The Emperor (Ciné) Martin Scorsese

Martin Scorsese shot by David Shankbone courtesy Wiki-Commons

 

through his eyes, the image moves
through his smile, compassion warms
in his heart, passion throbs and flows
arteries pump the veins of his thought

his imagination shapes our dreams
viewed in theaters of darkness
we careen curving emotions
where streets ooze both shadows and doubts

rock pulses a steady rhythm
harsh angles support the symbols
sirens blast the windy canyons
stark shadows cross the city walls

his throne an unused canvas chair
his instrument – the perfect lens
his memory precise and clear
his heroes praised by reference

like Adam he claims the Apple
with all its dirt, grit, juice and crunch
he frames climax with redemption
there struggle hangs on family branch

unravels time through tense conflict
history furnishes his home
he views lives in sequential strips
where all roads lead away from Rome

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 7/31/12 * All Rights Reserved

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The High Priestess

                     John Thomson’s Street Life in London, 1876 (common domain)

She knows the spies and where they hide,
climbs hills away from town; she walks
the unworn paths where she can watch
the ones who watch, she learns their finds.

She slips through alleys and dark streets.
Her hooded cloak of worsted thread
disguises her in spheres of dread;
her art demands that she’s discreet.

She’s seen it many times before —
deceits and lies inscribed in code,
from parchment to encrypted mode,
from ages past to this encore.

When power seeks again to crush;
demolishing new growth, they smash
white bones on stones. When zealots trash
snug homes, cold fears shake every bush.

She knows a magic, eons old
before the dragons shed their scales;
sent from the stars with glowing tails
their crystals tied in pocket folds.

One tops her aspen walking stick,
a subtle guide that frees her sight
for things unknown. It tracks the plight
and needs of those both frail and sick.

Its light unravels skeins of doubts.
Her eyes perceive the dark designs;
details may change somewhat each time,
but evil goals remain throughout.

She wends her way by waning moon
to read her texts for new insights.
Then sets the plan to make things right,
she must work fast; make changes soon.

Within herself she summons spells.
The traits she wishes to disperse.
By sublimation, she’ll reverse
or try, to quell the fears and ills.

Transformed to primal particles,
she fortifies the frightened folk
with courage, reason, and kind words
to hinder the intolerable.

She’s given all to aid their cause.
The denouement depends on them.
She needs some rest to reconvene.
She hopes and prays against their loss.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * July 23, 2012 * All Rights Reserved

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Poetry In Motion

Michelle Kwan executing Outside Spread Eagle – Dallas 2003

I scratch my tip upon the empty space–
the word, on edge, about to surface real.
It hesitates, at last strikes forth with grace
then breathes, awaits the music, lights, and gel.

With vigor then, my thoughts begin to glide.
My mind creates with images in bursts;
from nothingness, I etch the pattern’s lines;
a piece designed by spins and changing turns.

These lines that flow become a part of me.
The discipline of practicing my craft
where phrasing executes its destiny
and climax turns on unexpected acts.

I finish, sign and sense my soul ignite,
astounded with relief, and true delight.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 7/12/2012 * All Rights Reserved

7.17.&18.2012 celebrating 1st Anniversary

dedicated to this 20th anniversary of the figure skating competition The Texas Cannon Open named for and honoring my husband, Don L. Cannon 1929-1991. We were among the first trailblazers who forged this club from nothing. He served over fifteen years as the club’s President and Test Chairman.

The Fool

Fool/Jester – Common Domain

The fool, in motley dress – making jibes, faking falls,
what need drives this fool to rule the center stage?
Veiled hubris parades conceits, emptiness and loss.
Zeal fuels a fire to wear the belled cap of the age.

What need drives this fool to rule the center stage?
Walking the tight-wire between smirks and smiles across
the lights;  fuels fires to wear the belled cap of the age,
disguised in the light, plucking laughter from the dark.

Tongue wedged beneath his cheek with couched satire, embossed
by winks and turns, prevents King and Court’s stinging rage,
he shifts, then re-appears with scythe and totenkopf.
Covert grin when asking who gets to turn the page.

By winks and turns, he scorns King and Court’s stinging rage.
Veiled hubris parades conceits, emptiness and loss.
Twisting grins when asking who’s last on the stage —
Turns ’round, motley jester–making jibes, faking falls!

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2012 July * All Rights Reserved

* At times The Fool would transform into a cloak of death – and point out that Death gets the last laugh.

© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2012 July * All Rights Reserved * A Pantoum

nothin’ but pure hot

 

the air-conditioner rumbles contentment
the sealed house shields me from mosquitoes
the filtered air allows me to breathe
outside the world seems to wither

I know how it feels, how it burns, how it saps
sun in Texas ain’t no joy, it’s misery
blues thy name is Sunshine with no clouds
soil with no water, trees with no leaves

some in northern parts say rejoice
your bad weather only lasts the summer
then you have nine months of moderation
but that ain’t so …neither.

we have winter for six weeks and it’s cold
summer usually starts in March..it’s a rare
spring that we don’t need air-conditioning
and it lasts until November — draggin’ on.

sometimes we have a week or two of relief
a thunderstorm with hail promising a tornado
but…from Lubbock to Abilene, Dallas to Houston
we work, we shop, we auto, we sleep in….

air-conditioned air… how did people live here
without it  …..    I don’t think they did!

© Gay Cannon *All Rights Reserved* 2012
Posted for Stu McPherson’s Whatever The Weather