The Daily Poem

THOUGHT INSEMINATION

My cauliflower cortex lights with thought,

A chemo-incandescence like a strobe,

The patterns of its lightning Mandelbrot

Are caught and copied off the sparking lobe,

Infused with trans-phorescent marker clips,

Then burned in liquid digi-logic code.

From there the inter-phasic laser flips

The set from chemo to electric beam,

Then quickly flips it back before it lips

My tele-neural message into stream,

That heats your marker clips and slips the knot,

And through it lights your cortex with my dream.

D. Edgar Lamp

TheDailyPoem587

Terza Rima

Beijing, China

JOURNAL: Dongfang Hotel (8)

~ The Daily Poet

TONGUE TIED SCALAWAG

The little mice have scurried through the cracks,

The foxes twice have darted down their holes,

And everywhere I look the busy tracks

Reveal the final thoughts of the patrols

Who on the fly dispelled the straggler doubts

And slid like firemen down their silver poles.

And here beside my intermittent bouts

Of horse-like pride, the shiver haunts my back,

And caving in I scream my silent shouts.

D. Edgar Lamp

TheDailyPoem574

Terza Rima

Moscow, Russian Federation

JOURNAL: MOSCOW-BEIJING TRAIN (1)

(Train 4, Car 7, Cabin VIII, Beds 29 & 30)

Stored luggage at the Ibis Hotel. Took green metro. Ate lunch. Picked up train tickets from travel agent. Walked to Red Square. Toured St. Basel's Cathedral. Metro back to Ibis Hotel. Taxi to the train station...

~ The Daily Poet

TRAVERSE

This barren land goes on and on,

A document of tumble weeds

Below the sky’s cerulean.

A falling stand of yucca trees

In one collective aftermath

Of cataclysmic reveries

Dilapidates the desert’s craft,

A litter of its sterile teats.

The fences yawn and stretch their lath

Of endless stakes and thorny cleats

To snag the fruit of blowing sand

Between six rows of broken teeth;

The plastic bag, the ribbon strand,

The stray balloon, the feather caught

Just inches off the stony sand.

We move together all we’ve got,

This monument of time we won,

Whatever it is, whatever it’s not.

D. Edgar Lamp

The Daily Poem - 349

Terza Rima

Alpine, Texas

Lat: 30.36, Long: -103.66

JOURNAL: Amtrak in Sleeper

Stripped down to bare essentials since the downstairs heat in car 2230 was stuck in the “on” position all night, we shared the bottom bunk, my head to her feet, and finally fell asleep. I woke a few minutes before five, thirsty, and moved up to the top bunk. About an hour later Mimi woke me for the sunrise—a spectacularly bright red-orange sky silhouetting a planetarium skyline. Soon we crossed the Continental Divide, and for a brief moment, Mimi’s water flowed ahead to the Atlantic, and mine back to the Pacific. Slowly the New Mexican landscape took on a bit of color as we braked our way down to the Rio Grande and crossed over into Texas. There was hardly any water flowing under the tracks where the river, mostly a dry bed, curved around the giant smokestack with the letters ASARCO written from top to bottom. A few minutes later, we were crawling through El Paso waiting for a couple of freight trains to move on through. We split a breakfast of vegetable medley omelet and fried potatoes. Chip set a woman at our table named Dion, on her way from Escondido, California to Alpine, Texas with her “honey bunny” to meet his parents for the first time. She talked about what a wonderful man he was and how he loved her so well, and treated her so right. Dion’s in her forties; no kids. And if she does, she had them young, and they’re already grown. She’s been married, unhappily, before; but for Honey Bunny this would be his first. Although she won’t allow herself to jinx it, she’s really hoping he’ll propose. Meeting his parents is a good omen, the best indication so far that he’s seriously considering making her part of the family. We tell her that we’re “second-timers” too and know how good it feels to be loved well.

Alpine, Texas, elevation 4485 feet, Gateway to Big Bend National Park, and fourth highest city in Texas.. After the long miles with nothing but yucca trees, tumble weeds, and coarse dormant grass, Alpine comes as a haven of loosely scattered evergreens, a quaint old town with a low-income feel but with a bar highly set on hometown pride.

Looking ahead to our first destination, I’ve started reading the book that brought Carl Sandburg into the national spotlight in the second decade of the 1900’s, Chicago Poems. Of the first dozen or so, I like LOST, “The whistle of a boat / Calls and cries unendingly, / Like some lost child / In tears and trouble / Hunting the harbor’s breast / And the harbor’s eyes.” I like PASSERS BY, “I remember lean ones amount you, / Throats in the clutch of a hope, / Lips written over with strivings, / Mouths that kiss only for love, / Records of great wishes slept with, / Held long / And prayed and toiled for:” And I like the last luscious last lines of THE SHOVEL MAN,

And a dark-eyed woman in the old country dreams of

     him for one of the world’s ready men with a pair

     of fresh lips and a kiss better than all the wild

     grapes that ever grew in Tuscany.

Jesus Ricardo Cardenas, the nine year old boy genius playing with his “Creationary” game in the observation car asked me if I wanted to play with him. Of course I did! He must have seen it in my eyes. Instead of using the cards and creating the images they dictated, I suggested we just use our imaginations and make up some really cool things. I made a girl-driven planetary explorer. Ricky made several trike motorcycles with various weapon systems. He kept urging to add weapons to fight the bad guys. I told him I was building a peaceful exploratory vehicle. But he insisted, “There are always bad guys.” Point taken. I added a couple swivel-mounted lasers, just in case.

Ashley joined us for lunch. We had cheeseburgers; Angus for Mimi, veggie for Ashley and me. Delicious! Mimi & Ashley took to drawing after lunch in the observation car. My early morning headache returned, so I went for a siesta in our cabin, and dozed off for an hour. When I returned, Ashley and Mimi had a crowd of little girls around them drawing and painting—an impromptu art class. I bought a bottle of cranberry juice and a bottle of apple juice and mixed up a couple cranberry juice cocktails over ice, when over the loudspeaker came the warm mellow voice of the engineer alerting us to the most dramatic site along the route of the Texas Eagle between Los Angeles and San Antonio.

The Pecos River High Bridge was completed in 1957.  It's 1310 feet long, suspending the railroad tracks an amazing 273 feet above the river's surface.  It's the tallest railroad bridge in Texas, and the tallest main line bridge in the United States.  The train seemed to fly in slow motion over the Pecos River.  From the windows on either side, no structure could be seen, just  the river far below.  Quite an experience.

Looking up from below.

Disembarked in San Antonio, and hoofed it to The River Walk.  We weren't sure how safe it was to be out walking the streets 2300.  There weren't many people, and the shops were mostly closed except for Hooters and a couple other night clubs.  We met a friendly woman named Susan walking her three poodles and she assured us we would be safe, and that she'd been walking her dogs there at night for years.  She directed us which way to go and where to turn around.  We wandered the canals for an hour.  Every bend in the canal is beautiful.  Every corner is well appointed, decorative, inviting.  Rather than walking back to Sunset Station we stopped in at the Hilton and they were kind enough to call a taxi for us.  Mimi suggested we swing by the Alamo on the way back.  The cabbie took us there and waited as we snapped a few pictures and talked to the 24-hour sentry who guards The Alamo.  How very cool it was to be standing in front of such a precious landmark.  Midnight at the Alamo.  Lloyd, our car attendant, welcomed us back, even though we were now on a different track.  Train due to depart at 0700 for Chicago.

~ The Daily Poet

MY NEW MOTIF

Suspend your disbelief

And step across the line.

I've got a new motif,

A tubular design, 

In fluted feathered  frames

Where novel stems combine

With hybridizing names,

One solar paneled leaf,

And a hint of Henry James.

D. Edgar Lamp

The Daily Poem - 343

Terza Rima

Encinitas, California

Lat: 33.07, Long: -117.31

JOURNAL:  Signed investment papers for North American at Marty's, and gave final goodbyes.  Drove back to Encinitas for lunch with Ivan & Virginia.  Then we all went back down to visit the grandbabies, stopping by Peter's place to drop off tax information.  He was gracious, reminding us to call him for anything, anything at all.  Spend the evening with CJ and the kids.  Lots of rambunctious fun.  Back to Encinitas for soup and salad supper.  Virginia worked on an alphabet Sudoku after supper, and Mimi fell asleep on the couch.

~ The Daily Poet

LINE OF SIGHT

Regard the day as still

And you, like wind, that moves;

A motion not of will

An answer ever proves,

Though reasons do exist,

Though science disapproves.

Allowed to not resist,

Your time a gift of flight.

An arrow can't persist

Beyond the archer's might.

The bow and string project

A certain line of sight.

The damned and the elect

Together must fulfill

The cause and the effect.

D. Edgar Lamp

The Daily Poem - 259

Idyllwild, California

Terza Rima

A DIALOGUE IN LAMINAR FLOW

Whatever you do, remember me,

For this is me not long ago

Conceiving you as soon to be.

Whatever platform, this we know,

Its you and me connected now,

   A dialogue in laminar flow,

   Your time above, my time below,

A linkage not quite understood,

As checkered layers may allow,

As sunlight filters through the wood,

This canopy of growing leaves

Our abstract sense of common good.

D. Edgar Lamp

The Daily Poem - 249

Starbucks at Palm & Florida in Hemet, California

http://www.mystore411.com/store/view/24876/Starbucks-Hemet

Terza Rima

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5794

NO WING

How many treasonous reasonless lies

Must we believe as a matter of course,

Turning our heads and diverting our eyes,

Keeping the faith but ignoring the source,

Knowing delusions are taught us from birth,

Offered as gifts that are given by force,

Nothing as precious as we say its worth,

Into the future we march toward the prize

Secretly knowing we're not of this earth.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Terza Rima)

BEYOND REPAIR

If you should find me crumpled in a heap

Beyond repair and very nearly dead,

My words erased by quickly coming sleep,

Please whisper gently as you hold my head

And tell me something I might want to know

Like, “Please don’t worry now, & please don’t dread.”

Remind me that this world is not my home

And soon with Jesus I will ever be;

Then dial 9-1-1, but do it slow.

Come ride along in back, and stay with me,

And if you would, please softly sing a hymn

Like “Morning by morning new mercies I see.”

And don't you cry; no sense in getting grim.

Just stay with me, and pray with me, and tell

Me all about the shining Seraphim

That soon will carry me to where they dwell

In feathered flight, no time to stop and grieve;

Hello, hello, and never more farewell.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Terza Rima)

ICON LOGO IMAGE SIGN

Curves and numbers, blocks and paints,

Vectors, scissors, string and straws,

Glue and glitter, plastic saints,

Diagrams of Newton's Laws,

Piano keys, kalidescopes,

Carving knives and eagle claws,

Sewing needles, fancy soaps,

Ink and paper, checkerboards,

Priestly robes and antelopes,

Hurricaines and Mongul hordes,

Yellow fever, gamma rays,

Golden shields and silver swords,

Television, mutts and strays,

Rocking chairs and fishing line,

Pillow cases, blues and grays,

Helium and knotty pine,

Racing cars and wrist restraints,

Viral shells of new design,

Icon, logo, image, sign.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Terza Rima)