Know Notes Aloud

 

Maybe or not
nothing, keyed
but a breath taken
anchored to create
seatbelts denied
smoked grass, poured gas
rear view backseat driven ride

base guitar, black bass
four strings uncooked and cast
re-keyed, the tiger swam at last
by darned maps, medicine token chips
drumsticks feather fields,
wild deer ticks
running lights and a pedal
steel guitar lick

beautiful chess boards fell
soon pieces meet neatly with love
playing muttered muddy water songs
a music sees the ebony cartel
dances become plays, plays become dances
with the turning of an allen wrench

blues crowds faded, creeks begin croaking
fenced, the dazed and hoaxed
despair dated, the fretboard floating,
blanched, the neck bowed, straightened on rosewood, coaxed
tuning proclaims know notes aloud

wolves blinked, eyes break opened
bluer than Utah’s salt lake
a world understood, stood understood, vinyl swill,
sweat pouring, pouring piano rained
water pelting like bullets kill
tickled ivory keys looking arranged
pictures hang, stretched on buffalo skin
promised like lines in pools
a dive so deep, one polish kiss

pride changed the rules
the sun re-aligned, flared and poached
winning ways, cymbols snare, united states lease
high hats, and luminous dates, a golden roach
guns lifted, marching marshell, swollen peace
a market place, large fruit, top of mantel
money tucked in the wallet of time, nothing urned
bongos banged, fired by candles, the war burned
c clef that says know notes aloud

a flight ticketed, flirting contained,
a baby’s handprint due,a tailored garden, a reading road
calender’s re-printed, a press word key ,labor day cue
weekend goodbyes, memories sent abroad susustained
a foreclosed site, autumn maple ray, paved, slowed
grass marquee played, the bees harbored, john deer shoed
from a to z,uncharted paper bundled, ride
laminated, cut, pasted, then pathed
highway ridden, Kentucky skinned, Louisianna and lathed

one new fishing rod, pinned, our fate, basted word press
our black grandmother’s address,
Gerry Mandered, us again split in two
walking in silver, slandered, shoes
a crooked clap, again at the cape
a four track, trading tape
a clapping preamble
a horn’s blow, geese honk
the majority whip
the tambourine trembles
are unheard, redress
we are the singers
sounding
the siren
know notes aloud

Poem by Heather Whitley Gibson

Yesterday’s Moth

A cloth thread
it was yellow; shinning
bright steel blue
cob webs; recyclability
drips design retractable
and Tuesday received
buckets freely
I see a moth
from yesterday poems on
a blank piece of paper
cloth; thoughtfully pinned
inside made
thoughtfully re-read intimately
exhaust/senescent
tube; in my heart
leering down
it’s sinful weakness

My ears are doing-that
windshield-wiper
thing-slowed-down
wiping out
hands off; buzzards; leftover
ground down white wrapped yarn
the bones of a coat; hung hanger
wreck debris aged
falling of the bone
in waves; falling off the bone
in waves; it just comes
nothing hurts
it’s supposed to

 

Poem By Heather Whitley Gibson

“Peninsula” – Poem by Heather Whitley Gibson

Peninsula

Camera; seen

armed with needles so

sweet sounding; peninsula

soft & Foxed in insular

Mellisonant, a weeded field.

water torn; clear flight

a wonton wing; fortune cookies

proverbs sealed.

 Edges of mouths part; crusted

cracked, razing sun,

 edged.

vaulted words crunched.

scratched days.

Sweet Memento

rusted kisses; silver

A candied ending.

Where Love flows;

 winded

and whirling. A shot-gun

display closed.

 sold four

tribute money

then pictured; in a hard-bound book.

leaves dried and covered, lost..

left to left, sonorous;

in Gold.

still waiting at a willing well.

A dime-store summary.

The foundress of affairs.

Blessings and fortune falls.

behind a grateful glass view;

watching the sun nest,

winds and doves

 shillings. fly. stencilled.

 As scales shimmer, as

an aperture increasing;

Vows Quenched.

memoria Bound.

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• “Lullabies and Fire Flies” – Poem by; Heather Whitley Gibson (tigergroves.wordpress.com)

“Has Been” – By: Heather Whitley Gibson

I felt this morning like a has been
rolling over on my spine
it hurts
it feels like needles
from a porcupine
my back, and rear
two hours before
rubbing up against
mu husband’s butt
but two hours later
I can feel it stinging
like a tail bone
curled, still hanging
with nerves
like my stepmother’s cells
curled up
it needs surgery
someone take it out

Tigers Gallery: worldwildlife.org

 link to slideshow                                                                                Tigers Gallery.

“A Frozen State” – Poem By: Shadows – At Moontowncafe.Com

Here I am, in a frozen state
as peace, in me, I await.
I don’t know if I am awake,
am I here, or opaque?

Movement, we move on,
or has the motion foregone.
We sail on, over the ocean,
within flowing, deep emotion.
Through the essence, of the earth,
and as the spirits, me, they girth.
As history flies by, as do I,
the word of truth, many deny.

Empty world, as despair blows,
and sadness, sadly grows.
Lost shadows, are passing by,
with endless asking, of why?
Moving into the distance,
the light, is my resistance.
The pain slowly does ease
fading slightly in the breeze.

Here, is me, in a frozen state,
as the light, that shines, I await.
In a dream, or maybe awake?
Am I here, or opaque?

Click On MoonTownCafe.Com

“Dreams of Revenue” – Poem By: TeenageHeart – MoonTownCafe.Com

Show me fury, when our hands are remembered.
And we are foolish, where the whispers take hold,
underneath piles of ripped pages that were our living back bone.

Stand in command, our flames have burnt out.
And near our fingertips lays a burden yet to be solved,
as tired and precious as our eyes have shun cold.

I taste the shivers of our melting lies, and soon in our sheets
a barrier of warmth will be denied.

I have held this ground together, with sticks and knifes
but fallen through, we have no worship for breathing roots.
So, we keep on growing with our palms closed up tight.

We dig for more time, for more source of revenue,
that will create our dreams as home.
But who are we to beg? We created this world as our own.

For More Poems Click On MOONTOWNCAFE.COM

“Long Lines” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson

Open window; shining coffee
a paper curled, opening
newspaper dew
outside, the cost of cutting the tree
a shadow moving; edged, sun wet light
dropping fares
long lines
whole grain

leaving leavening bread; growing, rising
flatten silhouette; spilling wooden vault
the robin touring, still outside timing
walked away, redirecting, spilling sight
Drawing fair
long lines
coal-train

hidden; smooth gestures; timber into October
spray paint beneath a careful passover
over stepped sewer holes, round turned-clock, hues
tunneling underneath
sun clothing beams a light brimming, trim
Grooming hair
long lines
drawing reins in

a paper maker, palomino racing, ribbons green
wearing winning breakers, changing yellow fly paper
two twirling leaves hung like golden curls
catching an abiding ear
long lines
waxed, sticky & new

blue ribbon beer, honey bees, lemon Rhine’s
draining the compost heap, humming
turquoise-black flies wiggling;
like sea threw squid, dancers
spinning; a cloudy ocean deep
boiled words spiced
long time
holding salt, soupturine

Recital, a huge playing, green-bluegrass reference
clipping tool, agreement unmeant, hand holds
hands held, payment, original records
revolving door handle, real-a-state-knob
holding the payment tight
long lines
Play on the darkest night

Sublet, the unrest, grey sky, dulcimer
threw the armless; fire, mother kindling
year rigged, need needle memories pasted in place
fire places replaced the sun, fire moved the stations
turning the traffic lights
long lines
blurred rain

Song remains
in time, all the holes
in the middle
pupils pupils
recording call retained
thirsty names, puddles fused
words in your title
as we grow
we are all changing sizes
long lines
records records, a call

Night smears, long rhythm
warning mirror grains
grey sky entrails
evenly/cuffed/a plated bail
railing invisible fence trailing
cemented and armed
naming, out of the belly, poems
with warm sandy breath
need needle memories pasted in place
fire replaces the sun
long lines
try for rented space

Click On HEATHER’S POETRYPOEM

“THE OPEN GATE” – By quill59 From MOONTOWNCAFE.COM

The stone walk had nicely
manicured flowers and
shrubs at the top of
the stone walk was the
open gate ,the gate was
made of wrought iron
with two hearts fashioned
into the gate there
was light on the path
as the sun filtered
through the trees ,landing on the
path the open gate was
for the young at heart all that
passed through the gate were led onto,
a new world of love and
happiness,the open gate
was a way into the future
where dreams are turned
into reality,a place where God
makes his promises come
alive, the open gate.

“It’s Gonna Be Alright” – Song By: Ronnie and Heather Whitley Gibson

cats warm themselves by fire
while mommy brushes hair
daddy drinks his black coffee
It’s gonna be alright
It’s gonna be alright

to touch the skin turns gold
long stories are untold
the graying hair of elder men
It’s gonna be alright
It’s gonna be alright

sunflowers catapult, into the night
settling seeds in the yard, pin wheel subsides

grandmother’s clay spoon clutched by hands
the pottery wheel spins
kneading out the rising meal
It’s gonna be alright
It’s gonna be alright

the wrinkles hold pinched bread
smelling potatoes as they peel
the wheat brought out of land still stands
It’s gonna be alright
It’s gonna be alright

the dishes clatter in soapy air, the blue white old plate ware
silver patterned steel ingrained, being held by many hands

stones tossed out in the lake
the roots grab the soil they take
fish boils and the ice melts
It’s gonna be alright
It’s gonna be alright

there is always time to wait
for every season so bright
everything’s gonna be alright.

Take A Listen To “It’s Gonna Be Alright”