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A Poem by RobertRonnow


Author: RobertRonnow
Created: November 02, 2015 at 06:21 am
Upload Type: Poem, G (All)  
Category: Free Verse | Writing | General/Other
Upload Stats: 188 views

Take the Ripe Plum

How far from nature and life it is
the gray clouds, airplanes in them
the night cooing and pigeons roosting
Sirma's garden gone to roses and seed

                        That airplane overhead!
                        pointing the way
                        pointing to war

War being an aggravated condition of what
we already know

                        Flowering beneath the noise
                        of yet another jet passing overhead.

                      *                  *                  *

Why this much sadness in a world so beautiful?
We are sad for the weariness of everything, including earth
(that will go on tropically flowering long after we are gone)
we

            who are nothing
            in powerful time's
            grip

history, passionate history, coffee between
neighbors.

                      *                  *                  *

            Enter into alliance
            With the sweet darkness, night!

            Night and day, day and night
            Everybody knows when the moon is bright.

            We dance by the light of the moon
            All night.

                      *                  *                  *

We dance by the light of the moon.
We dance by the light of the moon and setting sun.

                                          We drive
                  we crow and call
three pigeons!
                  and make the world alive
                                          even bricks.

                                          Jets
two pigeons!
                  Milk-skinned doves
                                          enmesh

Two gray-skinned sharks, jets,
embrace in the sky, a blue green oil truck takes
the hill, cobblestoned, in low
steady gear.

                      *                  *                  *

Zazen position
      to remain so
            unmoved
                  yet moved
                        by the stillness

the movement of the car uphill
      part of your system of beliefs
            unmoved by it, parked
                  necking in the front seat
                        hawks diving for pigeons' eggs

and so you are compelled to move
      by the force that created you. but
            you impose your own small order
                  departing from traditions
                        human history understands

                  a mutant

such as those currently developing
the human mind beyond its past capacities.

                      *                  *                  *

                  Two straw sandals
                        blue jay call
                              two sea gulls

                      *                  *                  *

The jets return
      flying low.
            Laying low

and breathing low
      mists
            of pure noise.


© RobertRonnow - all rights reserved

Author Notes


www.ronnowpoetry.com


 
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