Exceptional Poetry Potlatch Practice-Walt Whitman Style The Story of My Thoughts Spilling by michaelcahill Share A Story In A Poem contest entry

The Story of My Thoughts Spilling                                                               by michael cahill     Zebra Scenario         The Wonders of Nature: the veldt steams with life and it centers around the watering hole the soul of existence the tall grass sends fingers deep into the dry earth stroking it for moisture zebras’ breath forms warm fog concealing their constant consumption of the tender blades one of their own is vanquished before a lion stretched out completely the lion consumes it randomly paying no mind to the audience observing nervously from the corners of their eyes feeding relentlessly is all that matters and the power to do so is satisfying   Zebra Scenario         Laboratory Analysis   a straight line curves in the vastness of space zebras lined up eating grass a lion in the middle feeds on a prone zebra like a pianist playing a beginners’ piece a line that bends is curved   my journey         my brain explains     life must be lived asked for or not that is the premise suicidal free will hides within at war with love awaiting a manifestation’s allure when it is already manifest   an earthquake forms a mountain oh? from nothing? no it exposed the mountain already there concealed   I stand still observing a meadow I make no sound   beneath the meadow of riotous colour                 and serene horizon seeking serenity earth is filled with hungry roots in desperate search indifferent shelves hold the above components                 and stroll at a leisurely pace neither containing or concerned with a churning sea of molten confined energy yearning to be free   I see a girl and approach her lava sees a fissure and erupts what is within is always key Meaning Explored             It Isn't A Legacy     surely life is not God God being whatever one wishes to define it, him, her … as   life is delicate like the cross word or sideways glance that triggers pride and destroys love   surely an entity with a component so pathetic is not the all powerful all knowing surely not   the true myth is           building we build a home a border a legacy   yet   nothing remains it is the nature of things to become nothing a home to a former home                 one way or another a border shifts     by our own devices     or by the whim of elements oh, the Pangeans still bemoan the falling out from those giddy days legacy?   eight or nine billion people have lived name them ….   true, not fair look them up and fax me a list   … a little short of the mark   I Just Remembered         Then I Forgot     living and dying seem to dance apart always aware of each other always at odds or so they say but one is truly drawn to the other and without doubt they will succumb to their compulsion               to bond but in so doing the dance never begins it ends without having joined for a step   but living can cut a rug at times when the right person comes along   but to some it’s a matter of a bow and an extended hand not a dance to be seen   well, is the dance the meaning then   when it is done and the embrace ends it then what? religion? I choose faith ... Love requires it   All That Aside         It’s Poetry     would it be real if I were real but how can I be if you are not to be to you you see? so, I cease to be for I’ve no clear road away it vanished in the truth of who you are and what it means to me to see within the answer even though I never asked             I did not have to this path this destined dream it seems I’m drawn to will be dreamed by me and me alone and still for you I wish a dream to call your own for that is truth if I am true in what I’ve known from that first look at you and then inside of me oh yes for ill or good you are my destiny justice is poetic when it is just so is love   The Journey         Comes Full Circle     is there a chance a zebra ever reasoned with a lion appealed to some vestigial part of an amphibias remnant drug out of a primordial soup just in case the future ever became a topic for debate   would there even be that pause before instinct sharpened teeth sought the plucking of sinew as the minuet of feeding commenced on the downbeat while an invisible conductor arranged for a cloud to cry an inconsequential tear   really it was cheap the first time a blotch of red was applied to a black and white artwork to draw the eye of course it was drawn both pulled in and rendered no surprise it wasn’t clever then, it isn’t clever now   clever is a zebra and a lion playing go fish and frying potatoes while discussing the anatomy of a wildebeest who feasts on the long slender grass by the watering hole the grass fills the stomach says the lion the zebra learns of carnivorous feeding   the watering hole is still and streaked pink a wildebeest that was is left for the hungry to enjoy   a lion full of meat and a zebra full of grass lie by the still waters and life goes on     Recognized Author Notes May I direct you to the classic view? Highly recommended. Click on the title and be whisked away to days of yore. The Story of My Thoughts Spilling Remember, just click on the title. Not so sure this is Mr. Whitman's influence of just an excuse to be more me than I usually dare to be. Maybe or hopefully both. In any case, I doubt anyone will like this, but I do. LOL Sooooo, Is this Walt-like or just mikey blathering?

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