Friday, January 30, 2015

Goodbye to All (a goodbye poem to Rod McKuen) - by Bob Atkinson

Goodbye to All
(a goodbye poem to Rod McKuen)

(c)2015 Bob Atkinson
goodbye to all who now remain
I've done a race which gave me pain
also, with some pure delight
it gave me gladness to die tonight

goodbye to those who could not come
will meet you someday on the run
from things you did there in the past
yes, you forever grabbed my ash

goodbye those who took the wine
and kissed all goodness there aside
bringing into focus all your vibes
of correctness in your stride
you kicked the can aside

goodbye to lovers of the past
gave to you my foolish pouts
didn't mean I locked you out
my role was that of circus clown 

goodbye to relatives of which was many
didn't ever ask a penny
you didn't give me much of time
didn't mix your lives with mine

goodbye to dreams of future grace
wasn't in my mournful race
I tried to do things that would last
but fell face flat there on the track

goodbye to those I never knew
perhaps they'll read my death review
yes, treat me kind in words of praise
though never read good words on page

goodbye to you who read my lips
they're not moving in love's quips
they never said much anyway
so you'll not notice I'm deranged

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Suspicion of Ill Will - by Bob Atkinson

Suspicion of Ill Will
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson
was here in an open rage
I saw you not with mercy's grace
I saw you openly regress
to violence of innate anti-progress

where greed devoured your good senses
where lust amended your pretenses
where animosity peered through your eyes
and seeped into your eager lies

how can you push that idea upon
another while deriding us
how will you justify your charge
when inhuman actions you discharge

take your ideas back to your cave
leave us to present our worldly page
one which doesn't fight and maim
one which lets ideas expand

ideas which garner progress toward
peace of mankind, a simple thought
something you in barbarity leave
wanting for our time of grief

Arrival and Rest - by Bob Atkinson

Arrival and Rest
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

tension foils our softest senses
when divergent vibrations flow
away from home of life complete
where beauty begs to show

upon our ears without bad sneers
no useless, grating sounds
simple entwining opulence
as if a river flowing down

yes, luxury of feelings delicious
pass over skin and bones
to field a method so complete
in careful use of tones

do not understand how these
developments of acoustic lore
work with each and every wave
to keep us asking "more"

they do alternate in hearts
with craving for a force
which occupies our minds
and keeps us on good course

some say 'tis reinforcement
of that self image so described
tell us music leaves one feeling
as if immersed deeply in a tribe

that ancient need of life force
connection with like kind
to attack invaders, defend one's place
herein our space and time

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Awake Before Dawn - by Bob Atkinson

Awake Before Dawn
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

Awake before dawn I find
a world of simple charm
semi-darkness, still, with foggy looks
a hustle here, then gone

as birds begin their conversation
with each and every pair
of robins discussing what to do
in this world of little care

meadow larks respond bravely
shouldn't be forgotten
as with all animals of forest
they present their wishful longings

birch fingers raise up to the sky
to present a birdful perch
waiting for their seed to grow
white branches tall and certain

a pleasant countryside of love
here in the morning dew
a lovely presentation of
plants, animals, me and you

Saturday, January 3, 2015

the Dorian Invasion - by Bob Atkinson

the Dorian Invasion
(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

to invade into a new land
requires careful thought
how could one rearrange
populations where they're not

does this deed require
force upon another
or, does meaningful realignment
appeal more to subtle gestures

a Dorian invasion
gives study to past events
obscure in quiet openness
cloudy in mere presence

so light in touch, not seen by those
who find their numbers small
when compared to in-fluxed masses
of people from afar

not good nor bad nor in between
this change of mass location
derives from nature's want of more
extended variations

she sees an opportunity
to mix cultures in the land
finding many ideals evolve
when shook up in a can

here, in our own time
we see this flux revise
opinions of our population
seeking methods to survive