Haiku – La Tour Eiffel, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems

Haiku – La Tour Eiffel, poetic thought by George-B

It feels unreal 
La tour Eiffel top’s clouded:
black-in-white makes grays.

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More poems>>>>>>> Here >>>>>>>>Here>>>>>>>>and down here:

Winter Night (poetic thought by George-B) (the smudge and other poems)

Winter Night (poetic thought by George-B)

And then there was no sound to be heard
while the light dimmed –
behind the  darkness only few impressions survived…

An owl  attacked, and a mouse gave the last cry…

A handful of wind combed the plane of the leaves,
the plane of the air behind the branches:
The ripple in the still surface of the pond 
froze then, as if touched by a spell:

‘There will be no Spring in sight, not anytime  soon!’

(©Always by George-B)

The time starts now, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems)

The time starts now, poetic thought by George-B

A time to learn
And a time to forget,
and a time to remember
That you’ve been forgotten…

A time to reach out
and a time to coil in,
Curled inside your shell,
For a quality time with the universe…

A time to explain
and a time to accept that objection is the only way to make
a difference,
and then to go and take a skinny deep in the nearest Jacuzzi…

A time to address the rest of us
in unerasable communication,
even if no one’s aware,
for a thousand years…

A time to enjoy not having a bucket list,
or any form of other regrets,
or sympathies,
or likes and dislikes that hurt like frost,
or burning coal at the feet…
you will meet your limb again somewhere in time,
in the past, or future:

The time starts now (start whistle here 3,2,1, NOW!)

©Always, by George-B

The wheel, poetic thought by George-B (The smudge and other poems)

The wheel, poetic thought by George-B
(The smudge and other poems)

In the quest
To define the wheel
The scientist gave it the circle
The artist gave it any shape
The wood cutter cut a section of a tree…
And rolled downhill…
there came Pythagoras, and
he gave the wheel it’s formula

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It’s alright, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems Page)

It’s alright, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems Page)

Before me, before I was,
There were two ideas of me, two thoughts
In two minds…and it was alright…
Then one day they came together in one,
New string of DNA, and it was all right…
I was then immersed in the ocean bubble, until
I grew wings, and it was alright…
One day, early morning, I thought
I could leave the ocean
for the rigors of land crawling,
but I did not crawl…
not for a while…and it was alright…
Then
Everything became prosaic, and prose,
and the poetry was lost to
the mundane passage of time,
and nothing could replace that anymore…
not ever…and it’s all right…

Instead, poetic thought by George-B. (my poetry collection: “The Smudge and other poems” Page))

Instead, poetic thought by George-B.

Instead

Of heroic return to sanity
On a tree branch
I chose a steady
Pass all sane, not quite so heroic,
yet sane,
less firecrackers for the 4th,

instead, 

rather virtual kaleidoscope
paintings, and Fotoshetcher application of
Creativity, on the music of Dvorak, Chopin, and
about another few dozens composers
hundred of songs:
All love flowing
like a spring,
continuously flowing,
uninterrupted by unexpected fireworks at midnight
on the 3rd, 4th and well into the 5th:
lets keep it virtual

instead,

instead,

instead
lets keep it real instead, instead, instead…

Promises, promises, poetic thought by George-B

Promises, promises, poetic thought by George-B

A promise I made
To myself
I will not be bored
I will learn to not be bored
To find the elements in
Things
People
Water
Air
Dirt
Fire
That will be interesting
Enough
Not to bore me
To look for antiboring-antiboring-anti
Behavior
thumb sucking
Smoking whatever
Drinking to unbore
And immature mature relationships
Turning to be boring now I
Walk away from boring
And get fit as I walk, and now
I can tell what’s boring
I can unbore and stay that way
Way to go

I’m on my way…

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words, poetic thought by George-B Cuvinte, cugetare poetica de George-B ©Always (my poetry collection – the sludge and other poems)

words, poetic thought by George-B (©Always)
I opened the drawer of words
And picked, mixed,
at random
with hungry hands … words

slippery
heavy
hot
lightning
wet
salt
bitter
blue
black
gray …
randomly
most leaked
through my fingers, like the fine sands
from the beaches of Mamaia …
I sat those words that did not flee
And I built a house of words
And I used that evening armature moonless night
And I put the as firmament to watch over
Being very tired after so much work
I slept in the house of words
with the firmament watching over…

©Always (my poetry collection – the sludge and other poems)

 

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Sediments, poetic thought by George-B (my poetry collection)

Sediments,  poetic thought by George-B

Grudge
Hurt
Long time
Has passed

Empathy
Warmth
It touched
Under the surface
Long time
Has passed

Memories
Existing
Descending
The spiral
Eccentric

Future
If any
Remembers
The time
When it will be
In the making

(©Always, George-B)

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Anthony and Cleopatra, poetic thought by George-B

Anthony and Cleopatra, poetic thought by George-B

What’s a dream if not a imagined reality,
real to imagination, real to the what if, what of,

What‘s a dream   if not….an unforgiving reality,
living in the realm of the what if, what of,

What ‘s a dream if not an unfulfilled desire bursting
 with desire, to quench the desire to end who of, what if, what of if wha

In my dream you still are my queen,
You still dance the night away with the knight…
In my dream you still love the shadow laid on the sheepskins 
by the neon of the stars,
As long as the nine o’clock spears, 
the spears and the drums of the savanna,
the spears and the drums of the glass blowers of curare poisoned arrows,
you still rule the right of the Cobra Nymphatica Galatea-
-lover of breast fresh milked essence of life:

Snake to milk , mink to snake what the deal here? 

Haiku – Wind, Air, Rain (poetic thought by George-B)

Haiku – Wind Chimes, Air, Rain (poetic thought by George-B)

Wind Chimes are silent
The Air is for once stagnant
I’m thirsty for Rain.

Nature of Change, poetic thought by George-B (“I’ve learned to look at the horizons…:)

 Nature of Change, poetic thought by George-B

I’ve learned to look at the horizons ahead
and clearly see the past
reenacted almost identically
like long time ago,

As if
nothing changes,
as the more things change….well,
the more they seem to stay the same:

A new generation desires change,
An old generation know that change to have been around

Once.

Already,
Then change occurs,
and change of change occurs….
And yet we’re always staying still,

Essentially,

with all that change!

Question, poetic thought by George-B

Question, poetic thought by George-B

I opened my mind to you
Hoping you would search inside
For clues about your future…

 I opened my mouth to you
Hoping you would search for clues
In the words coming out of it

I opened my thoughts to you, and put them
Neatly at the tips of my fingers,
and then forwarded them to you
Hoping you would understand my fingertips meaning

You have understood everything
Before I have done a thing…
You were living already inside of my thoughts,
and knew them,
as if you have been thinking them or
dreamed of them… 

Now, the question that remains is,
How did you accomplish that? 

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Parallels, poetic thought by George-B

Parallels, poetic thought by George-B

The parallels between us
have  been never vertical –

as you have always been terrified by heights

Nor have they been horizontal –

As I have always been terrified by platitudes
We made them ramped, instead –
and further more: with alternating ups and downs…

Do you think we succeeded? 

Haiku: Pagoda, poetic thought by George-B

Haiku: Pagoda,  poetic thought by George-B

The curved wooden roofs
Resembling calm ocean waves
 Gently kiss the skies.

Japanese Pagoda

 

Theresa (poetic thought by George-B)

Theresa (poetic thought by George-B)

One day,
after falling in love 
with the most beautiful woman
I decided to praise her beauty in

a song
a poem
a portrait
a bust

I couldn’t find the tools…So
I went on praising her in my heart, rather than

on paper
in a song
on canvas
or in a clay bust in a niche…

All in my heart the love for her remains and
sometimes: in a dream.

 

Dream well (poetic thought by George-B) and Dream a little dream of me Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong)

Dream well (poetic thought by George-B)

They take your dream, undress it
and turn it into theirs
they take your dream, and dress it in
another one’s costume

 They put your dream up at auction,
Hoping behind the scenes,
You’ll not suspect it, 
they think it is  well worth it

You know your dream was not for sale,
you never though of parting with
Just hoped well deep into your well
Its freshness be thirst quenching

 Your thirst, never appeased 
for just another dream come true,
Your prayer to the gods of dreams, 
your wondrous masterpiece-
The dream long time in waiting .

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Past midnight (poetic thought by George-B)

A drop detatching from a dripping faucet. Image taken by User:Dschwen on February 8th 2006. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Past midnight (poetic thought by George-B)

Is pretty much past midnight…
And sleeping is a dream;
I grow aware of a drip, DRIP…DRIP –
The kitchen faucet licks its wounds,
Silently,as much as it can,
but still….
It makes me interject:
“But please, can’t you keep it quiet?
I need my sleep,
in case I never get to sleep another night!”

To think or not to think (poetic thought by George-B)

To think or not to think (poetic thought by George-B)

To think or not to think,
is a question as fundamental as
to be or not to be, because:

Not to think is to be not, in fact more evolved as a grain  of sand,
maybe less, considering all
a grain of sand, potentially have experienced….

So: if grains of sand could unleash their memory
of the things they’ve become aware of,
imagine the images, the aromas, the sounds, of being a grain of sand….

To be a grain of sand, or a human, is now the choice…but:

can you afford to be, as apparently unmoved and unimate as  a grain of sand? 

My Inner Alarm Clock (poetic thought by George-B): Now on SoundCloud!

Now on SoundCloud

My Inner Alarm Clock (poetic thought by George-B)

 The Day licks at the leaves of time,
I respond by turning off 
the ringing in my loud inner alarm clock;
It yawns and stretches me three times…

But I’m not ready to jump and
I’m asking myself “why?”, shyly,
As if afraid not to wake myself up fully, 

irreversibly,
for another day and half a night:

“Where were the yawn last night before I could not sleep?”,
I ask my inner clock…

No answer:
“It seems now that it wake me up it went to sleep,
but what about me…”

“That’s an unsolved mystery of unspecified complexity….”

 “Oh forget it,
Not another sheep counting contest,  again,  tonight!”

and then the cold (poetic thought by George-B)

and then the cold (poetic thought by George-B)

And so it was
The blue immersed in red
With no other contact than the center
Pulsing like a engorged vein, huff, huff,
Repulsing like a tapered vein, hmm, hmm,

Nothing taken for granted, nothing to be thankful
Except for the huff, and hmm….and then fainter,
and after a while

Silence…
And then the cold…