Alleyways and Corridors and Other Frames of Mind: The Memory Stays

Alleyways and Corridors and Other Frames of Mind: The Memory Stays: The memory stays In my sunny backyard, I reflect… Time slips away, gone so fast, the memories stay All I think of is the rain still sigh...

The Memory Stays

The memory stays In my sunny backyard, I reflect… Time slips away, gone so fast, the memories stay All I think of is the rain still sighing misty gray, ‘falls so softly, sad and lonely Flowing for this late summer day Waiting by the fire still glowing, embers smoldering, thinking the dream away Gold and red and rust, crumbling leaves. September breeze blows me rose dust The sighing fall wind kisses me while her spirit fades I look into her welling eyes for the final time She fades within the smoldering night The memory stays Her spirit seems to sing and cry in passing days and gentle times In quiet fields of fireweed and fading light I wish to hold her closely now. I don’t know how. So far away, the memory stays The sighing fall wind chills me while she sings goodbye I look on West Lake, somberly, with tears in my eyes. I now feel so alone. I return home Her memory (the memories) They stay In my sunny backyard, Her memory stays I reflect

poem-a-day by blogtramp ray

*The News –* I hear a blind artist screaming at the sun every time I listen to the newsI hear of hurricane winds ripping through the world every time I listen to the news I see a thousand soldiers dying in the desert every time that I watch the newsI see some politicians hollering for early elections every time that I watch the news I think of constant fear that’s planted in my mind every time, every which way that I read into the newsAnd I’m told of jobs all gone in suffering economies every time that I read the news I hear a child cry while bathing in the rain every time I listen to the newsAnd I hear the warplanes tearing up the smoggy, blood red sky….. And I hear the prophets gathering on the burning oil minesAnd I hear the millions fighting o’er religion till they die Tumbling towers falling to the ground, a nation criesSeveral more will suffer from these quakes, they’ll drown, they’ll dieEvery time my mind is on the newsEvery time I read too much into the newsEach and every time my mind is pulled into the sexy, slutty, newsAnd I think the news’ viewers are all soon road-kill, frozen in their headlines,On the street, confused and lonely, out of place and entranced at deer-crossingsEvery time I listen to the newsIt’s all about what monsters take and twist up in their mindsAnd mulch in their machines while ripping up the countrysideEvery time I listen to the newsThe reverend says respect your leaders every single timeThat I tell him what was on the news

poem-a-day by blogtramp ray * Chasing with my eyes, my heart, my snow-globe mind, my soul…* …the fair-haired angel in my snow globe dreamGlittering, glowing through dusty nebulae of aurora snows, in winters' eve, sereneI lose you in and out of shadowsDaub-sheathed moonlight falls on white willow - hanging like autumn gallowsI run along the shale shore, chasing -One more glance into your crystal eyes, so pure and true, honestly amazingWhile the sky and lake erode the icy stars and sands that shine,I reach up for your light, all smiling, warming me so deeply still,While evening winds are waning, in all that is sublime…. Feel my new breath dreaming on your open aquamarine seaThat takes me to your springtime Shangri-La shrine. *Thursday Blue By Ray Scott* Blue are two worried eyes, Pale as a love starved childTurned to a torpor gray, sadder than summer rainBlue are the wrinkling waves, carrying dreams awayFar as these feelings go, you won’t let your hopelessness showRough as the raging sea, Thursday Blue Blue is the sea all aroundHelplessness holds you downThis roads’ dead end, Thursday Blue Miles from tranquility, blue in uncertaintyWells are the withheld tears, nowhere to cry you fearDream now Thursday blue, Friday awaits you Blue are the far away eyesOceans of tears un-cried…..Thursday blue Friday awaits youThursday blue Friday awaits you Blue are two worried eyesLost as a love starved childSleep now Thursday Blue, Friday awaits youFriday awaits youThursday blueAhhhh.

Until My Morning Comes, From the poem-a-day blog by Ray Scott

Until my morning comes

I am staring out my window into the heavy rain

Thinking I don’t know what love is other than pain

The willow tree a’ weeping, is in my memory

As I’m lost, alone and feeling so empty

Now I’ve done wrong, though I’ve made right

I don’t know which is worse

I keep following mirages, confusion is a curse

Well I’m crying on the inside, where I burry all my fear

And I’m wondering when will everything be clearer?

Well I’m feeling empty. And I’m waiting for the sun, could be of God…,

And I’m feeling empty, and I’m holding on until my morning comes

Now I’ve been back-doored and deserted. I guess I’ve deserted too

And there’s a million other reasons to be running back to feeling blue

All my running’s been in circles; see right through my clown disguise,

To the dark rings underneath my tired eyes

I’m feeling empty and I’m waiting for the sun…and

I’ll be holding on until my morning comes

White Rose Angel,

White Rose Angel 

White rose angel, magnificently divine

Gentle, warm, soft spirit

Skin, like petals; silky, cool

Her purity, unrefined

She unfurls in the morning sun

.. with me at dawn we are renewed, reborn, T’is my awakening

Shivering in September wind

.. though her beauty seems unaging

I would love to hold her to my heart and dream;

A somber sigh will warm her

i would hope to hear her sing to me while willows sway

before November blizzards take her

oh, does she call for me?

within the whirling echoes of sweet orchards

or is that merely haunting sounds of fools' gold dust, a’ blowing, shaking leaves in

endless acre rows, of torpor, turned

to russet where a fiercer fall winds' flowing

My White Rose Angel is it too late to save thee?

While Lady West Lake Wanes,

While Lady West Lake Wanes

I found an angel in oh, so many ways

In Serene August moonlight on a sail dock of West Lake

Sparkling in the night, feeling so right

Starlight in her eyes from aurora northern skies

With no word or sign, the summer rushed by

While the cold air would close in, fantasy warmed our minds

Distance, we knew, would swell between us

Far off, in the wind, ‘tween reality and the rush

(Wounded spirits in waves of September blew in)

Look my way, take my hand

It’s alright

We’ll say goodbye all over tonight

Though I never kissed her, two ships sailed as one

On a calm lake of honesty lifetimes from where we’d come

Her nature, truly wonderful like the sunset and the moon glow

But I felt, from each wave still, imminent autumn frost winds blow

(Setting sun, like the anchor, sank so low)

Look my way, take my hand

It’s alright

Don’t say goodbye as we nearly kiss in the rain

Now I’m dropping the mast and drying my tears

Holding the anchor and drowning in fear

Look my way, take my hand

It’s alright

Say goodbye all over tonight

Look my way, take my hand

Cause it feels so right

Don’t say goodbye while we nearly kiss in the rain

While Lady Lake wanes

Earthly Moments -

…and the tides, that I used to feel in her breathing, on my chest, while she slept, beneath the white willow; waving ore our minds, while flashing lights of consciousness brought hope and wonder, for what seemed a million lifetimes, for an earthly instant, sparkling stardust slowly kept, but there held gravity in her heavy eyes and worry for the moment, dulling out the nebulae. Our stolen moments, pulled away into the dense doldrums of the heavy, human day.

Then, each gasp, each responsive sigh, rowing against the current, splitting, gradually strengthening, repelling. We were kept in two dimensions, different, distant, drifting.

The break, not only in our busy day, but of the shore, as waters crossed its’ sinking sands of time and of age and of these rolling changes to our lives, in that very thirty minute melancholy as the sails set back

…and the wind, so swiftly carried her away.

Now, she is but the meadowlark meandering in and out of stain glass twilight mosaics over somber swaying wheat fields and in whirling maple keys that rain on the monarch of my collective,

…my glass globe memory is in all Earthly seasons, swirling.

Alleyways - Buskin from the borderline

…Buskin’ from the Borderline

Won’t mean a thing at all

You can take away my light of day

You can take away my only way

Take the land right from my fall….

But take ‘way passion and it won’t mean a thing at all

Take away my crowns and jewels

Brands n’ bar codes, blind me like a fool

You can line me up against the wall….

Assassinate my soul and it wont mean a thing at all

Make me carry all your burdens
Leave me wandering uncertain
Exiled, naked, snow and famine
But with my memories there’s still vision

Take away my shooting stars
Take away no matter how far
You can take away my fleeting hope
If you take my dreams away it wont mean a thing at all

Wont mean a thing at all

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