Friday, January 31, 2014

Forty Two . . .

Photo by Snowflake

By Stormcat

East de casa lay a ribbon of grass fallow earth
between post harvest plow rumpled fields
A road pass of sorts
leading to a cat tailed dragonfly kissed pond beyond
spreading chestnut and pussy willow
where adventures take birth.
A great place to romp,
look for ruffle-necked grouse,
chase rabbits, and
startle frogs basking in sun-warmth and the odd pheasant caught off guard.
My master likes to go there too but
always walks slowly. I think she’s afraid or lost in nostalgia,
she trusts me, however, sings, smiles, and talks to me . . .
so whenever I go,
I always take her with me.

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved 

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Forty One . . .

Photo by Snowflake

Austrian Excursion
by Stormcat

on top of the world
granite core clouds . . . home . . . no driveway even possible there
feeling your head about to surface above the sea of air
arrive on skis (regal as a star)
sit on side slope to catch the breeze
bask in warming brilliance . . . take in the vista
seems just now
like brandy and a hammock would fit nicely somehow . . .

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Forty . . .

longing for Snowflake, my wandering soul-mate
by Stormcat

It's easy for you to know where I am because I seldom go anywhere. You on the other hand are always going somewhere. So that even when informed, you've left that somewhere, I find myself uncertain of your destination. Not that I wish to control, impose on your solitude, or even track your movement . . . rather that I long for the comfort of your spirit . . . to live within the relief of feeling that you remain possible.

For what are you searching, my Love, the comfort of Eden? There is no Eden of the body . . . it is not a physical place; rather it is a condition of appropriately blended soul . . . it cannot be reached alone, in isolation . . . nor in the company of casual connection . . . only through the development of the absolute and the perfection of the uncertain; that perfection wholly embodied within mutual acceptance thereof.

Our lives are in winter . . . season of frigid cold . . . but we are Snowflake and Stormcat . . .  I am the cat of the sky longing to soar, yet born of the earth destined to always return thereto . . . You are born ethereal high in the clouds of tumultuous uncertainty. . .  though you long to rest, you are meant to float on the wind; even as you melt, your essence returns to clouds to be born anew. . . We intersect souls in skyspace.

Come fly with me! Rest in the insulation of fur armor take solace in fierce desire. Justify transcendence to winds aloft that we may dine together on delicate ecstasy. Settle in the fortress of shared solitude building barricades excluding unwanted disturbance. Venture confidently into peaceful eternity trusting in the permanence of unquenchable love proffered in quiet hope, freely irrevocably offered in innocence.

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Poets United - Midweek Motif "Hunger"

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Thirty Nine . . . 

Displaying photo 5.JPG
Photo by Karin

essential imperception
by Stormcat

dressed, made up to perfection

a thick knit tube of finest black cashmere lined with stands of luxurious fur
slid silently over arms, 
from shoulders to knees
a smooth white ribbon of finest silk, round my neck, embellishes

enter, head held high with look of

never even noticed it happening
until too late and realized
that I, bound and led around,
had sold myself into slavery

 Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Thirty Eight . . .

Photo By Karin

by Stormcat

watch the fledgling learn
wholly pre sumptuous threading
comprising thick forest transit
at the speed of fetterless flight
- faster than thought control -
without the slightest hitting
something irrespective death

 Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Thirty Seven . . .

Passage -Mountain River Landscape by John Van Alstine

Mountain River Passage
By Stormcat

unconquered Wildness dictates necessity of such
miles certainly the alternative is
two, three . . . hundred
Jagged giants threaten . . .
by day ten-
thousand spears of sunlight
sparkling diamonds surface
invade uberconstricted irises
blinding steersman captains navigators without
regard to rank or wealth
wild men
beasts and eerie silence
as raw death has won more often than one cares to contemplate
cool shade on deep southern-bank-channels
sunburned lips and nose

what of the blood mooned starry nights
where growl of beasts
motivate well kept
next to tenuous moorings
and restless passengers wallow in tiring slumber
awaiting    dreading
another day of endless pool and drop
with names like auger falls, zee trap rapid
death trail, and the grim reaper
lulling boredom followed
by utter terror
by boredom then terror then . . . boredom terror boredom terror until
one rainbow over
humble structure
after demonic deluge
and the welcome muscle-taxing-sweaty-tedious-unloading cargo

 Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Thirty Six . . .

by Stormcat

We hardly know each other, my friend and I,
There is just this feeling that draws me there. Impossible
To ignore in any reality only creates confusion . . .
Somehow I feel we can heal each other  . . .  Somehow.
I don't even know why I would want to do that . . . crusty
Old goat that he is makes it hard to approach . . . Yet something
In that sort-of smile, half wisdom half distain, gives confidence
Comfort, dissolution of fear!

Patriarch of the mountains, of nature, tribal protector, given to
Natural instinct. . . providing . . . fierceness to enable tenderness . . .
Succumbing to limbic desire . . . overcoming insurmountable
Challenge to stasis creates conflict only overcome by pain
To sacrifice ones life for the betterment of others is noble!
So what of the rebel that loses the rebellion?
Is the sacrifice any less noble?
What of those who "plow the sea," winning nonetheless?

Dark, strong, man of intense contrast
Solitude-seeker people-magnet
Angry peacemaker
Can one who lives so strongly understand subtlety?

copyright 2011 all rights reserved
Thirty Five . . .

Flappin -n- Freakin
by Stormcat

            Fuzz flit
              Feather flit
                Flitter  -  flit
                  Flit flit flitter
                    Flitter flutter
                      Flitter flap
                        Flutter flap
                          Flap flap
     flapflap . . . . Falling
                            Flapflapflap _ flapflap _ flap _ flap _ flap _ flap . . .       finally flying

 Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Friday, January 24, 2014

Thirty Four . . .

Words I like to Speak
by Stormcat

vacillate, lament, bombastic, recapitulate, ominous, scintillate, obsequious, pusillanimous, paternal, subterfuge, intercalate, monogamy, obliterate, acquiesce, cantankerous, . . . . .

These are words that want
to fill my mouth to capacity. Not because
they are commonly useful or often relevant
but words that
just feel good echoing around in there.
Not words that
you wish to either spit out or swallow, rather
words that
long to be kept and savored, like a delicious morsel, allowed to bounce
around for a while until they simply float away.
Words that
scintillate like a song,
defy pusillanimous effort, test
the conformation of environment, and challenge
the capability of the voice. Bombastic words that dominate
ominous status as the evolution of
individual linguistic ontogeny recapitulates.  Words coupled to
monogamous definition that acquiesce to
brevity, obliterate descriptive phraseology,
intercalate volumes, and vacillate on the edge of genius.
Rarities that inform fierceness,
induce cantankerous lament,
create joyous celebration,
obstruct retaliation,
defy answer,
release innocent relaxation,
justify aggressive felicity,
encompass all manner of situation and emotion.
These are 
the kind of words
I like
to speak . . .

 Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Thirty Three . . .

Eternal Declaration/Commitment
By Stormcat

I try to write and my mind goes blank. It’s that for what 
I feel there is nothing I could possibly say that would be 
good enough to honor that essence, that Thoreauian
completeness, complimentary and balanced, imperfectly
perfect, perfectly imperfect.  It seems so easy to speak
anomalously in verse to the honesty of my feelings so
fear should not cause this reluctance but I know that
feelings are what the words are all about . . .  admission

Shall there always be lives that are childless in spite
of overwhelming  motivation? Be it no matter reason
but you my love will be old when your child is grown
and I will be older or worse. Is there love enough
to produce a child against all odds is noble albeit
clumsy - risky - crazy – unwise – irresponsible – noble
the kind that must reward the world  with yet another
genius or idiot,  saint or despot, or . . . something like

So I speak from my passion yet unrealized nonetheless
 set in motion to gain a foothold in purpose. existence
justifying the very presence of mortality, my mortality
clinging passionately actualizing cascading noble effect
subject to the whims of  humanity and the spiritual
universe hoping that the seeds planted will flourish
once the influence of the garden-master passes
un-noticed though the consequence be undeniable

Can you my love forgive us if we can no longer make
a baby or two to show the extent of our desire/
commitment to the religion Family disconnected
from recognizable resonations known as romantic
surely a child or two of amazing beauty and intelligence
shall come from the seed of love that is you and I.
the couple becomes the family becomes the tribe
becomes the nation becomes the universe . . .

one eternal round , , , déjà vu

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Thirty two . . .

by Stormcat

She told me to look into the eyes . . . to look there
deeply and recognize the person with those eyes anew and
speak the words out I love you
I thought it such a silly act . . . that I love myself is just
a given fact and there is no need to belabor it with academic
exercise to feed my ego's favor
But for her I reluctantly acquiesce . . . confront the unshaven
in morning dress of robe and slippers, study the foggy image
raw and soggy ethereal mirage
Breath taken, lips part, mind panics . . . no words escape
laryngeal paralysis inflicts dead silence, emotions choke and
leave me sobbing - spiritually broke

I succumb to the mirror . . . . I cannot lie to myself

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Thirty one . . .  An experiment in form, all short poems which share one line in common.

All my tomorrows belong to you

By Stormcat
I don't know where you came from but,
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
OMFG! ! !
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
You must, you really must, be grateful that
all my tomorrows belong to you?

By Stormcat
Do you torture me because you know that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
What the fuck ever got me to believe that
all my tomorrows belong to you.

By Stormcat
Even if you realized it, you still wouldn't believe that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
All my tomorrows belong to you!
But since you will never be here . . .

By Stormcat
Like it or not
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
I've thought of a bunch of stuff about what might be and still all I know is that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
I want with all my heart that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
All my tomorrows belong to you
and that memory will always haunt me!

Much to my
By Stormcat
All my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
All my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
All my tomorrows belong to you!
Will you marry me?

By Stormcat
I don't even know where you are but
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
Is there even a chance that you'll ever realize that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
Why aren't you celebrating the joy of it, knowing that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
What do stars and planets matter when
all my tomorrows belong to you?

By Stormcat
I guess that you just don't care that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
It should overcome everything. It should be the only controlling force. It is the only reason that
all my tomorrows belong to you!

By Stormcat
all my tomorrows belong to you,
seals it!

 Copyright 2014 All rights reserved
Thirty . . .

The Wine of Desire
By Stormcat

think; aromas encountered mowing hay after a rainstorm, mild
earthy sweetness, trapped in the field’s insulating fur, extracted
in swaths sequentially as fingers comb the crop, drifting off
the surface, injecting the breeze, teasing nostrils with boluses
of fleeting intoxication, incrementally drawing the face closer
to a rising valley floor, in turn stimulating the source, iteration
consuming reason, until beyond control the crop parts, the
tongue darts, tasting the wine of desire from its very source.

 Copyright 2013 All rights reserved

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Twenty Nine . . .

Uncovering A Sleeping Women
By Stormcat

What is it about a sleeping woman that is so beautiful
innocent trust clothed in peace
smooth softness blending into smooth softness
there seems to be a glow of light
all color muted to tones of white
hair splayed perfectly framing entangled eyelashes
soft shadows highlighting subtle contours
I used to think it was the moon but now it has
become obvious that there is no need for outside sources
She is the source

Life springs from my woman
I only plant my seed in her and she
goddess of life
foundation of civilization
source of all goodness
author of love, of loveliness
she brings forth the fruit
she nurtures progenous progression
she defies the second law of thermodynamics
she makes all joy
she makes everything

There will be no need of time once I find her
fifty years or five hundred years
she is looking for me and I am looking for her
that goddess who will sleep confidently
in my presence, in my bed, who will know
that I will breach the powers of all hell to protect her
so she will sleep with the peaceful
confidence of her man's intelligence
of her man's commitment
of her man's fierceness
of her man's strength, of her mans love
and in that trust she will sleep showing all her beauty
for only me to see

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Twenty Eight . . .

Dream Girl
By Stormcat

     There is this thing that happens when you are asleep
                                                         ( in the wee hours before morning consciousness)
           when your mind mixes up all that has happened from the past, all that is happening in the present, and all that you hope for in the future

                                                 and then your mind makes a dream out of it . . .

           So who is this terrifying woman that I'm about to make love to?

Is she my first wife? My second? One of my ex-girlfriends? One of my almost girlfriends? One of my wished for girlfriends? Or a fictional personification of my perfect mate?

     Dreams are always kind of dark and muddy. Clarity is rare, and when I do actually recognize someone clearly, it is usually someone from my past. People who profoundly intruded into my life.

     I wish it to be the current woman who holds my attention! But I really am quite unsure because the dream is muddy and I only know, when I awake and recall the dream, that if it is her, it is because my heart wants it to be her.

      The woman in my dreams represents what I want the woman in my life to be:

             and slender like me . . .  able to dream and imagine a lovely home-life . . .
loving to be with people and laughing with them . . .
                                                                                  womanly . . . sexy . . .  adventurous . . .
                knowing when to challenge and when to console . . .

         accepting of my compliments knowing they are the truth as I intend them . . .

    knowing that my loving eyes are astute, wise, and trustworthy. . .

knowing that she is the only one I want to be with, because she truly is, 
                                                                                                              my dream girl!

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved

Friday, January 17, 2014

Twenty Seven . . . (Stormcat's got the blues and can't seem to write. So here is an old one that you might enjoy)

The Sugarcat Blues
By Stormcat

(Key of F)
My baby, she’s a kitten . . . A soft n pretty baby kitty cat
Oh ya, My baby, she’s a kitten A soft n pretty baby sugar-cat
I told her . . . Babe I love you!
(spoken)  – then I asked -
 So whatcha think about that?

She said that love is crazy
      Can’t ever tell how it’s gonna go
Ya! love is wild n crazy
      it Ain’t predictable at all
(spoken)  – Not at all man -
But if it’s starin ya in the face . . .
        You might-as-well go ahead an take the fall.

Lovin a kitten ain't easy . . . is trickier than you’d think . . .
She’s a whole lot of life with-the
              subtlety beneath
Just when I feel I'm startin to sort it all out . . .
(spoken) -I realize I forgot -
about the claws and teeth

(Key Change to A minor)
Storm Ya gotta stop . . . this pushin with your mind . . . .
Love kitten in the moment        -day by day-
     draw no lines in the sand,
     declare no final stand
All that can do
              is push your kitten away

(Instrumental Solos)

(Final verse back to F)
My baby, she’s a kitten . . . A soft n pretty baby cat
Oh ya but, she’s a tiger kitten . . . A purring feisty baby sugar-cat
And I know that I love her
                                     BUT . . .
I've learned not to ask her
(spoken)  – learned not to ask -
learned not to ask her
                                    WHAT . . .
                                        she thinks about that.

 Copyright 2008 All rights reserved

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Twenty Six . . .

Photo by Snowflake

Clams in love
By Stormcat

There you are
Right next to me
Safe inside your shell

And here I am
Right next to you
Safe inside mine too

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Twenty Five . . .

Photo by Snowflake

By Stormcat

I guess the dif'rence is whether
it's for or with though I
can't think of what that might be
with-a rising sun in my eye
It's mostly a va-ca-tion pref'rence
when a cold bloody Mary works too
not into Chai tea Macciato
and soymilk latte just won't do
Espresso with lemon is lovely
and quiche Love I'll always hold dear
but-if Doll your intent is to please me
for breakfast just give me a beer!

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

Monday, January 13, 2014

Twenty Four . . .

Naturally Blessed
by Stormcat

I haven't felt excited about life for quite some time
Just been going through the motions of living
But suddenly there is a vision that makes me feel like I have a new start
A new job, a beautiful love prospect, serious friendships, maybe even a family
I can't ignore God's hand in this, with all the gratitude that I can offer
I honor that gift

Copyright 2013 All rights reserved

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Twenty Three . . .

Spoonful of Love (chicken soup)
by Stormcat

No matter how cool the soup becomes from the blowing,
the spoon itself still burns.
one develops the technique of sipping the broth
from the extensively blown upon spoonful
without actually touching the spoon itself

It wouldn't be an issue except that the soup is so good
that you can't possibly wait long enough for it to cool.
You see, chicken soup is as close to love as a food gets!
Whenever I start to feel lonely and unloved
all I have to do is make myself a pot of chicken soup.

Everybody makes it differently . . .  my Italian friend
Gino makes his with rice, beans, garlic, and Italian spices like
basil, oregano sage and thyme . . . Peter, my Hungarian friend
adds galuska (small dumplings) hot Paprika and serves it
with a dollop of sour cream . . .

I make mine with diced carrots, a little onion, and handmade
pepper noodles (the ones my grandma taught me how to make)
plus rosemary, thyme, marjoram, saffron, and lavender . . .
all day long the soup simmers and fills the house with
the aroma of love. The noodles go in last . . .

By the time it's finished cooking . . . none can wait more
everyone knows how it's going to taste
the bowls are filled, chunky stuff first, then topped with
that steaming broth, salt is passed, giant spoons stir
and are too soon dipped. . . that's when the blowing begins.

Copyright 2013, All rights reserved

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Twenty Two . . .

by Stormcat

There are all these things that come up which seem to be so devastating!

Can't you remember haw devastating it was to get NOT ONE but SEVEN pimples on the evening before  you had finally landed the most desired date in the universe!

How about how many nights you didn't sleep because your Doctoral advisor had fallen out of favor at the University and you therefore felt like you could/would never graduate.

Then you can't ignore how they treated you at the symposium as if you were a waste of time, that is until the committee voted your research as the best for the year and awarded you the Presidential award! Ha Ha! ! ! You SOBs, , , I Showed you! ! !

Then your uncle dies and then your mother dies and then your best friend gets killed in an auto accident and then your baby sister dies! ! !  And then suddenly you feel your mortality, your mortal self, your knowledge that you are going to expire someday!

So can we really take refuge in Socratic wisdom? That death is either but a transformation to a new experience or an eternal sleep with no realization. What if death is an eternal sleep with realization or a new experience in torture? Did Socrates really extend all the possibilities? Maybe a monster will eat me with burning consumption over and over for all eternity and I will regret every bite that it takes!

All I care about now is whether I will ever be able to find that beautiful woman who loves me!
Do you think that saving the world is better than that?
Do you think that  inventing something that makes everyone's life wonderful is better than being loved by someone whom you think is a goddess?
Because it takes a Goddess to give me the strength to save the world!

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved