21 May 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 001 To rape the earth


To rape the earth, to leave it waste, profit only course
reason being, the path of men, another selfish choice”
Where should I go, to get away? There’s got to be another way
they hide in shadows and talk all day, beyond this bridge, I hear they say

“Bang, Bang, Bang”, his father interrupted, “Today we build better things that kill more people”

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27 May 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 002 Songs whispered


Songs whispered, by dancing grain, beneath the haunted moon
resounding to the whirlwind’s sweep the plain, for fear, that daybreak comes too soon.

Deep midnight, by the moon’s chill glance, out of the dense fog wrapped about them
the children cease to sing and dance, stands in a circle unbroken

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27 May 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 003 Along the edge of open sky


Along the edge of open sky and vast sweeps of land, I followed the wildflowers
I heard sweet memories dances in the distance, sheep wandering through Avebury

Meandering lines of standing stones, crisscrossing the stars and planets, I too followed their path
the body of a serpent passing through a circle, toppled, broke up and buried, we shall never know

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30 May 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 004 False alarms


Surely I dreamt today, or did I see. I wandered in this forest thoughtlessly
the clever boy that I once knew; with pebbles white and bread crumbs too
left no trail and lost my way, where all my pictures were thrown away

 

Through the forest, in the middle of a glade, forever nagging to persuade
no plank or bridge was placed in sight, only fists clinched as if to fight
the wind, the wind has caused me harm, you pulled too many false alarms

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05 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 005 I know giving


I know giving, beyond giving, when you, you come to me
who woke the night, before the dawn and touched me, silently

As two windblown clouds, who ripple the night, drifting, not a care
who touches the reasons, of love and why, understanding how to share

It touches me, so deeply, her fingers, as the sun
who warms the light, to my inner soul and wraps me, into one

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    Usually behind a cup of coffee waiting for the world around me to wake up I entered today’s thoughts about yesterday’s activities into my travel journal. I’m not a writer, so I’ll apologize in advance if I jump around or seem confused. These are just the thoughts of a young man who left his possessions behind and who believes that getting lost is how one finds oneself.

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