Month: August 2014

The Night Visitant

The delicate tapping and flicker of shadow

I feel your presence before you slide into view

A slight blur of darkness against the light

The soft clunk 

Clunk

As you scrabble to gain purchase on a hardened exterior.

For a small time, I watch you. Taking in

Your mesmerising existence, the passion which fuels you,

 the persistence which forces you continue.

To strive towards a goal so out of reach and beyond your control.

I feel bad for you that you don’t seem to understand

Don’t seem to grasp the futility of it all

Or maybe you do 

You might just be optimistic

Or stubborn

Or stupid.

Regardless…… I close the curtains on you and turn off the light.

Now it is I who lies in the futile dark.

 

 

 

 

 

Cold hands

Cold hands, are the sign of a cold heart

you say.  I protest you are confused.

You can live to lie another day

You state. I feel your ego bruised

Go wild tomorrow, live quietly today

You warn. My face less than amused

When the rain comes create hay

You exclaim. All proverbs abused

It takes but a red rose to tango

You offer, and I refuse.

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Robin,

Nanoo nanoo, May he rest in peace

Terminal Optimism

Dear Robin, (may I call you Robin?)

I wish I could have said this to you in person. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to be graced in your presence.  I hope my thoughts can reach you now.

You’ve been a part of my life since I can remember. 1978, just before my 7th birthday, “Mork & Mindy” hits the air and I was captivated. The crazy handshakes, laugh, and dialogue kept me staring at the television (sans blinking) for 30 minutes every week. One time, my Dad would get a haircut and when my Sister and I mentioned it, he would respond “Wrong! I got them all cut!” The first episode after a new cut for you, I remember Mindy’s Dad walked in and said “Mork! You got a haircut!” and Mork (you) responded “Wrong!  I got them all cut! ARARAR (Mork’s laugh)” I looked at my Dad and…

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Poet Robert Okaji Reads Rain Forest Bridge

This is how I feel attempting to cross a rope bridge.

Four Ties Lit Review

Rain Forest Bridge

To cross
you must first
trust the strands

to hold.
The second tentative
step precedes
the next,

each successive one
gaining strength:
here to

there, now
to then, a summoning of
entreaties
within
one’s faith.

Vapor meets cooler air,
forming droplets,

clouding the far side.

I have feared endings
and the strictures of the unseen,

but here
in this vast
swaying,
I know

one line
bisects the void.

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