New Features

If you notice over there on the right I have a couple of new features. If you have an RSS reader there is an RSS feed. If you would rather get updates via email, well, you can do that too. Also, drop off a comment and let me know what you think.

Having Fun

I am having fun posting these poems here. If my stats mean anything, not a whole lot of people are reading them, but that's ok. If you are reading them, please post a comment somewhere on here to let me know you have been here. Just to fulfill my curiosity.
This poem has one of those etymological titles I talked about a few months ago. It is a poem that I enjoy very much. I especially like the way it sounds and I really enjoy performing it. It starts out slow and quiet, speeds up and gets louder in the middle, then slows and quiets again. Maybe someday I will begin putting mp3 clips of me performing these poems on here. That would be fun.
I am enjoying posting so much, I might put another one on here this month. Lucky you. lol Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.

Ototeman

Cold, wet, greasy ashes
Lifeless they lie
Like a dark winter's sky
Death without hope or desire
Dank betrayal of the promise of fire
And the wind scattering, it blows

Brief glimmer in orange

And the wind chittering, it blows

Flakes of gray peel away

And the wind patiently, it blows

Sparks twinkle in defiance

And the wind challenging, it blows

Fire wings, cupping, flexing with life
Grasping the air, shaking off dust
Shimmering, crashing, blazing
A burning beak arises
Cries with the knowledge of Eternity
Leaps, exploding, soaring, alive
And the wind encouraging, it blows

Celebration illuminates the ebony night

And the wind excitingly, it blows

Flying, inspiring, searing hearts and minds

And the wind joyously it blows

Rocketing, plummeting with creative delight

And the wind ecstatically, it blows

Salamanders dart through the flickerings
Dashing, scurrying with purpose and care
Storing the treasure away from the air
The flames begin to sputter at the crash site
The pyre logs piled altar height
Whoosh of explosive kindling
Piercing, blinding, brilliance, bright
Dark afterimages play across the soul
And the wind quietly, it blows

Individual flarings sputter in dismay

And the wind coldly, it blows

Fluttering bravely, futilely

And the wind solemnly, it blows

Absolute darkness, not a hint of illumination

And the wind inexorably. it blows

Cold, wet, greasy ashes

And the wind knowingly, it blows

written by Jeff Couch 1995