Arcadia

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Abstract

eled dates ripe with spirit and candy flesh Our sandals scruff across the path in metered cacophony like John Cage Playing the beach path in discordant swishes and tweaks, bonks, and bleeps Up the hill, on the left a break in the path yields an archaic sign with symbology that Would make the Illuminati blush, warnings of this and that but harkening to Respect this fragile world, this fragile minute with sweat running down our backs And our children talking about little hopes of dancing waves, this chrysalis in time Becoming a memory in their wide minds, unfolding iridescent wings to stiffen in the open air And give way to a flight on wind buffets to dance merrily along future horizons</p><p id="b6c4">On the beach, bones of dead trees, Bleached and dyed, their skeletal fingers Playing in the surf, a Rhapsody in Blue Flocks of gulls, sinuous and lithe, float down the coast, patterns of Organic energy (Wu Li) pulsing in tune to the sky, moon, and earth With the swaying fronds of the palmetto trees, perfectly in unison, from the Conductor’s Unseen hand</p><p id="efc0">This poem is in response to the challenge issued for a piece on Transcendentalism By Dr. Natalie Frank. I hope it hits the mark. If you enjoyed this piece, here are some others you might enjoy. I tried to channel some Emerson and T.S. Eliot.</p><div id="119c" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/neural-decoupling-38657477c0dc"> <div> <div> <h2>Neural Decoupling</h2> <div><h3>A Sonnet</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div>

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    </div><p id="14ef"><a href="https://readmedium.com/c8ec35fb0328?source=post_page-----38657477c0dc----------------------">Colin Thomas</a> lives and works in the Southeastern US on various projects during the day and explores writing, fiction, poetry, and form in the evenings. Husband, Father of Three, avid Foodie and caretaker to various animals.</p></article></body>

Arcadia

A poem

We go now then, the five of us Across the path stretched out across the green plain Like a quilt-work blanket spread out for a picnic We go now, through skies of gulls, and warm summer gusts And quiet lusts Past the shrill timbre of cellphones, and haptic feedback And past team meetings, and Lunch and Learns; In pursuit Of Serene Intent With a question of why can’t you Dad, why can’t you Mom take Time, and time to take now We go now, we take now, we take now

Out in the big sky that can swallow you whole We listen to the loud silence with our soul

With our chests full of light, beaming in cheer and laughter we walk along the path, with grit and mud, the baby chirps and birds chirp, and wide-eyed and gleaming, wonder twirls in her eyes like an ever-changing kaleidoscope Being newly created in each blink, a folding beauty upon itself And upon itself, dazzling and free as neurons fire in synchronicity weaving great webs of delight, I watch the delight and in a moment, upon a moment I am young again seeing it again and a twinkling universe rises in my watery eye, my hand holding hers as she looks up To me

“Bird Song, Daddy!”

The Sun bakes us like shriveled dates ripe with spirit and candy flesh Our sandals scruff across the path in metered cacophony like John Cage Playing the beach path in discordant swishes and tweaks, bonks, and bleeps Up the hill, on the left a break in the path yields an archaic sign with symbology that Would make the Illuminati blush, warnings of this and that but harkening to Respect this fragile world, this fragile minute with sweat running down our backs And our children talking about little hopes of dancing waves, this chrysalis in time Becoming a memory in their wide minds, unfolding iridescent wings to stiffen in the open air And give way to a flight on wind buffets to dance merrily along future horizons

On the beach, bones of dead trees, Bleached and dyed, their skeletal fingers Playing in the surf, a Rhapsody in Blue Flocks of gulls, sinuous and lithe, float down the coast, patterns of Organic energy (Wu Li) pulsing in tune to the sky, moon, and earth With the swaying fronds of the palmetto trees, perfectly in unison, from the Conductor’s Unseen hand

This poem is in response to the challenge issued for a piece on Transcendentalism By Dr. Natalie Frank. I hope it hits the mark. If you enjoyed this piece, here are some others you might enjoy. I tried to channel some Emerson and T.S. Eliot.

Colin Thomas lives and works in the Southeastern US on various projects during the day and explores writing, fiction, poetry, and form in the evenings. Husband, Father of Three, avid Foodie and caretaker to various animals.