Great Poetry Circle

Great Poetry Circle

About the Poetry Blog

Selection of Great Poetry and some from Tommy Stroller - choose your category - and see my other sites -
QUOTATIONS http://www.poemhunter.com/tommy-stroller/quotations/page-1/?search=
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Music

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by G. Thompson Tue, July 10, 2018 04:35:42

Some music makes you shake

Some music makes you rock and roll

Some music wakes up your soul

Some music makes you cry

Some music makes you wanna die

Only the music-master knows the tunes to play

When your'e either up or down

In love or relieved

To be broken hearted, free and outta town.

Music is for the highway, the church and the

Lonely apartment just down the block

It's always there when you need it

Radioed, stereoed, or spottified

Its always there when you unlock

Your head and get turned on or tuned out.

You can still get your glass of music

At every bar and passing cafe.

That time you hear your favourite singer

Blasting out from a passing car stereo

You know that heaven is literally

Just down the road.








Ahead of Time

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by Graham Thompson Tue, December 22, 2015 17:25:39

When midnight's clear before you

The space between the sounds of night

Is full of shadows

Cast ahead of time,

So that words spoken, images

Floating, have their signposts -

The empty silvered glass

Waiting for the cool touch

Of the face of woman's noon.

The silent bed groaning

With future acts of love.

Breughel's hunters setting out time and again

Over the fireplace

On every new tomorrow.

The honeyed cries of owls

Heard again in these forests of printed words.

The dark itself between the lines

Revealed in double meanings,

But I all alone but for my breathing

Gather in this room, this faceless world,

This knowing darkness,

For the toll of future memory.



For Francesca



The Notes of the Genes

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by Graham Thompson Tue, December 22, 2015 17:23:22

Bodies have histories

Eyes lie to one another

Even in mirrors

But history remains dug

Deep into every cell

Bodies strain to forget themselves

To join in dances too young for them

But the music of the song

Is in the piano notes of the genes

And we endlessly respond

Endlessly play the game,

And dance the dance,

Biology and memory conspiring

To deny themselves

Through each other

Furnace of Love

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by Graham Thompson Tue, December 22, 2015 17:20:51

A strange light trembled through you

All the blood and the chemistry of your body

Ignited a spark within me which

Now roars forth as a furnace of love

Melting everything down (trees birds highways seas

Poetry and life itself) into one great gift

For the YOU and I: the perfect knowing

That is mindless and free pressing only

Heart-thoughts in an afterglow

Which must last

Must never be consumed

Must die only with death itself

Though even then transformed into new lives

New loves new longings

Whispering between the boughs

Between the paths of circling gulls

Arcing forever from sea to sky to storm lit clouds

Falling as musky rain on a parched and alien land



Interspecies Meeting

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by Graham Thompson Wed, November 25, 2015 15:21:56

Human

coming down thru the valley

toward the sly booming sea

alighting at the final plain of gorse & heather dunes

& marram grass

the horses

stood in a cleft between dayending & inrushing

night between finally softening storm

winds & the edge of stillness

under the first stars and purple ragged

dusk their field the whole goddam strand

from incoming mad foam to forest gaping

jaws.

Wild? Dangerous?

Massive & corralled in solid defence

they stood there at least twenty

dark eyes following his slow

approach

as the distance between them

narrowed till two arms length

& shivering he knelt

waited

held his hand full of nothing

except a small wildflower

breathing heavy like a

stallion but crouched in the dirt

head down so unlike any equine

form not fooled but curious one

then two big mares crept closer

one sniffed his hand,

ate the flower

eyeballed

the man as he blew into its nostrils

curious but unassured by hayless

breath they jerked away abruptly

till turning stopped again

maybe judging him just plain crazy

joined the others & went on eating

nervously backglancing their

perfect blaue reiter spines

outlined in the fading western

lights




October 2014











Tankards

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by Graham Thompson Mon, November 23, 2015 15:00:38

Dim the eyes

And lance the post that props the bar

Yellow axe the windowed saloon

The silver vessels hang in glint array

Holding the air of absent owners

Our afternoon of waiting


The bar breaks like a wave

Before an eleventh hour

The clock chimes each tankard

Full of the broth of earth drained swell

The tankard beer drank down

Down to the well of drunken dreams


Poet's Note: This was written a long time ago and I had never read Celan's poem: see Great Poetry




The Intertwining Lines

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by Graham Thompson Sat, June 06, 2015 23:25:17



The Dancemaster calls
His loving couples to the floor
Dust rising in different generations
The pairs move in spirals
Up and down
Around each other,
Appreciating the lonely intertwining lines.

The Dancemaster calls again
But somewhere in the shadows,
Beyond the dance floor,
I hover reluctantly, looking
On the sacred pairs
And the gay friends,
Not joining,
Not even longing
Or moving
But feeling that old rhythm within
Dancing alone, distantly appreciating
Those lonely intertwining lines.

Solstice Justice

Tommy Strollers Poetry GeneralPosted by Graham Thompson Fri, December 26, 2014 23:56:12

Amid motions within motions

We make this mark

Upon the sunĀ“s reproval

The time for the feasting is both nigh

And past, the revolution

Of hearts and taste

Synchronous with new hopes

Open your mouth and the

World will be sucked in

By these songs pouring out

Christ will be born again

And again

As a voice

In a time

Of unseasonal terror

In our constant Bethlehem









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