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The Writing Forum’s Writer of the Month - November 2006
THE WRITING FORUM’S WRITER OF THE YEAR 2006
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AUTHOR’S BIO:
Born in Chicago, Illinois; richard is the progeny of intrepid immigrants who bravely sailed to America from Sweden and Norway. He was introduced to the arts at six years of age by his talented visionary mother who was a remarkable classical vocalist. For twelve years he struggled through long hours of practice to become a proficient performer on classical trumpet. Those twelve years, practicing three to four hours a day, taught him the importance of focus and discipline in any endeavor worth doing.
For twenty years richard performed in over 33 bands, ranging from Power Trio Rock, to Country Swing, and Top 40, as a guitarist, vocalist, and the primary writer. As a professional/recording musician he built his own Digital, Midi-Centered recording studio where he worked diligently for seven years. He recorded over five hundred compositions during that time and has two completed CDs to his credit - "What Love Has Done" and "The Path."
With abiding interest in poetic invention, richard uses various styles and structures - including Freeform - Experimental - Rhyming - Syllable formats - Tanka - Triolet - Haibun - Tankabun - Ekphrastic - poetic flash-fiction - and Acrostic - to encourage his poetic insights to bear fruit. He commends his predominant literary influences as being Jules Verne, Jack London, Robert Lewis Stevenson, Edgar Rice Burrough's, Soren Kierkegaard, Alvin Toffler, Henry David Thoreau, Frank Herbert, C.S. Lewis, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, John Muir, Herman Hesse, Bret Harte, Daniel Defoe, and Mark Twain, among others .......
In 2003, richard’s sweeping MONUMENTAL JOURNEY SERIES found its inception Eager for the adventure of such an endeavor, and with equal amounts of apprehension and avidity, he embraced the challenge of writing about the Rognvald Vikings early journey to the Southwestern United States, which culminated over four hundred and fifty years later with the intrepid crew of the computerized schooner Heimdall retracing the original Rognvald journey in its remarkable fullness. His novels have been likened to a unique blending of Jules Verne, Robert Lewis Stevenson, and C.S. Lewis. They were awarded CST's 2007 Best New Adventure, Mystery, and Historical Fiction.
His novels include: A Monumental Journey; A Monumental Journey 2, In Search of the First Tribe; A Monumental Journey 3, the Underground River; and, A Monumental Journey 4, Beyond Understanding. All are available at:
www.richardlcederberg.com
www.authorhouse.com
www.Amazon.com
www.borders.com
www.bn.com
Or through any brick and mortar bookstore using Richard L Cederberg, or the book title
To read richard’s essays, flash fiction, story poems, or short stories, published here at The Writing Forum, please click on the page you’d like to view below:
Essays
Flash Fiction
Short Stories
The Tarzan Story-Poems Series
Other Story-Poems
Email richard at: Swederberg@aol.com
RICHARD L CEDERBERG’S POETRY
Click on the button in front of any poem title in the list
below to be linked to that poem’s location on the page:
 shards and impressions…
Posited… (tankas)
the real friendships...
Conflux (tanka)
waiting for water
uncharted waters (tanka train)
Suddenly (haibun format)
love remains eternal...
MOCKINGBIRD (haibun)
UNSPOKEN (haibun)
I'll bid thee farewell (triolet)
angelic conversation - allegory
gangly man
selflessly
no overhead casting... - Literary criticism
the oracle contends
a sense of oneness
she meditates in a cave
raven on a snow perch
two in a skiff
[an inevitable autumn]
Searching for Beauty
on the wings of another ...
Build a Bridge
our one path (together) became two alone...
she ran with a wolf
the day left much unspoken
shards and impressions…
(In loving memory)
I will forever cherish that
Blest season you provoked my
Pregnant hodgepodge of phraseology
With imagery and desire singing sweet melodies
Together with the swaying of all possibilities
As every construal quickened us and
Offered what was needed
And I echo, with
Warmth, the fragrance
Of those satinpod moments
Untangling between us all hindrances,
Times when what charmed us most was
A shared disposition to communicate
Freely with no sorrows or regrets~
And I recall (too) your
Most debilitating
Silly moods
And how you would
Blackguard the political satirists,
And always, with belly-laughs, poke fun
At the stylized tiptop’s of aging poetic tosspots--
Shaking their metaphors (like dice in a cup) and
Casting them over the page in anticipation of
Some wakeless subtext appearing--
As quixotic randomness
Fondly I think back on
Adventures fresh breezes as
We purposed to protect ourselves
From controlling influences that could
Diminish our palette of singularities-
Still… despite all we dreamed,
And all we purposed for,
Fate leant its course
In a way we'd
Never considered, as
Nothing could appease the
Menacing forces that raged against you;
Helplessly I watched a vibrant life whittled away
And on that dread day, after
Your final roll through the garden,
Having no grasp of the beauty, without
Touching the blooms or seeing the colors,
I sensed your
Life-pulse lessening (irrefutably)
As you stared ahead with glazed eyes
And in that moment,
When the mirror cracked,
And life separated into angularities,
When all that remained was shards and
Impressions of a diminishing day
You disengaged from life--
The beauties of it
The muck of it
The flow of it-- and with
A final sigh you smiled out blankly as
Your spirit took flight from all earthly limitations
© richard lloyd cederberg
Posited… (tankas)
~*~
To hope for knowledge,
Forgoing preconception;
A kind extension
From the heart of another
Rewards both in acceptance
~*~
And in this process,
When what is sought is subtle
You proffered wisdom;
It was more than I had known;
It was more than I deserved
~*~
I sing your song now,
In bliss and tribulation;
I am but one grain
Posited where providence
Knew I would best be suited
~*~
© richard lloyd cederberg
the real friendships…
It was all too much to bear,
(For me) staring out across the valley
At you supplicating earnestly for more
Of life to share, for more time to
Live, to express freely,
And in your
Own quirky way
Owning another season
Guaranteed free from defects
(Endemic to HUMAN frailty)
And what I’d hoped fervently for
Was another chance
For you (perhaps)
At making some sense
Of all that would be pulled,
Eventually, from the wreckage
Of what had forced you down along the
Edges of life’s fragile looking glass
Being thankful for
The real friendships;
Those few you cuddled in your
Heart when living got serious, or when
You’d reached wits end alone again, somehow
Confiding in the trustable, and now accepting that what
You had always struggled to believe in was all that made sense
And all you purposed
To hear was [a wise voice]
Encouraging you to walk this way,
Or that way, telling you to listen only to
Those elect who drank from the purest streams,
Reminding you to give thanks for having NOT been born in the
Days of antiquity when people suffering (with the invisible)
Were often left to perish on windswept crags
© richard lloyd cederberg
Conflux
(tanka)
You flow into me
Without changing the essence
Of whom I've become;
But I am more than I am
Because you merge into me
© richard lloyd cederberg
2012
waiting for water
("to be nobody but yourself - in a world which is doing its best,
night and day, to make you everybody else - means to fight the hardest
battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting") …
~E. E. Cummings
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face
And on his back the burden of the world.
~John Steinbeck…
And from his
Cracked parched lips
Wearied prayers are offered
Daily, rolled as dice blurred words
(Being little more than gravelly whispers)
Pleading earnestly - amidst a dry mosaic of
Stones and dusty furrows - for clement rains
To reanimate the skeletal fields he once
Dreamt would be his Eden…
Even so, he tilled the earth
In languishing rhythms, scraping,
Scratching, turning, folding, speaking to it,
Loving it, hating it, as his composure
Slowly waned… Often
Snared in dark seasons of thought,
He cursed his lot - in cleaving discontent - each
Day, weathered hands bearing (doggedly) the burthen of
Family misfortune, whose dreams sifted through his fingers
On quicksilver winds and settled in places where all
Such things unrequited finally find rest
© richard lloyd cederberg
2012
uncharted waters
(tanka train format)
You touched me today
With your faith and bravery,
Showing me somehow
That you trusted where I'd lead
In a world of deceptions
It was a blessing
Watching you reach towards Eden
And with no reserve
Truly anticipating
Something howling happening
Your eyes aflame, you
Shared thoughts about strategy
Without mincing words -
Mutualism was what
You'd ascertained recently -
The notion of two
Together becoming one
Despite differences;
A diminution of self
To elevate the other
But because this kind
Of understanding required
More than our minds knew
We resolved (on pure breezes)
To sail beyond illusive
With no contrivance
We joined two hearts together,
In purposeful trust
Becoming a strong mountain
With rushing streams and flowers
Touching the other
Without smudging the spaces
We merged both our goals,
And sailed together as one
Into uncharted waters
© richard lloyd cederberg
3/2012
Suddenly
(haibun)
It seemed inconceivable that (just moments before) the sunlight had disappeared entirely in a deafening roar. Something terrible had happened. The environment was choked with dust. Around us metallic sounds ground harshly as massive steel girders shifted under countless tons of concrete.
Aside from our lives
All we had come to embrace
Collapsed suddenly
Groans undulated, through the stifled silence, as those around realized their fate. Despairing in a fog of ambiguous feelings; senses sharpened (sometime later) when one small beam of light began dancing in ghostly shafts between the rocks. Faintly we heard a muffled voice asking: “Are there any survivors?” Many wept.
With one terse question,
When all seemed hopeless and lost,
Hope returned for us
“We're in here,” many cried. As we would come to discover, we were the latest dupes
of failed talks, treachery, and malevolent technology. False promises, treasonist deceivers, and governments rife of corruption, had rewritten the preferred course of history.
Who could comprehend
Such devastation rendered
In one moments time
© richard lloyd cederberg
2012
love remains eternal…
“For now we see through a glass darkly…”
Love moves ever silently,
In grace wooing as a gentle light,
Reaching beyond all dark riffling shadows
Blended along random edges,
Love speaks softly,
And willingly, in wisdom's serenity
steering the heartsick from their sorrows,
As a billowing wind filling sails
Love sates the heart,
In fullness of purpose drawing
Near when we hide wounded eyes and weep,
Love offers cool water in our struggles,
As the fires of life lessen,
Never forsaking us when our dying
Embers whiten; He strengthens us, with
Assurances that love remains forever…
© richard lloyd cederberg
MOCKINGBIRD (haibun)
You were born with verve. Providence chose a pepper tree outside the bedroom window. Fully voiced, baby learned language quickly. We rather fancied it a gift from God; an ardent voice to chase away evil spirits. We were mistaken! It was only a lonely male that warbled and whined because it could not find a mate.
Mockingbird
sings through the night
Irritatingly
© richard lloyd cederberg
UNSPOKEN (haibun)
She descends waving from atop the stairs. I sense our hearts speaking mysteries. Perfumed hair is intoxicating. In quietude we walk hand in hand through shifting sand grass towards the water’s edge. Waves foam white on the rocks. In the distance two blue feluccas sail in tandem. Pulling up her gauzy dress she dips her toes gingerly in cool water. Above us seagulls palaver in morning air.
Along the shoreline
Two lover’s silently feel
The others desire
© richard lloyd cederberg
I'll bid thee farewell (triolet)
I'll bid thee farewell in chill winter’s air
Where time spent was lessened in pure-white expanse
When all wishes spoken could never repair
I'll bid thee farewell in chill winter’s air,
Affording those promises, most squandered unfair,
In all shifting shadows of hope and romance,
I'll bid thee farewell in chill winter’s air
Where time spent was lessened in pure-white expanse
© richard lloyd cederberg
angelic conversation - allegory
Within the fragments of immured heavenly bodies inter-dimensional rifts unfolded. Between heartbeats a subtle stirring began as susurrant voices. In superlative splendor two celestial beings issued into an unsuspecting universe in singularity. Glowing as suns these ageless watchers faced one another for the first time in six thousand years.
“SANGUINEA … great queen of marvels -
blessed of the ages - may perfections dew continue
to moisten thee with eternity’s radiance. Your beauty
is as a million suns in harmony with ….”
“GREAT SONOSYN … wise sovereign and
conjurer of humorous myth, know that thy flattery is a gentle
rain in my heart. May all that is virtuous fill your treasury with wisdom's
invaluable benefits, and may the purest of waters forever refresh
thy devoted brethren.”
“My brethren - dear Saguinea - are all remonstrating fervently.
It began when the news of an emerging leader, and the threat of
impending chaos, upon Earth, infiltrated the crystalline networks.”
“I, too, have seen, and heard, such as you say Sonosyn, in
similar fashion, and, with equal intensity. That we have been called
out to intervene in the AFFAIRS OF MAN seems a natural recourse to
the impending universal dilemma.”
“I must agree noble queen! The Highest God will
soon enact prophecies upon planet Earth. We have been
chosen, it seems, as instruments to carry out His will,
in due time, during the impending tribulation.”
“Look at the earth and the space around her Sonosyn;
it has become a ponderous trash heap of refuse and
metal objects. Where is the conscience in this?”
“It seems, great queen, that humanity has lost its
conscience and is more prone to destruction and raping the
resources of the Most High’s gift than the mandate of stewardship.”
“It is a tragedy Sonosyn – look down into the cities.
Men becoming women, women becoming men, and some
becoming both. Look at the streets and byways, look at what humanity
has chosen to consume. And look, now, at what it has become
because of their loathsome choices."
“Great Queen … there is no stopping this
momentum. The residents of Earth are following
paths of their own choosing; not the ones ordained in
creation. Many live their lives in insular bubbles, pretending,
devoid of good sense and judgment. Self-consumed and questing
after mammon and paper thrones; austerity will destroy them as
they disregard the planets health and their fellow man, and,
as seek after personal power and high status. They utterly
defile their bodies with the doctrines of the fallen ones,
and make art of their carnality and debauchery.”
“Great and wise Sonosyn; dear friend and servant of the
Most High … even the Holy One’s gatherings, His church,
has become polluted to the point of blasphemy.They are filled now
with those who seek their bellies and not the Truth. I am reminded of the
words of Jude: “Yet these men speak abusively against what they do
not understand; and what things they do understand by instinct,
like unreasoning animals – these are the very things
that destroy them.”
“Yes, enlightened one – these are grumblers and
faultfinders; they follow their own evil desires; they boast
about themselves and flatter others for their own advantage.
They are shepherds who feed only themselves. They are
clouds without rain, blown along by the wind; autumn
trees without fruit and uprooted – twice dead.”
“If only they understood what was coming upon them
Sonosyn. If only they could comprehend what being without
Light and Truth really means in eternity. If they could but
comprehend the permanence of the second death. If only they
had eyes to see for a moment WHAT WE SEE – all would fall
prostrate and repent. Soon dire and frightening signs will
abound, and disasters will increase in magnitude.”
“I fear for the Earth Sanguinea - but let us rejoice that
there are those (still) who believe in Light and Truth; those who
dauntlessly share the everlasting wisdom they have been given,
irrespective of those multitudes that doubt and ridicule.”
“Yes Sonosyn; let us rejoice for those who persevere.
Using the simple gifts they have been given, let us pray that
Holy Light will anoint their efforts to illuminate the darkened souls of
those searching; of those fettered by debilitating sin; of those bound by
substance abuse; of those who worship angels; of those self-absorbed and
ignorant; of those given to the defiling of the flesh, and to those needed
for the impending translation.”
©richard lloyd cederberg
gangly man
Gangly man
With thoughts awry
Endures unschooled
A sorry fool
His tapestry
Of barren threads
Reveals a face
Drawn haggard
Gangly man
With head in hand
Accepts his fate
As reprobate
Accepts the sneers
Of passerby’s
Who see a life
In shambles
Gangly man
Once was adored
His father’s heart
A mighty sword
His mother’s love
Gave him the strength
To forge ahead
Of heartbreak
Gangly man
Oh gangly man
What happened to
The dreams you had
What happened to
The hope once shared
When you were young
And eager
Gangly man
He smeared the slate
And waves the flag
Of common fate
Plays saddened notes
That ring untrue
A broken man
Left yearning
Gangly man
Oh gangly man
There’s nothing left
For you to plan
A dream gone wrong
An unsung song
Is how your life’s
Remembered
©richard lloyd cederberg
selflessly
At times it is the wayfarer who
touches deeper than imagination
At times it is a contemporary who -
as a warming light - infuses the soul and
imparts those things necessary to carry on
At times it is a family member who inspires
one to forge ahead undaunted in spite of obstacles
At times it is the concerns for those senescent that
compel benefactors to give willingly in a self-seeking
mammon driven world
Sometimes we see an anonymous collaborator who
offers assistance to those in need, but wants the fact
kept secret for fear of a lessening of personal condition
Rarely (anymore) does anyone reach out to
others in genuine and noble love, and even rarer
does another’s altruism intone melodies as
a balm to the impecunious
There are some, though,
who shift nervously in the shadows.
Hesitant to step out into the light, these innocuous
visionaries seek life’s enchanted kernels to scatter along
the furrows of human need. Here, the sharing of vivacity and
all of its blessings – with strangers and aliens – is everyday
and commonplace. It is these few magnanimous hearts,
besieged by everyday turmoil, those bold souls,
robust, focused, and undeterred, that I raise
my hand in salute to. It is these fearless seers who
probe in blanched fields for hidden jewels contradicting logic.
Irrespective of popular trend, and the lifeless opinions of tyrannical demigods,
and of those who choose to cynically politicize everything; these watchers
and innovators cultivate the fields of creative vision as they continually
catch hope emblazoned as lightening. Despite the occasional
lamenting of human frailties, these magnanimous souls
purpose to create and breathe goodness into all
that is – and could be – while aiding others
selflessly within redoubtable bastions of
wholeness honesty and respect
©richard lloyd cederberg
no overhead casting...
(Literary criticism)
...On this pier,
Where one could
Easily be ensnared by another’s
Abstractions, or lessened by another’s
Skillfulness, or brought to naught by some
Showoff hooking another’s private parts
So
NO,
Not here
On this particular pier,
The only exception being that
(And don't tell anyone I told you)
If you are alone, with no one around,
And when no one’s space is compromised,
And when the blabbermouths peering around
Corners can't see you through the brumous shroud
That descends naturally to obscure,
Then,
Perhaps,
A freer more natural rhythm
Can be employed without
Having to deal with
The swithering
Weeping
Brooding
Indignation of
Those who feel threatened,
Or those who feel their boundaries
Are being misinterpreted,
Or reinterpreted,
Or ignored,
But,
As I
Said before,
Not here
On this particular pier,
As long as there’s the fear
Of gouging someone’s eyeball,
Of ripping open someone’s flesh,
Especially when the suns out
And everyone can see
Who you really are
And what you're
Really doing
© richard lloyd cederberg
the oracle contends...
With eyes closed
How fast can man go
In his fabricated vehicles
Extemporizing tasks at hand
Without breaking the laws
Of the commonwealth,
Or of any ‘res publica’ simply in an
Attempt to suckle gratifications pap?
Considering what is judged in accordance
With approved usage and how high man can
Fly before he begs for supplemental oxygen,
There comes a time when real understanding
Is akin to a prison break from consciousness,
When insight (at last) figures the illusions,
And homo is forced to brood everything,
Indiscretions and repulsions,
Concocted pretense, and
Self-aggrandized tidings,
A self-important person
Seeking to extinguish
Another’s lighthouse
Because of jealousy
Or worse yet
Reverence...
And because
Of fearfulness,
Or contemptibleness,
He suits a green-eyed monster that
Cannot accept anything brighter than self,
Becoming a beast of artistic elaboration seeking
Meaning in computer stratagems,
Worthless poetic drivel,
The art of lifelessness, pasting
This with that, a patchwork
Quilt of machine art,
Arrogant
Dipso-humorists
Slogging a middle-class bio,
Rife with haughtiness, and fictive
Beliefs of sublime involution,
Achievement living for self
For self-aggrandizement
For self-satisfaction
In false humility
Breathing
Smugly
As the oracle calmly remonstrates:
Vicariously YOU live through your
Heroes and all your refinements and talents
And what you think you understand about life
In an attempt to rehash what you find acceptable
Before you disappear inside the cesspool of
Your struggles in a never-ending search
For love, for meaning, and a stylish
Relevance of reflection and
Truth
(But I am who I am
And YOU ARE NOT, the
affronted scream vengefully)
Never considering that
Before all get too numbed,
And lose the fire pushing them,
To explore those lands uncharted,
And a desire to make a real difference,
Considering that if the average man never
Really cares that crop circles are likely formed
From worm holes opening and closing in
Preparation for the coming paradigm,
Or he misses the deeper insights of
Genesis One,
Hinting at another incarnation of Earth
Destroyed in a deluge before Adam and Eve,
If he never comprehends the harps ten strings
As ten dimensions the present universe sublimely
Was created in, diminished when the first couple
Was cast from the garden,
If he never experiences the
Gift of artistic conceptualization,
Or the bliss of spiritual relationship,
Or if he never fully cogitates the reasons
Why one succeeds and another fails, or the
Reasons why one conveys through arrogance,
And another through omnipotent grace,
(And why both seem at times similar)
Or why some are bold to express,
And deprecate another’s faith
And some are inhibited
And hide behind
Facades
Alas...
Consider,
That before departure,
We might all join hands
(Momentarily) in the celebration of
What life and art really is, and what our simple
Callings represent in the wholeness of Truth's foreverness
© richard lloyd cederberg
a sense of oneness
(A magnificent hiking adventure, Michele and I were privileged to experience,
in costal southern Oregon within the Samuel H. Boardman corridor -
12 miles of forested linear park ....)
It was there
Suddenly before us,
The trailhead we'd been hoping to find,
That special path that would take us
Somewhere we'd never been…
With no misgivings, and
After checking our water and
Provisions, we forged up a narrow
Rain-moistened trail through dense evergreens
And ferns - cameras at the ready - in search
Of something we'd never experienced
Today I found your soul
Opening to myriad reflections
Glistening on the ocean in an afternoon sun;
Out from us the white-capped surface stretched south along
The coast and west to the visible horizon in shades
Of greens and blues and whites
And while the wings of your heart
Unfurled, I sensed your imagination quickened
As we neared the promontories crest; here refreshing
Northern winds were influencing the treetops; swaying rhythmically,
A choir of sounds (as a whispering of ancient voices) was welcoming us
To a place known only to seagulls and angels; here, encompassing us,
An Elysian splendor – imprinted with countless involutions of life
And colors and smells - held us enchanted in the eye of
The Creator’s ineffable invention
Today, my love,
Our hearts soar together
In this place where living seems
Uninfluenced by the collusive tendencies
Of man, as we flow in unity with creation, and
A sense of oneness prevails with Spirit
© richard lloyd cederberg
she meditates in a cave…
(Another look at agoraphobia …
“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further.
There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”
Victor Hugo, the Hunchback of Notre’ Dame, Les Misérables)
It’s how she dreams
Of wholeness, of fulfillment,
And of a love that once betrayed her,
(In a cave)
Where her thoughts form as
Drops on stalactites, and wordless
Sighs ingeminate in unending echoes…
It’s how she copes
With loss and despair,
A careworn heart seeking sanctuary
In cold granite sculptures, and those matters
Spent of life; espousing her Quasimodo’s,
She animates them with what
Life has deprived her of,
Imagining [then]
Her wings carrying her
Through the entrance where light
Floods warmly and where, at times (when
Her spirit soars) she fancies Esmeralda rollicking
With Jolly blithely under heavens felicity with no cares…
And she is Esmeralda (for that moment)
Dreaming
Of her Phoebus
Of her completeness
Of her happiness – but as always,
She is somehow torn from the reverie and
Cast back into the cave, where her jaded heart weeps
From the foolishness of dreaming things that can never be…
So she pulls her knees to her chest and as her hair cascades over her
Eyes, a wash of gray begins, again, to replace all illusions of color,
In a cold ground, where dying roots are fixing her immovable
©richard lloyd cederberg
11/11
raven on a snow perch
Hushed from newly fallen snow;
a soft susurrus of forest breezes whispers
through lake pines; the heart-song of natures
mercurial ballet in a late spring storm
With deft ingenuity ravens acute
eyes and ears evaluate the surrounding
territory; the ground below, the circling trees,
the cabins dispersed on the hillside
Raven measures every
movement and sound around
while ruminating on taking wing
or staying on the roost
Seeming at times discouraged, and
even at times a thinker cerebrating existence,
raven interacts artfully with life, summoning wolves
and coyotes shrewdly to the site of dead animals to have
them lay open the carcass
Territorial in nature, raven takes
Anything and guards it with a passion;
burying his food, raven observes other corvidae, and,
when they are not present, steals from their caches
Raven mimics the “meows” of a feline now dead.
Once friends (and playing for months with him) raven
learned over time cats movements, habits, mannerisms,
and vocal inflections; raven mourns cats departure
Ravens voice moves deftly
between ranges of rich “pruk-pruk-pruks”
and lofty knocking “toc-toc-tocs”, and, when compelled
to flight, a gravelly “kraa-kraa” announces ravens departure
Behind raven a strange shuffling alerts him to danger,
and then the clicking of a camera shutter ruffles feathers.
Turning to understand better, raven considers escaping,
Too late!
©richard lloyd cederberg
12/11
two in a skiff
Even though we are
surrounded by friends,
family -
detractors -
enemies -
encouragers -
instigators -
philanderers -
panderers -
demi-gods -
zealots -
fornicators -
wannabes -
doubters -
all those diverse characters
that make up the complex puzzle
of life and society, we still live our lives,
and walk out paths SEARCHING for oneness
and peace within ourselves; an eternal
spirit temporary in failing flesh,
hoping -
creating -
applying what we know
to our dreams, and what we aspire to,
to bless and enrich others
This life,
like poetry
or painting
or writing
or music
requires vision
diligence, and hard work
Isn't it more than a few well chosen thoughts
S-T-R-U-N-G together to paint a word
picture braided simultaneously
with metaphoric cunning -
Personality -
Imagery -
Simile -
Symbols -
Allegory -
Apologue -
Artistic cryptograms -
A host of anecdotal insights -
Philosophical mumbo-jumbo -
All in a stew of distinct adeptness
To divert and enlighten the readers
Penchant to feel progressive or improved
By the innovative verve of another’s thoughts,
As if capturing enchanted dust to make phrases
Or dipping hands into pools of verbose acumen
- To shed abroad - as the newest most liberal elixirs
were a mandate for high regard and the satisfaction that
comes with accomplishment?
In the grand
scheme, it matters
not what we achieve,
or how much we make,
or how influential we are,
or who we impress …
the only thing that really matters
is loving the God that created us -
loving one another as we love ourselves -
an out-stretched hand helping the ill-fated -
an encouraging word given in a time of need -
considering others more precious than ourselves -
working together to accomplish something valuable,
like two in a skiff purposing in unity to
reach another shore – together!
©richard lloyd cederberg
2007
[an inevitable autumn]
“I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me” ……
~Elizabeth Browning
Her nous wandered aimlessly
Through brambles and overshadows ~
Being numb from self-examination, and more
Attuned to shadows than the source of shadows,
She yearned for a pleasance of living without remorse,
Or the wistful mulling of past failures, where true love
Formed on the edge of breaking waves~
And so often, her centers were
Consumed with all she’d been through,
And not where providence was bearing her,
Content [in her ferry] to be alone, she languished
(Quietly) for what was envisioned
In her many woolgathering’s,
To be whole
Of mind and spirit,
To be caressed and
Loved with no condition or fears,
Fitted perfectly with someone who filled
The emptiness so wholly imagining another’s
Heart beating together with hers in oneness
Laughing and loving… But all that she
Hoped for remained as mist, so
She drifted,
Pulling the oars lightly,
Upon a stream purling lazily,
Where ripples lapped the shores in
Monotone, and her hearts garden erred into
An inevitable autumn upon which leaves browned and fell
©richard lloyd cederberg
2011
Searching for Beauty
Honorably with prudence,
You traipse the edge of
Light and shadow
Sifting through the
Clamoring sham of
Malefic guise, you
Find those yearning
To embrace the Light
And walk humbly in it
Depositing clues; you
Apprize your seekers
To remain unfettered
As an invisible flautist -
Playing cherubic lines -
You encourage those
Willing to lead quiet
Lives, and endue those
Chosen to amend and
Guide the hearts of others
Is it a frame of mind,
Or a tear effloresced
In shafts of luminance?
Is it the calefacient sun
That invokes the purest
Water as an outpouring?
Could it be the distance
Between heartbeats that
Summons brilliance to
The imperial vanguard?
Enchanted visionary …
Is it you who considers
The archetypal paths for
Souls hungry to animate
Their dreams? Are you
The instigator who stirs
Threadbare passions to
Revive and reveal those
Treasures in the geode?
Where is it you brood
Monarch, and to whom
Do you dole your stirring?
I have searched for you
A lifetime in sculptures -
In ancient manuscripts -
In the spirit of a matter -
In the straits of emotion -
In the faces of prospect;
With the rearranging of
Rudiment I have sought
Out wizardly combines -
Perceived in minds eye -
To discover where you are
A shifting phantom oft
Spoken by those great
Seekers of innovation;
Those seers peeling the
Substrata of tellurian being
To reveal unsullied pearls of
Brio and coruscating conception
I am afflicted in my thoughts!
Apart from inexorable attempts,
I have caught only an incomplete
View of beauty in curtailed instants,
I wonder …
Will the cerement be
Placed around me in the absence
Of my ever knowing your fullness?
©richard lloyd cederberg
on the wings of another …
so we press on …
inside wedged memories
when all that was envisioned
careens soulless and pockmarked
when a vestal virgin and drops of
rosewater - in sanctimonious ceremonies -
sublimate as vinegar upon the soul
when intellect and sacred verve
trudge despondently along shelled
paths in search of stirring and life
as we press on …
inside all grayfulnesses when
heartless eulogies are composed
in the woolgathering of less spoilt days
when our judgment is seared with
the doctrines of devils and our mask
of mortality becomes a diaphanous cloak
when all we have yearned
for, and hoped for, and suffered
for, seems to leave us abandoned;
THEN,
and even then,
when all malefic voices, and glowering
spirits, and things desolate and choking,
visit us in our dreams and twist us,
there is still hope and we reach
up and cry out and press on
in faith towards a kingdom
in the offing …
let me live for a moment inside your words
to know you, to understand, to feel what you feel,
to transcend, for a moment, my own deplorable
inadequacies and fly on the wings of another …
©richard lloyd cederberg
Build a Bridge
(Forgiving another’s past failures while
realistically forging forward in faith)
How calm and thoughtful you seem,
A beautiful being speaking exemplary words,
Words conveying peace and strength imbued with
The kind of equanimity a warrior exhibits
Under pressure of engagement …
Illustrating
The soulful singularity
Of someone quenched and willing
To accept the gifts God has bestowed
Upon another without lessening
Or deprecating them…
And your persuasions being
The mellifluent rejoicing of someone
Contented, and, who eagerly embraces others
With an open inclination to stomach all that might
Have otherwise been beneath your dignity in days past …
I must admit this whole thing is
Quite troublesome, likened in essence
To a vessel, loaded unevenly,
Listing to port, groaning to
Find counterbalance…
Surely you're not the one
I knew years ago, irascible, devious,
Excruciating others with spiteful arrogance,
The self-centered manipulator
Who would do anything to get an edge,
And whose jealousy, of another’s endowments,
Became a repellent stench to each and every one around…
Is this new you
Real, or are you still pretending
To be someone you're not so no one will
See the burner of so many bridges?
Acidic bits of your black iceberg
Still float in my lakes and down my rivers,
And, I can't help but expect that just
Around the next corner
That cold uncaring façade will
Appear once again and asphyxiate me…
Still, in the spirit of new beginnings, I have
Resolved to take a step towards this novel persona-
And though all past apprehensions, experiences,
And failures, still gnaw at me; I will remain
Willing as time establishes that what is
Happening isn't just another one
Of your pretentious, agenda
Driven façades…
Over there,
Issuing forth from the mist,
Stands someone I've never known … build a bridge!
©richard lloyd cederberg
our one path (together) became two alone...
Not that it makes
Much difference any longer,
How circumstance played into all
We'd imagined, how it slipped the moments
Without even whispering, how it (so deftly) thrust
Something further along in time that dissembled
Those parts of us neatly inclined…
I was willing,
Without oppugning, to
Journey beyond forbiddance,
Treading lightly the tenuous surface of
Open-heartedness; to go where inspirations led;
To satisfy all curiosities with no regrets or self-reproach
So we embarked together,
In all hopefulness of succeeding,
With no apprehensions or inhibitions,
Both of us searching out new aspects and
Facets in the whirls of livings finely-spun web-
Stretching eager arms wide,
To all that was aroused within us, we
Shunned the controlling aspects that seemed to
Accompany our fears (always) to allow the marrow of
Our quest its inscription upon a free parchment of prospects-
But as it turned out
Dissonance was an issue,
Despite what we undertook, and,
After being torn from our confluence by a
Force greater than fragile inspiration could endure;
Our one path (together) became two alone…
Now in silent contemplations (only) do the
Unfeigned memories of our efforts
Continue,
And as each day
Fades into slumbers I
Recall (at times) with curiosity,
The hardy disposition we embraced in
Our attempts to avoid pitfalls as
We traversed all limits
(Self-imposed or otherwise)
With a kind of wild abandon that,
In my mind, will always remain unequaled
©richard lloyd cederberg
she ran with a wolf
Gingerly she approached,
Where silently a wolf watched
Her every movement, and,
For some time now,
As tender trust took root,
She'd visit him each day but
Remained at some distance where
She would recount stories and tell him
How very handsome
He was and
Offer him treats
(Which he wolfed) and, on
Occasion, she sang sweetly while
He flirted with the melodies
With head cocked,
And eyes wide,
Pawing pensively the
Ground in canine comportment as a
Curious kinship blossomed between them…
And one day
He came near to her
To nuzzle her leg, which she
Responded to eagerly by hugging his
Muscled neck, and, after licking her cheek,
He reared back (as if) to say the time was near
For them to play as she laughed and cried in a way -
Trying not to make a scene or
Frighten him away -
Those tears of joy which (on occasion)
Mark a new friendship or some fine discovery…
So, without a sound and no concerns
They ran with vigor,
Together in oneness they ran,
Through a bliss of trees and forest
Charms they ran, around obstacles together
And all things fallen they leapt lightly over, dancing
With sunlight fairies and shadows moving upon them, and
With them they ran as one with muscles straining to make the
Hill with the wind in their faces and hearts beating together they ran
And when their time had ended she
Sang sweetly to him and he listened with
Head cocked and eyes wide pawing with eagerness
The ground at her feet because there was love between
Them, and a curious kinship had blossomed
© richard lloyd cederberg
the day left much unspoken
In memory of a loving woman
Written in the Triolet form
“Between two worlds
Life hovers like a star,
Twixt night and morn,
Upon the horizons verge”
~Lord Byron
I felt you after she had died
The day left much unspoken
It mattered not that you had tried
I felt you after she had died
I felt your heartache then and sighed
Your grieving soul was broken
I felt you after she had died
The day left much unspoken
I wanted so to talk to you
To laugh and wander free
It mattered not what we must do
I wanted so to talk to you
Could we amend this day so blue
With openness ‘tween you and me
I wanted so to talk to you
To laugh and wander free
We wept as one that fateful day
With tears that came like rain
So many others too had stayed
We wept as one that fateful day
Could we endure this time someway
And move past sorrows stain
We wept as one that fateful day
With tears that came like rain
©richard lloyd cederberg
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