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Abraham, A Mild Moor

Abraham, A Mild Moor
Displaying the works of L.R. Abraham to nobody in particular. Posts include poetry, short fiction, and a great deal of introspection.

Articles

Memories
2008-02-12 00:48:00
Here wide awake I lieFrom dark to daylight's gleamCome and look into my eyesAnd see the dreams I dreamI dream about the past I've seenPain-strewn paper drying on tableOne-piece peels from tiny tangerinesWeaving my muse into my every fableSeeking stars in a field dark greenAnd ever-returning to the gablesNachos baking in oven oftenWatching movies on bed or couchBorrowing lotion for skin to softenHop onto my back as I crouchScrabble and risk though never the winnerStudying for exams and writing essaysEating out or in, together for dinnerPlay music from a movie based on a musical playPleasant presents wrapped in tissue flowersThree words that escaped as I lay in bedCut hair in bags, shaving in the showerScrambling eggs and toasting breadThese dreams they do cheer me,But alas never again may they come to passI remember the futureAnd my memory seemsTo tell me youLive in my dreams
More About: Memories
Pondside
2008-01-10 16:05:00
I seek the quiet of the manmade pondNature’s display, displayed for Nature’s sonArtifice, our final tenuous bondWhy win the world and cage the world we’ve won?They pile rubble high into the skyOf themselves they stand in awe and wonderBut you and I know what it means to dieLife, unlived, will burst their lives asunderThe bitter chill cannot force me to wakeMy soul is given over to the blazeThe things the windswept world will never take:My warmth, and sleep, my dreams of unseen daysYou seek the safety of the manmade pondThough nature did not carve her rocky bedThis old man, of life, grown much too fondOn pondside sward of green he lays his headThough all there is and all I am may breakSome things the windswept world will never take
The Break of Day
2007-12-14 21:36:00
The mustard-colored machines arose from their slumber, groaning and grumbling like children waking up for school. Daily these machines were resurrected to bring histories to an end, so that other machines could build new ones. Multicolored leaves crackled under their treads and the sky was cold, gray and unforgiving overhead. The machines contemplated none of this as their handlers led them forward. The day’s work was about to begin.I don’t see him anymore and haven’t for some time. But I remember. That’s all there is left to do sometimes. His room is just the way he left it, only now a layer of dust obscures the lines between objects. He would have hated that. He once told me that the deserts of the world had once contained villages, cities, civilizations even, but all had been swallowed up by the dust. Little by little, the dust would build up and eventually it would swallow up the last traces of someone’s world. This, not Noah’s deluge, scared him.People wo...
More About: Break
For now
2007-10-28 16:34:00
As I read the foregoing I seeonly the bad.The sadlittle man searching for solaceand peace.The leastof us who fears himself, fearswhat he will become.The sumof his life, his work up to nowis naught.And he's caughtin a tide that will pull him inside -he'll pay to get paid with the best of his days -for the rest of his days.I sayit won't happen, that it won't be so.I knowthat my resistance is only token.I, too, can be broken.Anything can and everything couldbut shouldthat be?If you and me we look and seeoutside our cave beyond forest's treeswe'll see...We'll see...We can be free.And if we can, we should.But how?For now'tis enough to see the good.For now...
Shoreline
2007-10-19 23:41:00
Here they sat by ocean's sprayFrom fall of dusk to break of dayCalling out their lovers' namesWaiting for a ship that never cameThough waves may crash and wind may roarStill they wait on distant shoreDays add up to a painful sumBut someday soon their ship will come.
Sunflower
2007-10-15 00:34:00
Bright white sunlightFalling flecks of goldLand in dewdrop dreamsAnd stories seldom toldThese petals, this stemThis beauteous formGrew in petal-strewn meadowsWide, wondrous, and warmOn moonlit nightsWhen I cannot sleepThe flora stillAwaits the lightAnd secret keepsBeneath the hillsThere indeed secret hidden staysSought out by bright vanguard of dayOne lucky morningAs I unluckily wanderedLuck furnished sunflowerAnd sunflower I ponderedBeauty was the truthAnd life of the flowerAnd the truth of beautyFilled my thoughts for hours.
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Home
2007-10-08 07:04:00
I built a world for you, my loveFull of everything you could dream ofSpinning, swirling, full of surpriseStep inside, open your eyesSee the rippling water blue?Please feel free to splash on throughSee the tree that's growing shoes?Every pair is just for you.Look at the birdies in the treeYou can have one, two, even threeFor you everything is freeIt's all for you, everything you seeI made the stars closer by a bitAnd made them small enough to fitInto your hands, if you just reach upYou can collect them in a little cupRearrange them way up highPaint your pictures in the skyIn this world we both can flyDon't be scared, you just have to trySee the fully-clothed dogs and cats?Do you like their funny hats?Our house is there, give it a glanceImported all the way from France.I built a world for us todayAnd even if you go awayHere I will forever stayUntil my final peaceful daysWhen I've become both old and greyI won't fly then, I'll stick to the groundOld men are meant to hobble round...
More About: Home
Time to Mend
2007-10-06 10:12:00
How I wish that time would bendSo these times would never endHow I wish the fates would lendMe but a moment more with you to spendI implore the daylight not to endThe sun to cease its winding ways to wendBut though time me from you does rendThere will always be time to mendThat parting pains me not I do not pretendBut I shall return from where time sendsAnd I shall to your sorrows tendAnd I will be here, in the end.
More About: Time
Trick of Light
2007-10-02 06:54:00
Such a lonely thing is nightFor bird and man and beastEmpty hearts and beds and nestsEyes roaming toward the eastSeeking out the rising sunFor by some trick of lightOur sorrows are more eas’ly hidBy day both chill and brightAnd in the dark the shadows creepWraiths sing their fearsome melodyAnd with all sound is drowned my sleepFlooded with future fear and memoryFor in the dark though much may hideThis we cannot doWhere might you run from fear insideBefore loneliness finds you?I cannot abide the shadows thickAnd sharp that my own skin does prickIn dark I am not wholeThe wraiths chill me, pull me apartStill the beating of my heartThey gaze unblinking through my soulBut then - but then the pale moon glimmersThis ray of light on soft sheets shimmersClose at hand your sleeping formIn cold and dark: radiant and warmAnd therein I invest my faithAnd when I’m here I fear no wraith.
More About: Trick , Light
Just Wait
2007-09-29 17:02:00
Shined shoes, haircut, clothes picked by handLike fruit from treesThat hope to pleaseTime passes by, he understandsFate’s sometimes lateJust wait, just waitRevisit past meeting times and placesNo light, no cheerThere’s nothing hereSearching for familiar facesJust looks of stoneHe’s all aloneWandering past the buildings grandEmptiness thereAnd no one caresShined shoes, haircut, clothes picked by handLike fruit from treesThat no one sees.
More About: Wait
Tempus Fugit
2007-09-26 05:35:00
Enigmatic and inexorable, immutable and often inscrutable, few things possess such power over the human psyche as the perception of the past. Remembrances, often half-forgotten, and usually less-than-half-true, confront man as friend or foe, evoke emotions from regret to rapture, and, notwithstanding all else, act as the motivator behind most of man’s machinations.Man learns early on that mistakes cannot always be corrected, that actions cannot be undone, words cannot be taken back, and, in some cases, the results cannot be reversed. Adam and Eve cannot re-enter the Garden, reconstitute the apple, and replace it on the boughs of the tree with a note of apology most abject. Orpheus cannot return to Hades with promises that he really will not look back this time, and ask for another chance to rescue Eurydice. Alea iacta est, and nothing can be done about it.The oft-overwhelming feelings that accompany reflections on the past, chiefly regret and its accessories, anger and sadness...
More About: Tempus , Temp
Other Shores
2007-09-20 17:02:00
Shackles broken of jealous earthAnd carriage roars all farewells quellThrough windows witness weather's mirthNow journey through, where tempests dwellSilence below, weak waves goodbyeAs winds you walk and clouds you plyJetstream journey as self you'll findSoon over waves of another kind You may be too high to see But down below, waving, is meAnother sea another skyAir sparks with myth and ancient loreAn elder land heaves ancient sighsAs you disembark through other doorsBlind am I, save through your eyesAs you set out for other shores
More About: Shores
Time Capsule
2007-09-13 08:47:00
This is not a blog. It's more like a letter to myself. Why am I putting it online? Well, we may be more similar than you think, you and I.What would it feel like to set out on a journey only to forget where you were off to? I wish I had that feeling, but I haven't forgotten. You can't if you never knew to begin with. I'm not lonely or sad. Not scared. Definitely not fat. There is little that explains how I feel, and so I write these letters.There are different me's. A bunch of them: like we're some collection of fruit umbilically linked to a branch. Our cord is made of time and space and chance. And Choice.The past me's are mad because of all the time I've wasted, or depending on which one you ask, because I haven't wasted enough. I don't really like them. When they're not lying to me or keeping secrets (always with their secrets) they can be fun. Funny, sometimes. Usually, though, they interrupt unannounced, like a travelling salesman, or that bored sad lady who calls as...
More About: Time , Time Capsule
Picnic in Paradise
2007-09-04 07:44:00
You are delaying the inevitable. With every breath, every meal, you simply wind the clock a little more. But you know it can’t be done forever. Eventually the hands will no longer orbit the center, the gears within will rust, and the charming carvings wrought on the wooden frame will rot, first becoming hideous, then becoming nothing at all.You feared death. You said that you didn’t even think about it, but you knew that wasn’t true.When you were young, religion came easily, and you were blessed with belief in a beautiful afterlife. When the end of life intruded on your thoughts you were reassured by images of eating with angels; picnicking on imagined acres where wishes weren’t wasted and wonder was woven into wicker baskets to carry your sandwiches and lemonade.But childhood and its perceptions were rapidly replaced by responsibility. The picnic became an invitation-only affair, and the guest list was exclusive. Places on it had to be earned. You were afraid that you...
More About: Paradise , Picnic
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