| FACING THE FURNACE Lost in an alchemical dream ablaze in an alchemical fire bleached into redness reddened into whiteness blanched into readiness whitened into clarity washed into purity stretched and racked over blackened coals over reddened embers awash with wounds wounded by the word powered by the phoenix creeping and crawling into hidden corners smoldering silently bound in a furnace born out of ashes stirred and boiled in a cauldron mourned and mashed into pulp stretched across windows strewn over clouds covered by lightness covered by closeness hidden from causes extracted from water exploded from fire we tunnel like moles fermented with molds making new wine making new medicines healing old wounds laying wounded and worn enlightened and shorn from an internal weather and a sense of whether or knots. © charlie elkind 10/28/99 |
| STATUARY SEQUOIA'S Provoked memories lost images of mammoth trees mighty and majestic with shagged barks and silent songs. Upward I pondered seeing heaven camouflaged and dancing, I stand enthralled looking up at mottled spires meeting, bowing as I stare and stair at nature's one-eyed Cyclops. These wooden giants alive, mute, and full stand surviving as titan towers torn pages like leftover leaves from ancient calendars that fly bye in a panoramic procession through ages and ages of etched endurance. © charlie elkind 10/25/99 |
A CHILD OF DEATH
I had become a man
to the child who was now my father.
His remaining rest reminded me of a
brightened flower bed
that had reached the end of summer.
His petals, colored in Autumn brown
hung mostly wrinkled
and laid strewn within his crib and bib of
white.
His speech was babbled
with innocent incoherent thoughts -
his mouth, once a tunnel, that spit out
a tickle of dry humor
was now shrunken and parched gray -
I fondly recall a day before
how I held his head
and wetted and raked across
this same dry tongue
with a lollipop shaped sponge.
Those last few days I talked with Pop,
quietly inside
trying not to rattle him
as we went over his final passport.
Towards the finale,
the family and Dad waited for my brother
to arrive from upstate --
his whole lineage now lingered
as he weakly gasped a last commanding cry
then gently opened his closed eyes --
his life now laying cold on his warm pillow.
© charlie elkind 12/10/1999
I had become a man
to the child who was now my father.
His remaining rest reminded me of a
brightened flower bed
that had reached the end of summer.
His petals, colored in Autumn brown
hung mostly wrinkled
and laid strewn within his crib and bib of
white.
His speech was babbled
with innocent incoherent thoughts -
his mouth, once a tunnel, that spit out
a tickle of dry humor
was now shrunken and parched gray -
I fondly recall a day before
how I held his head
and wetted and raked across
this same dry tongue
with a lollipop shaped sponge.
Those last few days I talked with Pop,
quietly inside
trying not to rattle him
as we went over his final passport.
Towards the finale,
the family and Dad waited for my brother
to arrive from upstate --
his whole lineage now lingered
as he weakly gasped a last commanding cry
then gently opened his closed eyes --
his life now laying cold on his warm pillow.
© charlie elkind 12/10/1999
MONDAY MORN
awakening
to another red Monday
looking within, without
i arch myself forward
to meet
the plastered white sky above.
stalled at the edge of my day,
for just a moment,
then i spring up
maneuvering my way
to my morning shelves, and shower -
refreshing, splashing, sloshing -
with a sunrise lathering song
fragrant with slaps of soap
and scents of dawn's dew.
a renewal -
this wash, this water
cascading down
restoring, rejuvenating --
like the sun's early rays
opening on the horizon --
washing away
into secret puddles
the remnants of our weekend's
nightly dreams.
© charlie elkind 10/30/2000
awakening
to another red Monday
looking within, without
i arch myself forward
to meet
the plastered white sky above.
stalled at the edge of my day,
for just a moment,
then i spring up
maneuvering my way
to my morning shelves, and shower -
refreshing, splashing, sloshing -
with a sunrise lathering song
fragrant with slaps of soap
and scents of dawn's dew.
a renewal -
this wash, this water
cascading down
restoring, rejuvenating --
like the sun's early rays
opening on the horizon --
washing away
into secret puddles
the remnants of our weekend's
nightly dreams.
© charlie elkind 10/30/2000
INDEX
CIRCLING AROUND
Circling around
continuously moving,
moving
coming back to beginnings
turning
moving
dancing around
each turn the same -
but new
we can't eat the same meal twice,
our appetites circle around our plates
as we wander around -
waiting for dessert.
charlie elkind
Circling around
continuously moving,
moving
coming back to beginnings
turning
moving
dancing around
each turn the same -
but new
we can't eat the same meal twice,
our appetites circle around our plates
as we wander around -
waiting for dessert.
charlie elkind
BUBBLEBEE
Fisherman on stream
buzzing as tuna go by
looking for a can.
charlie elkind 1999
Fisherman on stream
buzzing as tuna go by
looking for a can.
charlie elkind 1999
WAITING FOR THE LIGHT
TO TURN
Standing at a crosswalk
we wonder if it will be
red or green
or perhaps a flashing, fleeting yellow
summoning us forward
hailing us onward
without a particular caution or care.
WALK
DON'T WALK
WALK
does it really matter.
We still have to buy new shoes
after a time,
after a journey
after a long days travel
the "souls" of our feet
become calloused and cold.
The passing cars sail by
drifting without water or waves.
The drivers all intent
to get to their next appointed round
without a plan
without a plot,
and then depart again
to their final destination.
© charlie elkind 10/03/2002
TO TURN
Standing at a crosswalk
we wonder if it will be
red or green
or perhaps a flashing, fleeting yellow
summoning us forward
hailing us onward
without a particular caution or care.
WALK
DON'T WALK
WALK
does it really matter.
We still have to buy new shoes
after a time,
after a journey
after a long days travel
the "souls" of our feet
become calloused and cold.
The passing cars sail by
drifting without water or waves.
The drivers all intent
to get to their next appointed round
without a plan
without a plot,
and then depart again
to their final destination.
© charlie elkind 10/03/2002
A CELL-EBRATION OF LIFE
silent notes of crystallized music
majestically motivated to movement.
a hidden spiraling dance of life -
whorling, whirling
within every atom.
veiled in wisdom,
its invisible clarion call,
secretly heralds
a disguised symphony
of invisible beauty
and stately order.
imbibed with innate harmony, it
scientifically circumambulates,
in measured moves
around a pivotal point of light.
its echoing interconnections
intones, infuses, ensouls
all the eye beholds
while tenuously traveling
through trestled temples of
inner terrains.
© charlie elkind 2/27/1999
silent notes of crystallized music
majestically motivated to movement.
a hidden spiraling dance of life -
whorling, whirling
within every atom.
veiled in wisdom,
its invisible clarion call,
secretly heralds
a disguised symphony
of invisible beauty
and stately order.
imbibed with innate harmony, it
scientifically circumambulates,
in measured moves
around a pivotal point of light.
its echoing interconnections
intones, infuses, ensouls
all the eye beholds
while tenuously traveling
through trestled temples of
inner terrains.
© charlie elkind 2/27/1999
| Charlie's Poetry - Page 4 |
