SIX-LINE STANZA:
VOLUME ONE
BY:
Jake Sullivan
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Jake Sullivan on Smashwords
Six-Line Stanza:
Volume One
Copyright 2010 by Jake Sullivan
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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strawberry
in my mind she dances free and full
in my heart she glides with tenderness
delicate
gentle
ethereal angel
of loving warmth that captured me
courage
it's easy to walk downtown with your eyes
cast at the ground
it's easy to look through someone as if they
do not exist
but to look forward and become engaging
takes the courage most do not have
through the gauntlet
through the gauntlet thy cometh
all to heavy are the stakes
and the burden trod upon this weary chest
of treachery and laden breath
with these words alone I do strive
our love shan't fail nor ever die
endurance
when the cold rain arrives
catching you off guard
without your umbrella
you will just have to continue
in the direction you are headed
and wait for the sun
another lost poem
tried to write a poem about something grand
but first the modem needed resetting
then the browser needed flushing
and finally the system needed restarting
by then the idea had perished
yet I never had this problem with the typewriter
romance
heed my warning poet
she said
your work is beautiful
but I am not a worthy subject
is what she thinks
but I sincerely disagree
oneiric
again I see her
a requiem in my reverie
delicate precious gem
pure refinement
enveloping my soul
never-ending
her
like a dream she pierced my core
pure and perfect
she only spoke to me through my pen
until now
when the letter arrived
my chest became light and lovely
the little things
it is easy to become angered and annoyed
at the halfwits who pleasantly suck at your soul
but those heavy weights anchoring you down
do not pose as much of a threat to your sanity
as when your door key suddenly snaps
with a single delicate turn
new
this is the first of many I shall write
an approach to something old
with new beginnings attached
to just write the word as it comes
without concern for consequence
but still adhering to format
the days stream as if dying
boredom sneaks upon you with blasé indifference
as the days drift into one another
the sounds of the days meld together forming one
melancholy thoughts sneak into the mind
suffocating the body
while the days stream as if dying
lovely dutch girl
by the water fountain we did sit
casual and alone
for she was prompt and I was late
typical for a man to lose his way
but I did find her waiting for me
a heavenly night just to be with her
blank-Zen
exploratory dimensional word progression
#$%!.., [around the basic grammatical conversion] *&$^%!!!
utilizing fallacious misguided syntax
?????? pondering the magnitudes of expressive humanity
giving way to blank-Zen
(!#@^*^%#@@!$<>) = 0
for Lee
these poems for you ole friend
original pieces from thine pen
small packet on napkin
written genuinely from thy heart
a thank you for a friendship
that shall not part
for Darwin
thank you for your daring
w/o men like you
others could not muster the courage
in your time of grief
and utter despair
you sir did persevere
me
do we think of ourselves too much
does the question always end with me
how much of life is consumed with I
can we learn to overcome ourselves
or do we not care for anyone else
but me
believe
we all want someone
to give love as we give
and to guide us as we guide them
to embrace with passion
and cherish our every fiber
as we believe in them believing in us
mouth with poison tongue
yes we're all familiar with the stories
how grand the tales told
through mouth with poison tongue
a noose rightly strung
the only way to rid the teller
is so duly hung
if life
if life seems pointless
then find a point
if life bears fruit
then enjoy it
if life becomes dull
then sharpen it
inspiration
when inspiration strikes
you must grab it
hold onto it
work with it
mold and shape it
lest it dissipate as the morning mist
once upon a time
when I was young I had everything
youth gave me conquering strength
the inner-poet danced as drift wood in the sea
love seemed a grand exciting adventure
then age descended and life took hold
soon all that remained were memories
who are me
don't look back when life throws that curve
just move and hide from the past
it is not the right time for confrontation
it is never the right time for anything
so I keep walking
hoping to discover the person inside
people of japan
your culture has always fascinated me
I have studied much of it but not enough
the strength in you I envy
through the centuries of war and turmoil
you have triumphed and conquered
and in this new battle you shall again prevail
style
style speaks of character
intrepidity and balls
such as if you move with a hitch in your step
while running renegade from this stir-crazy society
with shotgun belting phrases like
I killed the pope on sabbath with the scrawl of my mighty pen
there comes a time
there comes a time when you want to turn-back time
there comes a time when your time is not the right time
there comes a time when you hate time
there comes a time when your moment needs more time
there comes a time when you love time
there comes a time when your luck has run out of time
living openly vehemently eternal
living only for one
openly giving your heart
vehemently bearing your soul
eternal passion
life's ultimate gift
is the fulfillment of love
there is no doctor
if there is one thing that I've learned
it is that when the heart is hurt
it aches and pains in agony
broken bones heal with a splint
but for the wounded heart
there is no doctor
out with the old
and that is that my friends
toss out the old garbage
empty the bin for new
as the world spins on its delicate axis
I ponder the next move of life
attempting to figure what is best
in our contentment
we gaze the Black Sea
none is more lovely
or more fair than thee
sipping our black tea
just one lump for me
and you always three
cafe con leche
my old friend drinks a lot of those rancid energy drinks
he recently asked me about something else besides those things
he then answered his own question with black coffee
I suggested cafe con leche--half milk/half coffee w/Splenda
he says no that he is lactose intolerant and Splenda makes him sick
I then suggested he use soy milk and quit complaining
thoughts on the road
out and about the other day
driving along on the highway
cruising at an easy pace when a thought crossed my mind
what if I ran over the bitch
just slammed the car directly into her abdomen
and kept on going
all along the dreary
gazing out the window pondering the weary
laden with disheartened sorrow and countenance as dreary
and as the heart begins to sink and inner-peace has fled
nothing more o' sullen being as mood wanes with dread
here I am a broken man clutching a chest so hollow
grasping firm to everything that I did dearly follow
the end of me
the hour arrived
sleep has told me to end it
the eyelids laden and heavy
no more for tonight
sensual love I bid thee adieu
until the morning
all out of tea
there is not much to say about this
the cupboards are bare
and the moths have nested in my wallet
for lunch, I found 2 slices of uncontaminated bread
the typewriter needs ink but the moths ate my loot
and to top it off--I'm all out of tea
boredom
I woke up late today
not caring too much about anything
the day dragged along with pathetic effortlessness
I watched a bird dive bomb the window and drop to the earth
he stayed there a moment, stunned and lifeless
then he got up, shook it off and skedaddled
ode to a girl
she always remained dear to me
but our timing never matched
when I was single she was taken
and when she was single I was taken
for many years our hearts ached with regret
until now
listening to Bird
as the day lingers into night
and the drab dullness continues to eat me alive
I find some solace in that crazy cat
the cat they call Bird
the Alto King and wild-man of the jazz scene
yeah-yeah Charlie right-on brother right-on
a-lot-a messin around
okay, I had to pretty-up my blogs & make them cute
why? well, because certain things just bother me
if I don't like the look of something, I change it
it took me a couple of hours to get it right,
all that time to get the look & feel just the way I want it
I still prefer the typewriter...a lot less messin around
revision
revising your work is a necessary thing
to go back and add to a completed work
is an annoying chore
after all editing & filtering completed the 1st time around
I just want to end the project & move forward
but that inner voice screams to make it better
empty hands
I look down at the keyboard and wonder
I wonder about those hands that move across it
to what good are those hands
for they sit atop those keys moving moving moving
they never hold anything
yet they continually produce something
lost in this world of this
the ambulance barreled down the freeway at 90 mph
sirens blaring horns blaring everything a blur
cars and trucks and motorcycles swerved to the side
up ahead in the distance lay the scene
police surrounded a few mangled vehicles and corpses
I passed by with deep regret and empathetic concern
getting late
the twinge in my back will not disperse
yet I must sit here and continue
the clock ticks its minutes to hours
and the numbing void of despair persists
my eyelids are laden heavy with fatigue
as that little voice inside of me will not cease
contemptible
he sat there on the couch pissy and annoyed
looking for an argument about anything
and with one contemptuous remark
the father incited his son with anger
but the son knew all too well
and keeping silent got up and walked away
surreality
the operetta resonated through the air
with gaiety and romance
as she slipped from the edge
and at the height of the crescendo
right before she met her dark lonely bitter end
I had awakened
this maddening craft
sitting for hours at this typer
at this keyboard
working away at these various writing machines
the back aches in furious agony
from the slumped position
this craft forces upon me
general anxiety
slow days ahead of me
crawling as the tortoise on its descent home
with this fidgeting behavior
and nothing or no one for conversation
I mull over ideas of things productive
but melancholy stands strong and resolute
night
it makes me wonder
when I gaze into the night
with all of it's beauty and splendor
those majestic hues of dazzling color
bring tears of joy
and heartfelt delight
time
in the melody of madness
harmony escapes
lapping at the dredges prepared in thought
weaving silken love
draped over thine heart
waiting...waiting...waiting
by chance
to peer deep into those eyes
to wade in her ocean of allure
to envision the touch
the kiss
the embrace of the fluttering heart
to meet by chance forever
bluebird
he is in there
way down deep
sometimes I think he is dead
but then he surprises me with a song
it's not always a happy tune or even in key
but it reminds me to keep going
if only to write
to sit for hours with arched back and aching feet
fingers moving in endless procession
eyes burning with red glaze
mind racing faster than a cheetah
stomach growling in starving emptiness
yet this writer does persist
desperation
body:
for it aches with exhaustion.
mind:
for it gallops harder than the horses.
spirit:
for it paces in its restlessness.
oh me
oh me
this wretch that does not jibe
this wretch that feasts on gloomy vibe
oh me
the being that yearns to burst in delight
the being that screams malady at the night
woes of love
where are those lips that had upon my flesh did kiss?
drifted away to touch another.
for it is those moments that I surely miss,
and despise those lips upon the other.
by now that love has surely passed,
as our hearts immerse in regret.
simply you
it is not the old you that I miss
it is not the younger you that I desire
it is not the other you that I need
it is not a different you that I want
it is not gentler or rougher you that I yearn for
it is simply you that I cherish, however you are
the heart is a silent thunder
I fight not for the grace of a government
I fight not for the institution that shadows us
I fight not for the tears of the thousands who have lost
I fight not for the precious moments of our memory
I fight not for the history of mankind
I fight only to hear the beat of your heart
dear Amélie
to be free
as Blubber is free
with sorrowing eyes you see
a world in captivity
dreaming of escape
yet awaking inside a fantasy
depravation
in a world where the eyes reign supreme
it is sometimes best to close them
without proper sleep the mind will spin
the eyes remain the key to good mental health
in a world where the eyes reign supreme
it is best to obey the commands of sight
the hours
the hours have clicked and ticked with weary
the days and months languidly progress
loneliness creeps within these bones
as the heart pumps erratic beats
many nights lost without sleep
as the hours plod along indifferently
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About the author: Jake Sullivan
I am a struggling writer attempting to defeat my dead heroes. Throughout this challenge, I realize the high possibility of non compos mentis but shall persist despite the obstacles ahead of me. I am sure to die alone of starvation and madness...an old fool whom battled and lost however, I am dedicated to producing Literary Art and refuse to fuel The Machine anymore than necessary.
Note From the Author – Jake Sullivan:
These poems are my own creation. There are fifty-eight original pieces in this first volume. I am not sure how many poems will be included in each volume however; I will keep the amount set to at a minimum of fifty-fifty. Writing poetry in this manner, adhering to six lines per stanza, I have found, at first, difficult, but no so much anymore. If done correctly, this style of poetry should produce a powerful effect, or as a friend of mine once described it, “It’s like a shot in the face.”
Connect with me online:
http://jakesullivanspen.weebly.com
https://twitter.com/JakeSullivan77