Matthew Andrako

A Poet's Blog

Pulp

Quiet,
An orange is
Trying to talk.
It has been
Many places.
It has been
Many things.
From a seed at birth
It burgeoned forth,
Sprouting a sense
Of leaves and
Experience.
Until it be a tree,
So plucketh I a fruit
From thee.
Then, peel apart the rind
And it, the yield,
Reminds it hath
Appealed dissertation.
Why now, the orange,
So ripe at hand?
I’d rather scratch
Apart your sleeves
And ingest your
Aromatic zest
‘Lest you were’t
To demand
A conversation
Between a man,
I’d listen yet
For thou hast been
More places
Than I have seen.
Though here you are
In my hands, a’gird.
You try to speak,
But understand,
my sweet–
I wish to slip
Your conference
And eat your words.

Rain

I became dismayed
As it began to rain
For the day grew dark
And the empyrean wept.
The trees looked upon me
Questioningly,
And wondered why
Sat I depressed
With such lessed feelings
Of a gift so blessed
To fall lovingly
From the heavens.

Two Roads

Two roads you see
Converge in thee;
A wiser road of humble wear
Smiled upon the young and fair
Path of passing free.

One it seemed
Had many leaves
And different names,
Yet end the same
As far as one could see.

Time turned gray
The path of age
Where rosy thistle
Willfully tickled
A drifter on his way.

And time doth play
The roads this way.
So purposed to assemble
And bounded to resemble
An adage left to cache.

What are we at this hour?
A father and his flower.
Like a blossom to the vine,
You live for thee and thine
To be this path of ours.

The Smile

Oh, the curl of her lips,
A subtle consonance eclipsed
Across the complexion of
Her mouth in passage
Shifts proportion set in drifting sway

Wavering to greet a glance
In a delicate dance
Of simpering play.

And stay would I
In this moment of late
Ere it a dream or reverie,
But alas, a simple instance
Of departing straits,
Ebb from encountering
Your smile again.

On Fear

Man dreads death
Above all things,
Perhaps, a certain
Fright of failure.
Or of nightly terrors
When the darkness close,
And those beleaguered odds;
The towers of adversity.
Of plundering thieves,
Or lovers asunder.
A man of malady
Deliberating a life ever-after.
One assurance
I know be true,
I fear’st all words
Never spoken (to you).

I wrote this poem for #83 OpenLinkNight at DVersePoets.  It’s been a while since I have regularly posted to this blog.  Cheers to new beginnings!  Perhaps remark upon your fear—how you have confronted it, and what you have done to overcome it.  My latest fear has been of writing, doing.  It sounds silly, but as time has elapsed from the poetry I wrote in my journals in 2003-2006, ultimately included in the most recent book of mine, Mimesis, I have been more reluctant, or rather, fearful, of writing.  Engaging myself with poets and authors and persons of artistic inspiration has helped me to overcome this fear and to write more!  I’ve also identified periods of prolific writing in my life has come from times of increased journal writing.  Both of these combined will lead to fruitful verse!

Monuments

"Monument In Argentina" by Fran Hogan, from http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=9960&picture=monument-in-argentina

Picture by Fran Hogan (source)


When man had become
Immortal, he ceased to build
Monuments for man.

Jess C Scott Interview of Matthew Andrako

Jess C Scott Blog Screenshot

Want to know more about Matthew Andrako, the poet: how he got started writing poetry, his favorite poets, what he seeks to accomplish with his writing?  Check out Jess C Scott’s blog interview to find out!  Big thanks to Jess for the opportunity.  Be sure to follow her blog!

Click here for the Interview

To the Girl With Red Hair That Sat in Front of Me in Biology Class

Forgive me for I only wish to share
One’s ponderance of your fair splendor.
Behind you I sat in the lessons of life
And through tedium discourse I often wondered
The place of being that was in front of me
With hair that bears the countenance
Of dreams in a stellar fashion;
A fancy that founded civilizations to pray.

Were her eyes an azure blue
I would turn away, ‘tis a usual
Occurrence these days!
I saw the hint of emerald or jade
Perhaps olive, a darker shade,
That glisten in celestial concordance
With the sun, divine.

Once more I must remark upon
The visions aglow atop your look,
A cool moon eclipsed by a fiery storm
Of red waves and flowing reactions
Of gold and scarlet hues.
Or about the lips in a simpering muse
To the tune of a friendly smile or ruse
In tune to an admirer’s ha.
I doubt you’d expect such record or
Alluring expression at your accord
But I must respect
The wandering arts of beauty, esteem,
In a world where magnificence is so universal,
Has lost the power to move the heart.

I must depart, but say I before I arrive
At another call for interruption,
Thou hast remarkable qualities
In proportion to such refined effects.

Church Must Have Let Out

I hear the rumblings of motors,
Car tires, and cylinders
Splashing noise upon the pavement
Like a tidal force of waves.

I wonder where they’re going
And where they may have been.
Why throttle all this movement,
When all they need
Is to look within.

All original content Copyright © Matthew Andrako 2012, unless otherwise stated