Thursday, November 16, 2017

Unpliability to Novel Circumstances - by - Bob Atkinson




©2017 Bob Atkinson

here we go with question marks
can we mold ourselves to new
or do we garner enthusiasm
only when tried and true

do we find good order
in what we’ve seen before
playing out our future
with skills honed prior for

for that situation
we found ourselves within
fearing fully those unknowns
or mysteries of sin

can this be a sign of age
when new becomes so feared
no longer in our element
just standing here with beard

beard of age resplendent
do we have to ply our way
only with older skills
learned back in our early days

ponder this good fellow
let my message sink in deep
unknown’s not disaster
if you your wits do keep

calm in face of danger
skilled in face of rage
when an open invitation toward
security you do crave

for never in a billion years
do animals project
secondary knowledge of
what a future projects

and thus you’re not alone
in fear of things obscure
let this fear subside
you’ll be much more secure

Monday, October 9, 2017

Utopian Dreams


©2017 Bob Atkinson
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Utopia
frame of reference rules a statement
made with broadly structured purpose
not without lagging meaning
or simple will of usage

poetry’s not without
form or function’s gait
something we all need
in order to relate

relate emotional aspects
of some real or imagined event
a laugh, a cry or even smirk
our reaction to predicament

here’s some useful aspect
for a genre’ allowed to decay
with Poe and Ginsberg leading us
from utility away

when 18 Souls cannot find
they relate to Poets Past
we need to alter course
away from stinkiness at last
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Odor
toward a new dimension
built upon that foundation’s platform
some way to differentiate our lives
from strange to an honest norm

a norm for to guide us
on a path toward gentleness
away from wicked violence
toward Utopian dreams at last

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Lucy - by - Bob Atkinson


Lucy

©2017 Bob Atkinson

Wordsworth had his Lucy
and so did Bob to follow
down a path so open
as ideas he had to swallow

someone who would listen
when he read those words of late
fleeing institutions which
left poetry at the gate

and further inflamed, an orator
who yelled at things not correct
wandering through this meaning
at first more vague than set

then when this simple mind
found complexity in his times
realized to say an absolute
did his people wrong, so blind

for one person only feels pain
takes two to analyze this
and three with concurrence
gives an answer best

so he sat and wrote these refrains
to tell his people true
one can only tell how one feels
not statements make of truth

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Drums of Ancestry - by - Bob Atkinson

Drums of Ancestry
©2017 Bob Atkinson

oh how pounding in my ears
contains such complex thoughts
primal urges coming forward
without which I am lost

lost in recognition of
a past which I don’t know
a struggle for a million years
a battle which I know

know took place for sure as
my muscles here get taut
when holding sword with tight grip
ancestors survived to live on

guts of brave beginnings
evolution bringing forward
multiple capabilities
of growth, war, song and stories

but here I stand without a word
in reverence to my past
that beat which I should love
turns my brain to glass

shatters all emotion
except one of disdain
for throbbing restitution wanting
peace to replace hard pain

pain of banging in my ears
no rhythm there again
keep me filled with history
or stop that awful din

for banging on a rattle
shows nothing to my eyes
except a lack of expression
torment to quiet lives

drums gave armies orders
told them how and where to go
that drum set in your song
tells not a story bold

merely that you dropped out
of school before were done
and left your constitution
thinly constructed, on the run

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Definition of Poetry - by - Bob Atkinson

Definition of Poetry
- by - Bob Atkinson

Poetry - the Emotional Content of Literature

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Definition of Poet - by - Bob Atkinson

Definition of Poet
©2017 Bob Atkinson


Poet

One Who Gathers Emotional Words Into A Cohesive Piece.
(does not include those who merely write words and call them poetry)

Friday, June 23, 2017

A Prideful Child - by - Bob Atkinson


A Prideful Child

©2017 Bob Atkinson
Walking along on Congress
from parking box to Fox
a warm night of illusions
showed me comfort on a lark

to see old Gordon Lightfoot
in his glory of today
with strings of gentle feeling
as if in pride's parade

a soul passes by me
a younger kind of lass
not breathing hard just gliding
to her destiny she did pass

had leggings like those others
who thought nudism's all a rage
but this one's more conservative
neatness her best page

my thoughts left me amazed
how people could progress
with these two divergent cultures
finding togetherness in press

but thoughts of similar nature
found a brick wall there with my glance
for as we came upon a street
our harmonies there did pass
 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pedestrian_crossing
for a red light shown oh so brightly
"don't walk" there on display
but this beauty of gentle nature
kept her pace without delay

she strode as if was nothing
to violate this request
no vehicles from this side street
why stop, and for seconds rest?

wasn't that this ignorance
harmed but any soul
purely displayed lack of character
to our common goals

mine and many other people
there on that sidewalk's route
stopped and waited for this light
to tell them "go's" alright

you see pride lives in one's mind
not on one's tongue alone
character resides in one's heart
not on a chair-like throne

for pride alone made us pause
not in her mind that day
what you can get away with
was her mindset there displayed

right and wrong lies absolute
not only when one sees
no danger in quickly passing
against red light there on a street

most people feel honor
cannot be bought for seconds past
where doing right comes natural
watching another fight a distant past

where we all took care of each other
and children weren't afraid
although they never would
in front of adults mis-behave

for rebuke of bad behavior
would be firm and would be quick
but now that's not the way
people think, "that wasn't slick"

we see ourselves evolved from that
but really have not devised
a societal institution which
creates a prideful child

they walk through life without a nod
to simple right and wrong
only concerned about themselves
not seeing harmony in a throng

no pride for only pride's sake
no clear idea of ethic's hum
as their honor can be bought
with a few seconds gained beyond

beyond a simple concept
we'll never here agree
that's the only real difference
between her mind and me
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pedestrian_crossing

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

We're All Geared Up tribute to "all geared up," - a wood carving by Rudy Erdmann - by - Bob Atkinson

We're All Geared Up
tribute to "all geared up,"
a wood carving by Rudy Erdmann
©2017 Bob Atkinson
http://www.rudyscreations.com/index.php

one needs specific tools if one
lives life here in our West
so much to do with energy
seasoned workmen shine their best

hard work requires boots with spurs
to ride an open range
protecting feet of cowpokes
as they play the doggy game

a simple use of leather hide
protects toes which wiggle quick
although walking in them's quite a chore
between rattlers and cactus sticks

leather becomes a useful tool
makes what we need for life
and sheath to hold our knife

belt to hold lead bullets
keeping projectiles easily within reach
because one's aim's not precise
we hit mostly tops of trees

leather for a saddle which
allows us control of beast
belt buckle to protect our jewels
while roping things to eat

someone to collect those bad guys
and hang them up on trees

seems documented fully
this life of western skies
as Rudy put to carving wood
a sweet vision for our eyes

took a block of growth to carve
Lodge Pine Burlwood, a woody blob
brought down here from Wyoming
where trees are used for logs

burlwood Rudy tells me
comes from wasps stinging trees
where trees protect their innards
as Oysters protect pearl seeds

this wood needs time to season
three years or longer then
when ready to carve with diligence
doesn't crack open like a hog's mud pen

Rudy sent to Germany
for stains to color wood
a place where skills developed for
carving clocks and other goods

Rudy attacked this project
with chisels and power tools
anything a master had
at hand to work his wood

carving alone took nine months
seasoning, painting, finishing took many more
but in the end we're thrilled to see
his piece of western lore

he's captured a bit of history
in complex form for museum trade
a carving meant to thrill our children's children
past when we're all in graves

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Learning and Eloquence - by - Bob Atkinson 2017


Learning and Eloquence
©Bob Atkinson 2017
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eloquence

seems expressive constitution
gladdens one who finds
learning an experience
to expand a simple mind

tracks through prior awareness
of scholars beyond our time
hastens depth of knowledge
into a wet and salty brine

a lake of prior study
giving meaning where life can
present a past collection
built up from simple hands

I don't see how we find this dull
don't fidget with delight
at those who see experience
edge out study through many nights

for knowledge carries weight of years
beyond our shortened time
claims we're greater than the whole
a quarter not a dime

but then not all of us
me included in this pack
can talk with elocution
when speaking to a group

so I must write my thoughts
here on paper made from trees
so you might find my experience
contains something for your needs

Friday, March 17, 2017

Shame and Dishonor - by - Bob Atkinson


Shame and Dishonor
(c)2017 Bob Atkinson

self image drives us on
what we think of ourselves
that description in our hearts
a code of honor we live upon

most see absolutes
as an objective to aspire
feel their wandering desires
detach them from normal lives

care not for propriety
one certain goal of life
an ancient institution
love for self, others, life

if norms carried focus
would find focus fuzzy
not finely tuned with society
but stumbling toward a muddy

a muddy trap of insecurity
never clean in dispensation
a shallow form of creation
not for a lifetime of salvation

of course in surface tension
would falsely justify
every action so minute
as to let distortions pass us by

some utilize techniques
make us bow and read their lines
to drive deeply into our minds
sub-conscious control to rectify

rectify a service not to God
but to their selfish whims
leaving us without a soul
truth buried by their sins

passes by as if so real
yet hidden from good truth
an open invitation
to continue on uncouth

let this stand a lesson
let this tell us how
to finely tune existence
forgetting lies of hollow ground

one needs not look outward for
a method to escape
poverty of soul
honor's an easy form of grace

without much solid evidence
real and lasting virtue
must always stand astride
taking softness to always nurture

nurture a benevolent tone
which carries toward good grace
never letting lack of soul
our aura disgrace

standing firm with nature's task
of building toward a future
where everybody finds a goal
which carries soul to institutions

when we feel our lives in tune
we're forever on a run
which helps us toward a future
devoid of smoke and guns

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

End of the Circus End of Good Times - by - Bob Atkinson


End of the Circus
End of Good Times
(c)2017 Bob Atkinson

sweet dreams of audience screams
clowns who populated cars so small
high wire, acrobats, trapeze
elephants, tigers, lions, monkeys, macaws

all these things we saw up close
in a big top held up with ropes
barkers on a midway run
games to play outside for fun

all gone now

here in my lifetime a taste for reality
replaced by mechanical screens
effects created by computer
no interest anymore in realistic things


but now I find 'tis cycle time
where past repeats itself

all we knew when we were young
find ways to re-purpose themselves

most pleasant hide-out of tomorrow
will have none of science showing
a simple world for simple souls
flowers growing in peaceful gardens

sound of mechanical oddities
gone from everyday life
nothing seen of computer screens
wood cut with saw held tight

feel I might not survive that world
I'm such a wimp today
leverage of a million years
no longer here displayed

so many dreams to think about
won't find an answer yet
my mind's so clouded with doubt
but had to get it off my chest

about these changes I'm forced to endure
wish stability now and then
but when I'm forced to stand still
I find laments begin