Submissions by Sartoris
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Often I find myself focusing upon time, memory, art, creativity, personal identity, and nature. Wanting to balance evocative, stimulating language with reflection. Blame my incoherence on being raised with 90s music.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
8th Jun 2020 3:12am
8th Jun 2020 3:12am
Walden Two.
Enclosures were made, but we
cannot leave Nature out: growths
are mercurial beings, they can
show us benefit, or malignancy,
by their constructions: timber-
framed houses, ranch and Cape,
force the wetlands in defensive
positions. So if a buck-deer is
viewed by chance, he becomes
an obstacle the surveyor never
saw, while drawing up forecasts
by the rules of square, and line.
cannot leave Nature out: growths
are mercurial beings, they can
show us benefit, or malignancy,
by their constructions: timber-
framed houses, ranch and Cape,
force the wetlands in defensive
positions. So if a buck-deer is
viewed by chance, he becomes
an obstacle the surveyor never
saw, while drawing up forecasts
by the rules of square, and line.
#nature
475 reads
11 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Jun 2020 3:50pm
6th Jun 2020 3:50pm
Advanced Psychology.
Silence can represent much
between us: the failure of
a synapse to make its proper
connections, from one trans-
mission to its next destination,
an obstruction, or a delayed
response, due to outer causes
that have roots, established
deep in a cerebrum: one that
will lay unread, as the coroner
makes a pronounced, and final,
judgement, from the inquest.
between us: the failure of
a synapse to make its proper
connections, from one trans-
mission to its next destination,
an obstruction, or a delayed
response, due to outer causes
that have roots, established
deep in a cerebrum: one that
will lay unread, as the coroner
makes a pronounced, and final,
judgement, from the inquest.
#philosophical
520 reads
12 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Jun 2020 00:09am
6th Jun 2020 00:09am
["During a cable program, set".]
During a cable program, set
in Bordeaux, or elsewhere,
some central region of Gaul
in any case, I learned about
terroir: and how they cultivate
a finer grape, by 'honoured'
methods. An influence of soil,
the climate, and unplanned
changes: all these contribute
to a harvest rich, and strange,
enjoyed by oenophiles going
about, on their summer daze:
unaware of this secret, which
a vintner kept: the strongest
fruits arise, only, by suffrance.
in Bordeaux, or elsewhere,
some central region of Gaul
in any case, I learned about
terroir: and how they cultivate
a finer grape, by 'honoured'
methods. An influence of soil,
the climate, and unplanned
changes: all these contribute
to a harvest rich, and strange,
enjoyed by oenophiles going
about, on their summer daze:
unaware of this secret, which
a vintner kept: the strongest
fruits arise, only, by suffrance.
#LifeStruggles
432 reads
7 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2020 4:19am
2nd Jun 2020 4:19am
Goyescas.
In closing an eyelid
by every means
available, what dream
have we summed up,
within a furious night?
Is there any remedy,
a conjuring, for all the
years of caprichos?
Besides the wash of
reason with protective
measures: a blend
of water and maalox
will cleanse our sting,
briefly, only, briefly:
since none will forget
a supernatural recycle
of history, amplified,
so long as those dead,
remain upon waking.
by every means
available, what dream
have we summed up,
within a furious night?
Is there any remedy,
a conjuring, for all the
years of caprichos?
Besides the wash of
reason with protective
measures: a blend
of water and maalox
will cleanse our sting,
briefly, only, briefly:
since none will forget
a supernatural recycle
of history, amplified,
so long as those dead,
remain upon waking.
#HumanRights
489 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
31st May 2020 2:31am
31st May 2020 2:31am
Obsidian Remarks.
If there is such a mirror
which can scry me
by certainty, describe it
cousin: as long as I've
looked into it, an opaque
revision does not bring
any more clarity, but less,
with time. Allow me to
divine, by materials that
are stirring: there I may
obtain a quarry, in ripple
displays of current, or
gentle impulsions, if you
prefer: an ebb, where
disruption is necessary.
which can scry me
by certainty, describe it
cousin: as long as I've
looked into it, an opaque
revision does not bring
any more clarity, but less,
with time. Allow me to
divine, by materials that
are stirring: there I may
obtain a quarry, in ripple
displays of current, or
gentle impulsions, if you
prefer: an ebb, where
disruption is necessary.
#SelfReflection
456 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th May 2020 8:52pm
25th May 2020 8:52pm
Crossreferences.
Yesterday, I walked a circuit
of known streets: my eyes
strained against the daylight,
at once, they were fearful
of a slow disecretion, as I've
grown accustomed to: my
solitary reveries were, then,
possessed of a nearsight
in recollection, and memory,
while I took notice of a lilac
scent, blooming, in the open:
and sweetness blurred with
a thought of voices drowned
by wisdom, and such burdens
every blind poet, or prophet,
dreads to encounter: release
what lays, sub rosa, in...
of known streets: my eyes
strained against the daylight,
at once, they were fearful
of a slow disecretion, as I've
grown accustomed to: my
solitary reveries were, then,
possessed of a nearsight
in recollection, and memory,
while I took notice of a lilac
scent, blooming, in the open:
and sweetness blurred with
a thought of voices drowned
by wisdom, and such burdens
every blind poet, or prophet,
dreads to encounter: release
what lays, sub rosa, in...
#anxiety
#SelfReflection
#philosophical
561 reads
6 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st May 2020 00:10am
21st May 2020 00:10am
Whispers.
So goes the flowing hope—
wearily by day. A thing
affections disguise within;
carried upon a borrowing,
and levees of the wind.
Ask yourself, what does it
conceal, and whether you
can turn away? While a
dark-haired familiar walks
beside your step, weaving
a ceaseless undertow
from riddles, or thoughts,
that would have rejected
vacuums, long before—
and dreams begin to espy
statecraft in quaint smiles
or the assuring word,
quicker than sparrows fly,
...
wearily by day. A thing
affections disguise within;
carried upon a borrowing,
and levees of the wind.
Ask yourself, what does it
conceal, and whether you
can turn away? While a
dark-haired familiar walks
beside your step, weaving
a ceaseless undertow
from riddles, or thoughts,
that would have rejected
vacuums, long before—
and dreams begin to espy
statecraft in quaint smiles
or the assuring word,
quicker than sparrows fly,
...
#inspirational
#WritingPoetry
499 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th May 2020 2:47am
15th May 2020 2:47am
["When I write, it's of cardinals"]
When I write, it's of cardinals
more than cranes, because you
make due with the materials
on hand: you'll read a scripture
about pine forests, instead of
mountains, and running brooks.
All transcribed with an unruly
ease, or painstaking choice, my
lines accumulate, both slowly
and sudden, as snow descends,
with unpredictability that only
draws ire, or a childlike wonder.
more than cranes, because you
make due with the materials
on hand: you'll read a scripture
about pine forests, instead of
mountains, and running brooks.
All transcribed with an unruly
ease, or painstaking choice, my
lines accumulate, both slowly
and sudden, as snow descends,
with unpredictability that only
draws ire, or a childlike wonder.
#WritersBlock
#WritingPoetry
470 reads
9 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th May 2020 11:36pm
13th May 2020 11:36pm
"Savonrola never preached so"
Savonrola never preached so
Well - as he often would -
Against the 'Vanities' - of Art -
Speaking from carved pulpits,
To incite Baser qualities -
Of the - cultivated - Medici.
If he, through divergent paths,
Alighted - upon Certainties -
It was accusation - not Insight -
A whisper past facades - Shorn
Of their cathedral doors.
Well - as he often would -
Against the 'Vanities' - of Art -
Speaking from carved pulpits,
To incite Baser qualities -
Of the - cultivated - Medici.
If he, through divergent paths,
Alighted - upon Certainties -
It was accusation - not Insight -
A whisper past facades - Shorn
Of their cathedral doors.
#art
#culture
384 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd May 2020 1:06am
2nd May 2020 1:06am
A Scene in the Wind.
In darkening hues of cyan
and midnight,
the rain pelts down with
a static intensity.
It claws the window, deck
boards stripped of
their polyurethane, meant
to withstand
an onslaught: I can't smell
the moisture rising
up from anticipations of
soil, so what harm
is the commotion: as I view
silver images of Tokyo,
a son pour windfuls of sake
in his father's hand
stranded in a nomad's isle
of capital enterprise,
and I remember the simple ...
and midnight,
the rain pelts down with
a static intensity.
It claws the window, deck
boards stripped of
their polyurethane, meant
to withstand
an onslaught: I can't smell
the moisture rising
up from anticipations of
soil, so what harm
is the commotion: as I view
silver images of Tokyo,
a son pour windfuls of sake
in his father's hand
stranded in a nomad's isle
of capital enterprise,
and I remember the simple ...
#rain
#memories
451 reads
7 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th Apr 2020 2:08am
20th Apr 2020 2:08am
[Untitled.]
A breeze guiding pond
ripples, one way, to create
stillness by its breath.
ripples, one way, to create
stillness by its breath.
#haiku
575 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
10th Apr 2020 11:41am
10th Apr 2020 11:41am
A Concordance of.
these phrases, and language,
keep some part of me. Why
do they meander and overflow,
through odd nonrhythms I can-
not find the sense, nor a capacity,
within myself for their control?
A word is an object, vanishing
while it traces cross the surface,
holding reserves of definition;
it stands clear before me, like
a stenciled, morning shadow
plays, at being the minutehand
throughout my day. The veiled,
and embraced, memories of
tense: such as was, and will be.
keep some part of me. Why
do they meander and overflow,
through odd nonrhythms I can-
not find the sense, nor a capacity,
within myself for their control?
A word is an object, vanishing
while it traces cross the surface,
holding reserves of definition;
it stands clear before me, like
a stenciled, morning shadow
plays, at being the minutehand
throughout my day. The veiled,
and embraced, memories of
tense: such as was, and will be.
#PowerOfWords
387 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Sartoris
