I feel as rich as Croesus
while watching gold of day
dispel amid white cypress;
its final sheen's display.
...
I rediscovered you tonight
after a lengthy absence,
flourishing on the threshold
of a clover leaf,
...
She's just a perfect angel
beneath the scarlet comforter,
her spirit distantly drifting
astral parterres in dream districts;
...
Despair nipped at our hearts,
we the blue children
of the growing season, long green stalks rising
in savoury fields.
...
When I have returned to dust,
recall me, but not the genuine me;
no, leave that shrinking, purple-
prosing violet be. Instead visit
...
Your requiem is rising
from a wailing sea.
It blends among inconsolable
gull cries, beyond
...
At Chronos' raised browed
forelock, there won't and can't
be any detachment, no turning
back now, no, none whatsoever
...
Certain repressed gods,
compelled to shed shade
over humanity's visions,
forecast the end of the world
...
White doves and stormy petrels
light upon the living room walls,
in robust compatibility,
teaching odd wedded rituals,
...
A smooth, facile puma gait
through the subterfuge
of the forest at nightfall;
you impulsively slink
...
A Piranesi design, sinuous in expanding umbra,
night-mantled as grey cell bars are drawn
in ponytails, gangway ghosts to the lashing.
...
The river this ashen-skied autumn afternoon
slowly flows in an equipoise of rain and wind,
where the water bends & quickens a laughing loon
regales amid flat rocks & eddies, searching in
...
No one will lay eyes on your face
the same way that I do: ingenuous,
fully exposed and undercover.
Love inveigled us like briny water,
...
Forget today the world's dismay
Although malevolence may loom,
Let us remember that each day
Contains a certain charm in bloom.
...
It's rather inexplicable
to my better judgement
why all my accommodations,
all at once
...
Catapulted irrepressibly
into expressions of random
thoughts where aimable I,
definable shall sift novaed
...
It emanates unheralded,
whetting the appetite
between
pitch & pizzicato,
...
Through the darkling hallways
at an interval before nightfall,
he plods along in solitude
without a sound,
...
My modest genesis as poet began by basically hearing melodies in my head then vocally projecting whatever lyrics occurred to my then-6 year old mental capacity. During this stage of development, the inquisitive, wide-eyed youngster was occupied with pastels, graphites, watercolours, etc., rendering mainly natural landscapes, but sometimes delving into areas of abstraction. Eventually, transcribing poetic thoughts onto the page began around the age of 12. Always experimental, my scientific curiosity wondered about how everything operates, to the extent of dismantling mechanical and electrical objects, then reassembling them, resulting in many a failure, however, gaining valuble knowledge in the ongoing process. Basically self-taught in an array of disciplines including music, philosophy, physics, and foreign languages. At age 15, with a few of my classmates, I ventured into the rock 'n' roll arena, and we four formed a band with yours truly being, to varying levels of success, bassist/lyricist/singer. The gradual transformation into a full-fledged wordsmith transpired in my early 20's. A graduate of Fanshawe College as an electronics technician, I had worked in that field of endeavour for 25 years,9 of which were as co-proprietor of Star Tek Electronic Services. The majority of my time now is spent writing, mostly of the poetic nature, but am finally pursuing other forms with a view now to write 'The Great Canadian Novel.' Are there any? Just jesting, folks. Website: http: //www.geocities.com/jkandromeda/gregorywilliamgunn.html Favourite classic poets: Edgar Allan Poe, Sylvia Plath, Stephen Spender, Wallace Stevens, Dylan Thomas, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Hart Crane & Marianne Moore. Favourite novelists: John Steinbeck, Hermann Hesse, Charles Dickens, Edna Ferber, Jules Verne, H. G. Wells & Robert Louis Stephenson. Favourite pop/rock musicians: Led Zeppelin, Cyndi Lauper, REM, U2, Pink Floyd, The Beatles, The Doors, Rush, The Who, Elton John and Green Day. Favourite decomposers...sorry, couldn't resist that one, that is, composers: Wolfgang (Gangsta) Mozart, Ludwig (The Wigmeister) von Beethoven, Sergei (Rocky) Rachmaninoff, and Gustav (Gloomy Gus) Mahler. Favourite artists: Vincent van Gogh, Paul Cézanne, Pierre Auguste Renoir, and Claude Monet. Favourite movies: Skyscraper Souls, City Lights, Casablanca, The Maltese Falcon, Spellbound, Dr. Zhivago, East of Eden, Any Marx Brothers' film of the 30's & 40's, The Apartment(1960) , and The Man Who Would Be King. Favourite quotes: 'What's wrong with the way I talk? I'll have you know I speak the Queen's English, not the one across the pond,59th Street's version.' 'What it means for me now is when I go to Mickey D's, I can buy more than just a fish burger.'On becoming famous. ...Cyndi Lauper, singer/songwriter. 'The ultimate human form of diplomacy, I surmise, would have to be, in my most humble of opinions, of course, the art of permitting someone else to have YOUR way, then invariably not take any credit for it.' ...from my late night notebook scribblings. 'Having your book turned into a movie is like seeing your oxen turned into bouillon cubes.' ...John LeCarré. 'As soon as one is unhappy, one becomes moral.' ...Nicholas Catanoy, Poet & Aphorist. 'One trouble with being efficient is that it makes everybody hate you so.' ...Bob Edwards, Journalist. Piss offs: xenophobes, bigots, racists, homophobes, sexists, egoists, plagiarists, and judgmentalists; moreover, over-paid athletes whose celebratory grandstanding is downright childish. My other interests include music & art appreciation, astronomy, the history of the cinema, gardening & sleeping 'perchance to dream'.)
Images In The Afterglow * * *
I feel as rich as Croesus
while watching gold of day
dispel amid white cypress;
its final sheen's display.
Blue pansies incandesce
within the window box
against night's inkiness
and lavender lilacs.
Discourteous blackbirds
continue to make a fuss
our exchange of words,
decline and fall to dust.
These moonlit interims,
harmonious nightwinds
tend to bend the limbs
of a dragon tree.
Fugitive stardust clings
to emerging lily blades.
The crystalline orb of night
hallucinogenically hangs
above the smoky pines.
Greg, I sure do want to expand on what Gina already said, but she said it best - you have a tough exterior, but inside you are one of the kindest and most generous guys I have ever known. Not only is your work great, but you have encouraged me to become better myself, and I appreciate it so much. Keep writing, my dear friend!
Many Congratulations dear great poetess! Your wonderful poem needs wide appreciation! Timeless composition! !
Mr Gunn has had me reaching for the dictionary so many times I've got repetitive strain injury. But he's worth it. I made the mistake at first of thinking his was poetry for the brain, but after the numerous re-readings his work deserves, I have realised it feeds the soul quite nicely too. Here's to you Greg! Hugs Anna xxx
Greg is one of the finest poets I have had the pleasure of encountering. To-the-spot, on-the-ball pieces. Harsh and always fair; always engaging his audience. A unique way of painting his picture; the reader is entirely drawn. I commend GWG to anybody with a brain. And I applaud you, sire. t x
I met Greg through his 'Another Shot at Philosophy! ' number which I initially took offence to. But the poem's message (as I saw it) was just about the only criticism that I could raise against it: Greg is a fountain of rich, delicious, free-flowing words that dance in your ears for hours after you've read them. Read his 'I Re-discovered You Tonight', for example, and tell me if it doesn't sweep you off your feet! I adore Greg's writing. I'd also like to say that as a person, they don't come much warmer or more generous. Greg, I'm honoured to know both you and your work. Take my best. Gina.