A Crack In The Night. November 21, 2009
Posted by littlebangtheory in Love and Death, poetry.Tags: blanket, night, poetry, sunset
1 comment so far
The Earth turns, the sun recedes and the blanket of night descends
like the closing of a coffin lid.
Light and dark, night and day, black and white, right and wrong, alive, dead, pretending.
It’s all relative, isn’t it?
Coronation. February 20, 2009
Posted by littlebangtheory in Love and Death, poetry.Tags: love, pure and simple
12 comments
Midnight.
Outside the wind howls,
An east-bound train on rippling blue rails.
Maroon sheets surround my back, hold me still
As your angel hair traces my meridian, dances across my chest,
Swirls in the candlelight while your warm lips find
Each depression in my man-belly, Oh!
What a delightful turn of fate
To be so lovingly crowned
King of The World!
Friday Kittehz Blogging! January 3, 2009
Posted by littlebangtheory in poetry.2 comments
Country Kittehz galore, different ones at every turn of the road!
There wuz Porch Kittehz:
…and Field Kittehz:
…and a Horse.
Kitteh.
Flame Grilled! September 24, 2008
Posted by littlebangtheory in Dinner with TCR, poetry.Tags: grilled veggies, raviolis
4 comments
…Veggies from my garden: summer squash, Hungarian wax papers, and red onions. Veggies from the farmer’s market: organic wax beans, bought from a farmer who smilingly and lovingly gives all the left-over stuff away at the close of the market. Seems like he’d rather you have it than see it wilt.
I paid for the beans before closing time, but it was that weekly attitude of his that made me check his stand out first among the many to chose from.
Grilled on the porch/deck, with frequent spoonfuls of olive oil drizzled over it to flame the grill, and a stick chucked in the corner of the grill to let the lid close only half-way, for that smoky effect:
…and served over (sorry to bore you with this stuff, but it’s one of my favorites) fresh mascarpone raviolis:
I was pleasantly surprised that the simple marinade of vinegar, olive oil and tamari, applied a mere 15 minutes before grilling, added so much flavor!
Dinner For One. September 3, 2008
Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature, macro photos, poetry.Tags: a summer rain, and an aster, Japanese beetle
4 comments
Actually, a Banquet at The Asters. Very nicely appointed, that;
Crepe-paper petals furled, curled, some relaxing after
The passing storm like a perm after a shower.
And what will you be having, my little Popillia – nectar perhaps? No?
Just some sparkling water and a bite:
Try not to make too much of a mess, Dear;
Your reputation is already
In the shitter.
At The River’s Edge. April 11, 2008
Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature, poetry.Tags: the river's edge
2 comments
Standing here, Where the swift, cold green Rides up on the warm rocks, Infusing itself with sunlight, Leaving a bit of its mystery For me to unravel,
I pause.
Is this my womb, my cradle, my destiny?
Perhaps not today, perhaps There’s more for me out here, In the air, in the light, Where the birds are.
Where you are.
Death and Transfiguration March 20, 2008
Posted by littlebangtheory in Love and Death, poetry.Tags: Maudy Thursday Meets the Vernal Equinox
12 comments
In the twilight door of tomorrow, as
A long-haired preacher begs for the
Courage to meet His destiny, this
Wildly tilting world sits
Suddenly upright, transforming the
Snow white innocence of a
Season into a subtle
Suggestion of
Spring.
I Made A Pizza March 7, 2008
Posted by littlebangtheory in Dinner with TCR, poetry.Tags: pizza poetry
5 comments
I made a pizza.
I burned the crust
To a smoldering slab of
Blackened dust.
I ate the toppings
‘Cause they weren’t burnt.
I wish the rest of
My pizza weren’t.
No Limits, No Excuses. January 20, 2008
Posted by littlebangtheory in Love and Death, poetry.Tags: Limits as Myth, Physical poetry, The power within
12 comments
No more whining about how my shoulder will never be all it once was (not that it was ever all that. )
After seeing this over at Saying Nothing Charmingly, I have nothing to say except “Thank You, Christina.”
Rising January 1, 2008
Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature, poetry.Tags: farm, fog, forgiveness, the river
6 comments
A calm morning. The river rises up from its channel in a diaphanous fog, tendrils reaching skyward to coalesce in a cloud, a spectral apparition hovering over its corporal self. It expands across the flood plane, silently stalking the corn fields, enveloping the farms, rearranging the season’s dust and grit and pollen into lacy mud curtains on the barn windows.
The sun’s rays penetrate, excite, induce the river to ecstasy as it climbs the surrounding hills.
Higher, thinner, ever expanding like Kirk’s Apollo, arms outstretched, joining the Pantheon of clouds with one last cry of release,
“I’m coming, Athena!”
Too late, I drop a sprig of laurel into the river of life.
