Between Frontiers
poems by john roland penner





between frontiers
january 17, 1992

between the edges of night and day
between the borders where the twilight lays
between shadows
there haunting
there running, drifting
there where snow drifts like fluffy snakes across the road
and leaves scuttle like creatures across the way
with nervous twinkles,
confidence
shyly mysterious
intertwining
knowledge, hero, myth,
warmth, psyche, and unknown
luminescent whispers into iridescent thoughts
misty roses blooming through
shadows, in the halls of childhood.
and time;
gathers like dawning
before a new time of beginnings
of endings
of endless lives
loves
comes softly, like panthers feet
to patter on this mortal coil
flow.
like clouds billowing in their dance
creating their collapses and renew.
see? life runs in rivulets
sadness quickens the joy,
tempers, deepens its glistening
where the sparkles and sighs lay,
sleeping?
helplessly intertwingled cats
brooding through doors
doors revealing destinies of
ephemeral galloping colours,
across the wayside ­ seaside
splashing through exhilarating crests
winds of sands through the nostrils
revelling wild and free in details
too plain and vast to ponder.

a tryst between fey lovers.
at once inside the outside
through the door and in the without
fractals coil through
joining separations
belonging, reckoning and listening
singing into creation
spirits dancing out their part
between the lines of this life
between and in the angles of the earth
between frontiers
life.




sunset on black water
july 30, 1992 at long lake lodge

sunset comes forward
and paints the luminescent sky
over the mountains
lining the waters that dry
stand.
i am standing in love
during that ephemeral time between
when the world meets the divine
take a step back and brace.
lean forward and breath.
black water deep and pure
clear as ebony
plunge, i am rushing through the wind
but already done
the water closes it's door above me.
i'm in the deep
but already rising
the light swirls like incense
a dazzling mandala of sun in water
breaking the surface i swim.
blackwater before me
blackwater around me
soothing deep and pure
only before me is sun,
reaching her arms
across the water,
swimming into her coolness
breeze.
arms part in front of me
causing smooth
that ripples aside
into the filigree of chaos
i journey home.




chapter 24, 1990, september - moonlit sea

and i found a girl, whose eyes were made of moonlight. 
"who are you?" and she replied; "i am sorrow. 
i am made of the tears of those whose love is lost." 
then i saw she grew and grew, and her tears washed over me
like the sea.. 




wind chant
october 2, 1992

the wind in the trees
is a breeze if you please
and the wind from the south
will kiss you on the mouth
and the cats catch the rats
which scurry underground
and the wind will sing
and dance about
with fingers in your hair;
it will toss about
and dances with the leaves
in the trees
that sit so stout
and the tree wears a crown
that looks on out
with a ray he will say
what are you about?
and the ray is gold
and it shines so bright
from sun to moon
when it's chilly out
and it's sunny out
with the leaves in the trees
where baby looks about
baby's whistling out
to the mother
who does flutter
in the trees with the ray
and everyone sees
in the breeze
while the cat takes a nap
and purrs like the furs
of a call to us all
in us all
is a breeze
but no-one sees
the cat eat the rat
for they do not know
where to find them.
and the leaves do flutter
at the sound of the mother
and when rain is coming
and the sun starts sunning
and the wind does chatter
to voices that matter
and the sheep start spinning
to the wind that's winding
from the north is blowing
birds in an arrow
and even that sparrow
twitters the day
away.
all day the chatter
to the cats do matter
and the seagulls floating
in a rain that's doting
to fill the air
with those wonderful ribbons
that the crown starts singing
out of colours springing
between the twilight rays.
and the dogs are howling
and the music's growling
where the water's flowing
into the glowing
and the mist is twinkling
while it does it's sprinkling
and the flowers are thinking
into the colours
that they do wear,
where the cat is napping
and the cat is scrying
until she's flying,
and baby is crying
until the mother
comes with another
and the cat was laughing
and everything's merry
as though that fairy
did kiss the moon.
and then the shower
and the fish
and the flower
chuckled til the light of noon.
and the fluffiest rats
took off their hats
and the merriest berries
no longer do tarry,
for the fairies and the birds
and the rat and the cat
and the fish and the bird
did eat them.
and now the swallow
the wind does follow
and the sun is setting
into it's bedding
and the wind does chatter
'what is the matter?'
for i'll be waking soon.




a poem for biking
august 18, 1988 ­ pour hélène

power manifesting itself in circles
it is just you and the wind
the bike and the road.
the sun is a circle of power,
and around the pedal goes.
powerful, passionate red beams
out through the misty blue hues
of this world
the sunset
is perfect.
another stroke, and the calves tighten
the sweat and the passion
pushes her forward, through
the misty hues of this world
the feeling
is perfect.
i am by a lake, and there
is the reflection of the trees,
the flowers, the clouds,
the sunset.
the water is still,
it is so so calm, tranquil and pure.
the cool breeze - a sigh
fry breath it's surface
my mind is the water
with reflections of you.
your eyes, your lips,
your legs, your breaths,
your smile.
and my mind is calm, til thoughts of you;
powerful and passionate
form ripples on the water;
drop.
powerful, passionate, these thoughts of you
the sunset is perfect
and another stroke,
the calves tighten,
the sun is a circle of power,
and round the pedal goes.




t.t.c.
may 29, 1990

through these grey veins
daily.
a hundred thousand people flow
everyday
a little bit of death
closes in on our hearts
in the soot of the underground
til soon
you feel the darkness
has shaded your skin
like all those around you
and you long for the few seconds of sun
when you cross the d.v.p.
daily
you must drink the smell
of milk gone sour
everyday
the closure of common
strangers crowds upon you.




and the music plays
march 17, 1993 - at a throwing muses concert

within every person
a bird, a fish,
a frog, a snake,
a cat.
and to which one comes
most often to the surface
what broods just below the surface?
water, warm
mud oozy bottom, silt, soft.
so we're all in this large smoky dark room [cave].
they say there's a concert here tonight
the musicians will play
and turn off the night
into mist
into nothingness
it becomes
the music starts
and the world around fades
we are left
with no numbered days
we are here
the dispossessed
we are here
is there nothing left?
smile and symbol
serpents whisper in the air
ending at a cigarette tip ­
exhales
squinting into a yawn
back into the cavern of the air
stale and glorious, close your
eyes, don't smell
and it's fresh
stinging your eyes.
he and the cat
walk into the room
it's silent there
here
his head turns
so the cat
heads turn also
synchronous
because this is a dream
and he is the cat
indians say dreams are
more real than life.
the music plays
so the body sways
into the rays
red and wave
away
flag of my soul
kiss my lips
my burning lips
burning with oil
bubbling with blisters
drink the cup
which overflows.
that was sweet.
the lips were only imagined
singed, for they are perfect
in form. is lovely
like rodents
snails crawl slowly
across your cheek.
drone.
drone.
drone.
the music is ecstatic
while it hides in a corner;
insistent, persistent.
pulsing it, gyrations
soothing to the heat
one.
they are one now.
where do they know?
what broods just below the surface?
laughter?
or sinister?
that man sitting in the corner
old man.
wrinkled in face.
what is he doing here?
what's that look in his eye?
what's that stare?
then a smile cracks his lip
one corner lifts the air
the smile
his eyes slightly crazied
someone said "he's flipped".
he knows the secret secret now.
have you stirred the waters;
how does it feel?
to know the beast within;
is it purring?
swimming
or drowning?
did it fly away?
deluding, diluting, every bit of each
die the either/or
they make each other and!
both three. be3!
so alive.
the music is ended
the concert's over
but
there's still no there!
they all think they're going home now
but there's nowhere out to go!
looking for an in.
only mists and vapours.
so they go back and sit
where they were
and weep, and talk,
and ask what happened.
time passes
but it never did, it all happens
simultaneously
we only have to wait for it
because we can't take it all in at once
like it really is.
that's the illusion.
space curved in on itself. and time.
stretches curved like mirrors.
and time.
stretches like fallopian tubes
delivering the to the connection
of life
this place
this space
is a meeting place
the cave
the womb
is the same
let's meet there
and see what happens
because you can never know
the path changes itself
like the space between
like the path is all the places
between the trees.
so they stop and stare
into that air
that commensurate vapour
and all things that seem
that solid one day have been;
sleep
and they eat
and what becomes?
what is.
in the morning
they awaken
she has thought a flower
and he a hush
him a dagger
and her a thrush.
the stage became a tree
and the chairs all became toads
the instruments became flowers and wind
the strings became vines
which sang out of tune
some of them got twisted
and turned into two
and so were the people;
the kind ones became translucent
and the unknown ones became free
the shameless (but not them)
became executioners
and the thoughtful ones birds
this frustrated them greatly
for the birds weren't big enough for the racks.
now in the vapour
and in the cave
here. it effects itself too
when they wake up
they all happen
the things they thought
the dreams they dared
became.




early morning
july 3, 1993

i awoke
at the time when the sun wakes
and the world seems
out the window
were many white trees
and each of them
were bare in the breeze,
yet covered in black birds
full - like they were leaves.
the sounds of the birds
made a great song
and each sound, though silent
quivered me strong
with rushes and thrushes
through my mind.
the aura of sunrise
crawled up the wall
and over the dresser
and into the hall
the brilliance of being shone through me
for the ephemeral time
as i wakened
my eyes grew back asleep
and woke again later
into this dreaming world;
now only glimpses between cracks
did you see that shadow rush?



chapter xix - lillith opens the door of sighs



shudder
june 1, 1992

whatever has become of me?
the youth once young and free
stands now in front.
of me; decayed.
the pure water sings
so easily is stained
by compromise
skeletons in forgotten closets
rattle their bones
and raise a dust
the indulgence of a lonely desire
like mud.
the pureness now only longed for
the innocence flitted away
this fiendish flesh
covers my core
of naiveté
my countenance bears monstrosity
i lift a sagging scaled paw
to cover my eyes
which bleating red
i cried to do good
my heart of light
is covered in scales
the boyhood hasn't died
it only lays hidden inside
behind animosity
and there he fights
with small wooden sword
he pokes and he prods
at remorse
and cries;
anew! renew!
nobleness is eroding;
every lie
every hurt
every slighting
every shirk
encrusts him a little more
will he win?
he looks out
i look in the mirror
and i shudder.




in the hearts of us
june 17, 1992

in the middlemost part
of the factories and decay
roundabout where
the festers lay
an island of water
where ships lie in bays
acrid air that chokes and flays
stings the land, and rots the way.
there.
here are the swans
alighting like ripples
sending the lilies
scented nudges pushing away
like the merest breath
of us.
swans and lilies
lilies and swans
lie in the middlemost part of us.





a blessing
april 13, 1992 - for my sister diane, on her birthday

i want you to have a feeling.
a feeling like when it is night.
the air is delectable
and you sit by a lake
softly the breezes
ripple the image
of her moon, in fullness.
translucent and warm.
with shimmers.
crickets chirp soft
like ivory, carved.
with ebony bows.
feel beneath you
as the earth sighs
in slumber the grass
spins out its dew.
this is what i give to you.
to know.
tranquillity.




observed
june 12, 1992

breath the silence
in the tangles of your hair
blown like the spray
of dawn.
moonsets
sunsets
over the waterfall
creeping without listening
sings until it falls
watching.
they are watching me
silently they stare
and wonder,
wonder if i'm aware.





chapter 17 ­ fundamentalist postmodernist dogs.

had it, but when i tried to say, forgot the words. 
i looked away, and caught sight with the corner of mine eye; 
pointing, i said "look!" but the dog was too busy smelling 
my finger, and mother kirk was too busy crying "jesus jesus".
they are alike in this respect. i looked straight at it, and it died. 
it grew again elsewhere, just out of sight.





snow
february 16, 1992

nature's filigree
lacing branches
that sleep and renew
ice that ribbons the glass
coils and look through
mists frozen in swirls
as every snowdrop
in a tiny world
blooms.




dream of the lake
may 25, 1991 ­ lewis had an island

alacrity coats my mind
with longing,
cascading colours; shadows
of music
play the cacophony of life.
glistening; eversweet waters
fall cool through the air
subtle hues of vast cosmic voices
too silent to hear
billowing fissures
in caves like cool dreams
shades of life colours
drench every pore,
and creep to the inside
of my outsides
i seek you.





the colour of love
december 15, 1990

i)
black is the colour of love
and grey is a shade of sorrow
reach up and touch the sky
that lies in her eyes.
see.
she stands and prays
she.
claims to be wild.
you can't tame a starchild.
you can't claim the starchild.

ii)
i have a feeling
this is a mirror.
laughing and crying
living and dying
you live in umbra
i gave the sun love
so, i want to be
just like you.
it said.




winter
march 19, 1991

winter comes
and winter lays
til almost the memory
of green and living things
is gone.
skeletons consume me,
and the trees rattle their bones.
all the earth lies in wait
beneath its shroud of snow.




fragile
june 24, 1992

the beauty
is fragile
the flower
is not.
beauty is
the essence
of the
flower.




the storm
september 24, 1990 - port dalhousie, st. catharines

the water is deep
endless hunger
the waves seeth in
chaotic lights
darkness broods
and smothers
the water, and
sometimes the waves
reflect their menace
and come to chase me
flood.
flood all over.
the place i stand,
i'm walking.
on the rocks, and i press
my face into the wind
revel as the spray stings my face 
it's eyes blink with lightening 
and in the roar i hear a whisper..
'i love you'




fortune
august 1990

today a bird
a sparrow in the road
lanes passed round him 
and for a moment 
our eyes met its plight
and echoed their fear 
i had wanted to stop 
but we'd already passed on by 
with nowhere to go




beneath this bridge
june 23, 1990

the cars stream by
fifteen feet away
ten thousand of them daily
the people walk above
four thousand of them
everyday
hundreds of people pass by
in high-speed trains,
daily;
and never do they notice
the leprechaun watching
from beneath this flower.





nephilim wandering
january 17, 1990

laughing at stars
the nephilim are inside of us!
their fate is folly 
and pride is their joy. 
wandering through our lives. 
casually strong 
are the nephilim
inside of us! 
haunting religion 
the meek are strong
wandering through our lives.




the otherworld
september 12, 1990

the otherworld
is a reflection
peering between my mind
longing desire
creeps through these
mental chains
i feel like milk
and my tongue is shaped like ice
and my bones sound like love
wrapped in fur.
if we are brothers
where are our minds?
existential lives
make up our minds
and
where do they go?
mother kirk
if you've got to know
there's no reason
for them to give.





moonlight ghosts
may 19, 1992

there is a river
flowing deep and wide
a giant slumbering
heaving with great sighs
currents slow and strong
with willows at her side.
this river is at night
with the moon
full on her brow
reflecting on it's deep blackness.
on this river
is a raft
and on this raft a man
aged and grey
like the morning will
someday.
and on this raft
with the man is a mare
pale as pearl
silently they glide
opaque and thin
then slowly.
they fade away.





in cardiff
august 22, 1992

as i walk towards the sound of the cathedral
a solitary leaf flutters down cobblestone streets
footsteps punctuated by the cascading of bells. 
notes descend on each other echoing the desolation 
of the twilight tower, silhouetted against 
the opalescent sky. 
a cat wanders stealthily between
the edges of a fence, and it slips
between the filigree,
silent as the shadows





yolanna
august 14, 1992, ft. william train station

in the heat of our argument
we did not notice
the one who sat beside us
whose face was serene
as she smiled like a queen
of peace.
she interjected between
our outbursts of mean
and rippled the station
to calm.
unpretentious and polite
we never knew quite
from where she had been.
i take care of children
she said
and with a wave of her head
she left in the place
a clean.
from south africa sent
to heal the rent
and never to be seen again.
sitting among us
are a thousand angels.




skye
august 16, 1992

over a thousand hills lies skye
in the whispers of a loch
in the echo of a stream
there lays the emerald green
crowned with mists of gold
and lavender smells unseen
sigh to the sky,
where lies my queen
between the meadows
of an ancient dream.




with vesna at long lake
july 17, 1993 - with respects to emily dickinson

a certain slant of light
reflecting in motion
sunlight off the water
dangles into the air
on the underside of shade
upon me
cool rock.





we
september 7, 1991

alone in a world without fear
crying on a road without tears,
we are the lost ones
that have been found.
lurking in the corners
haunting iridescent shadows
laughter runs through 
the halls of childhood.





melting in warm
march 25, 1993

an orchestra of raindrops
drips off their ice
and into the cracks
where once they froze and cracked
the heart of frozen stone
pattering, splattering into subsequent pools
breathly big enough for a plash
plunge and direct
drop into the ice pool
and drip deep through
where translucent and rim
spills onto the side unfreezing earth like music
it's not raining
the icicles gather rapidly
a row dripping like happy
short above the ground
caught me dropping
with these sounds.




apology
march 3, 1993

ideas impregnate into the mind
a universe of difference
is difficult to find
where is the end
when we begin
the begin
the space curves inside us
when we hear the word
the signal, the message
travels imperfectly far
through oceans of question
the aha becomes bent
mobius strips of space
rear up into my face
inside becomes without
and face becomes not stout
the strength must yield
the other will become
til none other comes back again
to do it all again
ideas with arsenic laced
becomes the death we feast upon
each must die into the other
the other is not the other
until another
stars gleam bright and fair
born of shadow rare
light and dark make one.
and that's how love was won.




sunny veki in january
april 4, 1993

walking down
soft ravine
with thigh kissed by footsteps
daisy smiles
face at the sun
into forest
with scattered light
caressing ground
and thrush scampering through
snails crawling; moss
over, in.
mushroom plays
tho ring around
then body smiles.




in niagara on the lake
march 21, 1993

white splayed
expanse spread smooth
under the white wide canvas sky
clear, breath and open
where mist sprinkles out
the water eats
seats ­ vapoury sky
in white
and subtle hues
hoary ice
in hoary trees
line of shore forms
the gargoyles ­ sleeping ­
of grotesque trees
by ice drips of the misty morn
mourn ­ happy
canvas clothed
hangs with drooped masses
the shore eats the colourless
slow the breathing
lapping of blank
water on blasted dripping
ice fingers dripping
smoothly down contorted
wood bark covered seemly in the
breeze; the drop
catches
and falls not quite
straight to join
the eternal
surging of the white and barren
seas.
sensing still the
recoming of
the drips of spring
loosening still
sleep-like coma,
but aware
the sleepy paralysis
of the ice-locked
first the finger,
then the hand
then the sea.
dripping sideways
for the breeze, wave, surf, flow
over the subtle snow
the shadow of
grey light, sunny in diffuse
impressing hardly
into the snow
over ice, the sentient drift
curves in the shadow
and clearly in diffuse
form
drift
snow ­ one blown into
at a time; to curve
in shadow
subtly, if you listen
carefully, you can
hear the sounds the
shapes sing.
wide and white
land of ice
with rounds of frozen
drifting keeping
their places bumping each
in the solid heaving
breathing sigh of
it's white deepness
covered.
open.





impressions of a park
may 1, 1993

ripple shadows
of the lapping
cross the memory of an edge
see the aura
of sun streaming
from shadow head
in the water
lighting out the waves
in rays of golden-green
to white.
shallow waves meeting
each other
acrossed the pier
in-full-light of sun
under which
new seaweed flows
to switch, in the warm.
ducks play in the
grass covered water,
and beach pools.




still life
may 1, 1993, at a concert

see all the people
looking straight
forward to the music.
stand.
all but one
i caught a glimpse
of just one eye
behind the head
of one entranced.
caught looking full
with deep eyes.
turned away, and
i smiled
at the thought of
she.





rain
may 5, 1993

there is a wind
caused by the air moved
by the falling rain
which brushes my face
and calls back again
the rush of water
on an ancient plain.
the earth drinks
from gathering pools.




snakes
november 8, 1993 - with respects to jim morrison

"the stars
the moon
she reads the future
in your hand"
multiplicity of meanings
the teller
the microcosm ­ swirls
in the palm of your hand
the sacred rose
crossing, where does it go?
through dust are the bites
and vaguely vastly by the fallen snow.
lye the shells of insects
which have crawled out of their bodies
and cling to the trees
a slit of reality
in their once backs.




for the minister of leaves
january 20, 1994

steams rise across the surface
forming their tempest 
drifting steam dances 
like a belly undone
layers serpentine
and leaves.
cream enters
like a devourer
with arms in swirls
drink delight




struggle
november 9, 1993

unicorn holds it's head 
pierced through her heart
she was unloved 
and inside her the land died 
dead roots lost in the earth 
layer upon layer, and 
in death i am consumed 
within me a chill of horns 
where the heart cries of we 
coalescing into the tears 
within me and i 
nakedly fight
for union.




in bliss
may 29, 1993

delicious colours intensify
themselves as the forms
of tree and sky
smooth; green and blue
in multitudes of shade
the light lakes around
reflections scatter up
the water like a dancing hall
and tree leaf shadows
quiver in their ecstasy
i flutter through
my shadow brief
and the sun feels
full on my green back
i am parts of this
i am part of this
intensity of spring
i am consumed.





morning rising
october 14, 1993

in droplets.
mist drops from the lake
into rainbow sunrise
like two suns rising
above the crimson-golden bough.
seagull diving,
dunks its head
the misty frost in two
grinning misty green.
unleafing branches
unlaced
my hissing wind.





years twilight
october 1, 1993

fall's shadows
diffusing in the each.
relief of;
weird air blustering
windy
scuttles the leaves
chestnut coloured
nuggets of
in the grass
smelling ashen
like drying wet leaves
storming autumn
rustles for bed
gathering squirrels
whose hoarding nuts
in a flurry of wind
the sun shining hotly, lowly,
strong slanted shadows slip the
edge of those.
shadows
running up the wall
the leaves.
contrast up a shadow
bush; and petals
turning crimson
ever ringing it
with dark dry
crust of an edge of
leaves multiply
them ­ fall.
ten;
dozens,
and dozens dozens
falling for whole
mountain-full, forest (s)
between the leaves
smell and surround,
encompassing senses
in this half-light-hush
twilight this fall of silence
and wind.
And wind
crisp the foot-fall.
fall around.




the grave that carries joy
december 21, 1994

in twilight
the forest lays in wait for me
like a lover longing
it sought my company
these shadows have eyes
in water they float
like streaming weeds afloat
with water rushing under wave
under shadow
under grave
wandering through the woods i stand
lost in shadows made from i
reflecting through the dim between
the edge of those unseen
streaming sun and edge of day
it is here that i would lay
silence weaves around
the leaves are dry upon
the ground's unheaving mounds
flow in moan of waking
raking light and holy
the leaves swirl and gather
up into a silent spectre
and flutter
the owl calls unseeing
eyes peering, feeding heart
casting light
inviting into this unkown hidden
splendour, i cannot know this bliss
until i drink of this
water flowing
it's sparkle dark and baptising
waiting for me
to welcome into their company
this silent unspeakable truth





in the centre of night
may 9, 1994

lying
curled
in sheets warm
in this silent cradle dark
within this empty room
hearing outside
this room
within this wailing wind
beating at my windows
threatening to blow into
this chamber
my room
which within i dream
silently held
of storms outside




pyramid
july 27, 1993

i)
invocation of the crawling pull
tomb of the womb
with its jaw ready for devouring
between the dirt in it's teeth
of stone
pull myself into;
i saw us before, in horror.

ii)
i bury myself into a hole
and there
where fragrant death grows
i die into the inside
crack of the four
along to the apex
where my spirit soars
and flies together like
a phantasmic bird
like dust in the dark un-light
and joins like air into one,
then in union we dream
out our lives again,
and our dreams watch us in horror,
calling us spectres
when we are love.




frontiers too
january 13, 1993

what about the borders?
between borders
between frontiers
down across the shadow
where the twilight lays
creeping through the snow
meow like nude kittens
hither, where they go
calmly sporantious
between the licks of their teeth
growl like mean rodents
and puppies in their heat
riding the snake
suffer the coils
wallace the borogroves
and meander the sloves
down in the meadow
where the swamp is coolest
and green and moist
and vines grow across the air
and down that stair
snails grow huge and warm
or am i just getting smaller?
slither the rodents
down inside your neck
a bite, a scratch
a fight, a smack
listen for the willows,
for they are weeping
dripping tears
between my toes
into the lake
the primal ocean
warm and wide
generating through colours
a music that's rare
how fair, the sound of elephants
trample in the bush
under the roots
i stick my foot
and feel the mud squish
the clay
the formation
where does it go?
where is the monkey
sitting in the snow.
eating a banana?
swinging on a vine
thick vines entangle
thick vines feed the monkey
and writhe like the cool snake;
slowly blissful with it's butterfly wings
eating it's cocoon
and sending the lilies
misty roses blooming through
flowers,
in the halls of childhood
the glow in the fog
of night fires
on prairies and
caves shine between
the twigs of essence
look at the frost
between it lays the answer
at the edges
at the borders
where the twilight lays





dont cry - the joy's too much

Submit an Article 
Posted: February 19, 2004
Updated: October 2015