Sunday, January 13, 2008


A song is lifted.
The windy drama has now passed on,
but sometimes it blows me back
against fences of ancient landscapes
where signposts shatter my footsteps.
The room was dark but now it's light.
Darkness lingers amidst
the harbingers of doom.
Brightness comes from those
who see the light at tunnel's end.
Proverbs praise her in the gates.
Her husband is known in the gates,
when he sits among the elders 31:23,31;
a reference,
a fence,
automatic rifles,
and free in the drenched alcove
the spotter waits and bides his time.
A harpy streaks across the sky
borne by fierce gale winds.
Soon it will happen.
A door slams back and forth
rattling its hinges.
There's turmoil in the sky,
yet he waits silent as the moon
burning brightly high above,
while somewhere in the shadows
water drips and echos loudly.
Paving stones old as the mountains
hold their breath in deep suspense.
What will surely come
is only known as the unknown,
as it has always been,
but for those in the now
it seems urgently different.
Dreamers will dream a repeating theme
how the day got away
after the fall a resounding call
breaks out from the ground
upon a new born day.
With clatter of bones
the demons arose to challenge all those
who pass their way.
Energies focused
angels' song reverberates
shattering their storm.
Ron S. began this poem, picking up a line from Eth's daily posting,
and adding a response. Eth later added a new first line. The poem
then meandered an unpredictable course, to a succinctly fitting end,
provided by Tim O. "SONG" was titled by Ethel, and finalized on
January 14, 2008.
Writers: Ron S., Ethel, Don A., Ross, Angelo, Terry G., Tim O.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

It's As Good A Place As Any

The morning seemed so different
And I just couldn't take it

The bright, warm sun forced slits in my eyes
but I failed to notice

The only conscious thoughts in my head
were those leading up to

The hour it was endless
In dreams I was befriended

All my troubles seemed so far away
as tomorrow had rushed in from

I'm sure to stumble, just as sure
As today is just tomorrow's

The poem looks fascinating
and I haven't even seen it yet
this evening

Now just became Then
and Soon will be when,
this evening

None of this is a problem
If I remember to be here

1. Ron S. began poetica on 11/12/'07
2. Adopting an E-phrase, Ron and Angelo carried on. Hurray!
3. Christo's final verse clearly ended the piece on 11/14/'07, at which point Ron S. titled it.

Writers: Ron S., Angelo, Christo, Ethel, Terry

Monday, November 12, 2007

"Collectively Speaking, Something Serene"

Shortened days of Autumn splendor
when darkness seems to linger,
Crisp air breathes through hearts
beneath a canopy of azure skies

Gone, the heat of summer's sun
of sultry evening laughter
and in its place, a bracing wind
brings night a crystal clarity

so cold now, a Franklin fire heats
shadows conversing with memories
events collapsing in time, piling fast
against frosted holiday windows

a peaceful quiet beckons
the crunch soon underfoot
as paths of life are traced through
a crystallized maze of whiteness

synchronous seasons
stillness deeply woven falls
winter nymphs flutter Fate’s
mystery exhilarates

fresh blankets stir youthful hearts
joyous meanderings create memories
many melted away through time passages
as frigid elders fear this jekyll and hyde

the gloom of winter,
silence is deafening,
we await the Spring,
the wheels will turn,

wheels within wheels
their teeth interlocking
the majestic turning
of quantum mechanics

molecules quicken
snow dripping rivers
and sleeping things stir

first warm day
dirty window screen smell
tender sunlit leaves flutter
pillow on the sill, ecstasy
1. Don Aters began the poem with the first two lines on 10/31/07.
2. No guidlines were given, but four line stanzas were sdopted.
3. After unprecidented consideration the poem was titled after Don's own words, and completed on 11/11/'07.
4. Image: Ethel Mann

Writers: Don A., Angelo, Terry, Ethel, Tim O.

Sunday, November 11, 2007


And I dreamed there was snow in the mail
while the letters of an indecipherable alphabet
drifted silently from the sky.

Nom de plume? Sky Writer
ghost writer in the sky
phrases snowing by
falling into phonemes









Wind & wings to carry me home,
the grassy knolls await,
Wind & wings to carry me home
And I just can't carry it all.

1. This poem began on 11/3/'07, a first line by Ron S.
2. There were no guidelines
3. The poem's end was suggested by Ron S. on 11/4/'074

4. Photo: Terry Gilmer

Writers: Ron S., Terry, Ethel, Don A.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007


Like the hands of a clock, the planet is turning,
yet unlike time, many say it's burning

from the ashes of the past, we carry on,
ghosts of the past, remembered through song

So Planet Earth burns to our songs and our sighs,
as the face of time utters wild passionate cries

Our bright blue ball with its forests and lakes,
yet listening closely we hear how it aches

Balance is the heart of healing and changing
perfection of nature stirs our very souls

Each new season seasons rearranging
Love and peace and rock and roll

Years pass by, tenuous and tethered,
yet we roll along, somewhat tattered and weathered,

Our hearts become one as we cherish the time,
we now strive together, abstain the term "mine",

The wheel still turns, a solace for pain,
a clandestine home, our comfort and gain,

So Planet Earth burned while poets pled
And the face of time spread open to heaven

Our hopes and dreams rising, creation aware
fervently earnest like mantra or prayer,

Our failures and weaknesses, darkness, dispair
all rising up, wafting, like a smoke in the air,

An eye to the future, a mote in our eye,
we stumble and stagger, we soar through the sky,

Above us, a canopy, silver and black
we look out to heaven, the heavens look back

From infinite stillness the orb glistens in
shimmering brilliance, a swirl of iridescence

In persistent variation ephemeral
Nature wakes us from our unbearable trembling

And we in the eye of the storm seduced
linger by the color of some haunting perfume

So I offer my acoustic token and my electric prayer
In a ceremony of rosewood in the cellar downstairs

Eyes of the world shall view the countenance of soon futures passed
While minds wonder how long the music will last

Our thoughts as touch effortlessly flow
enthralled the shallow vessels aspire to the sound

The time we share, sporadic and treasured,
our footsteps, together in history, are how we are measured

As among ancients the immense ocean of life flees
our spirits soar reflecting the creative

Like a clock, a lifetime's visage mirrors the movements within
Be truly alive, lest the stillness of time be your death

Less obvious now, those carefree spirits roaming the earth,
when random acts of kindness were given to song,

we continue to rejoice, to love, to care,
yet we ponder over thoughts of "Where have all the flowers gone?"

Ongoing rhythms born again express grace sincere
sound as sight sooths our seeking senses

We know that we have nothing to fear
Except from the walls of our own defenses

Attacking ourselves like a cancerous cell
We push and we pull between heaven and hell

Instead of a balance we cling to our shields
Organic dysfunction that begs to be healed

confusion divides us, fear brings us down
greed is a toxin that poisons the ground

with health out of balance, hate like a cancer
in search of a center, it's love that's the answer

True love, alike time itself, is endless, but telling
always its ways, like zones, differ

Devotion’s sublime purity cascading
ourselves spontaneously in undiminished laughter

Thousands of yellow Lombardy poplar leaves swirl down,
suddenly released by the wind, cascading to the ground
in piles against blue fall sky. We all gaze up,
blessedly lost in leaf flurries, for now.

While we gaze up in awe we are serenaded
with the sounds of babbling water music
and the ahhs of friends gathered in a circle
that can never be broken, a perfect moment.

overlapping dimensions explode with fractured color textures
evoking the radiant celestial flash of friendships harmony

The mortal tongue fails us all.
The essence of time, the spark Divine
can only be revealed in silence or glossolalia.
1) Terry proposed this poem on the basis of fond memories of getting aquainted with Mac (David MacWessal)in the JSSF 11 Chatroom. Mac had proposed that they become aquainted by trading verse. The poem began with Terry's first stanza on 9/28/07.
2) Short, casual contributions were suggested, no rules.
3) FACES OF TIME concluded after 37 stanzas, when all recognized that Enfield had written the final verse on 10/05/07.

Writers: Terry G., Angelo Don A., Ethel, Ray, Christo, Tim O., Ron S., Enfield

Sunday, October 21, 2007


I was born on my father's birthday
It was the very first clue I had to get away...
Born in October's red/yellow/orange swirl
starsigns in the void, just a young girl

Mother loved to dance my hushed heartbeat embraced
the music of her life runs through my veins
jeweled vibration immersed I have been graced

Memories of joy like arrows find their mark in my heart
The second sign was the music there was no end it didn't start
Sweet reminders that I am who she once was,
now unbroken and bright, innocence renewed imparted

As the man said..."Je t' non plus"
Dark was. Resilience, brilliance, ever fresh
the never ending blending turn of shadow, shape and hue
lustrous desire obscured we murmur adieu

1, This poem began with the title only on 10/05/07
2. Verses were added one line at a time
3. Stanza breaks were spontaneous
4. After much discussion, poem 2 closed on a line

from Tim O., on 10/09/07
5. Photo credit: Ethel Mann, "Persimmon", 2006

Writers: Angelo, Ethel, Ron S, Terry G., Tim O., Ray