In Nordlingen's square, they now gather,
Whispers of northern towns recent
aflame,
Rothenburg, Dinkelsbuhl, utter
ruins,
Trio strange, a foreboding
claim.
Hands entwined, words shrouded
deep,
Secrets uttered, none could
fathom,
Townsfolk's restless, restless
sleep.
Shadows cast on ancient ground,
A tree stands, its roots
concealing,
Histories yet to be unbound.
A black cat with a nub-tailed
grace,
Lurks, an omen, an enigma,
Watchful eye on that timeless
space.
Suevite veins run through its
core,
Druid whispers in the cobble,
(Secrets whispered, evermore?!)
As townsfolk ponder, hearts
dismayed,
Is it Suevite's fiery
vengeance,
Or arson's art in shadows
swayed?
A dance of fire, a chilling
sight,
The trio's cryptic
incantations,
A tale that haunts the endless
night.
Stands tall amidst the raging
pyre,
Symbol of an age-old presence,
Its secrets burned in smoke and
fire.
The nub-tailed cat, a silent
wraith,
A guardian of the enigma,
That Nordlingen hides beneath
its breath.
x
maweisg, and all his poetry
Friday, September 8, 2023
Nordlingen 2 - M.Weisgerber
Nordlingen 1 - M.Weisgerber
In Nordlingen's deark heart, a tale
begins to unfold.
Northward cities, ruin's cruel
embrace,
Rothenburg, Dinkelsbuhl; now in
ashes cold!
(Mysterious blaze, death's
darkened trace!)
They stood, hands clasped, a
circle's dread design,
Whispered words that twisted
out of sight,
In shadows cast, the town's sharp
lore entwined.
As shadows danced and time
began to fade,
A hemlock stood tall, its roots
a secret lie,
Guarding ancient tales in its temptuous
shade.
Its presence felt, on fringes
of the mind,
Watchful, silent, like
impending doom,
A feline omen, fate's enigma
signed!
Suevite's heart, a meteoric
fire;
Druid echoes whispering
evermore,
In cobblestones and shadows,
they conspire (then?).
A riddle penned in embers and
in smoke,
Was it Suevite's ancient, fiery
curse,
Or human hands that made the
town provoke?
Where mystery and dread in
chaos blend,
The trio's incantations, dark
as night,
Unraveled tales that never
seemed to end.
A silent witness to the town's
despair,
Its roots encased in secrets,
buried, grand,
As smoke and fire filled the
midnight air.
A specter in the shadows, there
and gone,
A whisper of a presence, night
and day,
As Nordlingen's breath, its enigma
lingered on.
Monday, January 23, 2023
A Time Then for Singing!
Here there, tally there; oh on this day of sunshine rose o’ dreaming!
I woke with a thought, then ran quick to jot, this memory all
now of a hope-es!
For today people are kind I saw the seashore run wild; leapt
fast beside to
catch all the wet lighting! I heard a loud smack & fell on my back, on
green grass best oh to roll in!
I wasn’t sure what to wear, or best then to say, all I
know is that spring soon in our land is coming! For when
the sun today rode high, that there would be quick a time, for cheer-den
-merriment-a-frolicking! Yet neighbors agree when they giggle w/ me
soon all will be fields of posies & wandering along riversides
(there is)?
Such shifts of the poles & flights of colorful birds
back to north, I think
the gentle rain with snowshade may fall then this morn, yet tomorrow
is
promises (great things yet to see & then to smell & tell)! I witnessed a
tailor outside making poof-up jackets so wide; nothing can
keep him from
happily a stitching! For
who needs the dew when I’m a
writing to you, of castles rising out of near seashores a sparkling? Candles
O yes it’s
a day when we get now to chant a “happy somethingsomething” then
sent
celebrations so wide & fair & true just for..just for..?! Once more all can dance amongst all
the brighter days, with starshine ‘nuff for several more, I
saw I cast
grins at doubt, snap fingers at clouds, I hear soft melodies
from
all the near windows wandered beside (that of new artists a dreaming?!)
I heard
there are tales yet to be told, kitties scratching at posts; a streetside that soon
might need sweeping!??
So for this Birthday of yours, I’ve done my best not to bore,
& hope im
-agination beside bright cheer now runs a-wild!
But adieu for a while, I send this with a smile and all
the best wishes oh just then for you!
Cheers n toodles, -Mark
Monday, January 16, 2023
Apollo, that Hawaiian Rise. -M.Weisgerber.
A cauldron is out there bubbling, brimming
Clouds rising high, matching the crags & swoops coming up,
Rising all around. Signatures, apt fingers -
Dissolving as soon as grace takes hold.
Hasn't even unveiled its full might yet - the color!!
Oh such gorgeous grotesque drippings, cascading down,
Each stroke dancing brighter, the firelight (torturous, almost!) The joy..
Paintbrushes ready to capture, filaments
ready to render.
Yet who am I, alone on this easy trip?
Merry head felt high, guts placed out in a long line, and
Apollo, in His triumph arises,
pushes himself laughingly up, to the left,
then other side pushing such bars, such impulses aside.
Splitting the day apart with insistence. I, merely to stoop
and cower, and render, and... and... and...
There is a crown now - pushing, giving birth to the brightness
the light, the hope now rising in a heart.
Even the waves, the edges of my sight they turned.
The mists above, so much swirling, ever circling.
Wednesday, February 3, 2021
The Walk (11/13/2020). -M.Weisgerber
Love its time: take me, tame me, brand me, all - down to the trail, out to where
the thin lines cut quick & meander past tall roots - rusty monoliths grow
there for another time, oh this other trial; feet & penile don't fail me now!
For we followed the white dog out onto the same pathway you've rumbled
on a hundred thousand times; yes, THE tall brambles that power on, hard
'lectric pumps that thrum through the same veins as yours or mine, given us purpose
down past the green door...out to where the old loony bin stands tall (the
hard brick of fine fine arches, where debutantes can now wander free) - my oh
my how the mind flutters naturally to hard stones n sterner hearts! It'
Tuesday, January 26, 2021
You Remain as Living Poetry (2/12/2020). -M.Weisgerber
That’s what they wrote, tis what then they implored me thus to
seek
(you cant see such writings in the dark, cant feel blood on flat
wood...)
Hearts.
For I met a girl there on the sand lounging lazy as the day
was long, book
held closely loose, hips matching lips in a pursed way as her
shades slid
thus made sense when closer I leaned to inspect, apologized
for a sound.
Stood back when realizing that hands & feet, butt 2 cheek
littered heartily
with symbols drawn, lines; a thousand runes by which to
loftily intrigue,
subdued the more dapper words I had then twirling round, wounds
not
spoke too loud.
I fell for the little things before I saw the rhythms, bile
rising softly, me to
grin out through the puke poke sneak sack lie in which I’d
claim it.
She smiled at whence she claimed me, rose then said she
loved me, we
had nerve to call me schizophrenic, yet heartily I awoke to
this new fear
that of a girl and a world, and every lie I’d ever tell
carved writ wrought
on her at large, on this a frame then now to bend? (Enter deep within?)
For a thief recognizes another on wide streets, & I
stood curious, curious.
Should have known better though as writers, artists, all,
they circle round,
vultures all w/ rock band tunes, bandanas held so close; heads
sway low.
Crisscrossed words upon her open arms, her lovely sun set shadows
about
your shoulders; a clavicle full of posies, her side stitched
hitch hand to
wave or guts to punch at that the first kiss she shared with
me a car broke.
A warning to the near sky, “BEWARE”, soft then hard at hand,
a land,
your very torso, scrawled all I was lucky just to hold but
bold I stood
lightning rises in the jar, cracks all containments, such
lids fly sideways.
This true delight I marvel(ed?) in holding, its wiggling worms
- a frame
that I didn’t see of a name, didn’t share the shame till far
too late, didn’t
dwell on the same legs loved, and that alone I should have
said mattered.
It did not. I
did not either, though I contemplate on ochre nights, sights
made so
fanciful freely my mind shatters on new shores, your open
pores beckon.
For one cannot see worry rising in the dark, we cannot meet
50’s fantasy
fascinations without laughing at the fascist ways you circle
round, towns
give before your soft toes, the hard fist, yet you did not
seek to navigate.
Only observe fast in a quick song, another mark ready for
shoulder side
a blade to draw a new beat, a harmony wretched in skin pulled
thin to bite
hard, pull fast in large rooms, the sand calls again I’m
falling…
May it come again, may the rest of the world see your worth
as I, a
Meaning on the brow, a lifting of the now before the snow.
For I…I…
I fell for that pit before I ever knew feel flavor traced
soft hands on loose
skin above ink that called them yet came to claim it; you
(she) maimed
herself for a name, came fast upon hard sheets, a whistled
machination –
a boob chandelier soon to rise?
Snake in the armpit held, porcupine on the backside, meld
it’s a call for a new state, a new Mexico rising on a hard
plain.
I’ll love her leaving there, see her dancing out on the hard
pan, I’ll
Love there in between, here and take care and everywhere
else the same.
It is funny, how the bodies we lie in, only rented, hot
quixotic electrical
desires as the impulses that slide side by side, meld not
but lie, twist side
to other side there in the dark. Hold not me or you, but oft each other,
Upwards, outward – no complaints when bodies sprain the
others worth.
Then on to next, into
another.
Electrons dancing silly, the thick hair or skin cells flake
off of your &
your little hands, being vessels by which to hold, to love.
Babe give me a blotter, and I will show you how…how…
We draw little lies upon our backsides, dog-o-the-one-tail
not effective as
its cats familiar does not worry about the colors, no blacks
then blues,
only bruises rise, same as you gave to I, I…gods…
God, you cant see such writings in the dark...
You can never see such madness in the part…
(Cant see sparks before they fly)
Cannot call me before I die.
Cannot tell me that I lie, I
love you, and that alone should
matter.
Wednesday, January 20, 2021
Listening to the Missoula Floods; a Calling (8/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber
Righteous hard, flowing fast: hatred grown now then to last (this hard pain)