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Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Weary of visions the sun must unburden,
So must unwind the mind’s vaunted peregrination;
Drowsy beat of twilight
Gather dust from ups and lows
In heaps call their dead: No footfall be there:

Chanson de nuit, for which I am born
Weariness shall not dull the ear;
Nor the promise of day still its refrain
Chanson de nuit has come for me.

Benny

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There are many ways to turn one hour
In millions of vexations,
Paring nano-seconds in their nexus
And never knowing the loss:
My oneness is all set and complete
Past telling points of man-made laws:
Go west, for what I ask myself
And it avails neither
With east, south or north.
There are many ways to turn one life
In millions of pretenses,
Each one more bizarre to fit the hour
And never knowing the loss:
My oneness is all set and complete
And sound hollow to fit customs of men:
Go west, for what I ask myself
And it avails neither
With east, south or north:
My soul is drawn from One True Silence
And everything else is jingle
The motley crew of fools may worship
As many gods, but I remain aloof.
Benny

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“Over the past year I’ve learned

Some ends don’t have endings.

Some empty space will never be filled.

Sometimes your hands intertwine perfectly,

But your minds just don’t.”

Emma-Lidewij (selected from Chaos & Catastrophe ©)

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In 1877, when French actress Sarah Bernhardt (1844-1923), triumphed as Doña Sol, Victor Hugo presented her with a human skull. On it, he inscribed the words:

Squelette, qu’as tu fait de l’âme?..

Google translated it thus. To these I have this added in italics:

Skeleton, what have you done with your soul?
Lamp, what have you done with your flame?
Empty cage, what have you done with
The beautiful bird that used to sing?
Volcano, what have you done with your lava?
Slave, what have you done with your master?

Skeleton where have you spirited/

What desires your senses sported?/

Or nights of revels /

Bacchanals your flesh craved/

But never sated?/

 Poor skeleton, need no answer

I shall come to thy level

And shall make my own sum.’

Benny

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My grandchild has released her second book of verses;

You and I,

we get along

like fire and rain,

but it is bliss

anyway.

Emma-Lidewij

The title of her book: Chaos &Catastrophe

“In your hands you hold a story of the chaos in my heart told in about six parts, dedicated to six girls who shine a light in my life….”

  • Paperback: 230 pages
  • Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (April 2, 2018)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1984931105
  • ISBN-13: 978-1984931108
  • Product Dimensions: 5 x 0.6 x 8 inches

 

 

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It’s Dog’s Life ©

Not that I travell’d in my flesh and blood
And hobbled along lanes for holy grail
long asleep beneath cobwebs spun of old,-
When Charlemagne girt with sword sat enthron’d
While knights in armor set out for honor,-
Saracens fell left and right, and at cut price,
Silver or solder, junk all thrown pellmell
In some Turk’s jumble sale dispersed.
Yet my quest was in some curious twist
A tale- and it mov’d my frame entire:
I found a dachshund long, and cuddly to boot
And a pug ugly, dash it, with a short snout.
One it had to be, and chose I, my dachshund.
Benny
Original
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star’d at the Pacific—and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise—
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

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Dilemma of Youth

 

O dark days dare, e’en as I stare what future shape

Morn shall wrest from slag heap of sleepless night:

More tears from life I tread than press from grape.

 

2

Sodden youth grown sere before wherewithal

In fortitude,- wisdom girt with purpose

To his aid rush no matter what but call;

 

3

Oh no! life said yes, but then my resolve

Grates Hamlet like, whining against what must

A drunken night in hangover evolve.

 

4

Life is a journeyman’s romp taken by steps,

Finds some offer add and other detract ,-

But what is profit when death pulls all stops?

 

Why cavil life for wrong turns and blunder

If death is all that life earns hereafter ?

Benny

 


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