Nonesuch 6 (14-Nov-1991)

Here's another in the whimsical Nonesuch series. As with all of these, misspellings, poor punctuation and grammatical errors are intentional. This was written in my journal and the way it ends really was an attempt to finish out the page.

Nonesuch 6

---

There’s purple bird poop on my window
Cars streeming through the evening sun
Midnight sits and waits to see who follows
Is it
Maybe
One who writes
Come Follow Me
Do I rerun
Verse
Fly away
But follow
Repeats that word again
Little yellow
Big holding
Sleep
Sleep
Waken to the sound of silent rain
Drops on my window
Silly favorite ice
Cream and honey flows through
Out, Out Damn dog
Spotted several purple
Birds circle
Finish
The
Page
Must
Before
I
Am
Finished
With
This

Nonesuch 5 (27-Aug 27-1987)

I know there was a Nonesuch 4 and even a Nonesuch 3-1/2 but I can't find them as they are not in my journals. Since it's late and I just got back from a concert I am too tired to comment...enjoy.

Nonesuch 5

---

A nickel for a dime
A penny for three,
If you come
I'll go with thee.
But why
But why
As in the background
Was born
A newborn infant
In swaddled clothing.
The summer sun,
The winter hawk.
Let me go
She screamed as he
Danced
Lithely upon the
New fallen snow.
If we all go
Our
My
His
Merry Way
Merry Christmas
But Stan
Shouted Ollie.
Give up not ye
Clothes
But to the poor
Giveth thy
Self
Selfless
Selflessly
He stood waiting for her reply
But
It never came
She was too
Far away
Eating them cake too.
Good
Goodness
Is
There
No
More?

Nonesuch 3 (22-Apr-1985)

After yesterday, I figured I should post something light. Here is the next in the Nonesuch series.

Nonesuch 3

---

Hello, there.
I'm not really here.
But if I were,
What I
would say,
I would
Say well.
Bien entendu
Et
Comme d'habitude
Wait!
Look!
There!
In the sky!
It's a plain bird.
Or is it?
What if it?
It.
Were that?
That.
It were that?
There is that.

Only one more time
Can I say
What it is
I want to say
And say it
Well.
And just how often
Is this often
Possible?
Only those know
Who know
Wherein lies the meaning
Inherent
In these words
I
Have
Said
Well.

Nonesuch 2 (2-Feb-1985)

Since I got such a positive response for the first and because I'm to tired, sick, and lazy to do something original today, I'll post the second in the Nonesuch series. This one is far more whimsical.

Nonesuch 2

---

To be or not to be.
What we be we be.
Webe,
Ebe,
Jebe;
Lo and Behold:
What is held
Will
Forever be mine.
Thine.
Swine.
Shine,
On Christian Soldiers.
Onward Harvest Moon.
The sand but yet blows freely
From here to Desert Moon.
A poem is but a poem,
A man is but a man;
If we are what we are,
Are we not ourselves?
No?
Yes?
Does any know?
On this questionable
(Questioning?) note;
I leave thee
And such ends Nonesuch 2

Nonesuch 1 (10-Nov-1984)

I realize that the prompt sites are meant to prompt new writing but I couldn't resist pulling out an old one for the Totally Optional Prompt of Get Surreal. In high-school I toyed with a form of free verse that I called broken verse. It's basically pure stream-of-consciousness poetry. This was the first of those that I wrote. I have carefully proofed this against the original and the layout, punctuation and wording are correct...whether you like it or not :-)

Nonesuch 1

---

This poem was meant
For other that human minds;
Its words not made of human words
It shall be forsooth and forsay
Never to be grasped by other than I.
Forever and for nay,
Merry and anon
Shall this poem stand
As a gate to misunderstanding;
Locked against none but closed to
All.
All who would have it other than
The way in which it wasn't meant.
Shall we
Shall thee
See
Into the eternal darkness
Of what even the soul can fathom?
We may tread
So long as we walk.
Human Reason may guide he
Who walks where no-one ever walks
But even he cannot guide us
Past this time to our destiny.

Has-been.
Is-was.
Used-to-be.
Never-was.
Come, without walking
Fly, without thought.
By this may one conquer these words
Which even I cannot repeat.
How does one express
What he is able
Without saying that which
He does not long for:

For upon the hill
Where the flowers bloom
In an endless winter of passion's
Hope.
May the that I could were?
Be mine,
Be mine
He cries upon her snow dried ears.
But she only replies,
Without a wanton calling,
Of course,
Of course.
And so they speak,
In each other's lace,
That maybe
Just once
They could
Understand
My
Words.