Poems de la Soul

Undercurrent

2010-03-15T17:24:00.000-07:00

Written March, 2010
Author: Parrish Ravelli
---------------

Yesterday I saw the clouds
moving in a direction

that was perpendicular
from which I was facing.

It made me feel disconnected
from the world and it's revolution

And my thoughts, desires
At most,

Were a part of
a quiet undercurrent.

I sat and watched a father and son
Leave the grocery store

A gas station clerk pumping gas
In a customers truck

A homeless man with 12" x 18"
of cardboard to tell his life's story.

I went and saw my nephew.
He recently learned

How to stand up
From a sitting position,

Something that I will always admire.
I cannot help but think

There is no perpendicular direction
As there is no one direction

From which we measure our progress.
There is no measurement

That defines both me and you.
There is, however, and perpetually,

True satisfaction, Grace,
And contribution to the world.

All of which I find
When I look at the clouds.

Beachgrass & You

2010-02-25T09:32:00.000-08:00

written January 2006
author: Parrish Ravelli
--------------------

these states become nameless

after so many tears

Last I checked you

fell behind somewhere between there and here

But in a hundred years

this will all be funny.

Today, a seedling

leans into the wind.

Beachgrass & you,

I have missed and hated

in the same day. As we fall

I dream of gypsies and

unattended gardens. One bedroom apartments

are never enough.

Now I dream of picket

fences and what's within

Whether it be foe or friend

sanctity or sin.

My Shade of Blue

2010-02-25T09:14:00.000-08:00

written April 2006
author: Parrish Ravelli
----------------------------

my shade of blue
is dancing at sunrise
a four quartet with
a piece for each season

my shade of blue
is waking on Sunday morning
the gospel I see
in your eyes

my shade of blue
is the depth of your words
with the simplicity
of sound

it is unknowing
what my eyes are meant to see

and seeing
what you intend to be

my shade of blue
is a name and not a time

my shade of blue is you
and it is mine

From The King of the World

2010-02-11T09:57:00.000-08:00

Written unknown
Author: Parrish Ravelli
------------------

I think about death often,
Though not so much about when I will die

Or why.
I more think about how it will happen.

I feel like we all imagine our deaths
To be poetic, as kings and queens.

That stories will be written,
Stories that will be read,

Even taught.
That, through our deaths,

The world will come together
And mend itself.

Religion will separate us,
While culture will bring us together

And confidence in the global economy
Will parallel the confidence

That we all will have
In each other.

I think about these things
When I think of you.

Because if I must leave,
This is the world I want left to you.

Just make sure there are laughs
And smiles all the same,

When this world turns to you
To take over it’s reign.

One Man's River

2010-02-11T09:54:00.000-08:00

Written January 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
--------------------

one man's river
this king's river
my ebb and flow
I must give her

the things I owe
the things that show
between these tides
part and go

I am yours
he is yours
take my river
all it's shores

clean these stains
from hurricanes
shattered glass
from window panes

without you
I can't doubt you
where I came from
where we grew

there are things that flow
like your eyes flow
that endless blue
that only I know

here is my river
take my river
keep it safe
under moonlit sliver

We Each, at Medium

2010-02-02T06:09:00.001-08:00

Written February, 2010
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------

This will begin how it will end
with Art.

Because what is Art,
If not a medium.

Possibly it's a subject, or an ethic
Or even a language within itself.

However, it is such that we, as Artist, as creators
are the medium.

How do we know Art
That is not seen,

Seen, but not heard,
Heard, but not felt

Felt, but misunderstood.
Though within misunderstanding

is understanding.
Not that you and I

Believe in the same things
but that you(X) and I(Y) simply believe.

We are each denominators in an equation
That is unique to ourselves.

An equation that creates reflection
and aestheticism,

Guides us away from measurement
And contrast.

This equation is a return to balance
That reminds us

That balance does not just mean equality
It also means connection.

We each create and therefore are each
are Artist and Art,

One in the same.

A Formula for Disparate Contraries (I, II, III)

2010-02-02T06:05:00.000-08:00

Written January 2010
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------

I. Measurement

Wage is defined as the value of what we provide.
Yet value, in any circumstance

Can only be measured by adjacent quantifiers.
(many of which trickle down to money

though not always currency). If not defined by oneself
or another, what then?

How parallel is a scale of intrinsical degree?
What is my time, my minutes-hours worth

to me,
as compared to what I am paid?

II. That Addition of Grace

In this world, we are denominators
of those things created

and those things bestowed upon us:
science, religion, art.

We are meant to unite,
yet we strive to be distinguished,

set above, separated. We can succeed
under a common desire for progress,

a common passion for beauty,
through an uncommon measurement of success.

And what has been accomplished
without Grace,

the absence of which creates
a culture of stagnant progression.

III. The Formula

I am to X
as You are to X

creates a cultural imbalance
and injects politics into personal expression.

Instead, I am to X
as You are to Y,

with the addition of Grace ,
creates a formula of social and cultural liberty,

a universal disposition of progress
and empowerment.

Society does not exist to measure greatness,
but rather to engage mediocrity.

Marble Tree

2009-06-20T11:07:00.000-07:00

Written June, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
---------------------

I don’t like when doctors on television use the phrase that
“life is failing”.

Mostly because I absolutely refute that his life
will ever be anything but a success.

The hardest part of it all is that he and my grandmother
Are the foundation, the baseline

They are the current proprietors of the name
From which I was born.

It’s kind of like when the boat rocks,
Just after you’ve gotten your footing.

I remember growing up,
Visiting him in anticipation

Of what marbles had fallen
From the worlds only marble tree

That just happen to be
In his back yard.

It’s late June.
The squash flowers explode in the morning

Into what I like to think it looks like
When life is formed.

We finally had our first red sunset here.
The funny thing about time,

I could care less
About where my marbles are today,

But that memory,
I can find anytime I need it.

The Lines In March

2009-03-26T05:37:00.000-07:00

Written March, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
------------------------------

There are lines in March
But we still wander.

There are highways
For those who are looking for distance.

Roads
For those looking for a home.

On Highway 41 there are fields
where furrows have been dug

That run into tree lines
That run into tomorrow.

Some fields are cleared
With seeds that have been planted.

On others, there is still the stubble
From last years corn crop

Standing straight with honor, pride
As a veteran infantry

Knowing what they have given
Their life for.

The rows of dogwoods on my street
are filling out.

I can no longer trace
The lines between the branches

That now, run into new buds
That run into tomorrow.

There are lines that are unseen even,
And there is a yield to be had.

Though we may not have seen
This years last frost.

In my mind I know, though we wander
We are not lost.

Why Windows

2009-02-19T09:52:00.000-08:00

Written February, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
----------------------------

Sometimes because it's nice
to know the weather

before having to go
outside.

Sometimes to watch the way
the seasons decide to change.

Sometimes simply
to inspire.

But sometimes because, when,
within my view of the window frame

a strong enough gust of wind
blows hard enough

seeming to make everything
in my immediate world move

I cannot help but to feel
that we are all connected.

When I Hear Silence

2009-02-03T06:25:00.000-08:00

for Cameron Isabella Collini
Written December, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-------------------------------------

When I hear silence
I think of what it might sound like
When constellations form

Or how it sounds to wake up
As the world is born.

At night
I hear silence
Between your every heart beat

That radiates love,
That radiates heat.

Your eyes in Winter
Have the heroism of Spring
Rebirth of the Family
With the birth of a baby girl.

When I hear silence
I hear what it means
to have the world created, and all at once
To create the world.

Summertime

2009-02-03T06:21:00.000-08:00

Written 2005
Author: Parrish Ravelli
--------------------------

there are books on shelves
with miles between them

with space for my ego to construct itself
just shy of a romantic

there are lines that divide
and run into one another

train tracks, or headlights
just missing each other

to what name do I give a rose
none but that which is its' own

romance

and myself just a spectator
between lines and chapters

sitting on shelves overlooking trains
just missing eachother

These Streets

2009-02-03T06:13:00.000-08:00

Written July, 2006
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

the moonlight on 5th street
is blushing

because we just figured out
what it was trying to say

strung out from all those
tearful nights...

there are revolutions
in your eyes

with trails of light
that reach across your face

come le stelle charismatic.

the moonlight on 6th street
is drunk on the concrete

and cannot hide anything.
it snuck into the church on the corner,

through the stained glass,
and spilled out at our feet.

just above we were dancing
with the sense of touch

letting the politicians
talk about tomorrow.

whether or not
these moonlit streets come alive

we will move
with grace rather than sorrow.

Some Days In September

2009-01-28T05:50:00.000-08:00

Written September, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

Some days in September
You call to catch the sunset

Down by the water.
You say that sitting by the river

Helps you forget
Where you came from,

Where you are going.
I remember the moon

Would sliver to the right
As does your smile

Under certain candlelight

Some days in September
We spend walking on the beach

As the tide goes out
So that when I kiss you

I cannot taste your tears.
We talk about those things

That change
Those that never die.

Oceans, rivers
Beneath sunsets

That look in your eyes.

Impoverished Dream

2009-01-28T05:44:00.000-08:00

Written September, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
------------------------------

I know you said
I would meet her someday

But nothing breathes here
Accept the river.

That once impoverished dream
Reminds me of your eyes

And how they were once
Made of Gold,

But I cower, as fear
Does not leave as quietly

As it arrives.
Thoughts fall out of your mouth

Like words in a ransom letter,
Though I don't think you will get much.

'Tomorrows' sunrise will be herioc'
You say.

Todays' sun
Has been rising for years.

This evening I will dream of gold
And how to spend it

The way your lips felt
Whenever you pretended.

A Chapter on Ghosts

2009-01-27T17:12:00.000-08:00

Written February, 2008
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

This chapter of my life
is called 'What Once Was'.

I'm currently involved
With all of your ghosts

At such a level
That I know how the sun rises

As much as how it sets.
Have you ever had the dream

Where you are falling?
I see clouds

Though I'm not sure which way is up.
Every once in a while

I find things
Not where I left them

And I wonder
Why you are no longer around.

At night, your memories
creak and hum inside these walls

But they say that
It's just age.

Sometimes I don't look for things
When I misplace them

No matter what is
The cost

Though not always
Does nobody's value

Add up to
Nobody's loss.

My Shade of Blue

2009-01-27T16:56:00.000-08:00

Written April, 2006
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

my shade of blue
is dancing at sunrise

a quartet
with a piece for each season

my shade of blue
is walking on Sunday morning

the gospel I see
in your eyes

my shade of blue
is the depth of your words

with the simplicity
of sound

it is unknowing
what my eyes are meant to see

and seeing
what you intend to be

my shade of blue
is a name and not a time

it is you
and you are mine

This House

2009-01-27T16:37:00.000-08:00

(For Loren & Melissa Campbell)
Written April, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
---------------------------------

We build this house
We do not build doors
With faith in each other
As foundation and floors.

We add the windows
To let the light in
A roof for shelter
Made of family and friends.

We come together
Through no indecision
You're here with us, in love
To share in our vision.

With mountains to climb
With roads to be driven
You will not walk alone
As my life is to be given.

Within this house
Within this life
We build our future
As husband and wife.

Rodeo Clown

2009-01-27T10:26:00.000-08:00

Written May, 2008
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-------------------------

I used to cover my face
So that it would be harder

For people to tell who I was.
I remember daydreaming about

The colors in your eyes
When you thought something was funny.

The crowd looks a lot different
From here

And time seems to fight
Against itself.

In this lifetime
8 seconds passes

Between each blink
While days, they seem endless,

Much like th elook in your eyes
When you think something is funny.

You asked me once
If it hurts

Though all I wanted to do
Was protect you.