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)

sphere of power, poetic thought by George-B (©always) (the smudge and other poems)

sphere of power, poetic thought by George-B 

(the smudge and other poems)

the sphere of power was robbed of one dimension.
the reminding circle is shivering
in confusing memory
of the once well adjusted  object of perfection – idolatry-
the circle’s shadowy plane hovers – like a Frisbee thrown and caught again and again –  until  dizzy and a little thirty…

Should the circle loose yet another dimension…well,  something like
a belt
shoelace
neck tie
dead snake,
will be all that’s left,
from the sphere of power…

George-B (©always)

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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

Encumbered not, poetic thought by George-B (The smudge and other poems

Encumbered not, poetic thought by George-B  (The smudge and other poems)

Unnoticed, silence breathed its way in:

can you watch now the growing grass,
the snowflakes parachutes landing and,
dust settling on top of dusty old, furniture tops?

almost instantaneously
night had moved over everything:

can you see now the shadows,
and the listless moon in owe,
eyeing the blue, as if…its dust,
were not to remain undisturbed
eons ahead,
except for a few boot prints…
cold of course, and odorless, and sterile…
encumbered not…

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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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