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Musings - 2020 by David L White
As I wonder whether to publish another print poetry book I am leaving these pieces here. I did put together an ebook (.epub file). Twelve minutes after uploading it to a service, I get a rejection letter. Most of my pieces are already online. Somewhere. And we're not telling where.
I don't have interns. This blog post here, and here, will have to do for now.
Also, I have been moving away from calling my pieces poetry. By using musings, I mean to indicate that even though I appear to be talking to myself, I am not in it alone. The Muses might have indicated, to me, that I might feel better if I took notes.
Thanks for reading along.
DLW
………………
Good, good night
the day was enough of a day
nothing to pack or put away,
explain, define, approve, acquire,
nothing left to wonder till far
tomorrow, seeming distant.
Slipping between the sheets, the
temperature perfect, the humidity
A-okay, this old body feels - agreeable.
Stretching a bit to find a place,
every place better than fine, even
more than comfortable.
No aches, pains, worries, concerns,
the breathing ... breathing easily
Sweet dreams soon and …
good, good night
…
© 2020 David L White
4/6/2020
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Perfect
Today I drove the head librarian
for the seminary back to work.
We took a slight detour through
the Garden of Eden. I pointed out
a few of the perfect trees to him.
The weather was - you guessed it.
© 2020 David L White
6/30/2020
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poem
I want to hold you long enough
that the heat melts the moment
into my circuitboard,
my firmware update.
I want this embedded in my DNA
so that I may bring this feeling up
at will and any time I need another hug.
Thirty seconds might be good for starters.
Or three long breaths in loving presence
may be all it takes.
Humming into your heart mind now
I wonder if we could ever
be more present than this.
May 21, 2019 8:15 AM
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Ghosts of unborn
Last Fathers Day
With cars lining my street,
The stench of grilled meat
fills the air with the fact that
that I’ve chosen a life with
so few family or friends
…
10/10/2020
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Cloud Cover
My range reduces.
I let parcels go.
The mountain horizon
begins to shimmer.
I need not ride out
to the base of the butte
to hear the river flow
and smell the breeze.
I have it in me already.
Blood. Bone. Interstitial tissue.
The canyons howl and moan.
Moon flash. Trout splash.
.....
September 29, 2020
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Race Day
Adam and Eve are at the Garden Gift Shop
autographing palm fronds and other merchandise.
God and the snake are juggling apples.
They are up to five between them.
Good and Evil are running around like
make up artists for the Pit Crew at the Indy 500.
I’m sitting under the talking tree of knowledge
and we’re just chilling.
It’s race day.
We’ve made it.
.....
September 29, 2020
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Me, too
Sunday morning sunshine
and steaming tea.
You still in your
Comfy robe, socks,
And sleep shirt
Reading a love poem
I wrote and shared.
Me, too.
...
October 4, 2020
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Scrapbook
And here in the
scrapbook of my love,
letters, and treasured
memories, I hold dear
a snapshot of you,
leaning in, listening,
paying attention to me.
The look on our faces.
Yours then.
Mine now.
Precious.
…
© 2020 David L White
Poem for Amelia
October 4, 2020
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Elsewhere apparently
More frequently I find myself
safe and sound
with here and now
on purpose.
Look about.
Breathe.
Elsewhere apparently
Could have fooled me
Resting and recuperating from
excessive internal and external
explanations, demanding descriptions,
and definitions, of everything that is not
here and now
Content, happy, and satisfied enough
with this self life story, multi dimensional,
eternal, ephemeral.
Here again,
here again,
now, now, now.
Elsewhere apparently
Could have fooled me
and you?
How I would love to sit near
this portal to presence with you and
to see your smiling eyes, go for the
giggle and guffaw,
you know how I do.
See your favorite color.
Hear your middle name.
Smell, touch, taste, the
stories of your many
collections;
people, places, things.
Elsewhere apparently
Could’ve fooled me
Cut to the chase
How I would love to sit with you,
reduces upwards to
I love you.
…
David L White
August 30, 2020
Sunday forever poem
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Willie and Pavarotti sing
Mama don’t let your
babies grow up to be
FÃgaro FÃgaro Figaro
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Searching
for help in
the self help
section
will go easier
when using
the self
~ David L White
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Magic Words
The gift that keeps on giving;
a poem that may or may not
be done. Add a word?
Maybe.
Magic.
…
David L White
Poem
October 01, 2020
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Tuesday evening
First debate
Running from pause
and DVR
Vanilla ice cream
Chocolate syrup
It’s 9:15 pm
Almost tomorrow
For a guy arising
At 4 or 5 am
Ice cream
At 9:15
We’re now out of
Syrup and the poem
Has ended
...
September 29, 2020
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Immigrant
Whatever baggage the newcomer brought
is compounded by the weight
of his new name.
The name I named him.
Immigrant
David L White poem 9/15/20
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I haven’t found a single explanation
to go with my outfit yet
It can’t upstage, yet blend in with glitter
Shopping and trying it all on, not one size
fits all or anything goes
Everything goes Exactly
............
September 14, 2020
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I'm darting around behind commemorations
hoping to not be seen.
My trumpet is in the shop getting tuned and buffed.
I'm not feeling the tune.
A beautiful gray day.
What if nothing else ?
This. No more.
A song by Willie scrolls by. Something about the ease of older
age. Nothing matters. Except I cried.
Had enough.
Blessed.
…..
Friday, September 11, 2020
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Sunday Haiku
Skeleton wind chime
on wire frame bird feeder
skull full of suet
August 30, 2020
Sunday 7:40 am
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If I’m careful (care full) I can pretend
the traffic on Loomis
sounds like surf
Love the sun breeze … cue the salt spray
Already it’s departure time and ...
I don’t know what to do with the airport yet
…………
August 21, 2020 Scout Lake Park
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Black and white Bikini
on a sun burned girl
Tan lines like ten or nine lions
feasting on a former zebra
Black, White, Red All over.
…
8/17/20
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Self Reflectiion
In the self-help section
where is the self?
..............
@ 2020 David L White
Poem July 28, 2020 9:33 p.m.
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Love Math Poem
With our division subtracted
we can multiply and add up our love.
…
© 2020 David L White
August 8, 2020 4:32 AM
P.S. Hasn’t someone already written this down?
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A peepoo bird sings
far off traffic everywhere
in the peepoo breeze
..........
© 2020 David L White
Wilson Park Haiku Poem
Sunday 7/26/20 11:22 AM
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Inviting more mystery
It’s not really like I’m inviting
the mysteries in to my dwelling.
It’s more like the old days that
you might have lived or heard
about, at least … sitting on the
porch kindly and the neighbors
walk by.
We all nod, smile and wave.
There they go. They’re looking fine.
© 2020 David L White
July 14 2020 poem
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It’s 3:25 AM. Sunday morning newspaper arrives. I hear it slap the stoop. I get up and go to the door. The delivery fellow is
rearranging some things. His car is running at my curb. I’ve bend down like every other Sunday and pick up the plastic bag. All of a sudden my fingers scream. I need to wash my hands. Sometimes it seems too much. I hope it is enough.
3/29/2020
Sunday Corona Poem
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Chart: Me
I’m drawing fresh lines between the stars in my sky.
Shapes move as the planetarium glides through the night.
I’m whispering names as yet unheard.
Imagine what goes on in broad daylight all day long.
........
© 2020 David L White
May 25, 2020 10:45 AM
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Pinch Me (draft, rough)
So as not to fire wildly in the night
I will not name on a list
for you the places I have been where I have collected a little bit
of sand from the beach or the river.
I don’t know why I collect sand. It’s probably like collecting
rocks. I was there. It was pretty. Now I have it.
There have been a few times in my life recently where I thought to
take the rocks out and set them free.
Meanwhile pinch me: ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Bring a little sand with you mix it in with the tip of your finger
take some home with you and spread it somewhere. It’ll be me and
this other thing like so many things are we are not individually
ourselves
We have microbes and bacteria without which we I will not name or list for you the places I have been where I have collected a little bit of sand from the beach or the river.
I don’t know why I collect assigned. It’s probably like collecting
rocks I was there it was pretty now I have it.
There have been a few times in my life recently where I thought to take the rocks back (out) and set them free.
Meanwhile, pinch me - ashes to ashes dust to dust
Bring a little sand with you mix it in with the tip of your finger
take some home with you and spread it somewhere. It’ll be me and this other thing like so many things are we are not individually ourselves
We have microbes and bacteria without which we could not live
Or love
I would ask that you wash your sand before you mix it together
with other people sad. Just to keep your fingers clean. So later
when you touch your tearing eyes you won’t get great in them or
microbes and bacteria. Other people stuff. And animal stuff too
Stuffed animals
Who is so pride on ourselves individually but we are not
individual we are not solely or wholly individual
Holy Interesting
.....
© 2020 David L White
Pinch Me Poem May 28, 2020
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Cranial Observatory
Ten weeks into quarantine I look in the mirror. I look.
My hairdo does an Einstein thing.
I wonder, might I keep it?
My neck slowly swivels, prefrontal skull opens,
and the universe appears.
Hola Alberto. Good looking.
......
© 2020 David L White
Poem May 24, 2020 10:02 AM
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A Trifle Poetically
Tangible, tactile, tried and true,
A trifle moment, forever to you
A whispered look, I brush on; bye,
waltzing to love, joy, and heart
blue sky.
...
© 2020 David L White
Poem 1:29 pm May 14, 2020
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Input output
Sometimes, for the sake of my illusion,
not that I fully control my creative process,
I can stand in the engine room, shovel coal,
and feel the heat.
…
© 2020 David L White
April 30, 2020 9:25 PM
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I bought a baseball cap in the gift shop
at General Pickett’s Buffet in Gettysburg.
It’s royal blue with an American flag.
And it looks old. Pre-abused.
A third of what seem to be 44 stars are also abused.
Right off the map of the cap, so to speak.
Later I bought a dollar poppy from a veteran
and poked it through a grommet.
Yesterday someone thanked me for my service.
You’re welcome. I served as Bragadier General
in the Air National Advance Squadron
dropping poetry and other propaganda.
........
David L White
3/1/20
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I get up to write something down but
by the time the lights are on, I realize
my mind is still lying down in the dark,
under the covers.
…
Muses
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Errands look like make-work.
Nothing due today soon.
Perhaps, if we get ambitious,
a run to the post office and
a bag of rock salt might just do.
Rest and reflection in the
slow cooker all day low.
...
2/15/20
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Poem
Starvation is abuse of its own. I’ve been
malnourished for so long
it seems normal.
And then you came along with such heaping
helpings of rape on my plate I could not chew
and swallow.
Not exactly nourishing - all this bone and gristle.
With all this spit I’ve worked up, it makes a fine stew.
My stomach growls. I miss you.
1/2/2020
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Little Wing
Although some will tell you otherwise
You don’t have to stop or start anything.
You could twiddle or tweak your trajectory,
modulate the velocity, slow down. Speed up.
You could hummingbird, falcon, or mimic
the murmuration of larks and barn swallows.
Sometimes we say “Either way”
as if there were only two.
It’s what you choose.
Fly on, little wing. .........
March 3, 2020
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Piffle Poem
Fading away
after forever
It’s beautiful and
nothing for you to do
Well, argue, maybe
Like every while
Even that
No matter
Unless and when
Insisting other wise
After forever
Beginning again.
…
December 1, 2020
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Chasing Goose
Some times
rolling over
in bed
at night
the muse whispers
something something goose
Chasing goose?
Goose? Chase?
Sometimes I get up
and find my pencil
and begin to inventory
the flock
Then … finishing…
I get back to bed
and find the muse
sound asleep
Oh, that wild muse
…
12/20/20
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Notes - Thanks for reading along.
alphabet zoupe metaphorical library
alphabet soup stock
form metaform metaformative transformative repository story
garden of ingredients breath, blood, and bone root and branch
caterpillar butterfly
toil trouble boil bubble
You take you body to the doctor and your car into the shop
whatever seeds you fertilize grows the body of your crop
analyze, examine and diagnose
_______________________
David L White poem parts 4/20/20
Poem
Though you may pack it full of stories and heartfelt poems you
will not know the moon like you know your spoon. Stir it up.