Archive for ‘Stephen,F’

June 11, 2017

Will This Flower Be

by Stephen Fuller

Be near enough to me, Rose, that I might swallow thee
Only not to macerate but germinate inside the soul’s soil
Learn the tongue of an unknown man. Will this flower be
Like any other flower and simply live its life until composted
Or will this flower be unlike all the others and in doing so
Provide Art an imagination it had not known needed naming.

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June 11, 2017

Look Around

by Stephen Fuller

Look around, Poet, see these realms?
No one, I implore you,
No one
Has before seen them
As you do now.

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June 9, 2017

Hey There, Little Girl

by Stephen Fuller

Hey there little girl
Standing by the sea wall
Don’t you know that
The tide isn’t due for hours?
I don’t want to see you
With tears in your eyes,
You deserve so much more.

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June 8, 2017

This sunflower wakes

by Stephen Fuller

This sunflower wakes starved for light and rain.

Its shield edged with razor blades.

Its eye dried to spitting seeds.

Starved beyond satiate, dug up and burnt

Far from the compost bin, no utility to be found.

No better than a weapon that cannot harm. No worse

Than a flower that forgot to count its steps to the sun.

 

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June 6, 2017

Before We Sleep

by Stephen Fuller

Driving. Driven for miles and miles.
Accelerator leg begins to ache,
A nerve end grown annoyed at the stillness.
Seat adjusted forward, up, down, and back
Nothing calms the temperamental child
Tossing tantrums on my cheeks: sneak attack!
Stop. Stop! STOP! Get OUT! Put out this fire!

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May 21, 2017

Melaka #7 – The Final Walk/Milles Crepe

by Stephen Fuller

Café mocha milles crepe, black coffee
Please.
You could use a water, waiter thinks.
Don’t care, my thought retorts.
I want bitter
Coffee,
Hot as the day
Mocha dessert
Laced with bitter espresso dust
Hidden by chocolate
Like arsenic in sweet lemon tea –
Just
What is needed
To solve the last problem.

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May 20, 2017

Melaka #6 – Inside Ruins

by Stephen Fuller

Inside the ruins of St. Paul
My heart will go on, Celine,
Strummed on electric guitar
Not chest poundingly,
Just a Malaysian playing
Fervently what he loves.
Tourists listen,
Untuned,
Like my guitar,
On a stand,
In the corner
Wondering about lessons
Thirty years past.
What do these ruins mean?

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May 6, 2017

Melaka #5 – Listening, Lapping

by Stephen Fuller

Wakes’ waves lap gently this morning,
Like a tired strait wanting relief from carrying the weight
Of our detritus, debris and trash.

It courageously returns some we have tossed out,
Gathered in lines like fallen soldiers
Being organized for shipment to Dover.

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May 5, 2017

Melaka #4 – Digging History

by Stephen Fuller

What do we do with history that possesses us
When we want to possess our history?

Where do we begin telling a story
That has slain our fathers
In gutters, and mothers, alone,
Imagine tongkangs of passengers
Arriving to explain heritage
Set aside like pieces of poetry
Not written by anyone, but there
For the taking?

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May 3, 2017

Melaka #3 – Crabs Climb Trees

by Stephen Fuller

What sense to be made of this?
Crabs climb trees and fish find life rafts on sticks.
We form a tiny commune of reflection,
The Malaysian, the Kiwi and me.
What do you think, sir?
The fish come up to the surface to breathe.
What do you think ma’am?
The river is so polluted, something is not right.
What do I think?

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May 2, 2017

Melaka #2 – The Second Walk

by Stephen Fuller

Everyone leaves the island:
A walking mass of faceless faces
Going to placeless places
They needlessly need to be.

(I walk in the opposite direction)

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May 1, 2017

Melaka #1 – The First Walk

by Stephen Fuller

Along the riverside, boats flooded with passengers
Power opposite my direction meandering around
Until I find a bridge across. On the other side
My ride awaits with luggage and books and
…things to bring along with me after the walk.

I feel a little suffocation, here, in the city
Tourists and locals stare at me, escaped
From his cage, a zoo animal. Their smiles arm
Against me dragging them into the jungle
Beating their heads against rocks for brains.

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April 28, 2017

Reflections at Kranji War Cemetery, April 25, 2017 (ANZAC Day)

by Stephen Fuller

The sun rises. The sun always rises,
But it is today’s rising that matters.
We pause to remember the fallen
Sons and daughters at Gallipoli.
Children who saw their last sun too soon
Maybe passing their last day frightfully
Unaware that the sun had risen, as always.

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April 25, 2017

Turn the Night On

by braveandrecklessblog

This is a collaboration between S Francis (SailorPoet) and Christine Ray (Brave and Reckless)
Won’t you stay,
My love?

Outside snow falls steady
Gusted by north wind
Tapping at our window
Inside these walls
A fire burns

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April 19, 2017

Served Up with a Glass of Milk

by Stephen Fuller

She reads about the history of butter,
or maybe the chemistry?
If her eyes lift up into mine,
Will the happy accident,
Accidentally inspire smoothness?

I retreat inside the coffee mug,
Hidden behind ear buds
Buried in my own Kundera.
How can I become so light in being
When this moment feels so heavy?

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April 16, 2017

In the Deep

by Stephen Fuller

In the soil, deep down in flowered pots

Before the small pebbles and compost rot

The shredded papers begin their decline.

 

Digging, digging, digging a hole to plant

New flowers I have chosen to supplant

All those buried and shredded thoughts of mine.

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April 11, 2017

Rumpus About (ABON Riff with Chuck and Dust)

by Stephen Fuller

In the real time of night we look around without torches
Darkness once inspired the most benign of our fears,
Monsters like Wild Things, rumpussing out of closets
And witches feeding us poison candy under the bed.

 

Now we rumpus about, high on the sweetness we found
And lit up like lanterns showing one another the stars
Whose myths are yet written. Grateful for conclusions unlike
Ones we wrote too early in our minds. We find love.

 

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April 4, 2017

Spinning Naked Singing

by Stephen Fuller

Wrapped inside this lace prison, beauty
Tied to the post barks at the convention of standards
She turns to the mirror, gagged, looking for a safe word
Unable to spit it out.

Who is prisoner, who is warden?

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April 3, 2017

About Purple Gardens

by Stephen Fuller

 

Today, down by the Salley Garden, I just watched you walk away
You bade me, baited me to take life easy, to live an easy love
I felt far away from the springing of grass and the greens of trees
Emerging along the path, awakening me, asking me about today.

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March 28, 2017

A Balloon Let Go

by Stephen Fuller

The balloon our sorrows filled
like helium floating upward
we held earthbound too long.
I looked at you and with eyes
swimming into one another’s
heart. The wordless answer
spoke by opening its hand
giving the sorrows flight
until they burst like the sun

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March 28, 2017

Face Up

by Stephen Fuller

Puzzle pieces placed face up
Didn’t ask to be solved

Puzzle pieces placed face up
Asked me to pause

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March 22, 2017

The Length of a Moment, Contemplated

by Stephen Fuller

On this island far from the noise today
We walk, weaving our hands along the way
Wondering about the length of this moment
And from where it came, like time folded
Upon itself, connecting an ancient dot
To the impressionist portrait drawn
From our transit across the river
To this island far from the noise today.

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March 14, 2017

Porcelain Doll-man

by Stephen Fuller

I see myself in a picture,
Looking far away, looking removed,
And I want to run away from everything
They asked me to do,

or just sledge-
hammer the flawed porcelain doll-man
standing on the stage singing words
so well he doesn’t realize, like Monkee’s,
they are genuine words of other people who
need me in make-up to don the costume hung
in the closet of life’s green room
and speak for them.

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March 12, 2017

Fresh Brown Spots

by Stephen Fuller

Seems long ago a bottle of Brut by Faberge
On his bureau proved an advertisement campaign
Successful. I don’t know if it gave him any more
Victories on the road or anywhere else I prefer
Not to think about. Was it Joe Namath or some
Other Archetype of Men who sold it to me?

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March 11, 2017

Checking in with a Reluctant Poet

by Stephen Fuller

My response poem:
What is reluctant about, you, Poet?
Reluctance for me to know your words?
I can relate, Poet, I can relate.

My words remained tangled up inside
Wanting to find places to run and hide
I can relate, Poet, I can relate.

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March 10, 2017

A Poem to Celebrate Birth

by Stephen Fuller

Like a baby thinks
before he understands words,
when he emerges from the womb
and suckles his first nipple

his tired mother whose fatigued body
still aching with pain where she felt
unbridled passion release in waves
and tremors through her flesh

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March 9, 2017

Palimpsest Kiss

by Stephen Fuller

I find palimpsests under foot

Tried to cover them with sidewalk cement
They returned, nature pushing up through cracks

I get down on my knees to feel their texture

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March 7, 2017

I Whisper to the Ground

by Stephen Fuller

My son on my shoulders, I walk
Through the crowd at the carnival
I lift him wishing he could lift me
So we could ascend under Mary’s umbrella

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