AZUL Collection of Poems

Azul

Blue River flows
from the depths of my soul
through sanity’s darkness
beyond vision’s crest
to where faith glows;
gather at the watering spools
rise above the maelstrom’s toll
consume metamorphosis of Azul.

http://joseph-calvillo.squarespace.com/

Mother’s New Spring

‘Tis the season of the light

In the darkest of forests

Where the titans of industry

And their dominion of consummators

Devoured themselves into a long abject night

With aberrant appetites

And a deviant abuse of nature’s resources.

 

Now, from the black forests, a sublime sight

A spark; a glean of new reality

Begins to transform a long death

into life again

As mother’s loins return to fertility

And the plasmatic fluids congeal

 

To pubescent forms of growth in reveal.

Mating with Silence

 

Mating with Silence

 

 

essential paintings hang upon bland walls

their frames can no longer see

the misaligned nail hole that appalls;

the chess player’s lost mind recalls

names of the pieces standing out at sea

 

has the queen’s pawn jumped free

 

numbered chairs sit apart round the tables

their place assigned to a name

the disquieting silence finds many fables

within the stilled house of the four gables;

and those who live there - are not the same

 

has the king’s knight slipped free

 

temporary rooms in a house of four wings

with quarters positioned for a longing stay

of those who wait dementia’s insulting stings;

an organ sits in memory of old flings

as music sheets no longer turn to play

 

 

for the game’s mate has fallen silent and free

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stopping for a Wake

 

 

 

 

 

Walking round the outer edges

of the room so to avoid the empty

metal chairs that fit neatly in rows of ten

waiting to sit as if death’s witnesses;

clusters of family share quietly

like strangers whispering secrets

for time has changed everyone to older

forms of the stilled images pictured

in the photographs of a chronicle

that covers a hundred years of connections.

 

From the nostalgic old fashion clothes and hair styles

through today and the time that is left -

now the mind winces; the heart trembles; the eye tears

and the spirit tilts slightly; bowing

to the uncertain probabilities

as the presence of death’s vestige lies in open view

and each one who passes by, in final respect,

senses the nearness of the frozen moment

when we will come to an end

and someone gathers the picture’s stopping for a wake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Doggie That Knows Prose

 

 

 

 

 

On the corner by the bush

I can sniff Toby’s tush

he was here - not so long ago

lifting his leg high then low

upon the birch bark

along the doggie trail park.

 

And then, there in the yellow snow

Fifi left her smell for me to know

the swell past is here in the now

so I may write poetry

with tortured bow wow

woofing for more rhymes

and the good times

behind our old tree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Children's Colors

 

 

Children’s Colors

the mint green julep has soured

the whimsical pastels have become dark and ruddy

the cold night air evolves back unto itself

 and with each passing day gathers in the hours

in the autumn one must lay down with the fallen leaves bloody

for mother always reclaims her children’s colors

Sounds Wrong

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alarming sounds strike awake the iniquitous eyes

the room placements are shadowy; sitting vaguely in darkness

its gaze has a vile blankness

for today is the day - everyone dies.

 

Inviting sounds call young minds to tend

school rooms are bright and open; teaching is the mill

the student body hums with learning; no one sees any ill

heavy steel doors lock with shiny metal hardware; for evil they fend.

 

The demon walks around with hands hidden; twitching

and enters the school easily;  disguised with wears of goodness

concealing vile intentions;  inquiring  “who believes blessedness”

the devil’s tongue spews out fire until life empties without itching.

 

Insanity turns around and around as the cries become a final plea

another massacre; another school; another town

media and headlines scream out  “Students Gunned Down”

and survivors wring hands;  curse the deeds;  as the children fall into a spree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Umpqua Community College 10/05/15)

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Songs of Lorelei

 

 

 

 

 

The Songs Of Lorelei

 

 

Just beyond the dim at the edge of the woods

it waits...

pacing within the standing shadows

the beast seems to expand upon its own sense

growing stronger

more certain that it will prevail

not by rending limbs from torso

nor by consuming pathos -

it merely waits with stillness.

 

 

Lorelei’s mesmerizing arias

 augur fate

alluring the heart to its silencing end

while voices of chaos exude an ominous presence

that spreads through every cell and fiber

and thus, the beast becomes one with thought

as it draws away all reason and tilts balance

with irresistible dance steps towards oblivion

leaving only the wailings of an inharmonious fate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

Belonging

 

 

 

 

 

Rasputin’s breath is at the door

As death stares through the window  

The floor’s planks creak out the secrets

Telling of a stair’s plight in the mid of night

A shaman paces up to the watchtower

And the faces of the children turn dour

For the bell clanks out – there is no belonging

In this - the blood moon season of longing;

Run scion of the shade for the fulcrum slips

Tilting the kinder waters into raging seas

That sever saner floors into coursing pleas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spider on the Wall

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting on the corner of nowhere and someplace

a poet spider spins webs across a bridging wall

these intended to enrapture with adhering enthrall

its spinneret a plume pen crafting a cob’s face

filled with silken lines; woven into intricate designs

so to define the fine filament’s purpose – ending lines

to be found in the spiral orbs where an unsuspecting word

might wonder by or perhaps, a passing thought caught in the absurd.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rainy Days

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rainy Days

 

 

Rainy days make him not right

 

clouded skies are opaqueness of light

 

the muddled mind is ceased and bemused

 

in languid waters where sinks the red canoes

 

into depths where writing has drowned - from sight;

 

the last few bubbles rising to the surface in verse

 

reflecting a presence of the obverse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Weathering Mind

 

 

 

 

 

 

Partly sunny with creeping clouds

 

and a disappearing sun afore the overcast

 

otherwise, no sunlight ‘til the foreseeable

 

future's face becomes one with aghast.

 

 

 

Take refuge under the covers before the darkness

 

as all black and white scenes will dissolve into gray

 

resist mirrors as they reflect faces - blank with madness

 

while screams of silence project that storms may stay.

 

 

 

 

Deteriorating conditions may bring about dysthymic moods

 

that pulse along the darkening horizon’s edge

 

expect possibilities of deep periods in oceans of depression;

 

watch for an albatross that sinks ships beyond all dredge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waltzing in the Sanctuary

There is nowhere to hide

 

There is no place to go

 

There is no one you can know

 

There is only the wrong side

 

Where prejudice and ignorance coincide

this place of darkness

 

It is not a sanctuary

this face of starkness

 

It is - the knot in the mortuary

that keeps eyes tied.

 

 “Lovely to see you my ruse” said prejudice 

“Do you want to dance again” replied ignorance

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dwindling Down the Slope

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dwindling Down the Slope

 

 

You do not scare me anymore

 

As I’ve seen you many times before

 

Passing through my bedroom walls

 

Sitting there in your shadowy palls

 

Along the edges of my lessened mind

 

Picking apart at the diaphanous blind

 

That keeps this trivial room hazy and without light

 

And the dwindling dark corners away from my sight.

 

 

 

I know not where I am in the endless night

 

Nor if or where I lost my shinning knight

 

If he were here tonight he certainly would say

 

Sweet darling - I am back now and here to stay

 

Hold my hand - I won’t leave you again until the temple crumbles

 

And so - we will be free again to jump and make tumbles

 

Down the long snowy mountain slopes to the endless paradise

 

We knew once when we both were very young to arise.