September Post: Dancing Like Bears

Dreams dance like show bears on a train parked on a siding, the Big Top is in town, a three-ring circus memory binder filled with old trick pony notions, the covers of dimestore novels, sideshow dreams of youth riding bareback on horses of memory. Nightmoon calls softly through dirty skylight, ceiling fan wraps air in its arms and croons a whispered, one-note melody accompanied only by a faint click track, one tick per revolution, while the potential audience snores on, oblivious to the Greatest Show on Earth until morning tiptoes in from the east and spotlights the whole extravaganza once more. Bring on the Fat Lady! Bring on the Clowns! The Bearded Lady awaits her Strongest Man In The World lover and the lion roars for his lost veldt as the Tamer cracks the whip. The Tightrope Walker knows it's all a matter of balance. Step right up, folks! The show's always about to begin!

© Bob Loomis

September 2013

August 2013 Post

Short Biography & Advice

I was born in a discovery of murmuring alcoves, just down a long staircase in a wooden house filled with songs and Dutch ovens of bubbling gumbos. My mother was a plump relic of bygone dreams, my father a grocery cart filled with redeemable bottles and cans. From a very early age I knew the secret of great dancing: twirl, ballerina, twirl, and veil yourself in alternating stripes of fog and sunshine. Color your thoughts, if any, with metallic-tasting water, by that I mean water the color of midnight moonlight oil slicks rolling endlessly off toward the South Seas. Let a palm tree be your umbrella and learn as much as you can from as much of the past as you can remember. Carry your learning as far into the future as you can accurately foresee and pray that someone there recognizes you for whatever you are or wish to be.

© Bob Loomis

08-23-2013

April-May-June-July Post

Gee, I've been lazy or remiss or both! Just have not taken time to post anything for the past several months. Actually, partly due to laziness, partly due to busyness on other fronts. Our band Awed Ducks has two "gigs" today, Saturday, August 3:

-- 3 to 4 p.m. at the annual Martinez Beaver Festival, Marina Vista and Alhambra Avenue, Martinez, CA. The festival starts at 11 a.m. and also will feature live music by the Alhambra Valley Band and by Mark Comstock and the Beaverettes and others. Admission free, booths, games for children, etc.

-- 9:45 p.m. Upstairs at First Street Cafe, 440 First St., Benicia, CA, as part of a great open mic show that starts 7:30. Admission is free, great food and drink available.

I'll also be playing solo at several farmers markets this month:

-- At El Cerrito Plaza from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Tuesday, August 6.
-- At Clayton, 8 a.m. to noon on Saturday August 10.
-- At SunValley Mall at the Sears end of the parking lot, 8 a.m. to 1 p.m., Saturday, August 17.

I hope to return to posting some poems here for next month. Happy Webtrails!

February/March Post: Last Words?

So here I am
with all the time
remaining to me
in this world
to express myself
as I have tried to do
all these many years,
but I frequently find myself
almost speechless,
not moved too draw or
paint or write and
often would rather
sing others' songs
than my own.
It's not that others
have seen and
experienced more
(though indeed they have)
but that what I have
seen and experienced
has gradually banked
that youthful passion
for fiery, fast replies
to life's disparities and
what I see as its inequities.
Nature, too, is largely
silent, I've noticed,
except for occasional
climatic outbursts
or quiet lieder
amid sunny bowers
even as millions
starve for lack of
food or shelter or
want of an idea
that could help relieve
their miseries. Yet,
as you see, something
still keeps me
scribbling away,
be it protestant
work ethic
or mere habit.
OK, I'll shut up now
and let you enjoy
and/or endure
whatever it is
your life is.
Consider these
my last words
on the matter,
at least for today.


© Bob Loomis, 03-29-2013

No Sign of Rain

This then
is my January
poem

for 2013
as the drought
of

rain and
words continues unrelieved
by

either inspiration
or winter storm
though

we did
have a little
precipitation

last week
almost too little
to

measure in
inches or meters
but

speaking personally
I miss the
easy

flow of
earlier years, the
seemingly

unending procession
of clouds and
words

in stately
natural rhythms that
seemed

to go
on forever or
so

I thought
back in the
day

but still
happening now as
witness

this latest
poem even if
it

is nothing
more than a
few

drops on
an otherwise dry
day.


© Bob Loomis, January 2013

December's Post (A Bit Late)

God
there is
a lot of

blather
signifying something
maybe love or

lust
or something
even finer if

such
a thing
can even exist

in
this world
of improbable rules

and
mutable tools
for lyrical living

a
sort of
linear accelerator for

symphonies
of musical
lines dreamed up

by
melodious madmen
and madwomen of

uncommon
verbal acuity
a perpetual arriving

in
the form
of moving words

yes
I think
they call it

love
or joy
or some such ...

(C) Bob Loomis, 2013