Where the wheels of poetry and prose spin ...

Friday, December 1, 2017

My Heart Is - POEM of the MONTH!

My Heart Is

my heart is light
much more than a spot
on the stage of life
but from left to right
and beyond the curtain
there is no shadow

my heart is rain
a light sprinkle
baptizing the sidewalk
on a Sunday afternoon
creating a moment
that is rest

my heart is breath
the spark of the soul
and a whispering guide
through the hills of cedar
and the canyons of ash
there is none without flight

my heart is fire
a roaring furnace
purifying the gold
for an eternal stroll
on the street
that is perfection

my heart is rock
unlike the sand
flowing through time
causing days of anxiety
but a solid foundation
there is none without want

my heart is thunder
a resounding roar
the voice of the word
who spoke the universe
into existence
with echoes of remembrance
"The lamp-post" by Ulf Bodin 
is licensed under 
CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
.

my heart is yearning
to light your way
to give you rest
and to lift you up
to restore your soul
to build your house
for I know you by name

~

"Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path."
- Psalm 119:105

"Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother's womb he has spoken my name."
- Isaiah 49:1b

~

(If using a mobile device to view this post please turn your device horizontally for the best view.)

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

The Red Button - POEM of the MONTH!

The Red Button

If only the red button
     looked like a STOP sign
It's as if love and peace
     crashed into a dead end
Hot or cold, the streets
     are flooded with war
If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD

It's as if love and peace
     crashed into a dead end
Hot or cold, the streets
     are flooded with war
If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD

Hot or cold, the streets
     are flooded with war
If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD

If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD


On all four corners ...

~

(If using a phone to read this poem, turn your phone sideways for the best view of this post.)

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Snowfall (a pantoum) - POEM of the MONTH!

Snowfall (a pantoum)

When they sing in the snowfall
The words are spelled out,
Like the writing on the wall
But drifting thereabout.

The words are spelled out
In forewarning tones --
But drifting thereabout
Are the voices of gravestones.

In forewarning tones,
"Do not smell these flowers!"
Are the voices of gravestones
Crying to savor the hours?

Do not smell these flowers,
Except those held in hands
Crying to savor the hours.
Please, do not misunderstand.

Except those held in hands
Like the writing on the wall,
Please do not misunderstand
When, they sing in the snowfall.

~

Also published in this month's Synchronized Chaos.

Friday, September 1, 2017

Mars in the Morning (A Prayer) - POEM of the MONTH!



Mars in the Morning (A Prayer)


In the predawn hours
As the first thought rises,
Mars in the morning shines
Onto compromises


The king after God's own heart
Cries "rescue" from an enemy;
And his bright Morning Star
Washes him with new mercy

This soul of mine is betrayed,
Not by how others sin
Or from graying battle lines
But, by my enemy within

Blind in this invisible war
Many times without warning;
Please, protect me from myself,
For I am Mars in the morning

~

Based upon Romans 7:15-19, and references Lamentations 3:22-24 and Revelation 22:16.  

(Venus, the brightest point in the hours of dawn, is known as the goddess of love in Ancient Rome. The Bible references Jesus the Messiah as the bright Morning Star, since GOD is Love. Mars, the red planet, is known as the god of war.)
 

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Carpe Velo - POEM of the MONTH!

Carpe Velo 

On two wheels, shoulder-to-shoulder, the race is set; 
On a climb, your Team Leader hands you his musette. 
Just as curious as the crowds who line the street, 
The peleton exchange swift jeers, assured of his defeat. 
But his strength is greater than any of their doubt; 
When nearing the final sprint, he starts the lead-out. 
Because in his preparation you saw him kneel, 
You wisely heed shouts from your team-mate, “Grab that wheel!"

~

Carpe Velo is partially taken from the Latin phrase, Carpe Diem. The latter phrase is from Odes book one by Horace (23 BC). The phrase is part of the longer carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero, which can be translated as "seize the day, put very little trust in tomorrow (the future)".  Carpe is Latin for "seize". Velo is from the Latin word Velocipede. The Flemish and French also use velo for "bicycle". As a cyclist, it is loosely used for "wheel", specifically a bicycle wheel -- "Seize the wheel!" 

"Aalborg bicycle race II"
by 
Muao is licensed under 
CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Contrary to the latter meaning of carpe diem --  specifically "put very little trust in tomorrow" -- the above poem emphasizes placing trust in another, who is referenced as the "Team Leader". The leader portrays humility and sacrifice. And, in contrast to common opinion there is triumph in knowing the leader and the strength provided during the race and at the finish. The wheel I find strength from is that of Jesus, my Team Leader.
This blog has carried the title Carpe Velo since its inception nearly a decade ago. It means, more loosely as is sometimes heard in a peleton, "grab that wheel" (see expanded definition below). The theme of the above poem has been rolling around in my mind for many years, but has not reached the page until now. I consider it the anthem of this blog and my life. "Grab that wheel!"
~
Definitions
Musette: a small bag used to pass meals to racing cyclists typically handed out by a domestique (helper) to other team-mates and especially to the team leader.
Peleton: from the French, it is the main group or pack of riders in a cycling race.
Lead-out: a small group of riders within the peleton consisting of a rider's team-mates who form a single line in front of the team leader (the sprinter), in order to provide a maximum draft until the leader starts his or her final sprint to the finish line.
"Grab that wheel": a phrase a rider will shout to a fellow team-mate encouraging him or her to ride behind another rider.


 

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Puzzle Box (haiku) - POEM of the MONTH!

Puzzle Box (haiku)
A Japanese Puzzle Box

Four or seven moves
Face all the steps together
Unity expands

~

Traditionally, a haiku is read twice.

haiku (HI-COO): A Japanese poem. A verse comprised of three lines, 5-7-5 in meter, ending with an epiphany. The numbers "four" and seven" are traditionally symbolic in Japanese culture for "unlucky" and "lucky", respectively -- "seven" also represents "togetherness".

Looking at this puzzle box a poem about facing opposing odds, along with the challenge of the box, came to mind. The increased intrigue and message is the result when facing the challenge together.




(If using a phone to read this poem, turn your phone sideways for the best view of this post.)

Thursday, June 1, 2017

The Art of Silence - POEM of the MONTH!



The Art of Silence

Paint a landscape
Of mountains, trees and streams
Listen to everything and nothing
Return the kiss
Of the breeze
And float with the orchestra
Of silence

Perform in an urban jungle
On the other side of the tracks
Among the graffiti
Embrace the heart
Of the street
And dance with the rhythm
Of silence

Carve in marble
The human figure
Kneeling in humility
Then stand with the rock
Above the valley
And follow the march
Of silence

Write a poem
Of ocean depths
And heavens above
See nothing and everything
But focus on one thing –
Be still and know
The art of silence

 ~

“Be still, and know that I am GOD …” – Psalm 46:10

(If using a phone to read this poem, turn your phone sideways for the best view of this post.)

Friday, May 26, 2017

Clarity - a short story

Clarity

            My heart lifted with the rise of each foot into Golden Gate Park at dusk. The full moon peeked through the cityscape as if God shined a light onto my empty page; but I moved to sit under the spotlight of a streetlamp and began to write. At the edge of the park, between grass and concrete, the pen teetered like a metronome from the Painted Ladies to Ocean Beach – beating with the heart of the city. 

"The Painted Ladies, San Francisco" by Alex E. Proimos 
is licensed under 
CC BY-NC 2.0.
             There is something unique and god-like about placing one letter after another until a single word spins onto the page. From the empty void of imagination does a sentence form into creation.

            I sat with the incomplete thought and held it in my hands – the page in one and the pen in the other – until the sunrise peeked through the Manhattan towers and pierced the sleep from my eyes. Like the exit of a lucid dream I entered the room of a beautiful and glorious young woman – my bride. Her name is Clarity, but I call her Clara. She arose from her paper-scattered desk as the light from the window across the room filtered out the primeval thoughts of the morning. Her hair golden, illuminated the space and time and thought which permeated the room. One could glean ideas just being in her presence. Her eyes met mine, a sleepy yet welcoming smile kissed my own. She was a vision. Our affection drew us into an embrace, and with the skill of a thief she slipped the notepad from my hand.

            As the embrace flirted with the intimate, her eyes caressed the words I had written. I closed my eyes and dreamed of her response. I drifted. Time stood still. Moment. Scent. The softness of her hair.

            She stood. I know her love. I know her truth, as well. Her pen had scratched out the first paragraph – nothing more. She gazed at me in her pre-coffee state, “You’ve never been to San Francisco, and you are not God.”

            My heart felt like a pincushion. It always did whenever she sentenced my work to death – even if it was only a portion. But – she was right. As the light of Wisdom is.

~

Proverbs 1:20-21 NIV
"Out in the open wisdom calls aloud, she raises her voice in the public square; on top of the wall she cries out, at the city gate she makes her speech ..."

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Prose: Short-Stories and More, Coming Soon!

Coming Soon!

Prose is coming to Carpe Velo, which will include the occasional short-story, or flash fiction. Here's a teaser of what's to come.


"There is something unique and supreme about placing one letter after another until a single word spins onto the page. From the empty void of imagination does a sentence form into creation."

- David A. Douglas

Thursday, March 16, 2017

"Designed to Love You" Translated into Hebrew - מתוכנן אוהב אותך

מתוכנן אוהב אותך

אני אוהב אותך תוכנן כדי
בגידה, אבל הגיע עם הנשימה הראשונה שלי
אני מחויב בגידה על בקנה מידה קוסמי
, כי אני חייב להיות שם עד מוות

אני אוהב אותך תוכנן כדי
חימר מעוטרות שממנו אני עומד
אבל אני הרס את יצירת המופת
של גן עדן הייתה ונשארה שדה-חורבות

אני תוכנן אוהב אתכם אז
אני עובד כדי לקבל את בע
אז אני זהב מגולפות לתוך עגל
ובישראל יתפאר בכל העבודה שלי

הייתי מתוכנן אוהב אותך
אבל יצאתי ברצונך לזנות
 התפלשות עם הישבים בקברים ובנצורים ילינו האכלים
עד הייתי בעיקשות תער

הייתי מתוכנן אוהב אותך
אבל אני ירק להשמיץ את פנים
כתות את הציפורניים לתוך את הידיים
מהמימד שאימצו שלך

אני אוהב אותך תוכנן
אף והוביל אותי אל מי
אני ולאחר מכן את הסירה
אני הכחיש לך מעל מ מ

תעלומה מלכתחילה
הייתי עיוור הנצחית שלך להציג
אבל בגלל שאתה אוהב אותי בפעם הראשונה
אני אוהב אותך תוכנן מחדש כדי

~

#john316 #1john419


(NOTE: An online translator was used for the above translation. 
If there are any grammatical errors, I am receptive to your comments 
and will endeavor to make any needed corrections. Thank you.)

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Designed to Love You - POEM of the MONTH!


Designed to Love You

I was designed to love you, but --
Betrayal arrived with my first breath;
I committed treason on a cosmic scale
And for that my sentence is death.

I was designed to love you --
Molded clay from which I stand,
But I destroyed your masterpiece --
From Paradise to a wasteland.

I was designed to love you,
So I worked to gain your favor,
Then I molded gold into a calf
And glorified in all my labor.


I was designed to love you,
But I left you like a prostitute,
And wallowed with the swine
Until I was stubbornly destitute.

I was designed to love you
But I spat slander in your face,
Pounded the nails into your hands
And disregarded your embrace.

I was designed to love you, and --
Although you drew me to your waters
And I followed you out of the boat,
I denied you over, and over, and over.

A mystery from the beginning:
I was blind to your eternal view,
But because you loved me first
I am redesigned to love you!

Because you went to the cross
And came to my rescue,
Because you defeated Death
I am redesigned to love you.

~

Also published in Synchronized Chaos, May 2017. Last stanza added March 2024.

#poem #poetry #potter #clay #design #love

Sunday, January 1, 2017

And Further She Falls - POEM of the MONTH!




And Further She Falls

The sun pierces the last leaf on a neighboring tree,
Beams of bronze and ruby dance on her withdrawn hand
As a gentle wind whispers a progressive symphony.

To rest, to dream – the world folds in on itself;
Darkness surrenders to emerging fanciful colors,
A kaleidoscope of images drawn from her bookshelf.

A familiar detective greets an unfamiliar cliff;
A rabbit’s hole, she spirals through space and time,
With a machine to witness the scrawl of a hieroglyph.

Her heart and mind soar, yet the darkness takes hold;
From dream to scream – falling into deeper fathoms;
A charred calendar of a past day about to unfold.

And further she falls …

A shrieking list raises the bar to a dizzy height,
A fiery pair of eyes scorches through her paper heart
And a cold skyscraper shadows over her limelight.

And further she falls …

A familiar face distorts into an unfamiliar emotion,
A broken bottle drops into an abyss of neglect –
Her mind racing out of control, but in slow-motion.

And further she falls …

An imagination explodes from a thought singularity,
A mushroom of dread burns and crushes her chest –
But Hope appears, a single figure to reverse her polarity.

Outside is a Savior,
Outside is a Savior!

From screams to awaken – her world unfolds to a sunrise;
Seconds feel like minutes, minutes turn into seconds,
As the Morning Star wipes away her nightmarish cries.

A gentle wind whispers a progressive symphony,
Beams of gold and emerald dance on her outstretched hand
As the sun pierces the first leaf on a neighboring tree.

And further she falls,
Into the arms of her Savior!

~

#poem #poetry #dream #nightmare #anxiety #savior #jesus