a longing intense...
this drive will not rest ...
not feeling at home.
I need to leave peace.
The circle I seek,
return I may then.
** Joy = Sehnsucht a difficult to translate Germain concept.
[my first poem Oct 2011]
Inspired by (Suprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life, Clive Stanley Lewis)
(see, G.K. Chesterton, "Homesick at Home” (1896) from The Coloured Lands (London: Sheed & Ward, 1938))
see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sehnsucht
Still the poetry,
From where doeth it come.
But come'th it does.
Till I come,
It reaches me.
Forever more
And then the same.
Doeth it reach you?
Their he sits,
on the back row,
most Sundays.
The back slider.
He had lost it,
so long ago,
on his mission,
to redeem the world.
He was deep-rooted,
in his unbelief...
So faithful,
to its loss ...
He married outside the faith.
A daughter came then too.
They raised her in his faithfulness,
to his unbelief.
His wife thought...
Their daughter needed,
a faith,
a belief.
His was as good, as any other.
Perhaps, even better.
Many times, he had tried,
to leave his unbelief.
It was marrow deep,
in his bones.
His ancestors buried it,
deep there,
ever so deep,
he could not retrieve it.
It become a blessing,
his unbelief.
Let him see, the true light,
at the center, of every soul.
Was his prayer unanswered,
in his unbelief?
Lord, I do not believe,
Bless me now, in my unbelief.
*Inspired by the life and unbelief of Levi Peterson, author of "The Backslider". It is my understanding that it was his non-mormon wife's desire to raise their daughter in the mormon faith.
The world,
Is it now becoming?
They seek to divide,
to sell us the goods.
Hate sells better
then love.
To advertise,
they must shock us.
Murder, theft, and robbery,
sell better then,
kittens and new puppies.
To entertain they must devide us.
By all measure the world gets better,
When I walk away,
turn it off,
and seek to serve.
Steven Bassett sept 2015
I wrote, a poem, today,
Or did it ride me.
To be taken, for a ride,
by a poem.
It climbs out.
Kicking and scratching,
and crawling my way.
Soon to be forgotten.
No fish to wrap.
No fires to start.
Just memories to make,
and lives to change.
T'is it, this past, to then, be gone.
gone it is, this (morning/mourning) long.
When mourn has come, and then be gone.
T'is it too quiet, to come, this morn.
To simmer, this fire, this pain, this past.
to leave behind, this (mourn/morn), at last.
he found her that way,
in the bedroom with his best friend.
his loaded glock in his right hand
his anger in his left.
the choice, now to make.
it would change the world.
how long does one count
to ones self
before changing the world ...
years later , the children
did he love her still?
they burned through them all,
together and apart.
one luver after another.
now together, again they are.
he on one bedroom, she in another.
like a little wipped puppy, she was.
yet he luved her still.
yet to leave her he must,
to go on she will.
but the children between them they have,
to luv them still,
this choice to make,
this choice to share.
An apple was it not,
or then maybe a flower.
Bare fruit it did,
then.
Doe'th one plant a flower,
to preserve a life.
The first fruit, doe'th,
it become?
Brought forth first,
knowledge.
Then eternal life.
This the choice,
a flower thus plant,
to then the cure.
Then more they whole,
once more again .
To thus a family,
tobe the more.
no more, sits he, their'by
Waiting.
The weight, is no more.
The burden we carry, no more.
Together.
Now he doth wait,
For the more part .
The part to come then,
When we are no more,
Separate.
But, together, again.
Going is he not?
To meet her today.
She came with,
the one he luved.
The bonus child.
Got her body,
did she then?
Then home again,
went she.
Home, to await his arrival.
Here to raise a family,
was he ...
Never far,
from his thoughts,
was she ...
Look like them,
did she then ?
The other children,
and her ...
Meet they now,
and joy'es it be.
In marriage,
two stages, be their may.
Three their be,
If luck their hold.
To work them through,
The second to return,
To the first.
Is the work of,
of a lifetime.
T'is it then a Vulgar notion.
For a Vulgar time.
From fuck you, in the hallway,
To fuck you, as we pass.
To have the courage,
To change, forget, and forgive.
To return the cycle.
To this, then be my task,
In this life.
*Vulgar: of the common folk, peasant class, redneck notion.
I let them loose, today.
Where they ever, really, mine.
The thoughts, I possessed...
When I possessed them.
they were mine?
Now are recorded, and scattered.
Scattered to the wind.
Chesterton, had his thoughts,
in the penny papers, of his day,
The London Illustrated News.
They wrapped fish in then.
They used them, like the Sears, Roebuck, Catalog,
In the outhouse,
To finish, their duty,
Now I publish, to the blog,
and facebook too?
Will my thoughts last, long.
Will I be remembered,
When gone, I am.
Still the thoughts,
I carry, and Share,
maybe you, can share,
them too.
Gilbert (G.K.) Keith Chesterton.
Why choose to luv, him
Faithful was he, not
The many years,
and the children.
Sleeping side by side.
always to mourn, what could have been.
Together, apart came they always.
Always, together and apart.
To give up, many would have now.
Yet, not give up she has...
Did she see what he could be,
and not what he was,
or had been.
Was he the sparrow,
God watched and mourned?
It is said, never a sparrow doeth fall,
but God doeth not take notice of.
If he, god wanted, him,
how could she not.
This covenant,
This eternal,
This ever more.
This she seeks,
and ever see's.
From whence comes the poetry.
Come rising up it doth.
Like a great lava flow.
Surging, rising, and falling.
Up and down.
To and fro.
It will not rest,
Till rest I do.
To come forth birthed.
A full grown child.
Then nurtured to a final form.
Released again, anew.
To then come forth.
And visit you now.
And then to share.
This world of ours.
Why stay?
Together, and apart.
Twenty four, plus four, then one.
Faithful, had not, been they?
The others, last did not ...
Still.
they, remain,
together, and apart.
Courage then comes,
together, and apart.
Searching for the missing,
Together, and apart.
The need, the lack, their in
Together, it drove, them
Together, and apart.
The four plus one,
are more then the two.
Then, to the end,
Thus, then were they.
Together, and apart.
The anger lies,
so deep down, below.
Deep down,
Does it lie.
From whence comes truth?
Truth does not lie.
It moves, and feels, and grows.
From whence, find I,
The truth,
That doth not,
Lie,
their by,
and not below?
The poems,
From where, do they, come forth
To come forth, this,
they do, now.
Like a spring ...
of lava, flowing forth.
Like fire, and ice.
They cover, cool, and heal.
The thoughts.
So long, lay buried.
They buried her, buried him.
Then buried it.
The thoughts...
How long, they struggle,
To come forth.
To this, the bedroom,
To them, he found
His wife, his friend,
Embracing now.
Two forks their come
Two choices, now ...
To this, the right, the loaded glock,
To then the left, this anger still.
To this, the choice,
To then, to make.
To then himself,
To this to count.
To then, to change
this world, now.
To this, the children
to luv her still?
then to burn,
their luvers, all.
Why together, are the now?
Till once together,
Till then, they part.
this, then bedrooms,
Two their now.
one for he,
Then, one for her.
then on he goes,
And on to be,
Then two, the one,
they be no more.
But to the children,
between them be,
this the choice,
then be, their now.
he found her that way,
in the bedroom with his best friend.
his loaded glock in his right hand
his anger in his left.
the choice, now to make.
it would change the world.
how long does one count
to ones self
before changing the world ...
years later , the children
did he love her still.
together and apart,
they burned through them all,
one luver after another.
now together, again they are.
he in one bedroom, she in another.
wipped puppy, she was.
luved her still, did he?
yet to leave her he must,
to go on she will.
but the children
this between them,
the choice
to luv them still,
this then to make,
this then to share.
--
I take the knife,
In hand, to scrape.
This, then the layers.
To peel them back.
T'is it, an onion,
This thing,
This feeling,
This longing, and regret.
t'is it now, read/red,
Or always been.
This pain, comes forth?
This to suffer.
At our hands?
The ones,
He luved.
To cleans this now,
This now comes forth.
To bring new life,
This now the game.
Renew it now,
With fire and ice.
To come again,
This now the choice.
to build again,
this fear of loss"
to learn to luv
and luv again
is it joy
or is it pain
to see the dark,
depart with light.
T'is it pain,
or is it joy.
to feel the strength
from bodies bent.
broken, used,
like my soul
to lose i must,
be built again
to chose to luv
the pain within.
Thinking of mom,
This day once more
To learn to luv
And luv again
In sorrow and in pain.
To luv and joy.
Mixed feelings
Have we yet.
To choose to luv
And live once more
Seek we now,
This choice,
once more
To end this day,
to choose once more..
