Poetry

Poetry is a compressed language. Even more so than regular language, as we really think or dream with pictures and not words, each word is metaphorically brushed into prose so that you get much more out of the whole than the sum of its parts. These are my personal writings, so have respect and please do not copy them and put them in your own book and publish it. There is a special karma for people who do that.

  twitter icon  Facebook icon   Join Fan Club

Once I was a Dreamer

By Brooks Agnew

Once I was a dreamer
Asleep in the day.
I thought I had the light,
And the way.
Now, I’m sailing close-hauled
For the end of time.
The edge of the world
Curves away.

I am;
I was;
I am,
When we divided our souls,
And slowed the universe to now.
I am;
I was;
I am.

Once I saw a distance,
Between the stars.
I thought the light,
Was the way.
Now, eye single glory,
And all is as one,
Set into a voice
At the dawn of time.

I am;
I was;
I am,
When we divided our souls,
And slowed the universe to now.
I am;
I was;
I am.

Now I am a dreamer,
Awake in the day.
I know the light,
And the way.
Sailing the waves of space,
And eternity’s time,
I see the joy at the edge,
Where the world curves away.

I am;
I was;
I am,
When we divided our souls,
And slowed the universe to now.
I am;
I was;
I am.

 

I’ll Remember

By Brooks Agnew

When there is nothing left to sing,
And the final flake of light
Flutters into darkness,
I’ll remember;

The days we danced,
And the rains we soaked,
And the hands we held,
And the pains we felt,
Between the smiles
We shared.

When the last wind dies,
And the last star twinkles
Its last vibration
I’ll remember;

The castles we built,
And the times we wished,
And the gifts we gave,
And the glass we poured
Around the ice
We melted.

When the universes fold,
And the next I am begins,
To let light become
The garden we can walk,
I’ll remember.

 

Glory of the Wind

By Brooks Agnew

Glory of the wind;
Softly, silently carry my dream.
Stars in heaven;
Shine a message in your beam.
My labored heart climbs
A mountain in the clouds.

If I could sing a word,
To leap an ocean and a sea;
If I could hire the moon
To bear my soul upon a beam;
If I could breathe her one more time,
And feel her skin against my heart,
Gladly, the stone would be my pillow,
Winter’s chill ne’er to part.

Across the room I see her,
Smiling away from here.
Worlds we walked together,
Only my memory remains clear.
Once we walked the pyramids;
But that life is only clouds,
As the love wept away
Behind thick, mortal shrouds.

Glory of the wind;
Softly, silently carry my dream,
For another generation
To know that I was born.
The seed of a god’s love,
Garden lost and long forlorn.

 

Don’t Sail Alone

By Brooks Agnew

Don’t sail alone.
‘Cuz the stars can be misleading,
Drifting horizons far away.
Soft voices lost in the wind
That filled her sails;
Land was suddenly yesterday.

The sea sometimes is silent,
And moons took my breath away;
When moments were perfect;
Breathing on my lips;
Her hair perfectly,
Across my eyelids on the bow.

She tacked across the moonlight,
And dropped a word into my palm.
A bit too long it lingered,
Like any other thought considered,
But I looked up from that tender moment,
And she was gone.

 

This Poem was written from a dream I had. It was apocalyptic, to be sure, so this came out like a prayer. And there is music to it as well. I will eventually record it and put it in here for you, but just read the words and see what it does for you.

Harvest

Father reap this world at dawn
This evening grows cold and damp
Tomorrow’s wage is here and gone,
The oil burns low in my lamp.

Father release that angel now
To open the mighty seventh seal.
Remove the bow let this sun go down
On the last day behind this veil.

Harvest now the field is ripe
While I yet bleed a drop
For pain felt for the family’s plight
Oh savior come gather your crop.

Heart strings wane an anguished song
This patriarch’s failed his sacred call
‘Tis the battle lord fought too long
I lay me down I give mine all.

For the blood of the saints I hear it sing
The mourning song of lamented love
Son of righteousness Take thy wing
And bring me to my home above.

 

Testimony

Maybe I wasn’t there when my elder brother died
And I didn’t hear the painful hammer’s blow
And I didn’t hear the virgin mother cry
But this much I do know;

That he lives for I have heard his voice
He cares for me for I’ve felt him weep
He’s the Christ my king and I’ve made my choice
I’ll follow his will and feed his sheep.

Maybe I haven’t traveled those foreign lands,
And I didn’t see the stone rolled away,
And I didn’t feel the prints in His hands
But his much I can say;

That he lives for I have heard his voice
He cares for me for I’ve felt him weep
He’s the Christ my king and I’ve made my choice
I’ll follow his will and feed his sheep.

Maybe I wasn’t there when the five thousand fed
Maybe I didn’t see the misery and woe
And I didn’t see Lazarus raised from the dead
But this much I do know.

That he lives for I have heard his voice
He cares for me for I’ve felt him weep
He’s the Christ my king and I’ve made my choice
I’ll follow his will and feed his sheep.

 

I love to fly. I dream about it. I love window seats, especially the front window on an airplane or ultralight. Okay, I usually sit in the cabin and not the cockpit, but I was particularly struck by the beauty of a night flight while flying to Cincinnati one time. I jotted this down.

Night Flight

by Brooks Agnew

Night flight;
Blazing through ether’d space
At ten miles a minute,
O’r galaxies of ordered stars
With corpuscles of red and white,
Glowing along gray veins;
Travelers with sundry destinations.

Soft halos, lonely and peaceful
Spaced evenly in velvet hills,
The reflected shimmer of moonlight
Dancing like white fire across
Thousands of liquid mirrors
Hidden in the darkness below.

Oh! The condescension of descension
As airspeed yields to gravity,
And heaven becomes quiet,
And a tilted wing points toward God;
With frozen moonlight gracing silver skin
Like a dancer’s gentle hand mid-leap;
And once again wheels make
For the green and rolling canvas
From which we pray.

 

Poetry can also express profound feelings. Love and the complex relationships of humans and the Earth can sometimes intertwine. Like a complex piece of abstract art in a museum, it can sometimes make you stare at it and just feel. That is what this poem does, I think. At least, that’s what I did when I wrote it.

North of the Sun

by Brooks Agnew

Expectant sunset emblazoned on horizon’s oceanic mirror,
Longing, hoping hours jesting nightfall barely knowing daylight;
Frozen seascape’s shadows slowly dancing without liquid life;
Gazing toward warm memories from North of the sun.

Body kindles kisses once felt in warm sunshine, trembling;
Heart, once lighted quenches comfort’s embrace,
Hands, once entwined now parka’s pockets clenching,
Searing past’s golden shards North of the sun.

Stars nearly birth twinkled twilight through pale skies,
Lifeless wind from bones joy is plucked like Fall’s last leaf;
Silent seas echo sunlight’s trillion glitters like a single diamond;
One barren planet slowly faceted North of the sun.

Summer’s hope sinks seaward far short of horizon’s doorstep;
Staking winter’s claim on icy daylight merely pictured eyeward;
So far from here, so far from now, ne’er caressing time,
Souls once mated pass from life far north of the sun.

Sirius Considerations

By Brooks Agnew

Sisters nightly in the heavens;
Nebulosity calling;
Refractionarily enhanced,
Distant porch light captivates my gaze.

Memory heart pushing upward
Toward my throat;
Scarcely can I swallow;
Contemplation of distant red suns.

Photons blessing my mind,
Folding time before time;
Recalling love’s event horizon,
Where even light cannot escape.

Ocular retreat to Earth again,
And I realize after all times;
This mortal moment is here,
At home.

Sleeping Sun

By Brooks Agnew

Sleeping Sun withholds its warmth,
As it lights the way to the ends
Of the earth.
The horizon is clear
And nearer than we dream
Of new birth.
Mortal, we have forgotten before;
Metals and flesh and music and pain
Fill our purse.
Earth changes in our insensitive hands,
Twelve stars prepare dimensional power
To lift the curse.

Sleeping Sun come over me,
Dress me in light.
Dreaming One help me to see
Star memories.
Who shall awaken in time,
Before the spark,
Ignites the dimensional change,
Of eternities?

Frozen lands yearn for Spring,
Green’s powerful creation;
Rushing bliss.
But the Sun is sleeping now,
And there will be no more
Blushing kiss.
Stars weep watching Earth
Enter the galaxy’s dark canal;
Veil’s nothingness;
Comes my chance to love you,
I won’t need the Sun anymore;
We’ll shine.

You May be One of Us

by Brooks Agnew

You may be one of us;
I saw you blowing smoke
Into the black moon
And waving stars across the sky;
Dreaming.

Hope of children laughing
Declines the kings of men;
Truing tilted worlds,
To the dawn of
Our golden age.

Older than the stars,
We are mortal for a moment;
Finding one another,
Lighting up the path
We walk in love.

Down by the edge
Of the water,
Once divided from the waters,
Barefoot holding hands,
Armies sleep in silence.

You may be one of us;
Memories the future,
Singing o’r the waves,
For the fallen,
We weep.

L’Olam

By Brooks Agnew

In the peace of first light,
Before the water came,
And air was to life;
Was our love le olam

Le olam, Le olam
Our heart to ours;
Le olam, le olam

Creating time by our will,
I slowly behold her,
To perfectly hold her
In my love, le olam

Momentary mortalities
Flowing down to the seas;
Heaven is here
In my love, le olam

Garden’s grace remembered;
Touching hands delivered;
Free frozen light
From singularity.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s