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Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun Aug 07, 2011 3:25 pm
AUTUMN IN NANTAHALA
By Steve Plonk
It’s autumn in the mountains
Autumn in the valleys below,
Autumn in Nantahala is calling me,
To Nantahala I will go.
To smell hickory log fires burning,
Roasting barbeque on the fry,
To hear the hoot owl in the hollers,
And the golden eagles cry…
On a November misty evening
I hear raindrops finally fall—
Leaves come sailing and fluttering,
Along with a blue jay’s call—
It’s Autumn in Nantahala,
Autumn in the hollers below,
Autumn in the mountains,
To the mountains I will go…
Colors are painting in the trees,
Silver foxes snuffle in the brush,
Deer ramble in the thickets,
Wind blows colored leaves with a rush.
I hear breezes whisper to me,
Calling me to the blue springs,
Drinking spring water is refreshing,
Everywhere are nature’s blessings…
When autumn comes to Nantahala,
I feel the ancient hunters’ call,
Colors flash all around me,
As some early snowflakes fall…
Yes it’s autumn in the mountains
Autumn in the misty valleys below,
Autumn in “ Land of the Noonday Sun”,
To Nantahala I must go.
Also, Submitted the above poem to Litkicks.com’s "Action Poetry" page,
December 10th, 2008, published same day, screen publication 12/11/08.
It was in a slightly differing form. (I retain reprint rights.) I published a copy today, near mid-summer, because I yearn for cooler weather...A bit of nostalgia...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Fri Aug 19, 2011 10:02 pm
Take a second reading of this blast from the past...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun Sep 11, 2011 4:27 pm
"Penny Sonnet No. 1"
By Steve Plonk
Round me I look and I'm amazed at man
Observing more sorrow and discontent
As his earthly accomplishments expand
It appears his joy is showing descent
It is strange that after all his success
Man has not acheived the content long-sought
For centuries he strived for happiness
All human advance for bliss was for nought
But man will keep striving to meet his goal
He wants to obtain his bliss very dear
If man wants joy for the shell, not for the soul
To happiness he will never come near.
God sees the plight of the human throng,
God will give us bliss to make us strong.
Circa Dec. 1966, Revised Sept. 2011.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun Sep 11, 2011 8:48 pm
Here's another one...
"Penny Sonnet No. 2"
By Steve Plonk
Life's burdens squeeze upon us like a vise,
Sweet bliss is not a thing that comes to mind
When mournfulness by worries was enticed
By woes and wounds and other things unkind.
Suddenly dark troubles will iron out
When purged in the very patient way
We are glad and our eyes rove roundabout
A winter morn seems like a dawn in May.
We think about the troubles that are gone,
Contented that we are no longer blue
That things no more are ever to go wrong
Brings happiness we thought we never knew.
Our happiness has to be earned not sought
All joy with troubles equally is wrought.
Circa Dec. 1966--Jan. 1967, Revised Sept. 2011.
Last edited by Steve Plonk on Thu Sep 29, 2011 4:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sat Sep 17, 2011 7:13 pm
"On a Sunny September 11th"
by Steve Plonk
On a sunny 9/11…
It’s all good—
Far and away
Far and away
Wee wriggle worms
Wiggle in the sands—
As gas towers spew
Flames in far
Norwegian lands—
Ralph the dog
Makes his rounds—
Couples pitch woo on park benches:
Say: “Ain’t love grand”,
As news of “old Beau”
The neighbors cat died in 104 degree heat—
Jasper licks water from his water dish—
Far and away
Far and away
Night crawlers wriggle in the sands
Ralph, the dog, makes his rounds—
A man with “tobacco legs” wonders
If they’ll amputate—
While an old gentleman finds out today’s news…
Far and away
Far and away
Barges go up and down the river
Sounding their horns
Dogs bark, cats meow, birds tweet—
The trains rumble by on back streets,
On the clothes lines there hang the sheets—
Far and away
Far and away
Chicken hawks fly,
Soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines
Come home from the latest wars…
All things made new as the pipeline towers spew
Flames of the day in Norwegian lands—
River otters swim the channels,
Bears forage for prey on thin ice…
Leaves on the trees begin turning
In 50 degree cool—
Far and away
Far and away
Children head off to school,
Page Two
Spring begins its sprung, songs are sung…
Bob needs a new heart, he gets one soon
In the hospital operating room—
The sun in God’s sky shines on salvation—
This sunny 9/11—
There are no more jet planes hitting buildings—
As couples pitch woo on park benches
Saying: “Ain’t life grand”
New platitudes New attitudes
New hearts for all
New backs to hold up the world…
On a sunny 9/11,
It’s all good…
We are enthralled,
God is in our living room.
A Tues. 9/11/07, 4 am.
This is a reprint, in a slightly different format, from Litkicks.com's "Action Poetry" from Nov. 10, 2007.
Author retains reprint rights.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun Sep 25, 2011 4:14 pm
RING OUT AUTUMN"S BELLS
By Steve Plonk
It's fall, it's fall,
I hear a clarion call:
Caw, caw, caw, go
Three big ravens in the trees,
While hummingbirds hum &
Buzz like giant bees,
Sipping on the secum plants &
Crepe myrtle trees...
It's autumn and I am "up and at 'em",
Drinking "Cheerwine" and heading
Toward the bus stop to
Drop my daughter off to the library--
Then off to the market to cash & carry...
Leaves are starting to turn,
Air was crisp, last week, at the county fair--
I rejoice the season coming back,
Soon autumn clocks will be setback,
I'll soon be through mowing the lawn
Until next Spring...
Another great thing when
Leaves are turning...
It's about that time
At the end of October,
When the bonfires are burning,
Seasons keep turning,
Over & over like
The "circle of life" in an
Old comforting song...
Time spins right along...
Wind clatters through tree branches,
Water gurgles through dry creeks,
Hear whippoorwill's I haven't heard for weeks...
Last edited by Steve Plonk on Thu Sep 29, 2011 4:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Thu Sep 29, 2011 3:55 pm
ACKNOWLEDGE
By Steve Plonk
Life is full of parties--
Life is full of dreams,
As we flip the "coin of Janus"--
Life is full of parties
All the people sing, oh yeah
Nothing do I fear
Things are all alright--
Dream the dream of reality--
Hope is what hope does--
Stay away from "the fuzz"--
***
Sing falling star, sing Pine tree,
Sing to your makerman, your bringer &
Your takerman, Your sleeper & your Wakerman--
He knows your mind--as you seek truths--
He knows your minds eye &
All the things therein--
He knows the many
Futures in store for you--
***
Reach up & grasp your future,
Your destiny is here, wear the costume of the day--
Life is full of parties--Life is full of dreams,
Life is full of parties & all the people sing,
As we flip the "coin of Janus".
Author's Note:
Circa Feb.--March 1968,
I was inspired to answer a song by "Velvet Underground & Nico"
ie., "All Tomorrow's Parties".
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Wed Oct 12, 2011 1:20 pm
IN AWE OF MORNING
By Steve Plonk
Morning came
Sent down from night’s battlefield
An uncertainty of our souls--
Morning expanded from the sea
Reached the delta shoals,
Left us sitting amazed among the
Tree branches of the early morning dew,
Misting on you & me
Sprays of the waves from the sea...
***
We made it in spite of the dark
In awe of morning--
Signs of the dawn continued
To delineate the murky depths
Of the shore we had known...
***
We’ve seen drier moments...
We say hello to the sea,
If we leave the shore today,
Whatever happens to you and me?
Emptiness has been filled by
Another experience
In awe of this morning...
Following the path of the sun.
Circa March 1975, Revised 10/12/11
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Thu Nov 17, 2011 6:33 pm
Reprise on reading funnery...Hope you find it droll & sunnery...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun Dec 04, 2011 6:11 pm
May you find these poems droll & sunnery, in this reprise of reading funnery...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun Dec 18, 2011 10:09 pm
DREAMS OF PEACE COMFORTED
By Steve Plonk
Sweet song for peace, here for Bill Yeats,
Who died ten years ‘fore I’s born,
A poet, too, I shall die,
I knew it sure as my first dawn.
I ‘d like to write of peace so true,
In praise of our United Nations,
To start all fingers snapping drums,
Of ‘round world festival gyrations.
* * *
Singing of the spring even as snow does fell,
Upon the yellow daffodil,
As outside foot deep snow is falling,
Underneath the icy flakes, a peaceful Spring is calling—
* * *
Sweet dreams of peace,
Will Butler Yeats is seventy years dead,
And I’m here sixty years alive,
When I’m singing peaceful song and verse,
Is when my heart’s most satisfied.
* * *
Part 2
Even so, snowstorm rages outside
The sandhill crane upon here flied,
I know that spring is coming.
Soon, upon the red rose bush, you understand,
A hummingbird will be humming,
Sometime the lion will lie down with the lamb.
So people of peace fret not your mind,
The winter of our nation’s strife,
May someday unite under Spring’s flag,
Blue flag United Nations is at hand.
One world, one peace, one soul
To shape our species destination,
Is to come to pass if we but last,
No more world conflagrations.
No more funeral corteges by car bombs and minefields caused,
No homeless children’s deprivation,
All shall be fed, all shall be clothed
One world, one giant Nation.
* * *
So, peacemakers struggle on the road,
We all yearn for the summer sun,
In Afghanistan, Iraq, Ireland and Kosovo,
In all countries -- rich or poor ones—
The daffodils of peace poke out of snow.
Sweet road of peace beckons on ahead,
No more war widows, no more war dead.
--Circa May 1999
Also Submitted to LitKicks.com.
--Ediited slightly, Dec. 2011.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Fri Jan 27, 2012 5:21 pm
I LOVE THAT POCOSIN COUNTRY (Lyric)
By Steve Plonk
I love that Pocosin country
The boondocks near the coast
So wild & wooly,
I take me Pocosin Mama &
She takes her heart to me—
She grows my crops
And takes good care of me…
Fill the ‘baccer barn with burley,
Fill the dryin’ shed with crimp,
Fill the dryin’ barn with corn- harvest
And get a tub of breaded shrimp…
In the style ye likes the best…
Gotta wait ‘til our ‘baccer’s curin’,
Gotta wait ‘til they dries a bit,
Gotta wait ‘til our ‘baccer’s curin’,
Load ‘em on trucks & get ‘em shipped…
In the style ye likes the best…
My corn goes to ‘Lisabeth City,
Or Wilmington or Little Washington,
Best get ‘em there a-lookin’ pretty,
So’s folks can feel that ours is best…
So’s folks kin smoke pipes & cigarettes,
We sell to Norfolk in the north &
Raleigh in the west,
Then the world kin enjoy our tobaccer,
And roll what they like to roll the best…
I’m proud to be Pocosin ‘baccer packer
So wild & wooly…
Lord, I love my Pocosin country,
The boondocks near the coast
So wild & free,
I love my Grand Pocosin Mama
‘Cause she grows my crops
And takes good care of me—
I takes me heart to her,
She takes her heart to me…
Whatever style ye likes the best,
Ye wildwood flowers—
I love mey Grand Pocosin Country/
**Circa Winter 1974-Spring 1975, Edited Jan. 2012.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Thu Feb 02, 2012 1:01 pm
Read the above song-poem about a vanishing way of life in some parts of
the country. "Yippee-ki-yay" on a don't grow tobacco subsidy...
I wrote this years ago when I stopped smoking...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Tue Mar 27, 2012 2:59 pm
PLUME OF DAWN: Part 1
By Steve Plonk
Plume, escape with me into floral-fauna fantasy
Of the woods, like on wings of birds
Plume of Dawn—
Magic feather of the Garden
Symbol of Eden’s dream
Of the bird of Paradise,
Of the Garden of delight—
Plume Honeycomb delectably drift down
Cover me with your feathers
Take me Plume…
***
PLUME OF DAWN: Part 2
By Steve Plonk
Plume: Flower of Dawn
Paradise feather of the soul
Symbol of flight,
Cause me to alight with you
As a bird into the night-wind &
We will disappear quietly &
Drift up with the clouds & glide down
On a Virginia pine tree & hide within
Pine branches & snuggle, wait ‘til
Dawn comes again.
Plume, come with me into the
Forests verdant-purple gloom
Escape with me into fauna-floral fantasy…
Magic Plume of Dawn...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Thu Apr 05, 2012 12:24 pm
EXTRAORDINARY HAILSTORM
By Steve Plonk
Meantime, as I ponder
There’s a sound of distant thunder,
While sprites & cherubs
Fly close to the ground
I hear creatures in branching lightning
Yet , it soothes me,
I’m not frightened—
Skies are enlightened…
Hail is formed in dark clouds,
Blankets lawns throughout town,
Hearing clattering, like pennies
From the skies, forming icy
Blankets of shards collecting in trees &
All across our yards—
A shining for our collective eyes…
***
As cold mist rises from the scene,
Like in some frozen confectionary dream,
I thank the stars that peace reigns—
No tornadoes came among us—
Not long ago, some twister hovered,
Making us sore afraid—
Yet , an ordinary hailstorm made
By nature’s renewing tempest
Has been transformed into a magical scene…
Rising mist swirls with the breeze
Renewing dried gardens & timberland.
For winter is now undone,
Spring has surely come…
From the four directions…
As nature’s icy confections.
3/31/12
End of Page One (1)
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Mon Apr 16, 2012 11:29 am
Read with me, once again, as we walk on silver splinters, whistling in the wind...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Mon Apr 23, 2012 1:24 pm
SOCKYMOTO
By Steve Plonk
One thing which would make a great photo
Is watching our cat play with sockymoto…
It is a sock tied with a knot on one end
Tuxedo-cat loves sockymoto
Who is his forever friend.
Sockymoto never stops hopping
Cause our cat is in no mood for stopping—
Sockymoto turns everywhere but loose—
Cat seems to be pretending to ring the
Neck of a goose.
Don’t ever leave socks out in the
Laundry room for our cat to reach,
‘Cause the balled socks will end up
In cat’s water bowl like a peach.
So back to “sockymoto cat shows”—
This particular tuxedo cat is from Tennessee—
Tuxedo-cat is a-fleeing blur as his tuxedo goes
When bathtime comes, away under the sofa he flees…
Whatdaya know, as we get out
Our new camera to photo,
Around bathtime, cat and sockymoto
Have made themselves scare-is
Almost like he’s hopped a plane to Paris.
This poem was published a few years back, in Feb. 2008, on Litkicks.com's Action Poetry. I am reprising it here because my tuxedo cat, Luke, died suddenly April 18, 2012. He was nine years old in human years. Also see my posting on "A Horse Whisper" thread, entitled "A Cat Whisper" in my "Life in the Horse Lane" column, in the Columns Forums.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Tue Apr 24, 2012 12:25 pm
A cat whispers from the past...read this one folks...See above...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Arcadia » Tue Apr 24, 2012 7:57 pm
Billie & Jerry
(two in nine, they told me both named thanks the singers)
had chosen me
to whisper their fleas
& their mistery
each time they can.
Billie had a bad time
three months ago
while jumping through a glass
Aquiles shouted,
but she´s an amazing lady!
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Thu Apr 26, 2012 12:33 pm
Arcadia, Hope all is well with Billie...I liked your humorous vigniette about about "flea whispers". Thanks for posting...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Fri May 04, 2012 12:35 pm
As your eyes dart back & forth to scan the page, read a whimsical blast
from the past called: "Sockymoto". It was written about a cat toy &
the fun a cherished pet had with it...It was a featured & well-loved poem on Litkicks.com. I posted "Sockymoto" here for the first time. Thanks to all who read...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sat May 05, 2012 11:47 am
Just putting out some more feeders to get several readers...
Is it a "whine" to ask for two minutes of your time?
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun May 13, 2012 2:36 pm
Readers, we're back in the "big leagues", time to try to hit a pitch.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun May 27, 2012 8:22 pm
VACATION LAKE (Lake Temagami Provincial Park)
By Steve Plonk
The lake was shaped like a figure eight,
The water had a deep green hue,
Was it the most beautiful lake,
That had held a swift canoe?
Of course it was, we thought it was,
And we paddled round and round--
A large sand bar divided the lake,
And our canoes drifted aground.
We pushed our canoes to the other side,
And paddled in the cove & saw—
A most perfect place to abide,
Free from the mark of man’s claw.
We paddled our canoes to that opposite shore,
And set up our tents with vigor,
We didn’t stay for three days or more,
‘Cause our schedule wasn’t bigger.
Circa January 1967
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Tue Jun 05, 2012 1:20 pm
FADING INTO WOODWORK
By Steve Plonk
May humble folks speak for all which is golden—
Our time is going—
We have been silent much too long
The changes are so painful--
Like time to a remorseful aged person/
Light is all we really can see
For all in our knowing is blinded
By a great light…
Looking at it only, like Plato,
With modern sunglasses…
The future & past & present
Is happening beyond our scope
To absorb the cultural change—
But we must adapt…
May the meek speak up & be heard,
So that future folks will
Feel our joy & pain through our lines,
That those close to theirs may know our thoughts…
This is writing to be found at
The end of an age, so that those reading
May say “This poet was like you or me—“
No “albatross around the neck of society” was he—
He adapted to the texture in the society in which he lived—
He faded into the woodwork & in the process changed it/
The imprint of his computer keyboard remains on
The texts that were preserved as his shadow passed…
Circa 1977, Revised 1979 & June 2012.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Mon Jun 11, 2012 10:03 pm
Time to refresh this page of poetry which few have read in a while.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Tue Jun 19, 2012 6:30 pm
PATHS TRAVELED
By Steve Plonk
We took:
Ten roads to the coast,
Nine glasses of wine,
Eight loaves of wheat…
Glimpsed:
Seven veils of heaven,
Six paths to the mountains,
Five books of wisdom,
Four maxims of survival,
Realized:
Three forms in one H20 substance,
Two opposing forces to harmonize,
One Supreme Being…
***
Take tips from the pesky flea,
Don’t mix peyote with “white lightning”,
Stay away from gang activity,
Be peaceful & stay free,
Remember to drink plenty of tea,
To go with a meal of poultry…
Traveling is just part of the journey.
Have a safe arrival to your destination…
Also see the above poem on Litkicks.com's "Action Poetry" in the
July, 2012, thread, on July 28, 2012.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sat Jul 28, 2012 7:55 pm
Time to refresh this page, perhaps readers'll enjoy a second reading...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Mon Aug 06, 2012 4:43 pm
Howdy, Howdy...Keep those eyes darting on my thread. Thanks for your past comments...here's another couple of gems in the rough, ready to be shined
up by readers comments...
LARKSPUR, THE LAST DRAGON (slight return)
By Steve Plonk
I am Larkspur, the last true dragon…
Before I die & rot, I let fly my horror—
In my dark dank cave of mire,
I breathe upon humankind
One last scorching fire…
I presently frighten only little children
So they are afraid to sleep at night…
Speaking of loneliness, & what I fear…
Besides, my worst fright is my disgrace—
The fact is, to be kind, is that I
Am the last full-blooded one of my cursed race…
Once, as legend says, we were many
Now we are the loneliest number…
I sing you a song of the Dirge of the Dragon…
Who, pitifully, is poor & piebald & almost done…
The she-dragon has gotten ill & died…
It is up to me to hatch the eggs
I am worried that none will hatch…
***
LARKSPUR, THE LAST DRAGON (Finale)
By Steve Plonk
I, Larkspur, the last true dragon
Sit here on my eggs hoping
That they will hatch
Especially, hoping that one will be
A she dragon…
Lately, all I’ve had to eat was
Pillbugs & cow dung—
No human beings are in sight this day…
No, it just ain’t my day
Sneg is frowning on me
The snow is blowing out of his crystal mouth—
My cave is warm from my smoky breath…
I’ve heated the rocks from my breath so long,
That I have a sore throat/
***
My dead comrade would laugh sardonically at
Me & my sore throat/
What a pathetic end I’ve come to…
What a scorned being I’ve become
Well, here I sit in the dull red gloomy light of
My phosphorescent cave sitting on my eggs…
Wait, is there something stirring in the eggs?!
Something is indeed stirring in the eggs!
Sept. 1988, Revised Aug. 2012.
End of page two (2)...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sat Aug 25, 2012 2:39 pm
Time to refresh this thread...The above poem, "Larkspur, The Last Dragon...", in two parts, was submitted yesterday to Litkicks.com's "Action Poetry" & is a featured item today. I hope you'll give the above poem a second reading & comment on it...Thanks to my readers & editors...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby constantine » Sat Sep 01, 2012 8:48 pm
the race must continue at all costs - i share his jubilation, but not his pillbugs. most enjoyable!
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Wed Sep 12, 2012 12:11 pm
Thanks, Constantine, I tried to make 'Larkspur' out to be a fighter, unlike
"Puff the Magic Dragon"...A self-starter...
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makes the assumption that the "dragon race" will continue...as hopefully our
species will, too.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Mon Sep 17, 2012 9:33 am
THE PREMIER FLIGHT OF THE COLUMBIA
By Steve Plonk
Written at the sight
Of the first flight of the “Columbia”
When it came back from space--
The hope of it all is that the
Stars again seem closer tonight—
Most tumultuous journey
Of a spacecraft since Apollo-Soyuz, 1975
Or the moon landing in July 1969…
***
Humanity should send praises for G-d’s grace
That a space shuttle can now go from place
To place from space,
Humanity is now even closer to the angels--
Word bubbles burst forth in praise,
Joys abound during this occasion…
***
Science fiction is now reality—
Space stations are now
Within our collective grasp,
As the very ground calls out in Spring welcome…
To the astronauts, which accents
Their space voyage return…
Praise the mentors who conceived of the space shuttle,
Praise those who worked on it,
Praise our world’s brave astronauts,
Finally praise those like Da Vinci
Who first dreamed of the trip…
Written April 4, 1981, Revised Sept. 17, 2012,
Upon the journey home of the ISS astronauts,
& in memory of the “Columbia” disaster
Feb. 1, 2003…
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby sweetwater » Fri Sep 21, 2012 5:13 am
is that iambic pentameter ?
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sat Sep 22, 2012 11:28 am
The above poem has syncopated rhythm; however, "Vacation Lake..." & the "Sonnets 1 &2" are iambic pentameter. Thanks for your interest, Sweetwater...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Tue Sep 25, 2012 2:48 pm
LOS DEMONIOS VERDES (The Green Demons)
By Steve Plonk
The green demons became sheltered from hellish fire/
Surging down from the tower at Showerhead…
Long tracer fire through trees,
Left many unleavened before the breeze/
Many died, but several approached a lonely angelic traveler,
Who stopped weary on the lower trail, hungry with care,
Who was restless with keeping sheep…
The angelic traveler stood wondering at the fierce Centauri,
Who came his way by dusty dusk…
Afraid, but waiting in anticipation,
Our angelic traveler barked out a tune:
“Fair-mighty Centauri,
Trod not my arse,
Nor gouge my eyes, for
We who are almost human
Fear you who never dies/
Left to my own device
I would become eaten with lice,
On a burrowed furry brow/
I stand here most alone &
Wasted through my ears,
Although I recognize
Your shapes trampling in my path—
Helpless I stand—just like a man!”
The Centauri collectively smiled ,& slowed to a stop, & then wept diamonds,
For they were deserters from their realm…
They all shared food & drink they had with the wandering angel…
For they had met on Purgatory Road…
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Thu Oct 18, 2012 3:40 pm
Another season has arrived...I petition the internet for readers...
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Wed Nov 21, 2012 2:02 pm
A POISED QUESTION
By Steve Plonk
Stories of cosmic flowers
Coming alive for dull eyes
Breathe of hallucination—
A poised question
Gathers before time freezes it over—
Better that we realize (goes the answer)
A few manifestations
Than be self-deluded
By holding back our fancy…
Night is a friend to all who dream
Even though ended by the
Crimson courage of the day—
Sometimes there is hope in brute despair
Hope is the beginning of a new tale…
***
Wayward children are we
Shown our great destiny—
Or is destiny just a poised question,
With a lame paradoxical answer?
Gamble on the flipped coin—
Is life more like a gamble,
Than a paved road to certainty?
This question is poised much too often—
Better not to ask it &
React to the flow—
What is now arriving on our thoughts,
Was dreamed before we know,
Like east & west, above & below,
We are caught in between like a feather
Floating down,
Like potential heat in an unstruck match,
Poised for action,
Like an agreeable answer—
Which takes away our breath…
Written Circa 1986, Revised slightly, November 2012.
Also submitted simultaneously to Litkicks.com's "Action Poetry" on Nov. 21, 2021.
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby stilltrucking » Wed Nov 21, 2012 3:31 pm
Than a paved road to certainty?
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enjoyed the poem thank you
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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 3
Postby Steve Plonk » Sun Nov 25, 2012 2:04 pm
Pleased to have readers who comment. Thanks, Still Trucking...
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