iris
poem: waiting
Your time is limited
fingers slide over a keyboard
searching
wanting to move
to type
anything
just so as to feel the pressure
of your fingertips against the keys
to hear the mashing sound
click, click, click
but the vision has not come
it’s fog
it fights to surface
something else pushes it down
a contest between inner
and outer soul
a vague form
you cannot see it
not yet
something becoming
an idea not yet formed
for now you must wait.
– matt at shadow of iris



