Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Grass growing under bare feet

photo by ravencypresswood

I play on the fire

                in the smoke,
                run my hands through its substance,
                send signals
                                          (i pre-tend)
                         in my hands
                                  like clay & form
                                           the untouchable
place it to my lips
& blow
                        ---sending them on their way,

in the Himalayas,
they place prayer flags
in high places / on the ridges
to be
                                                 closer to the heavens,
                                                 fill the land with
                                                 & everytime the wind whips them,
they sing the song,


  1. I like the idea of thinking thoughts and then blowing them on their way, hoping someone else will receive them. And you never know if they are...... Smiles!

  2. I can just see all our ideas like CoLouRS on the wind, love this!

  3. Imagination running wild, birthing this lovely piece.

  4. let the poem full of blessings reach the battered land and heal...your lines take me to the ruins of Nepal...

  5. I really like the to send the thoughts through distances like smoke.. maybe we need to also listen more to those thoughts that pass through the air...

  6. The soul rises and awakens with every birth.Love the mystic Himalayas, they always are....

  7. How beautiful that closing image is, I have watched many documentaries on Bon and Tibetan Buddhism wonderful


  8. Man, I don't need any more than the title! That is the best feeling in the world. Especially if you take this phrase into consideration: "in high places"

    The embedded "GI"/"guy" makes me think of captured and tortured soldiers during wartime. (I watched most of a show called Homeland not too long ago, and Brody, one of the main characters, was waiting for rescue for like 8 years or something.) In light of that, this poem could be very sad. Love that it could mean anything to anybody, though. That's the best way to write poems.

  9. that is an holy act to form words that bring life and hope... love the image of the prayer flags and how you describe the forming from clay - the untouchable - love this

  10. The images of this poem capture life and hope.

    You sir, are such a brilliant and talented writer.

    Love this poem my friend.

    P.S I posted a poem this Monday check it out. I'm also going to post a new one later on today. :)

  11. A very poetic rendering of 'good vibes'! I particularly like the image of the prayer flags that are close to heavens and pray according to the whims of the wind.

  12. You are hilarious, dude. So many brazen absurdities here. I am cracking up, big time. Your spacing is absolutely brilliant. B-REAL-EYE-ANT. I would bow down, but that would be idolatry. And we don't want that, now do we? ;)

  13. Somehow, they are both untouchable, the smoke, the wind--and both carry their hidden messages--

  14. oh X how I love this if i knew the language of the smoke and wind I would ahowl you my appreciation....

  15. What an opening line--and the metaphor is subtle as that melody you can't quite put a name to, but strong as the way it haunts your ear--the comparison of the smoke of love, of dream and hope, to the prayer flags is genius--really so much that is complex going on so smoothly here, so (if you will pardon the expression) efficiently, that the poem purrs like a well-tuned engine.