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Silent Stare
Some say, "The world spins in silence,"
and yet, why so, when wild waves roar?
Darkened clouds that crash their tongues of light,
tear night asunder, trying to scatter stars that stare.
Compared to such, man's mutterings are but a whisper
drowned in a waterfall that cascades for ever.
And what do we know of ever and ever,
born of time stretching before noise or silence?
None there to witness a big bang or God's whisper,
calling into being, with crescendoed roar,
universes of endless dark, at which I stare
on a silent night, save for a pale moonlight.
And here's the mystery - moon of darkness, without light
of its own, drawn from a sun for always and ever.
What fool, but the moon, at the sun dare stare?
Celestial stand-off - an impasse in silence,
whilst I listen to a not so silent world roar,
wondering what secrets universes may whisper.
If you must stand beside me, on this night, then whisper
only, if you must speak, lest you disturb light
rustling of autumn leaves, soon to be swallowed in a roar.
Winter's chilling roar of winds, blowing as if for ever
in defiance of a world, that some say spins in silence.
And now, on this dark night, together two stare.
Have you not stood wondering how many stare -
how many share this very moment, each in their whisper?
Soaked in night's dark silence,
a thousand eyes of stars whose sight of light
has stretched from never to ever,
like endless waves - upon oceans - roar.
Some say, " God called forth all that is with a roar."
Perhaps, then, it is down God's throat we stare,
and stars are but God's teeth that twinkle ever
in a mouth, which speaks sometimes with a whisper.
Perhaps it was we who cried, "Let there be light!"
and now forget the answer - a smile of silence.
This, I know - in a roar of silence -
if I should stare for ever,
the mysteries of dark and light lie in but a whisper.
Copyright David Taub January 2000
Sestina Chime
Wayward winds yet none the wiser, nor by wisdom
none the kinder, through heaven's gate in angel dreams
I dreamt of songs that angels sing, yearning life
which passed me by like idle streams without the fall.
Hereupon where I begin, 'tis I who meet with journey's end,
dusking day to dawn the night, I dream in sounds of silence.
Down poorly paths of poverty chilled in winter silence,
dared I to bare my nakedness amidst my people's wisdom.
I dreamt of songs that mankind sing to end
this journey's strife, yearning dreams
which passed me by like idle streams without the fall.
With empty words humanity chose not to spare my life.
Empty words on wooden pages suffering breath of life,
while poorly paths be overcast in deathly stalking silence.
And whom amongst the wisest claim the homeless chose to fall?
Can bloated-bellies, starving babes, be acts of humane wisdom?
How can the stench of filthy rags be cloaked as pleasant dreams?
When children cry, mothers die, and nightmares never end.
The glory hallelujah hymn keeps marching t'wards the end,
while the multi-million starving give up their plight for life.
Nations keep on warring, demanding righteous dreams,
slaying little children in deathly stalking silence.
And all the while, humanity smiles, boasting mankind's wisdom -
reminders of Reich apathy that birthed the rise and fall.
My keepers keep on preaching but idle streams don't fall,
the glory hallelujah hymn keeps marching t'wards the end,
the angels sing on heaven's side winging in the wisdom,
and man's creation - the population - keeps churning out the life,
while wars and wretched poverty keep slaughtering in silence.
And all the while, such worldly smiles, exploring galaxy dreams.
I often wonder if all of this is what a Maker dreams?
Seems as if the idle streams will never flow the fall.
Time for me to close my eyes, lay down my head in silence,
herein is where I shall begin to meet with journey's end.
With empty words humanity chose not to spare my life,
so here I lie, wondering why, insanity is wisdom?
Sweet dreams befall
this weary life,
I leave behind the wisdom ...
Copyright k.t. Frankovich January 2000
About the 'couple'.
David Taub is a member of
The British organisation 'National Union of Journalists' (NUJ);
Columnist for the UK magazine 'Poetry Now';
Freelance writer for various UK and USA magazines;
Co-author of Language of Souls (listed on amazon.com)
Website: www.ukpoet.cjb.net
k.t. Frankovich is one of the Hollywood Frankovich family, as in Mike Frankovich Sr. (former head of Columbia Studios), Mike Frankovich Jr., and Peter Frankovich. The Frankovich movie classics include: Exodus, Bridge over River Kwai, Butterflies are Free, and Purple Rain.
k.t. Frankovich specialized in major film and TV wildlife documentaries and, as a result, she holds the prestigious Gold Venus, presented by Hunter Todd, founder and organizer of the Atlantic Virgin Islands International Film Festival, as well as, The Golden Horn of Plenty, presented by actor Peter Graves. The rare Gold Venus is also held by Steven Spielberg and George Lucas of Star Wars.
k.t. Frankovich's films have aired across the United States, throughout Canada, and 13 foreign countries, translated into 13 foreign languages. She has worked with some of the top cinematographers in the world, including Don Renn, former cinematographer for National Geographic and the James Bond movies; top film editors such as Angie Ross, film editor for all of Jackie Gleason's films, including The Honeymooners; and some of the top actors including Sterling Holloway, the famous voice of Winnie-the-Pooh.
k.t. Frankovich is extensively published throughout the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada. Her honorary poetry performances include audiences such as former US President Richard Nixon and the First Lady, former actor Sir Vincent Price, Sir William Collins (founder and former owner of Collins Publishing Company in London, subsequently known as Harper & Collins Publishing Company), University of Oxford, England, the 1999 Clearwater Convention, Florida. She holds a 1998 National Writer's Association Award for her poem, Fields of Purple Flowers, and a 1998 Michael King, Jabberwocky Award, for her work, The Beast of Seven Ghastly Heads.
Her two mostly recently published books are:
Where Heavens Meet (an auobiography) and the co-authored poetry book, Language of Souls.
Details of both books can be found on www.amazon.com or her own website www.kt.cjb.net
David & k.t. are married and currently live in k.t.'s home state, Florida.
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