Rocks on the Road: Selected Poems by Marleen Rita Duckhorn

By Marleen Rita Duckhorn

As the essence of human nature arrives, consciousness comes across its own curiosity to expand and discover the outer regions of mind. The poems themselves become discoveries written in an endeavor to understand the universe, yet are committed to make life functional on this great rock, Earth. Enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 18, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462819409

Marleen Rita Duckhorn

Flapping Soul, Words in Verse is Marleen Rita Duckhorns tenth published collection of poems. Her topics are as varied as one might expect from the active mind of such a prolific writer, but in this book she mainly focuses on the different situations and aspects of the soul itself. She is bold at times, speaks her mind and can be humorous. It is the strength that gives her work appeal and makes her voice worth hearing. The topics in between make for an engaging read with just the right use of phrases Duckhorn has a special knack for. Her style is singularly refreshing. You will feel like she is talking to you, it is believable, and truths are told. She exudes in her work a passion hard to deny. Her use of meditation to muse in on the subjects at hand is quite obvious. This reflects upon all her close observations on any subject she writes about. This is the poets favorite book and she hopes you enjoy it too.

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by Marleen Rita Duckhorn.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

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Dedication

Dedicated to my high school English teacher,

Mrs. Francis Lea,

And to Wolfman Jack, my radio mentor.

Acknowledgment

I would like to extend my gratitude to my

husband, David H. Neidner, for his love and

support; Asilki Jones, for her typing and

dedication to the project; to Gerald Hebert

for his cover photography; to Dorothy and

Ed Severson for their encouragement and to

my four cats for not stepping on the papers.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

Sky Poems

Lunartarians

Lunartarians are people

Who only eat the moon.

They will do it any old month

But mostly March thru June.

They say they eat it

Because they despise its light,

Or the way the moon

Controls every changing tide.

They will wash it down with red wine

Or drop it down their throats,

Like a cracker wafer glides

Full-phased or curved like boats.

They will sip its light off a spoon

They chew it fingernail-sized—

It always comes back ready to glow

Much to our surprise.

They still sustain themselves,

These lunartarians meals find.

The portions may be gigantic

Even taken one bite at a time.

They fall back in their chairs so full

While the moon’s reduced to cliché dimes.

If they eat too much it might be printed

In the Los Angeles Times.

They all become quite fanatical about this

They go moon-hunting with their moon ray guns—

Tuff luck, shouts back the moon-lit-zing

Avoiding all the gluttony the moon takes off and runs!

Bright Future

There is a bright future in all our eyes

When the unknown lies so certain

In the caves of our surprise

We have to bare this beast each and every day.

Hatred may try to override it,

Love can try to pry it out—

With liniment in our eyes

A kindness soothes our sight.

Patience and tolerance arm in arm,

Sweet lanterns turned on so bright.

You Told Me

You told me to wait

For the golden cow

I said, "I’m not giving milk for free

And marrying, no how."

You told me OK go and find him

Or some day you’ll be alone.

It doesn’t matter anymore to me.

If you’re grazing in your final home

You told me you thought

You had already won my heart

Because you had sang a song to me

About some fact we’d never part.

I mentioned you failed to tell me

One important thing,

Along with the song you would also

Make the lyrics so both of us could sing.

I did not see the final product

That would perpetuate that myth,

The wanting, needing paragraph

Where you say you love this one you’re with.

More importantly the words sauntered,

Rather than moved expectantly,

Toward the same good notes and chords

Never taking for granted our intimacy.

When You Love Rightly

When you love rightly

Hate’s ways never thrive.

The hearts layered lightly

And one of the levels arrives

It comes in on the rail tracks

Like a love train sped

And tracks down the lover’s

Route, all along you’ve lead.

Spy

Spies, spies!

Interrupt the day you cry!

You’ve always got a peeping Tom neighbor

Gunning you down on your side.

You have the right to privacy

But that’s two doors down the hall,

A step into your car and speeding off

Ten miles away you call:

Hey neighbor you can’t see me now

I’m not there to bug anymore.

You’ll miss the way I came and went

But you were a snoopy bore!

Sit Down

Sit down and take me away with stories

Say one of them from the olden days of your glories.

Saturate my regal brain with a tale or two

Sit down I’ll uncover my ears so I can really hear you.

Too Many Artists To Mention

Whisper songs, whisper songs

Gently breeze into my ears the past.

Let me wander in the sixties music

Play the tender songs that will always last.

I’m recording now to never forget

The magic times we all had.

The syndication of all the sounds reel

Like ‘Sally Go Round the Roses,’ glad

I’m so mystified by these recordings,

How many ways bands expressed themselves

Like they were possessed with creativity

The Wolfman made our songs bliss shelved.

Kind margins of so many lyrics

Kind stories and images they conjured while,

The folly of the stunning best still gratifies

Oh, the ‘ever gentle’ Glenn Campbell style . . .

Dog Ear of the Universe

About the pages of the old Universe

Are they opened up for grabs?

If you think it’s all your little chapter

You’re just a dog-eared page God had

For old God created His lineage

Cosmically written yet it is absurd,

For you to think you’re more than a mark in time

Your ignorance is worth a million words.

Crepe Paper Planet

Fragile as a papier mâché globe

Puncture it when you scold

The rougher spots are mountain’s mole hill

Your thumbprints are the river folds

Clear there in outer space

The setting is in the chased dome.

The moon plays catch up

And the stars rent sky rooms.

The delicate world we all live

Margins like butter on stale bread.

A little surface for our feet to roam

And a sky to dream and bump our heads!

Third Chakra Skits

Life reels up from low chakra to high

High chakra answers all the reasons why.

When those ocean waves become

The shoreline of your mind

Real sad gulls swarm about the heart

And toss in all their scraps.

The third chakra seems to react

A bit just like a trap.

The verses from this chakra

Live in wonderment.

The abandoned chakra explains

Over guests and an after-dinner mint.

There is some truth of energy

Described from stages of the self.

The colorful realms of affection

Will balance on life’s chakra shelves.

The top chakra is reachable

And white light is allowed,

When you’ve motivated yourself

By the cause of taking heaven’s vow.

As The Earth Becomes

A Globe of Offense

The offensive earth

No magic armor to shield its wealth,

No legs and feet to run away,

So it merely takes offense and holds progress at bay.

The mortar isn’t blindfold,

It feels the cement plowed—

The factories and pollutions

Earth can only feel appalled.

Perfect Picture

The sea touching the desert

By nature’s well-adept hand.

Painted perfectly for wisdom

But the price is high for a cleaner brand.

The perfect picture isn’t perfect

Until it has reflective skies,

Mirrored by the retinas

All throughout the working man and woman’s eyes.

I’m Blest While The

Night Lets Me Sleep

All these questions

What do we sacredly keep?

Isn’t sacredness a stale pattern

Breaking apart the plain ocean’s reef?

All these questions

Why do we contemplate

Or go below to deeper waters

Or above where birds relate?

All these states of consciousness

Remake us day by day—

We can stay fresh or turn stale

By keeping worry out of the way.

Ah! How The Darkness Wanes!

Ah how the darkness wanes

Grasps us nevertheless.

Oh how the clever night

Severs us apart in death

From the flaming star

Of perpetual brightness, alas!

While the picture-perfect night

Has caught us believing its dying breath.

Visions Of A Black Night

Why can’t the visions of a black night

Love all our lights?

The love is empty, second-hand

From a pigeonhole place we fight

We long to explore all of it

This emptiness of space.

Why can’t the visions of a black night

Become so internalized not displaced?

Why can’t the margins expand

Beyond our shape and size?

Our breath held by candlelight

Blown out by realms beyond our eyes.

Encouraged By Villains

A goodness in our nature

Subdues all evil’s style.

There is a neutral place for victory

And contemplates a villain’s smile.

There are those people of Aquarian nature

Who try to befriend everyone;

Never try to befriend a villain

They are always on the run.

Good and evils are backwards words

So primitive both have two vowels aside

If they bought rings and became married

One would blend in by day, the other night would hide.

Call Daylight A Miracle

The plight of day is a living miracle

And so true of all our sight

But blind people can see as well

It’s just in a different light.

The light for them has shades of