r soos is a teacher, poet and musician, and has been published in over 200 print magazines. He has 20 books of poetry, including Somersaults With Life (2016) , Parting/Departing (2015) , Bringing In The Sheets (2012) . His books may be purchased at on-line bookstores, such as Amazon and Barnes and Noble. His poetry appears online in Peacock Journal, Tuck, Leaves of Ink, Micropoetry, Random Poem Tree, Cuento, In Between Hangovers, and others. His video poems may be viewed on youtube. He blogs at rsoos.com.
Many of the poems appearing Poem Hunter are from his best-selling book Selected Poems (2015) . The exceptions are the poem Ground - a recent poem published first on Poem Hunter, and the senryu translations of Emily Dickinson, all published first on Poem Hunter.
Exhaustion
a persistent and expected guest
seldom speaking aloud within
the soul I once considered rowdy
and devised of the songs of birds
in concert with my guitar strums he sings
the tremulous feathered melody within
I walk heedful of the fluttering
of the tearful translucid wings
from Parting/Departing (2015)
prayer acts as referee between the heart and mind
I grow flaming lungs to blow the ocean back
I laugh because I'm in command
reality is a drunken feeling
the piano knows the words that dwell deep in the soul of all who desire mercy for their commanded lives
behind simple foolishness is a tongue calloused by imagination
graves will fill deep and set by time, with everyone living in a hurry to escape the inevitable sleep
I make plans to review my weaknesses and repair my faults, then eat and drink and watch the list burn in the candle lit for that purpose
the clock never thinks to stop it measures our hearts our dreams and laughs at the wind
there is no need for speaking with more than our eyes
words defeat the mind which wants to think without them wandering around
I keep my world small
failure determined my old pain magnificent
I would go places poems live before they find their way to paper
I give you space for dancing with the butterfly
I have spent my years walking through the quiet air seeking the poem
I write this all down - I know that someone somewhere needs to remember
your eyes have blossomed from patient rains and petals
dance long through the rain as it remains alive
O sweet children of life, run through madness freely
my poetry is used to living alone
we talk different syllables
you stand savagely delicate
my guitar danced for hours
a dream does not become a dream until it is over
the ballet slippers summon your feet with elaborate powers
I translate the music
I become my own passion, a lunatic dream of myself
I am reminded each day is a war
I shout at the thunderbolt with unmerciful voice
reverent contemplation sweeps away the dust
there are times the title says more than the poem
I am truly the imagination of my self
he grows thin as his wife watches him die
trees grow wild from your eyes
winds blow angry from your throat
I'll never weary of surprise
when truth is finished transforming our perceptions we create the fiction
comfort new poems - they spend much time wondering if anyone cares
there is music hidden in corners to be found by a child exploring shadows
when I tell you that I love you it's good to see songs burst from your eyes
Your dances trample flowers and lay mountains into crushed stone.
In truth these poems will never reach beyond a few good friends drunken and theatrical.
a poem is a small part of yourself left everywhere open and dispensing chunks of your soul
when you see inside the beauty of the whole world shines forth from the depths