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

    Posted in meditations | 1 Comment

    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

      Posted in poem | 3 Comments

      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

        Posted in meditations, poem | Leave a comment

        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

          Posted in poem | 1 Comment

          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

            Posted in poem | 2 Comments

            paranoia

            Private moments
            public
            your illicit thoughts
            my sins
            universal slander.

            – Leonov

              Posted in poem | 1 Comment

              early autumn haiku

              Shadows grow down in
              the valley, while mountains bathe
              in twilight orange.

              – matt at shadow of iris

                Posted in poem | 3 Comments

                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

                  Posted in poem | 5 Comments

                  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

                    Posted in poem | 3 Comments

                    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

                      Posted in poem | 5 Comments