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The
Poetry of Harry Furness
Teacher
He sat on the raised platform
Just behind the podium
His gaze was intent distraction
A lump of crystal rock sat colorless on the podium
The students entered from the back of the room
Like puppies - pushing and tumbling over one
Another
He gave them just enough time to enter
He stood and his eyes flashed the crystal to
Life
He picked up the crystal
And held it in his outstretched hands
Until he looked like he was holding light
He threw it down on the floor
And smashed it
Into a thousand shards
Each shard shone
A single beam of light
Aimed at each student
A few saw the light
Many missed seeing into the light
Looking at each other wondering what was going
On
The few who saw knew
And stared until the light grew dim
And was gone
So was the teacher
That ended the class
But those who left and had seen the light
Carried it with them as they left
Some of those could remember it even years later
It seemed to make a difference
When I close my eyes I can still see its
Brilliance.
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On
Poetics (part 1) - the poem
Spinning atoms around atoms in the first
black darkness
Swirling about the dark matter of gravity
Creating universes
Until there is the denseness of the spark of light
And time
Unseen atoms to molecules to the majesty of surroundings
Fired in heat and pressure until carbon and quartz
Become mountains reaching upwards
A chunk broken off of the Mountain of Poetry
Hurling into the flow of time
Sinking,
Waiting,
Flowing waters sent from the crying sky
And weeping mountain snows
Wandering their way, creating mystic canyons cut through the
sandstone
The poetry chunk using the water's flow to hone its sharp edges
Smoothing out the language of the spark of star-stuff
The quartz flakes grab the light and shine up through
Defused muddy H2O
Using the time's seasons to work its way up from the depths
Each cycle of time, flood to drought to flood to drought
And on and on
Moving a millimeter per cycle, up
Slowly creeping to the river's edge and poking a smoothed, honed
Head out of the water towards sun and shine of time
The rock became a gemstone
A definition of time and existence
Working its way to wait and dry to be found
And shine in someone's hand
It's taken eons to work its way towards the shore
From the depths of what once was solid and hidden
Ah, but wait...
They've flooded the canyon to wash silt down river
The stone is picked up by the unrelenting white-water rush
Weight and worth slams it to bottom
It will need to spend the next eons of ebb and flow
And attempt to work its way back to the light and edge
Until found and seen
But, here's the question - who or what will understand
What it offers... its unique explanation of beginnings and eternity
Or will they just see another wet rock?
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Death
on a Cracker
The cool air rides over the warm, wet earth
And the opaque mist rises like shadows of the past
Warning us away
I not only reject the age of reason, but also your
Mix and match mysticism
Pale blue skies fade to darkness
Numbers, mathematics are pure and beautiful
But you've used words to describe them that may not
Have meaning
I'll not sway to Majester Ludi's universal, arbitrary, and unknowable
Symbols
Emerald eyes stare out from ruby backgrounds
That weariness is elemental and eternal
It too is controlled by the same magniticism as the stars and
Atoms
I can't wait drinking tea and eating cakes in a parlor
The cellular fission is turning me into heavy metals
As the earth's gravity pulls me to rest
I sleep with a knife and not for protection
One cut - a slow leak or a quick rush
I know that Argentina won't cry for me
Perfect skin covered with just the downy fuzz of all mammals
I once touched your lips and know your taste
Your song is in my ears, your image stays just behind my eyelids
But the math doesn't add up
The symbols make no sense as the compass spins on its center
The heavy, wet air has made my clothes damp, pulling at me
I try and find my way using the shadows
Searching for a single light
Something to set my course by
Copyright Harry Furness
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