The Poppy, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Dusk,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Wind Riders, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Evening,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Summer Swim, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Midday,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Music, Fire, Creativity, and Candlelight

Creativity is a delicate matter.  Love and adventure transpiring in and through the self must be respected and cultivated in the act.  A creative product which doesn’t reflect back to its creator the fires of creation within his or her belly will only dim those flames, whereas one that does will grow them.  This produces a delightful intoxication, not that of the arrogant ego that quashes creativity in its mad rush for glory or its sad slouch towards acceptance, but one that instills an ever deepening humility and wonder.  A vicious cycle of self-renewing creativity and satisfaction ensues.  It is never enough.  But it is always there.

Creativity that has an end outside the deepening self with all its unfolding mystery and marvel is a stranger from a strange land.  It carries coins that buy only illusions.  The currency the heart wants is deeper, more fundamental.  It smiles back from within a shadow and a candle, from the curve of a lover’s shoulder turning in low light like the lion before the dawn.  It sings to the soul from within the music that rises from where one is now.  And it can purchase that foundry where words are the sparks lifting from the iron as it’s crafted into a sword that cuts truth from lies and melds contradictions.

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Pacific View, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Afternoon,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

 

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Falling Leaves, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Morning,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Breathtaking Height, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Dawn,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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The Vault of the Sound

The bargain for youth is either
tottering old age, or
an early death.

Life deals in opposites.
Where is the center?
That’s the real elixir,
the Holy Grail,
the eternal savior.

But life guards it relentlessly.
That vault is kept soundly.
There is no entrance.
And once in, there is no egress.

The eye of the storm
carries on long wings the soul,
not the body, not
the rack of the dichotomies.

-K T, 1/25/2022

 

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Moon and Mischief, A Poem from my Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Night,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Nectar Hours, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “PreDawn,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Plaisir D’amour

Plaisir d’amour
Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian (1755–1794)

Plaisir d’amour ne dure qu’un moment,
The pleasure of love lasts only a moment,
chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie.
The grief of love lasts a lifetime.

J’ai tout quitté pour l’ingrate Sylvie,
I gave up everything for ungrateful Sylvia,
Elle me quitte et prend un autre amant.
She is leaving me for another lover.

Plaisir d’amour ne dure qu’un moment,
The pleasure of love lasts only a moment,
chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie.
The grief of love lasts a lifetime.

“Tant que cette eau coulera doucement
“As long as this water will run gently
vers ce ruisseau qui borde la prairie,
Towards this brook which borders the meadow,

je t’aimerai”, me répétait Sylvie,
I will love you”, Sylvia told me repeatedly.
l’eau coule encor, elle a changé pourtant.
The water still runs, but she has changed.

Plaisir d’amour ne dure qu’un moment,
The pleasure of love lasts only a moment,
chagrin d’amour dure toute la vie.
The grief of love lasts a lifetime.

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Limestone Sleeps, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Dusk,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Gathering Cloud, A poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Evening,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Reflection, A Poem from My Book “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Afternoon,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Lonely, A Poem from My Book, “Between the Hours”

More Info

This poem is from the section “Midday,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Ch’atlich, from My Book “Between the Hours”

This poem is from the section “Morning,” in my book “Between the Hours.” See here for further information on it, and look at this article for an explanation why I’m putting up a series of poems from my book. Thank you for reading this! Please share with me how you experience this and other poems here.

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Dawn, A Poem from My book “Between the Hours”

For the next little while, I intend to showcase here a poem-a-day from my recent book, “Between the Hours” (Please click here for more information). Below is the first in this series. Please enjoy these!

The book is divided into eight 3-hour portions of the day, from Dawn to Dusk, to Midnight, to the “Nectar Hours” before dawn. The poem below is from the section of the book called “Dawn.”

Sample Poem From Gathered Rain

Tomorrow’s poem will be from the section entitled “Morning.”

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The Eagle’s View of the Bustling Train

Do you hate the earth so much
that you must run swiftly across it
your feet untouching while you
tear the belly of the still air
and rip the breast of mountain and prairie,
indifferent what passes behind you
but for your haste?

You hate the distance between.
You are the distance between.
Otherwise, there would be none —
and no hatred.

-Kevin Trammel (1/12/2022)

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Stretching Out

   How lovely,
Through the torn paper window
   The Milky Way.

-Issa (Blyth)

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Brother Bat

   The bat
Lives hidden
   Under the broken umbrella.

-Buson (Blyth)

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