Rekindling Glory

By day it was merely a line; the bottom in ocean, the top in the sky; a giant appearing benign when seen through a distant and innocent eye. The keeper, with cloth and with rod, on legs made of granite, his weary brow damp; ascended like Jacob to God; rekindling glory with labor and lamp. The mariners, weary and wise, returning from ports in the Orient found, when stars had been lost to their eyes, a magical beacon for those homeward bound; A sentinel searching the night; a modern descendent, to honor the name, of Pharos; the island of light; antiquity's wonder of welcoming flame. © 2003 W.D. Neighbors

Poetry

Poetry's the music
that was playing in my heart
right at the beginning
of the ending from the start;

long, cascading verses
to express a single thought;
freely given secrets for which,
once, I would have fought;

philosophizing, prophesizing,
boldly telling lies;
romantic inspirations
wrapped in wishes sealed with sighs;

memories of miseries;
imaginary love;
wanderings and wonderings
and magic from above;

prejudices, urgent kisses,
honesty and myth;
pain and pretty, joy and ugly
whipped until they're stiff;

Poetry is equal parts of joy
and primal fears;
half completed verses
seen through veils of poets tears;



brightly painted shadows
from the dungeon known as me;
imaginary imagery
that's absolutely free.

Sunset

She isn't, yet, the lady of my youth
who taught the virgin boy to slake his thirst
with water from the sea of life but, truth
be told she will forever be the first--

the first to find the man within the boy;
to challenge him to gamble; to explore;
the first to turn a sorrow to a joy;
to show my eyes an unfamiliar shore.

I moved from fears to hopes and hopes to fears
to see her make believe; to keep pretending;
this lady, in her gray and dismal years,
who steered away from any thought of ending--

Now, rest ye lady; gently down to sleep
within the ample bosom of the deep.

© 2006 W.D. Neighbors

Jacobs Ladder

An adolescent fool, I made mistakes
and, each time, thought that I was the inventor.
A talent for disaster’s all it takes
to gather damage fore and aft of center.

I suffer with the best. My broken heart
is permanent. With each new scar I crow;
“I hurt, therefore I am”… not quite Descartes,
but accurate enough as slogans go.

I’m older now, and wear my scars with pride.
They represent a mortal Jacob’s ladder.
No Angel, I ascend, eyes open wide
and choose to be the wiser not the sadder.

The sum of all those scars stands, strong, before you.
So, “shrink” me if you must, I’ll just ignore you.


© 2003 W.D. Neighbors


“And he dreamed,
and behold, a ladder set up on the earth,
and the top of it reached to heaven;
and behold the Angels of God
ascending and descending on it.”

Genesis 28:12



Name: Jacob

Title: Jacob's Ladder

Creation date: 2003

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Created at 11/22/2006 13:05 by PUBLIC27\wdneighbors
Last modified at 11/24/2006 11:24 by PUBLIC27\wdneighbors

I build them with pieces of thought that I’ve found without much revealing the meaning. While formless appearing they’re really quite round so I never send them for cleaning. They’re aren’t any chalk lines defining my field so I never swing for the bleachers. In spite or redemption, I harvest my yield; the finest I brew for my teachers. They stumble, my sonnets, my ballads take trips; my "ambic" have too many digits. While some are off honing with diamond tips I’m home building whatzits and widgets… with meaningless phrases and bits strung along like old Dr. Seuss wrote a Bob Dylan song.