The Poetry Of Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Stephen, you have asked an excellent question. Unfortunately, my answer may come up short. This is a poem which I wrote rather quickly, giving little conscious thought to the structure. All that I knew was that when I was done was that it felt right. Looking over it now and trying to identify what I fleetingly thought as I wrote it, I would say the first stanza I regarded as an introduction. The second, being the main statement and motive, I gave it more thought, energy, and thus more time (lines). The third stanza is less important idea-wise and, paradoxically, though the fourth is more important than the third, the shortness of it_ acts to represent the swiftness of an express.

The concluding stanza, I must say, seems perfect to me-----the two short, excited lines being "in tune" with the thrill of an express ride, and the last two lines being of breathless surrender (this last is even more pronounced by means of the exact "rhyme"---feat, feet).

I'm sorry I can't say a whole lot more than that. As I was writing I did recognize that I was not keeping correct and orderly stanzas, but everything "felt" right. It still feels right. I like the variety of it, while at the same time it seems all of a piece, and it expresses what I still think and feel.

You didn't say, but how does it strike you?

[Stephen Speicher 0]

Stephen, you have asked an excellent question.  Unfortunately, my answer may come up short.  This is a poem which I wrote rather quickly, giving little conscious thought to the structure.  All that I knew was that when I was done was that it felt right.

As I understand the creative writing process, one should feel free to do just what you describe. To give more freedom to your subconscious though, is earned by the conscious thinking that you do. Your description, upon reflection, seems to validate that you feel now what you felt then. But, I guess my question was more fundamental, by what conscious principles do we structure stanzas within a poem, and why? What general purpose is served by various structuring? Perhaps these questions are oriented more towards the esthetician, as opposed to the creative artist per se.

You didn't say, but how does it strike you?

←

I liked the poem, but not as much as others that you wrote. May I ask, is this poetry writing a private passion of yours, or do you write as a profession?

[B. Royce 0]

Stephen, to answer your last question first, I am not in any sense a professional writer. As for the principles of stanza construction, perhaps Jason Rheins, who is to give a talk on poetry at this summer's conference, will have the answer. Or perhaps someone else on this forum. In the meantime, it's something I'll start investigating. Thank you for your questions.

[Stephen Speicher 0]

Thank you for your questions.

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And thanks for your poems.

[B. Royce 0]

Last June I wrote this poem and sent it to Martha Stewart.

Martha Stewart,

What you are is one above the crowd,

A woman sole self-made, virtued, proud,

Who made top grade and passed the test

Of your own standard, your own best;

A human being who loves true doing----

Mind ON, hands on, all you're pursuing,

Thinking, seeking, reaching, and following through.

Production has a pronoun and it is YOU.

And we who worship the firm-lipped mission

Of thought, as it manufactures its lightning vision,

We honor you for girding us with such grace----

To have sight of life's lover of her marketplace,

Your workplace, right place, office of high worth,

Crafting room, kitchen, man-made garden of earth.

Oh, in spite of the envious in the selfless crowd,

Look level, and never let your good proud head be bowed.

________________________________________________

This was written many years ago, partly in response to magazine rejection slips which stated that "We do not want rhyme"-----for simple end-line rhyme.

The Love Trees

I lean to the tree that is leaning to me;

We touch, and our branches twine.

Our budding-song grows stunning and strong;

Her flowers of love are mine.

Her "hands" so fair in my winding "hair"

Fill them with life and Spring.

The breeze in our branches dallies and dances;

The "words" of the birdies wing.

We sway together in Maytime weather;

We lighten the sky as flame.

In time with flowers we rhyme for hours,

Our rhythm of life the same.

We burst on the hills above the old chills;

We beckon with spangled arms.

To passion of men we fling out again

The pride of our peerless charms.

To lovers that gasp, oh! how we clasp!

Urging half kisses near.

To lips that decide, to triumph new-tried,

We puff out a pom-pom cheer!

The dance of the world in their whole arms curled,

The light, the height, and the way,

Swings hard to the earth to sweep the heart's worth

And moans with the music of May.

They live, they are one, they are free in the sun;

We_ stretch out our leaves and sigh.

The mirroring might of love's spiritual height

Sways in the brow-bowed sky!

__________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Final Payment

It was fifteen below

.....when the gas ran out;

It was fifteen below

.....and the snow waist high.

And the wind did sing,

....."I'll take everything!"

He stepped into the blast

.....(his name was Will Began),

He stepped into the blast

.....(two miles for one proud man);

Could hardly breathe or see,

.....but thought, "Won't take me."

It was thirty below

.....as the white form moved;

It was forty below

.....as the drifts increased;

And the wind did sing,

....."Your name is Zero!"

He lunged into the blast

.....(his name was Will Began);

The dreams of life amassed

.....(one mile for one good man).

His eyelids stiffed to freeze,

.....no feel in feet or knees,

Just breathed and stumbled free,

.....and thought, "Not me!"

It was sixty below

.....and the land was white;

It was sixty below,

.....not a thing in sight.

One massive sheet of white

.....rippled, stretched out far,

And nothing alive moved,

.....nor truck or car.

In a splendid house

.....at the edge of town,

Its tiered lights glowing,

.....its swept wings free,

Will Began

.....spun his wife around,

Said, "The house is now ours;

.....don't cry me!"

____________________________

You are so fair for dwelling on

Forever so shall I dwell;

Nor break in two the twining spell

That binds my soul to you.

_________________________________

Song

Days keep coming,

And days fly by,

Faster than clouds

In an April sky.

Kisses come

And kisses go,

Outnumbering

All I know

Light stays,

Shadows pass;

The sun's bright rays

Wave in the grass.

Songbirds sing,

Owls depart;

In the ring of my arms

My true love's heart.

_______________________

I'll Obey

"No more singing", they say;

"It's the end of day".

All right, then, I'll obey.

No more singing. No more song.

No more notes that don't belong.

No more lift and no more swing.

No more joy----there's no such thing.

No more daring, no inspire.

No more love, and no desire.

No more Reason's plan or guide,

And, I say it----no more Pride.

No more grasping, climbing free,

No more dancing Victory.

No more yellow; Lightning, brown.

No more up; the goal is down.

"Stop", they say,

"It's the end of day."

All right, then, I'll obey!

No more singing! No more song!

No more notes that don't belong!

No more lift and no more swing!

No more joy! There's no such thing!

No more daring, no inspire!

No more love and no desire!

No more Reason's plan or guide,

And, I shout it----no more Pride!

No more grasping, climbing free,

No more dancing Victory!

No more lightning; yellow, brown!

No more up; the goal is down!

"Stop", they say.

Why? "I...we...forgot."

Then I can't obey.

Up with singing, up with song,

Up with notes that up belong.

Up with lift, up with swing;

Up with joy! Such a thing!

Up with daring, up inspire,

Up with love, and up desire!

Up with Reason's plan and guide,

Up and up and up with Pride!

Up with grasping, climbing free;

Up with dancing Victory!

Up with yellow-----Profit, crown!

Up is up; down is down!

_____________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

I once worked in a small factory which made plastice watering pipes for chicken-houses, and worked with an extremely competent woman. I wrote the following two poems for her----to her great delight.

The Hands Of Rose

The hands of Rose

Open, close,

Twist and snap,

Count, put back,

Seal, restack,

Slap that strap,

Tip, weigh, ship,

Wave! Clap!

Rest on hips.

Slender, dark brown outside,

Pink brown in the palms,

Tender, nails purple, gold, or silver,

Gold-ringed----bright-haloed grasp!

The hands of rose are:

Swift as birds,

Light as snowflakes,

Gentle as joy.

And competent and sure and sharp they are,

Turning the saddles,

Pushing the buttons,

Dancing all day.

Tapering long fingers go toe to toe,

Bend, kick, straighten, stride just so,

Leap for a pencil, write down a lot,

Bags all ripe bulging, none forgot.

The hands of Rose are:

Graceful as wind,

Soft as sunbeams,

Cool as night.

And gathering, setting, filling the bodies,

Dropping the pins in, pounding the caps,

Or pulling the pipe down, welding the plastic,

Repeating it evenly, expert, fantastic,

The hands of rose are:

Gladder than sparrows,

Calm as her lips are,

Quick as her eyebrows,

Atop of their time.

They touched me once in laughing cheer;

Smile of beauty led them, eyes light, clear.

No wasted motion there, for I, too,

Felt put together exactly right.

The Touch passes, moves on to other things to do,

Make true, instill Rose' spirit into;

Fill up boxes, load up trucks,

Cram, jam, sail the highway,

Vessel the world!

Sell it goods,

Buy some back;

Count up dough,

Stack on stack.

Fold it in,

Press with lips;

Hold it firm,

Rest on hips.

Nothing better anyone knows than:

A day's work done,

Man's thoughts in close,

The hands of Rose.

_______________________

The Rose I know

The Rose I know is not a flower,

But she's more sweet to me

Than all the blossoms all around

On every bush and tree.

And this whole valley, bright with dews,

Like a chandelier layed down,

Has most intense of sparkling views

When Rose comes into town.

Sometimes the wind is soft and free,

And sometimes hard and strong.

Or is it Rose that's walking by,

Or running up with song?

And when machines begin their humming,

And builders start to pound,

I know that Rose is doing something

To make the world go 'round.

The flowers we have are only flowers,

The wind, a something that somehow goes;

At work we have the measure-notes of beauty----

The steady, singing competence of Rose.

_______________________________________

_______________________________________

We Come To Work

The bright doors close.

We move; the station passes.

Now darkness swallows us

As we pour through it.

A yellow light-----past!

Another light-----past!-----past!

A flat white streak, and we don't stop,

We speed! faster, fiercer, driving!

And we are lovers lashed through wonder;

Joy's soul storming with purpose;

Ideas tracking dreams.

And hundreds, thousands, millions, going to work:

Bold-thinkers, old-thinkers, gold-thinkers,

All pow'ring throught the earth, shaking it.

And now slowing down

To stop at home.

The bright doors open,

Out steps the city's heart and mind and blood and guts and soul.

We are its seeds and wings, its sparks and words;

We dreamed it, built it, love it, worship it.

And now it smiles above us waiting its great parents----

Its masters, kings, angels, bosses, gods----

Its real women and its real men.

We come in steel bolts of lightning

And we bring the day!

_______________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[Betsy Speicher 0]

The Hands Of Rose

[...]

Brian Faulkner

←

Brian,

I really liked this poem. What unique insight into a personal value!

Thank you.

[Stephen Speicher 0]

The Hands Of Rose

[...]

Brian Faulkner

←

Brian,

I really liked this poem. What unique insight into a personal value!

Thank you.

←

And can you imagine how Rose must have felt! A poem of her own, all about her and the work she does. I hope Rose asked for an authographed copy and framed it, hanging it on her living room wall.

[B. Royce 0]

Brian,

I really liked this poem.  What unique insight into a personal value!

Thank you.

←

Betsy, I'm very glad you liked it.

[B. Royce 0]

Brian,

I really liked this poem. What unique insight into a personal value!

Thank you.

←

And can you imagine how Rose must have felt! A poem of her own, all about her and the work she does. I hope Rose asked for an authographed copy and framed it, hanging it on her living room wall.

←

[B. Royce 0]

Only Look

Soft-gray clouds lessening over hard-gray sea,

Partly pulled apart into pink and orange,

Slowly separating into peach and gold,

Lovelier than a May dawn's heart can be,

Above, and on the sea. Oh,

And the swell of the sea,

And the free-way-sailing open cries

Of the white-winged hailers of the waking skies,

Soaring around in felt-tipped height,

Around, dip, around, up, and far out wide around,

Till over the downs and down to the beach.

Not there, but here, is the feast I reach,

Back from the shore, through the grass and the flowers,

On a white table on a white-railed porch----

The shell that you found this last half hour,

Raised, smelled, looked at so curiously,

As if Pure Secret were therein bound.

And no, you did not listen, as others do,

But stood just still, a real picture of pausing sound.

Then smiling, you walked proudly away with your own thought.

I ask it not, only look at the shell

And smile, glad that it lay so well.

____________________________________

Song

From the glory of your eyes

To the story of your face,

Steel wings arise,

Far-off lands have place.

Truth you bear within you;

Light goes shining forth;

Only love can win you,

Love of life on earth.

The joy of one sharp place,

The clean span of the skies----

In the story of your face,

And the glory of your eyes.

___________________________

Kiss (after Catullus)

Kiss me but once, Sweet,

And I'll be rapt away;

Or kiss me a second time,

Oh! away all day!

Kiss me but thrice, Sweet,

And I am gone for good;

Or kiss me forever,

Oh, Love! yes you should!

________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Wherever Eyes Of Lover (written early eighties)

Wherever eyes of lover gaze up into eyes

....of lover taking, all time's hours stop.

And falsehood's hands may cover no bare fact

....nor any modest innocense whip passion back,

But he, lead chutist, soars freely

....into rushing earth, to feign no more of fear

And dream no more of fate.

The stirring grasses sigh into the heart

....as "Life is selfless' dies.

It lies so joyfully with death

....the passioned chantings of a flashing bird

Change to elation every banished word

....and "Love is my selfishness!" flies!

Yes! and shall not we sing, too?

....Only yesterday I knew your heart in mine;

I knew the truth of you.

....A new intentness set to send us, too,

As one due day rides sunward,

....and your eyes in my eyes soared into

A flowerwise chaining of unchained desire,

....a flaunting, high conspiracy

That saw no end of time.

We were as trees are, apart, yet rooted

....not to earth but to our strange brows shining,

Glad with fire and mad with sight.

....A brighter radiance shone in May not ever,

A cleaner air or a purer rain;

....made of our thoughts severe long wings together,

Caught up our hearts in a jest of pain.

Then marrow rang! Then breath departed!

....for only Delight there fanned and sped.

'Round every flower a freed wind wended,

....bent the petals from head to head;

Between bold boughs strong gold descended

....and in young leaves old dreams arose.

High swirling grasses sprang up to our thighs

....and brushed the veins of Paradise.

Darkness saw your rare long hair wrap 'round him

....and knew not darkness, saw dewy lightness

Sing upon your shoulders, rang out his joy,

....and died.

Aye, I, too, I, too, knew lightness,

....searing lightness of strained desire,

And like a half-wet flame I laughed aloud

....to see a gentle tree lean out to me,

A yearning, stretching, smiling tree,

....now all aflame as I.

Arms and branches swing into the sky

....and touch away the sunlight as a cloud.

Leaves and faces seek each other's places,

....gaze on hidden spaces and entwine.

Now four curling hands of fire

....rake lightning through the pyre,

Uproot the tree Desire and pull the woodman down!

....The swirling grasses, flowing,

Grow high red storms of knowing,

....learn love that leaps up glowing

And is not bound!

All over eyes of flowers the lover's eye devours,

....devours all time's hours, devours space and light;

And where Love's breath flows sighing

....the soul of Death goes dying,

The Final Fate is flying,

....and burning Day is bright!

____________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[bignosedcopperking 0]

Here is one of the most light-hearted pieces I've ever written.  The words and the original music came together as one; however, since I don't write music, that part stays in my head.  As a poem it reads a little fast, but I think you will still find it enjoyable.

............................More............................

I was looking for someone to love more than anyone I'd ever loved before;

From the east to the west, from the north to the south,

.................................................from the mountains on out to each shore,

All around the world, yes, I did roam,

And now that I've found you, Dear, I have my home.

Home is here, where you are, in your presence so bright;

.................................................I think night is a thing of the past.

Even dawning is dimmer when your eyes are glittering------

.................................................actual DAY at last!

Yes, I've found you, Dear,

Have you, hold you, Dear,

And I will never want more.

You are thoroughly, wonderfully, happily, totally,

................................................all that I mean by "more"!

I was looking for someone to love;

Right here, not below or above;

In the world that I know with the sunlight aglow

.................................................on the circle of everything good.

And I knew I could find you, I could;

Oh, I could and I should and I would.

I'd never stop trying and peering and spying

.................................................until I had found you for good.

Down each avenue, subway, market too, I went looking for you;

Buses passing by, copters on the fly, cabbies waving "Hi!" might hold a clue.

I was looking for someone so rare,

Who'd never a worry or care,

Whose eyes were ablazing with what is amazing

.................................................of everything e-ver-y-where.

And boy! she was happy to dare!

To dare to be true to the beautiful mind

.................................................that is under her glorious hair.

And,

I was looking for someone so strong,

Who would never do anything wrong,

Who'd sing the free way of her spirit each day

.................................................in her own individual song.

Into each library, romantic gallery, searching so thoroughly well,

Antique-book-coffee shop, jewelry store, auto-shop----

.................................................you might be there, who could tell?

I was looking and a-looking, and a-looking and a-looking,

.................................................looking all the night and all day.

Center of the universe, aim of all that I am worth,

.................................................oh where can you be? I did say.

Skipping through a mall so big,  then out upon an oil rig,

Back into the fact'ries and warehouses, too;

Did you have a law degree, or were you trading companies,

Working somewhere sure to be, oh, where were you?

In the crowds around the town you might be suddenly found;

By a statue all alone you might be standing like stone;

Or walking to a tower fair, a turning door a-going there,

The marble floor a-gleaming there--- faint dreams of you.

Then riding up an escalator, strolling to an elevator,

Up atop a skyscraper, would I find you?

I was looking for someone to love more than anyone I'd ever loved before;

From the east to the west, from the north to the south,

..................................................from the mountains on out to each shore,

All around the world, yes, I did roam,

And now that I've found you, Dear, I have my home.

Home is here, where you are, in your presence so bright;

..................................................I think night is a thing of the past.

Even dawning is dimmer when your eyes are glittering------

..................................................actual DAY at last!

Yes, I've found you, Dear,

Have you, hold you, Dear,

And I will never want more.

You are thoroughly, wonderfully, happily, totally,

.................................................all that I mean by "more"!

Brian Faulkner

←

This poem was very beautiful and expresses my own romantic attitude, or hope. 8 years ago when I was 18, I knew that this was the right attitude. Back then if one wanted to meet a woman, one would go to a dance club. With my friends I was reluctant of this. I wanted to meet someone at school, or in a bookstore, or in a coffee shop, or that unusual place, and so clubs didn't attract me. Now I just talk to the person of interest on the subway, or coffee shop, or library.

At the library it's most interesting because the person is usually involved studying. If they are willing to stop studing for an hour, then that tells you something. Imagine walking down the street, seeing a young beauty, walk out of a townhouse, a beauty like which you have "never encountered", the instantaneous desire to know this person ... but suddenly the person begins to run as if late for some important appointment ... and you could not bare to wait around the house with hopes to see the person again--would you run after this person, and get on the same bus? Probably not but the idea is passionate.

The poem is about a man who is always on the alert with optimism--quite romantic.

Thanks,

Big Nosed Copper King.

[B. Royce 0]

bignosedcopperking,

I'm glad "More" expresses your romantic attitude and that you enjoyed it. As for the beautiful woman coming out of the townhouse, yes, run! And if you miss the bus, be there a little earlier tomorrow, or be on that bus before it gets to "her" stop. Best wishes to you,

Brian

In a near-empty coffee-shop in Athens, Georgia a woman came in and sat at my table. We talked like old friends. Time disappeared.

Stoned

"Death by stoning"----the "fatal", "dread" decree;

Rocked out of sleep, slung at Death's Goliath eye,

I skipped upon the waters when you stoned me.

You've thrown me down a welling dream of hope;

I sing, and I pebble the universe with love.

The wonders of your eyes can will my soul to rise,

And down upon the rock I roll the slope.

You struck me with an open look;

You hid nothing, and pillared me;

The avalanche of your simplicity has crushed me sure.

Words? They were not words you spoke,

But lava-leaves hard'ning into steel,

Hot stinging little shards of freed desire.

From the blossoms of your lips

A merry sadness slips,

A crumbling rock that flies like sand away.

On the mountains of your breast

A planet lies at rest,

And I will travel Space not any more.

There are gardens in your sight

With heaps of apples, bright,

And earthly joys;

While in your voice I hear the choiring sea.

My hands gather eternity.

The tiniest granule now could lightly knock me down;

Some butterfly might lift me high away;

The weakest wind that blows my body slay.

"Free by stoning"-----the great new law we see.

Soaring high above,

Sculpted by the pure soft hand of love,

I touch the holy sky when you stone me.

_______________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Confidence (1992, a song without music)

It's mine----everything I see;

Yes, it's mine, waiting patiently.

And I, I have the golden key;

It opens wide everything for me.

I walk along a busy street;

Windows shine, everything is neat.

Sellers whistle out a tune,

"Everything's fine; buyer's buying soon!"

And I, that am that happy guy,

I am here to say, I am here to say,

Trust yourself, use your mind;

Plan ahead or you'll be dead;

take a chance, do your best;

Never laugh when you fall;

Trust yourself, use your mind,

You will rise every time;

pay the price, do it right,

Through the day and into night;

Never moan, stand alone,

Hold your head up in the sky;

Love the true, it's for you,

You'll receive recompense,

And you'll see what I see

When you have confidence.

It's mine----everything I see;

Yes, it's mine, waiting patiently.

And I, I have the golden key,

And it opens wide everything for me.

My money jingles, jingles, jingles in my pants;

Shoppers smile, and they begin to dance.

Tap, tap, tap----they're tapping in my ear;

What a joy to hear! They're tapping in my ear!

And that old cabbie from the cabbie stand,

He steps right out just to shake my hand.

Then tap, tap, tap, he begins to dance;

He can't help himself! He hasn't got a chance!

His money jingles, jingles, jingles in his pants

And yes, I dance!

Trust yourself, use your mind,

Pay the price, do it right,

Never moan, stand alone,

Dance away into the night.

Tap tap tap, tap tap tap, tap tap tap.... tap.......... tap!

______________________________________________

Awake (1992)

The heavy trucks roll up the street

And I roll, too; I rise, I do;

I stand up on my own two feet.

I see the rolling might of dawn

Keep going going on and on,

And glad am I to be awake

And hear the city come to life.

Planning my day, I think of a way

To make my work much faster, better, richer,

And I come to the true and know what to do,

And off I'm gone to break through dawn,

Down to subway, up through town,

First elevator rising, rising, rising,

And,

I walk to my door and open it wide,

Slants in the sun to work at my side,

Far o'er the world I see everything

Ready in light awakening,

See every way open and free,

Shining with joy to be.

Now focus in, get to your task,

There's very very much to do.

Make that call, that question ask,

Then tell them it is up to you.

Sell the goods just like you should

For profit, profit, profit;

Then buy the best and re-invest,

They're coming even more to you!

Write a report, regard every word,

Communicate right context, purpose, meaning.

Meaning

Right from the start and clear to the end

Say what you want and then never bend.

Wrong implications, they'll never do;

Master of Logic----that must be you.

Sign that report and send it away----

Gold in your pocket, today!

Stand up, I do; stand up, I do;

I've done and won the very best.

Whistle, too; I whistle, too,

And give myself a music rest.

Sold the goods just like I should

For profit, profit, profit!

And now the men who want the best

Are coming more to me!

I gaze out my window, see what is mine,

Mine in the spirit, standing in line.

Stone had a Master, steel had a Will,

Struck them together, handles them still;

Gave them a purpose, drove them on high,

Filled them with meaning----"Mine is the sky;

Rise up to me, I'm sure that you can;

Climb, and you'll be a man."

Now focus in, get to your task,

There's very very much to do.

Make that call, that question ask,

Then tell them it is up to you!

____________________________________

Self-Employed (1992)

Star-dash cars now zip along the street,

Wink into the town,

Swerving like party-colored leaves

Surfing the wind.

Everyone's going going going SOMEwhere!

Gone. Here? "Yes!

Straight to the top!

Another perfect day

For another perfect dollar!"

Mine! I have made it!

Now send up flowers

And sky-hearted piano players!

I want clouds to break,

And stars to take,

With craft ever true up-soaring!

Sky, sun, time----won!

Won for the President

Of company Me!

Am I too bold, too free, too loud?

Just wait till I'm more proud.

No, I can't be quiet.

Love, come now, with me, all night!

____________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

Our Factory (1996)

We break the day by waking up our factory;

The cyclone parts, and are we ever glad to be.

So ring the bell, the better part of life is here,

The meaning, love, and joying of, is very clear.

Giant shelves of steel gleam;

Stamp the presses, strong and grim;

Burnt oil smells, compressors hymn;

Our waking island's not a dream.

Tides of power rush on through:

Electric, steam, and gas and air;

Pipes and wires flexing here

For the hands of "I can do".

Competent, and with control,

O Perfect product, be our goal.

Right Desire, never tire,

Climbing ever higher, higher.

Motors roar, conveyors fly,

Solid men are standing by;

Glance upon us, signaling----

Whip together, separate, one!

Turn that wheel, get up speed;

Focus sharp there, mark the need.

Full attention, guide it; get behind it, ride it!

Drive yourself efficiently!

Spinning rollers----vibes of steel;

All about me----good to feel.

Stainless panels----let 'em roll;

Stamp together! Print in soul!

Edge to edge and side to side

All we make is endless pride;

Pride of Planner's, Thinker's, "Go!

Sure I had it, now it's so!"

Yes, he had it, he was right,

Life is here in genius flight.

He took the earth, changed it, shaped, redesigned it,

Made the wants of body, mind.

Two-pound ovens, railroad cars,

Hand-held scopes for unknown stars,

Piano pedals, rud's for ships,

Nine-foot jets for "Be there!" trips.

Slanting down, soaring high,

Full conveyors hum on by.

Measuring, wrenching, tooling fast,

Man by man the job flies past.

One by one by one they come,

Silver chains and boxes flow,

Stop and twist and turn and stop,

One by one by one they go.

All these orders coming in,

Newer product's going to win.

Fill 'em, pack 'em, slap 'em down,

Count 'em up and wrap 'em 'round.

"Look out! Jam!"

Trouble now, but that's a "nought",

Cancel "Jam" out with thought.

Step right to it, see the cause, undo it,

Then back on track to make up time.

Our fingers sweat and shine with life,

Our shirts and pants are sticking;

All in control of holy strife----

This city's heart is ticking.

Ten more pallets----that'll do;

One last order strides on through.

Comes in searching with numbers set,

Writes out tickets of no regret.

Ten one ton safes, all coal-mine black,

White gold inside, like this day;

A sacred life to keep intact

On a paper of That's My Way.

Then, one, by one, by one, they come;

Hang the doors and close 'em----so.

Stop, and twist, and turn, and stop;

One, by one, by one, they go.

All these orders going out,

Older products still have clout.

Take 'em, stack 'em, read their codes,

Strap 'em up and weigh their loads.

Deed-rich towers, there they stand,

Angled "V" to cross the land.

From "My intent" of mind's invent

To complete perfection endlessly.

Loader! Forklift! Over here!

Make it fast! Haven't got all year!

(Cold blades under, smooth and swift;

Now up, tilt back; oh, nifty lift!)

Trucks are empty, feed 'em fast!

World's awaiting, waking, vast!

Houston, New York, Rome, Paris!

Forev' L.A. and young Boise!

Farmers, doctors, waiters, sec's,

Pert saleswomen and tall exec's.

And some one person in some one place

Is seeing the options of some one case.

"Ring!!!" Oh! It's over! Where did it go?

Did we have lunch? I can't remember. No?

Oh well, that was the bell.

Now to sweep, and clean up well.

Motors sigh, and rollers cease.

All is quietly at peace.

We dim the lights and take last sight

Of tomorrow's ready-set might.

We end the day by closing up our factory.

We've earned a rest, and earned it ever happily.

The city lights are beaconing a welcome cheer,

The joy and love and meaning of is very clear.

__________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

I wrote the following four lines because I don't like the words of pity at the base of The Statue Of Liberty. David Gulbraa used these four lines in his novel "Tales of the Mall Masters".

For love of life I stand;

Who does want me, come.

Take light of freedom from my hand

And count yourself the sum.

______________________________

Some of our patriotic hymns stir me, but I have known that they would do so much more with a few changes. So, here is "America" with the religious sentiments dispelled.

America-------originally by Samuel F. Smith; revised by Brian Faulkner

My country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers' pride,

Unbound in open stride,

From every mountainside

Made freedom ring.

My sovereign country, thee,

Land of the noble free,

Thy name I love.

I love thy cities strong,

Bright strings of lights among;

High towers rise in silent song

Through clouds above.

Now music proves the soul

Of manhood's self-control----

His reason's might.

Now all our hearts abound,

Each one partakes the sound,

Stands rightfully upon the ground

With fearless sight.

My Fathers' life, to thee,

Rational Liberty,

To thee I sing.

Long shall my land be bright

With freedom's honest light;

I guard thee day and night

In everything.

_________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[piz 0]

Some of our patriotic hymns stir me, but I have known that they would do so much more with a few changes.  So, here is "America" with the religious sentiments dispelled....

←

I like this a lot! There have been many times when I thought that if only a phrase or even a word were changed here or there, many songs could be made much better.

Also, everyone gets lyrics wrong once in a while - I've noticed that, in most cases, the words I think are being sung are more rational than the actual ones. I fill in things that make sense to me and it works out that way.

[B. Royce 0]

I like this a lot! There have been many times when I thought that if only a phrase or even a word were changed here or there, many songs could be made much better.

Also, everyone gets lyrics wrong once in a while - I've noticed that, in most cases, the words I think are being sung are more rational than the actual ones. I fill in things that make sense to me and it works out that way.

←

Yes, I, too, do that quite often. I once even changed "Jesus loves me, this I know..." to "Reason loves me, this I know, for my logic tells me so", when I was thinking about how bad ideas can get smuggled in through catchy tunes.

Glad you like the "revision".

[B. Royce 0]

Getting the jump on Earth Day.

Telephone Pole

I sit like that pole that is standing outside,

Firm and purposeful, whole.

It bears up the wires of worldly desires;

Like me, it is strong with soul.

One simple thing touched with Man's thought,

It stands up tall for good;

One happy thing for all who's out-sing-----

An always-at-work man of wood.

Brown in the sun, black in the rain,

Straight in a wild storm's run,

It carries supreme each "I-will-do" dream

Till east/west ride into one.

Birds skip around as though to catch sound,

As happy light bells were their feet.

An in-house "brrr!"----the whole flock whirr!

Swaying the wires sweet!

I look at that pole that is standing outside,

Firm and purposeful, whole.

"Wave"-thoughts intersect, desires connect;

Speech has a sailing soul.

Now a man climbs, steady and fast;

Straight up the sky he goes!

He's got to the top----no tool can drop----

And expertly does what he knows.

(Shirt red, pants blue;

Face, hands, dust gold;

White-capped in blue sky,

Light, ready, bold!)

Around one shoulder loops the line,

To a slope, down-sweeping away.

But up, the end, he clamps right in,

Deft handling all the way.

Quick in the sun, grim in the rain,

Strong in a wild storm's run,

He's got to be there to anchor a pair

Of "I-will-do" dreams to come!

In front, each side, runs a squared-off spar,

Where tell-waves peak up to cross;

He keys a device for splice-beauty, nice----

"Nice work, skyway boss!"

It's done. He looks. Far about him.

He sees where the young town will grow.

Now climbs to the earth. Around him

The sun just brightens it so.

Now off, to a new one, to anchor and climb,

To a new, and a new, and a new!

He'll stand and he'll ply at the top of the sky

For a dream sailing east/west due.

Up through the dawn, on through today,

Week, month and year he is good.

He throws 'cross the land each hear-a-bit strand;

He's clearly the god of that wood.

It waits. Birds wait. And I stand up,

Glad, attentive, light.

The sky is so near and the tree-tops so clear

I feel like that tall pole's height.

Now it's easy to see it once was a tree,

And maybe a pretty one, too;

But I strongly avow, "You're a handsomer, now,

Now you've got a more man thing to do.

Handsomer, straighter, keen thought its creator,

Brrr! Efficient-Sky-Topper for guide,

There's a pure million more as tall-standing, I'm sure,

But this one's my backyard pride!

________________________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[Stephen Speicher 0]

Getting the jump on Earth Day.

Telephone Pole ...

←

That's just terrific, Brian. What an ending! Thanks!

Do you ever sleep?

[B. Royce 0]

That's just terrific, Brian. What an ending! Thanks!

Do you ever sleep? 

←

Thank you, Stephen.

Actually, except for the last line, which I re-wrote today, the poem is about ten years old. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

[B. Royce 0]

Crow Song (2005)(with a distant wave to Aristophanes)

Crow in the palm,

What is your psalm?

Caw! Caw! Caw!

To God I do not belong!

Crow in the evergreen,

What do you mean?

Caw! Caw! Caw!

I'm really here,

I'm really seen.

Crow in the day,

What do you pray?

Caw! Caw! Caw!

Get off my back,

I am okay!

Crow in the night,

Where do you 'light?

Caw! Caw! caw!

Up in the palm

To sing my song.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

________________________

There is a slender brick skyscraper down around 15th and Spruce in Philadelphia which I look forward to seeing whenever I'm there.

Old Youth (2005)

Stand you away, alone, above me,

Tower of old dull red brick

Cutting the blue sky in two,

Straight up, right through.

You in my calloused hands I feel

And walking kneel and rise and swing

Into the sky with you,

Up and through.

Side-stepping street to busy street

I hear the beat of a hundred happy feet

Echoing our flight complete,

Brick on brick on brick,

Echoing the blue sky in two,

Step-stepping up,

And up, brick, and through.

Hard-shouldered, fearless, quick,

Streamlined, non-stop brick,

Away, alone, above, streaking!

You to my soul-plane speaking,

Up and through!

Oh, who has joy to work in you?

Whose careers are stepping, too/

And whose gold hair takes fire there

Up so high in the brick-lined air?

Wings of pigeons, flags, and sun

Unfurl, flap and triumph,

Cutting the blue sky with you,

Up and through!

_________________________________

(the punishment of) Sisyphus

He leans back upon a hill, laughing.

He was so fast.

Boulders lie shattered and broken all about.

_____________________________________

Brian Faulkner

[B. Royce 0]

I just finished watching my favorite TV show, so, just a few lines for it.

The courage of Chloe---magnificent was she;

Shot down the shatterer and ended he.

He shattered, he rammed, intending to kill,

But Chloe has conquered, and he lies still.

As long as there's Chloes we'll not be poor

Who love the tough heroes of 24.

And Jack, good Jack, you've done it again;

Though a fair one 'd doubt you, you're a man of men.