Orb II: The Last of the Poems by Byron Wayne Scott - HTML preview

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These are the last of the poems that I wrote during a three and a half year time span


beginning in September of 1967.


Orb II contains all of the poetry that was written during the 2nd half of that time frame,


the good poems and the bad ones. This volume contains some of my best work. A


Champion Born and Flamenco Dancer are two of my personal favorites, along with the


whimsical Sunshine; while Prism is arguably the biggest bunch of malarkey I have ever


read. But then, what do I know? Over the past years, I’ve learned that what I like and


what my critics like are two different animals.


What the reader may notice while paging through this book is that towards the end of the


volume the quality of the poems begins to slip. My excuse for this diminishing focus is


that I had to get out on my own, explore life, and try to earn a living and put food and


beer on the table. Suddenly, poetry did not seem so important to me. Still, all in all, I am very proud of what I accomplished during those years. I truly hope


that some of these poems reach out and touch your heart, and bring a little sunshine to


your day.




B. Wayne Scott Orb II:


The Last of the Poems


1 Rumplestiltskin…..March 1969


2 A Champion Born…..April 1969


3 One-eyed Man…..April 1969


4 No One Weeps…..June 1969


5 Sunshine…..June 1969


6 Evening…..July 1969


7 Vernal Fields…..October 1969


8 Flamenco Dancer…..January 1970


9 Prism…..February 1970


10 Winter/Madcap…..March 1970


11 Mourning Song…..April 1970


12 Dulcimer Suite…..May 1970


13 Rhapsody…..June 1970


14 One Year Hence…..September 1970


15 A Poem for Hillary…..October 1970


16 A Daydream…..November 1970 Rumplestiltskin


Cold-hearted bubble of green hued tint


Rise to the surface, shatter to mint


Cover the surface with a cellophane ruse


Make truth and wives easy to choose


Indivisible nation all underground


Let flowers and sunshine rise to the mound


Illume the netherworld with a brilliant shine


Let passions flow with a sweet tasting wine


A time and a space for all evil and good


But there is no evil, Hell has come as it would


An insipid sky of colorless fright


Put ghosts and goblins into the good night


A startled world of hypocrisy


Rumplestiltskin, what about vanity?


Men and trolls and minds full of hate


Cold-hearted bubble you will burst too late A Champion Born


Across the prairie of desert grass


The dust and loose-rooted soil arose


And in one final cataclysmic moment


It came together taking human form


And a champion was born


It was a miracle the old lepers


Could not comprehend as they


Watched from their ranch house.


They turned away saying it was


Merely a twister and besides, the


Sun was near the horizon


Making their eyes play tricks.


Sensing the pessimistic presence


The champion arose into the air


And shot across the brown, leprose acres


Toward the ranch house.


He hovered outside the window As he watched the scowls on the


Old peoples faces as they failed


At trying to light the fire.


The fantastic temperature change would


Soon bring early death to the cursing lazars


If no flame came to crackle in the fire place.


But the champion felt compassion for the


Stricken lazars and with a mere


Thought the fire burst into flame.


Each lepers eyes widened the


Length of his face at the oddity


And they lit out the door into the


Frozen night never to be seen again


Except by the lemurs.


The champion thought deeply for


A moment and then in an instant


He shot high above the Earth into


The lavender reaches of far space


Where he exploded himself into a thousand


Fragments that drifted forever through the cosmos. One-eyed Man


Beware the one-eyed man


His sadistic approaches


To find contentment between


The parted limbs of the


Fair and soft skinned creature


Bend and shape the heart


As impulses and throbs,


The sensation of the strobe


Beware the one-eyed man


Weaving back and forth


In his struggle against hypocrisy


He goes to Hell in one flaming


Indiscreet streak of spark


And then triumphantly returns


From the dead


But in his moment of silence He sees all good in man and love


And then turns his back on them


And drops out when he


Realizes he may be the anti-hero


Please, beware the one-eyed man No One Weeps


We both wept, those warm spring days


When love is fabled to flow like rivers


For those already stricken,


And blossom and grow


For those less tender in emotion.


It was a time when moisture laden trilliums


Over-ran the meadows, and the sweet scent of


Sage and myrrh defied the winds to push them away,


While lavender made its pledge


To crepe the processions of gowns or organdy.


And that white obverse disk sat in the


Proud, black sky for a seeming eternity


And lit the path for the treasures of love.


Yet our love grew further apart. Perhaps it was only for


The harsh, winter months


That we had generated a warmth for each other,


A warmth that was as sincere as any love


That had blossomed during the spring.


For us the snow was truth.


We needed nothing else.


For even though the moon had


Deserted us, we still had our light,


An aura which we had created for ourselves


That reflected from the pure snow


And made us realize that we did indeed love.


But with the coming of a new season


Our love vanished without reason


And we wept those warm spring days.


Yet no one weeps these summer days


The past is past and lies somewhere hidden


In sadder memories meant only to forget.


Another has taken her place, and


Though the colorful spring flowers have


Turned to dust, we have more than Made up for it within our own visions of grandeur.


The obstruent game of love has fallen


Unnoticed somewhere along the road, and


Neither I nor she will return to usurp it.


For we have gained our own pleasures


In an existence that is not true love, yet


Is far more than love. We find joy in the


Blossoming trees that bear sweet and gentle fruit,


And treasure the moments together on the


Glistening grains of sand that line the calm sea.


And we are happy and find that life is indeed wonderful.


And no one weeps these summer days. Sunshine


Twiddle-dee-dee, twiddle-dee-doe


Sun shine so well so


Master Pink come faded think


And went on to so well so


Dippity-dee, dippity-dee


Dew shine on we to we


Oh, do shine master mine


Fine to wee on wee


Well said come to bread


Think we all came on dead


Sunshine down mind


Find we all gone on bed Evening


Eternal mist of the evening sun


Relinquish not your love-spawned glow


Now there is no other for us to know


Man finally did it; the moon is gone


But as Ahab chased the great white whale


The sun will rise, then sink low


Peter Pan will never grow old


And life will come and life will go


Oh evening, my evening


Reassure me that you won’t be hushed


For you are something that man cannot touch


The hope that man needs so much Vernal Fields


It was in vernal fields of flowing wheat


Where we happily caressed the gentle earth


And bounded together in spurts


Of joyous somersaults


In little time we lay motionless


Upon the ground, as if wounded


By a sterling arrow


And we recaptured our breath


Now through sylvan meadows


I tediously trod the ground


Recalling memories of yesterday and yore


Those happy days long since past


When we blessed ourselves with the


Creation of Baby upon this very spot


And I long to live again those days


Of sunshine and frolic now spent When all we meant to do was love Flamenco Dancer


Flamenco dancer


Siesta time is over


And we can only get older


Tired and creaky


As squeaks grow in our voices


And we wait for you to dance


Demigod of movement


The strobe is in red


There is spinning in our heads


So inflict our minds


With delirium and heat


As the music peaks


Draws breath inside to prison


And your rhythm grows


Quicker and sharper


Your movement much finer


Than any who have danced before And then in an instant it’s gone


The music is over


And breath is set free


And outside we all hate you


For not being immortal


For not taking us past


That one climatic height


That leads to eternity


We all hate you


Flamenco dancer


You can get better


But strange as it seems


Don’t take us past


That one frustrating point


Or our will to live will vanish Prism




A small warming of the heart


As if budding on a bright spring day


And the yearning to bloom into


A passion-filled blossom of unfathomable feeling


For one who ignites strange sensations


In an otherwise cold, swirl-minded stone


I posses the hope of all mankind


That I may break free from the grasp


That holds me indifferent and all alone


In the decision to ignore the heart


And obey the mind


So that I may avoid being hurt


Indigo But now I sense all hope slipping away


As it seems to be getting eaten alive


By a cold storm from the north


The girl who had broken in and


Stolen a small fragment of my heart


Moves away at an incredible speed


And I once again seek seclusion


That I may hide in unknown depths


That have never before been reached by man




And now I have reached


That barren bottom of solitude


No one may penetrate


My indestructible shield from society


Only a chosen one could ever


Destroy the outer force


That shuns my mind from others


For the only path to my heart


Is through my mind Where I can rationalize


Whether my heart could ever


Withstand the onslaught of love




Somehow a force pricks my mind


And the sunshine seeps through


My outer shell to rekindle the spark


That had lied dormant for so many years


I see before me a face that seems


To glow naturally in my presence


And communications between us


Acknowledge that fact


And that cold north wind departs


From a heart now aflame




The forests and flowers have come alive As new dimensions explode within me


The singing of the birds creates


Strange sensations in symphony


And the music of her voice


Tells me she loves me


And my mind cannot overlook


Or degrade that love as we swoon


Beneath the rippling waters of the Seine


And imagine ourselves designing


Beautiful new patterns from the


Thousand different multi-hued flakes of snow


That blankets each new fold of warmth


That develops between us




And we wander aimlessly


Through the spring-time fragrance


Of lush valleys and sparkling waters


And pick out one vernal spot


Made especially for us


And devour the glittering warmth Red


And passions have grown so great


Between us, the understanding


Between the mind and heart so all


Encompassing, that we can ignore


The physical love no longer


And as we frolic naked through all the


Unspoiled reaches of the earth


And unify ourselves to search our minds


Ecstatically with wonderment curiosity


To become one with ourselves


And complete with nature


In order to discover the


Real depths of true love


We find that our attachment goes so deep


As to be incomprehensible


That the joys of the mind and body


Will never be put into any words except


“I love you” Winter/Madcap


The first hush of winter resounded across the earth, deep into the vast millenniums of past


existence, and far into the abysmal reaches of universal space; the beauty of it colossal,


breathtaking to the perception of all human witnesses.


The winter itself was warm and wise, simple and sanctified; pure to the conceived minds


of those who understood.


Yet it was cold and desolate, bleak and barren; dead to the mass of people who gave no


thought as to why there was a winter.


Time it was when the seeds of ignorance spilled upon the earth in cancerous tones, and


the masses of people crucified what they could not comprehend. But mutual ignorance


has no faults, so few realized that winter meant the birth of life.


There then came a day when there was no winter, when there was no birth; and when


spring came, it found nothing being born.


Morning, and Madcap sat on Seventh Avenue He snickered a whisper


“God, she’s awful”


And said he’d rather have Craig


Then burped and coughed


And lit another cigarette


Said he was free to do what he wants


That he’d soon die someday anyway


Primitive, lonely Madcap


A demon spawned by winter


Chased into the East Side


By teeming millions


Who subdued him when he said


“I’m free”


That they’d never had a thought in their life


Oh, poor, perverted Madcap


Unable to digest


That terrible thirst for truth


He reaches out to grasp


The meaning of man


That he may understand And so he travels once again


To that foreign land of Seventh Avenue


And says, “Man if life, life is free”


And again he is chased into the East Side


By teeming millions who say


“You’re not free, you’re not life”


And then he dies


And the day had come


When there was no freedom


And there was nothing to understand


There was no life Mourning Song


Sleep and dream


Then reawake to the realities


Which make us want to love


For it is hard to know


Which harmonies eclipse the sun


Then make us want to run


In search of frolic and fun


Beneath the bewildered notes


Of an unfinished symphony


And how we hopefully hope to find


The gossamer wings of a velvet butterfly


When the day is night, and the skies are black


But we will fight to win our love back


To be perched atop those love-strewn wings


As each lover’s pair laughs and sings


And brings something to the world


You have yet to bring me Dulcimer Suite


Thank-you for this dance




It is so hard to leave


My symphony composed


And arose for you


And we danced to the tune


And wondered if it was true


But now the song has played out


And for words we failed to say


I feel that I must go away Rhapsody


Recurrences of times that were




When all I meant to do


Was make you happy


To make you happy


And I did


But dreams of future times


Embrace me once again


And resound across that timeless warp


Enhance me to take that enlightened step


And leave


And I take my leave


To go One Year Hence


One year hence


And come I once again


To the land of Bethel


And all remains are gone


And I ask myself if had been real


The fields of corn


Sparkle in the wind


As so many people once did


But is it a fitting end


To go down through the ages


A fable


As 40th century children ask




Was Woodstock real?” A Poem for Hillary


Mellow morning:


Peach sunlight, the illumine auburn


Casting silver shadows between


Fading autumn verdure


Frolicsome in the long night


You lit my face with a smile


And my mind reached out to grasp


That fleeing optimism for love


(thank-you and thank you all,


And I hope I shall always be welcome) A Daydream


You were


Running through the snowflakes


Glowing proudly


A smile upon your face


Then came to me


In a dream-like trance


(coat snug warm)


And seized my arms and cast me


Into those wintery patterns


Where I quickly lost your sight


Fading in the falling flakes


My mind then


And anthology of thoughts


So I settled back into


The snow


Coffin depth


And rested


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