Journey to Ixtlan

The poem "Threads"  was inspired by thoughts about the connections between people.


Threads

Threads connect beyond the shade
the domain where memories fade
lost as a price for the chance
to bind what will forever last

one lifetime is not enough
to explore the high and low
when the bonds justify
exchange of wrong and right

to find the linkage to explain
somewhere past the present day
look to the Moirai that allot
the varied spans from birth to death

from the spindle to the slash
friends and enemies have a place
the end result is a tapestry
the weave of destiny still unseen.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191227.

The poem “Title Given” is a consideration of what a life would be titled and how useful this would be to know beforehand.


Title Given

If I could know the title given
to the life that would follow
forewarned by script’s hand
this prophecy yet to pass

chapters made of shifting pages
some pristine and others tattered
with many more yet to turn
if the fates feel it’s deserved

precepted by a declaration
only gods know the heading
stating future’s hidden winding
perfect in the rearview mirror

still a warning would be nice
six foot tall against the sky
this dream will fail in the future
portents lost in lettered scribbles.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20191114.

The poem “Whiplash” was written against the simple prompt of “whiplash”. The request asked for a showing beyond the pedestrian poem. My resulting poem speaks to a physical possibility while suggesting the cruel vagaries of a reactive universe.


Whiplash


Returning by the three-fold
the past echoes in whiplash
by firm measure the punishment
exacting only what's appropriate

when the scourge is karma's toll
asking only what for what's due
the skin responds against the whip
blistering red in gasped riposte

drawing blood with ever stroke
with a sound few may deny
painting anguish with a brush
loud mercies not yet come

the crop is the master's gift
a skill pressed to supple flesh
that talent evoked to assure
embracing of cold remorse

these fates spun by the lash
around the head and back again
not yet done in the measuring
of rewards beyond the shade

fortune absolved of empathy
when destiny demands a punishment
a chance for doom must exist
if the scourge is meant to sting.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181025.

The poem “Turn the Key” is based on the Terminator movie quote, “There’s no fate but what we make for ourselves”.


Turn the Key

Destiny guards the door
to the sanctum most avoid
when the signs point away
to the dogma put to page
some would say the way is set
the path etched in the stone
trod by dedicates to the cause
not looking up beyond their lot.

The providence may be shed
resisted once the lot is cast
even when the writing posts
on the wall none can ignore
concession made to wisdom’s breadth
only a rebel would demur
to a calling few may hear
silent to all other men.

Ascension becomes the right course
soaring past the doom foretold
the loophole seized at last
while conceding kismet’s role
the choice is made to turn the key
bending life to transform fate
nudging open the gateway
by the fate we make ourselves.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180813.

“Cards Were Played” is about the lots cast with the people in our lives.


Cards Were Played

The cards were played in tableau
the possible arrayed in rows
with the past conjoined to present day
future implied in all its shades

cardboard, colors, rectangles
mixed with designs of mankind
focus turns from inward out
on the table, reflecting mind

perhaps they’re people or something more
intention stated or just felt
energies focused to see much more
the veil extending beyond four walls

archetypes present a crowd
each role extends an eager hand
asking for their credit due
as the fates are now pursued

now the chance has been set
the possible conveyed to mortal man
cards of doom or cards of bless
they represent the full balance.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 201710279.

I had an opportunity to think about lives divided. For a time lives are shared. Life happens, fate intervenes, choices are made, and two roads are taken. The outcome of these thoughts was the poem “Crossroads”.


Crossroads
Bonus Poem for Day 186 – 20150705

Two roads taken,
by choice and by fate,
two roads walked,
separated at the crossroads.
There is a tale to be told of roads,
they run long and hard through life,
partners on the journey temporary
when the crossroads are met.

The road ran in a single thread,
two lives marched in loving step.
Give and take, fight and embrace,
still the path was shared by both.
Divergence came one fateful day,
the single road met two connected,
the journey could continue in singular,
just as likely to split apart.

Listen to me young ones,
adults make the hard choices,
the ones that last a lifetime,
the ones that define destiny.
You'll never understand the choices
until your walk in their shoes.
Footprints in the path seem clear,
the reasons you'll truly never know.

Making the commitments,
setting the intentions,
seeking the pleasure,
finding the salvation.
It's not easy, its not fair,
but sadly it was meant to be.
Two roads taken at the crossroads,
two lives separated at the crossroads.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

I have blogged for a number of years. This has left me with a store house of material to draw from as I pursue my poetry. This seems to be a boon, but the challenge arises from the structural differences between commentaries and poetry. The poem “World Calamitous” reaches back to a blog that began with the sentence “I don't have the answer to why bad things happen to good people. I am convinced that life can go on beyond these seemingly fated points. Choice is alive and well in the aftermath of philosophical Gordian knots.”. I feel that the poem does the topic justice, and I look forward to “translating” more of my past commentaries.


World Calamitous
Poem for Day 008 – 20150108

I was at the wrong place,
at the right time,
and stuff happened
that I do not like.
Why do things happen
to people like me?
What has life
contrived to be so mean?

Religion says I am tested,
my fervor duly measured.
Others say that fate is to blame,
and I am a victim of steps misplaced.
Perhaps it is karma,
the world's response
to the actions of my past
brought full circle to the present.

The universe is unfair,
beyond comprehension,
and we play our part
in this drama as it unfolds.
The vagueness of it all,
mystery wrapped in enigma,
is the puzzle of life
lived by you and me.

I shake my fist at God,
How dare you I say,
and deity echoes back
the rage that I had flung.
I cannot understand,
the repeated words report,
but I can respond wisely
to the arrows and slings.

Life has given you lemons: make lemonade.
Sour fruits can bestow
refreshment appreciated with satisfaction.
The key is interpretation and reaction,
(again paraphrasing the Bard)
to a sea of troubles
and the arrows of outrageous fortune.

Make a choice, do it now,
and life will go on,
the fates be damned
for their fickle plans.
The moment operational,
with choices taken and merged,
in a response that has meaning
in a world most calamitous.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.