The Cold Within
Six humans trapped by happenstance
In dark and bitter cold
Each possessed a stick of wood–
Or so the story’s told.
Their dying fire in need of logs,
But the first one held hers back,
For, of the faces around the fire,
She noticed one was black.
The next one looked cross the way
Saw one not of his church,
And could not bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes
He gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought
Of wealth he had in store,
And keeping all that he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man’s face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For he saw in his stick of wood
A chance to spite the white.
And the last man of this forlorn group
Did nought except for gain,
Giving just to those who gave
Was how he played the game,
Their sticks held tight in death’s stilled hands
Was proof enough of sin;
They did not die from cold without–
They died from cold within.
– James Patrick Kinney
For once, I post a fresh work, never seen before…
The Yellow Rose
A single yellow rose
to many, it is but a simple flower -
the forgotten cousin of the red rose
but its symbolism goes far deeper,
even these many years gone by
Simple, yet eloquent -
It speaks to the deeper bounds,
and the spontaneity of it all
It may not seem much,
but that yellow rose fights on -
brings memories to the forefront,
relives them anew, as if freshly made,
witnessed by a morning rose,
the look of instant joy,
contained, yet flowing, from
a single yellow rose.
04.29.08-1 glenn
Our last installment for February takes us back to July of 1995, and a look into the thought process of writing a soliloquy. It may have been in the last edition of Annotations of Life.
"The Soliloquy"
such medicine it is,
the debating of thoughts
several in a short time
finding your way
within yourself
in the mind
where all inhibitions
are forsaken,
heated discussions
of tormenting thoughts
of dilemmas, quandries
and love
where else
is such a playing ground
so fertile,
so fresh
that all can be game
Resolutions
of thought, of mind
usually are the result,
but, rarer still,
are the deepest bowels of despair
that push some shakespearian men
over the edge to death
Overall, the soothing
cannot be denied --
the renewed mental state --
and strength to face the world.
7.27.95-2 glenn
This week’s installment of old original poetry is from January of 1996. It was a rare soliloquy that ended up with an unique title, “Excessive Metaphorce”. It appeared after the last edition of Annotations of Life.
Excessive Metaphorce
(Soliloquy #440)
this I so often
try to avoid,
even so, it creeps in
while talking,
oreventing statements,
so close to being made
I wan not to seem obvious,
nor the valentine
to read more than is there
Yes, I think one is in order,
whether or not
I am sure
of my feeling
or hers, for that matter.
for above all,
she is my friend,
and, as such,
deserves any and every
thning I might've done,
and to just be available
1.31.96-1 (unsigned)
This week’s installment of old, original poetry is from January of 1996. It relates the stuggle of uncertainty in romantic endeavours, with a title that may well be the longest one I ever used. It was written after the last edition of Annotations of Life.
The Misspelled, Misdirected and Unanswered Questions
herewith I Ask
shall this proceed?
with these rendezvous
seeming to imply
wanting more links,
more togetherness, Having fun
talking, simple elation
at gleeful armouring,
words, filt to help
inflate egoes, hearts
and minds, ever wondering
who shall reel back next
from the Y'all drawl -
such, rhe only one
waiting, in understanding correct,
are doubts necessary?
no, the gaming proves reciprocity.
1.27.96-1 glenn
February starts off with works from 1996, this one from March and the next two installments from January. These are after the last edition of Annotations of Life.
Summations
Sonnets and Odes
images, elegies
Visions of things to come
these are my words,
but wait---
equally prevalent
are those of the past,
reminiscence,
or those
that once talked
of a road foreseen,
yet derailed
down another fork
these are all my writings,
a varied lot---
masterpieces and ditties alike:
the trappings of "glenn"
No matter the subject.
3.25.96-1 glenn
At the time it was written, this was considered part of “Era VI”, which covered the time period July 16, 1995 to July 15, 1996. This one was the third numbered sonnet, and was on page 6 of the Era VI portion of Annotations of Life.
Sonnet #3
What is the Question my friend brings to me?
here, today, what shall envelop the mind
All emotion shall list forth, crying plea
for the query so inspired remind
that triteness, not love, sorrows the masses
discontentment reigns supreme among them
let it be our task, anxiety passes,
to cheer and make joyful with our anthem
So happiness returns, overtaking
depressions dissipate into the dust
love beckons, free for all, in the making
the best in uncommon ways; honored trust
the answer is found lurking quiet, still
that yes, love can be all strength to fulfill.
8.6.95 1 glenn
This week’s installment of old original poetry goes by the first line of Love resembles. It has not seen the light of day since appearing on page 124 of the self-published Annotations of Life.
Love resembles
oven fresh cookies
soft, tender
sweet and moist
warm, inviting
Ready to Savour
the taste lasting,
long after the cookie devoured.
8.12.94-1 glenn
This week’s installment of old, original poetry, this one from July 1993 entitled “Words”. It originally appeared on page 98 of Annotations of Life, a prior self-published compilation from 1993-1994.
"Words"
There it is,
the ripe melody
even jazzy
or rather,
a new tonic
with the same scale
as the old key,
great as it is,
next for the words:
Oh my --
I knew I had forgotten something.
7.26.93-2 glenn
This week’s installment of old original poetry is another 15-year old work, from May 1992, with a first line of Life is Life.
Life is Life
no more, no less
it gives, it takes
it laughs, it cries
it sings you lullabies
Murphy's law
ever so true
comes and goes
as it pleases
The bad streak
comes at the
worst time possible
especially in times
of Love and War.
5.26.92-1 glenn
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