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    A Short Putt

    After a torturous hour ofmath (algebra to be exact)I start dinner: Middle Eastern stew:Cardamom, Coriander, and Turmeric.Cooking is a little like math, butmuch more like art. My mind beginsto ease as Bach pumps outone of his symphonies fromthe CD...

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    • It may be a short putt but it’s a giant leap for 21st century poetry sir .. good on ya n all that bloomin jazz .. Neville

    • Brilliantly penned, Thomas. Cooking is art, math, & science all rolled in one. Most of all it’s relaxing in my experience. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • I’ve never been good at math. Though I like cooking. Nice poem Thomas. 🙂

    • I used to think that if I “fucked until I couldn’t walk”, I would never get old. Funny the nonsense I believed when I was young. She left and I got old!!! But, I did learn that sanity is overrated. I threw out my Wadsworth and took up with e.e. cummings, Pablo Neruda and went on “The Road” with the beats.

      In reading your poem, Thomas, I am once again reminded how much I love to cook, smell puppies, and skip along the road to joust with windmills!!! Dulcinea del Toboso, I am coming!!! And “To Dream the Impossible Dream”.

      -Curt

    • Oh lordy…I hate math and I struggle with recipes. Maybe the one is causation of the other? I do best when I just randomly toss things in the stew pot. Maybe some of us aren’t meant to be scripted? I love how music wove through this one. Brilliantly executed!

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    Matter, Motion, The Nature of Truth

    MATTER, MOTION, THE NATURE OF TRUTH In these early hours when the sun wears grey mist, the horizon opens sluggishly not wanting to give up the night. Appearing in its April shroud Mt. Veracity guards the inner bay and more distant vistas of the Obsidian Sea. In...

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    • “See the world as it really is, allowing us to change the world into a place we would want to live.” Eyes wide open. lovely

      • It’s ironic when you think about it Fia. Many want change, want to live in a different world, where people coming together to solve problems is the morality, but are unwilling to see the world and it’s me, me, me morality at its source, and so blame people, rather than a system that has created the way people are and act. It’s a daunting task, but it is possible to do.

        Thank you Fia for your comment and for visiting. Both are muchly appreciated.

    • Reading this, I feel both the vastness of the universe and the warmth of small human connections– the magic of matter and motion felt in shared moments and the world around us

      • Those moments are precious, aren’t they! We are social creatures and need and welcome those connections. I want to and work toward a world where these connections thrive and flourish. Think how beautiful this world would/could be and how cherished such connections would feel and delight!!

        Thank you RomaJ, the matter in motion that is me, welcomes your visit and your comment.

    • This is quite brilliant .. makes me feel very small indeed .. and which of course is absolutely true .. Write on brother .. Neville 😎⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐👍

      • Another ironic thought, when looked at from the vastness of the universe, we are small indeed. But when looked at from our home, Earth, what we do makes all the difference. It is up to us to decide whether what we do will make the world as a whole better or worse. Us small humans can disturb the Universe.

        I appreciate your comment Neville and want to thank you for it and of course for stopping by.

    • Everything is energy, everything is in motion, everything changes… nothing stays the same. as this might sounds scary, as this (exactly as you’ve written) holds the magic. to reach the point where what we all do is living the moment, is the ultimate power. I see You to be both, dreamy, imaginative and smart. I’m still caught in this phrase (April shroud), a phrase I wish to have written. Thank You 🤍

      • Light, I think we are magic. Our lives matter in ways we often underestimate. And that April shroud dissipates as we reach for the morning sun. Thank you for the wonderful comment and the “dreamy and imaginative”, but not so sure about the “smart”.
        And thank you for your visit, it is muchly appreciated.

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    Last Night

    LAST NIGHT I awoke in the middle of the night thinking you were there. I swear I heard your heart beat coming from your side of the bed; could feel your breath softly warm my face; could smell you, a womanly musk, floating crisply like a clear winter’s...

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    • This is a sweet red zone, and it gives a cozy vibe to it.

      • Dreams like this are “sweet”, Fia. They are “cozy” as well, but then there comes the hollowness when you awaken and realize it is just a dream, a memory of what once was. Thank you, Fia, for your comment.

    • Ah, we all have been there, and seek to write an adequate poem to capture the feelings that it causes. Your write does it very well, tenderly and a slight bit hauntingly. Wonderfully written.

    • A tender meditation on absence, where memory lingers in heartbeat, scent, and light. The poem makes longing almost tangible, delicate yet deeply felt.

    • RomaJ, your insights are spot on. Thank you.

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