Tag Archives: smudge

Of Ill Deeds, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems page)


Of  Ill Deeds, poetic thought by George-B
(the smudge and other poems page)

The answers are within protected by the shell – viscera
life is  so strong so death is not thought of-
hatred makes victims somewhere outside,
in  coward devotion, hatred makes drum-roll to tormented minds: 
cowardice attacks
the innocent

weak
feeble
the sick
the innocent – how else to hurt
life
hope
a smile
a tear of joy
but by denying their right to exist.

So mortal of spirit in hatred collects
pain for redemption,
immortality
promised by the  master of hatred and lies- promises of  golden stars,
untouched things…
the hater of life maladjusted,  the exception
is promised things by the master of lies.

-George-B.

Copyright © 2015 [George Bost]. All Rights Reserved.

Haiku: We all are Charlie, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems page)


Haiku: We all are Charlie, poetic thought by George-B
(the smudge and other poems page)

We all are Charlie

dawn in and on assignment:

 open people’s hearts!

_______________________________ ________________
– ©George-B (allrightsreserved)

 

 

Caught up in time, poetic thought by George-B (the smudge and other poems page)


Caught up in time, poetic thought by George-B
(the smudge and other poems page)

time starts to be appeasing: it weighs 26 hours and 35 minutes.

I do recall another line,
long,
long ago,
when time was light and swift as a mountain river,
fluid, well…

I guess time is taking its time lately so even I can catch-up with.
©
George-B.

the persistance of memory-Salvador Dali

the persistence of memory-Salvador Dali

 

The best choice was clay, poetic thought by George-B (The Smudge and other poems)


The best choice was  clay, poetic thought by George-B
(The Smudge and other poems)

You are my clay statue now, my witness

I could have turn you to

stone

salt

oil

coal

sulphur

the enchanted tree:

just to keep the story,

the “once upon a time…” alive.

but it would have been too much work and
all those choices….

I decided then, it will be clay
soft,
warm,
cold,
humid,
provocatively pliable,
with the shape of the dead soil
impregnable, yet so fulfilling…

You’re at your best, now,
your best features… the cover story:
as it was,
so it will remain…

The best choice was  clay.

©George-B.

Find out  more HERE

article-0-0F202F1400000578-659_634x547

 

haiku – Evidence of passage of time, poetic though by George-B (©The Smudge and Other Poems Page)


Haiku – vidence of passage of time,
(poetic though by George-B)

One after another,

like footsteps on wet beaches,

time levels passage.

©The Smudge and Other Poems  Page

Waves Erasing Footprints on Beac

Waves Erasing Footprints on a beach

Survivors, poetic thought by George-B ©Always (The smudge and other poems)


Survivors, poetic thought by George-B ©Always (The smudge and other poems)

I’ve witnessed moments like this
Made of lights and shadows,
with aroma of licorice and tarragon
tasting like roasted bell peppers and eggplants

I’ve witnessed moments like this
In sepia, and black and white, faintly smelling of retouching indigo

Papillon:

In the depth of the jungle, the smell of mushrooms is stronger
that any other smell except that of decaying matter

I’ve witnessed moments like this
of serenity: when being takes over the fear of dying,
of falling, through the holes in the old dragnet:
tilapia is a smart fish: it turns on one side,
at the bottom,
just above the mud,
avoiding the net…
other fishes are learning the technique: They are survivors.

The Tomb of Nakht, 1500 BC, contains a tilapia hieroglyph just above the head of the central figure.

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…

Censorship, poetic thought by George-B) (the smudge and other poems – Page-)


Censorship, poetic thought by George-B)
(the smudge and other poems)

We all value things – essentially worthless –
We make them valuable as they rot into forgetfulness
Gold medals, rings, and pocket watches
Old coins, now not currency,
We all give them extrinsic value
Dry flowers, pressed between the pages
Of out of print volumes, and censured volumes
And put to death volumes, by scorching fire, bonfire of volumes
Dangerously truthful to truth volumes, and tomes of many,
many writings in languages forgotten to time itself,
Witchcraft manuals and other books and manuscripts,
and philosophies we agree not with…
All becoming ash and smoke on the bonfire of un-appealable volumes…

Shivers (poetic thought by George-B)


Shivers (poetic thought by George-B)

Cold as a smudge on hands,

on the  fogged up  windows,
smelly fog of this foggy night in November
fog penetrating overcoats,  
clinging to skin and bones in a solid embrace –
few long minutes of rhythmic shaking–
dripping fog on rugs…

 with washing like motions hands reach for heat
nearly missing the flames’ dance in the fireplace,
while the evaporating fog dissipates