Pete's Poetry

The long and level sands
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A Race of Some Fame

Posted by Peter Liptak in Poems, My Travels, A Sporting Chance

Based on that song of No Name

Racing the Planet - Sahara

Racing the Planet - Sahara 2008

On the first part of my journey,
I was focused on the road ahead,
I dove down the dune and shot for the moon
I ran until I was red
The first thing I saw made me stumble in awe
And the sky was cloudless above
The heat was hot and the sand was soft
By the end of the day I was dead.

I’ve been through the desert on a race of some fame
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can run for your name
Cause there aint no one to tell you you’re insane
La, la, la, la-la-la-la, la, la, la, la

After two days in the desert sun,
My skin began to turn red
After three days of the desert run,
The heat it got to my head
The story is told of a man so bold
To see how far he could tread
He stepped through the heat that blistered his feet
And all his clothes he then shed…

I’ve been through the desert on a race of some fame
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can run for your name
Cause there aint no one to tell you you’re insane
La, la, la, la-la-la-la, la, la, la, la

After seven days in the desert sun,
My legs they ceased to run
I started to slow and came to know
That the something had changed in me
Through hot rays, and hard days
There had been highs and lows
But as the story goes
My journey had come to a close

I’ve been through the desert on a race of some fame
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can run for your name
Cause there aint no one to tell you you’re insane
La, la, la, la-la-la-la, la, la, la, la

Colored line drawing of a green Seoul skyline, river and bridge
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Seoul has a dream

Posted by Peter Liptak in Poems, My Travels, The East

It dreams of light and life,
of vibrant color and vast urban spaces.
It dreams of incorporating culture with economy,
and evolving into a living environment
full of energy with elegance.
The city's dream is green, full of life.
Seoul is the core of Korea,
the center of action,
the heart of innovation,
the shared soul of design.

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Sitting at Starbucks

Posted by Peter Liptak in Poems, Caffeinated Contemplations, A little Burst o Truth, My Travels

(this is not about Starbucks the ubiquitous; it's about a certain place, certain personalities, people that know my drink and have my mug at the ready, people that are happy to see me -- that Starbucks in Itaewon central, that Starbucks is gone now...)

Every day,
laptop laden,
I make my way
to inspiration way,
a soft-cushion destination
for some deep-seated thought.

Sitting at Starbucks,
half aware of the chatter
of the chit-chat girls
And the coffee shop gangnam guys

The table circles
The pseudo art, the big green sign
The walkers in, the loungers
Work and distraction

Muzak in the back
Of my mind

I feel as if I am
swimming in the fish tank
of coffee culture
writing wet

On the be right back
Realizing that belonging can be nice
in this overly independent state of being

I say I, I-I-I—I, I-I-I—I
Just got to be
Sipping latte’s to be free
Of the day’s dedication
To open-laptop contemplation
To indifferent dedication

The tragedy is I can’t stay
late into the night, but I may
be back in the early morn
for the bright feel and the
Welcome to that simple-syrup sweet Starbucks smile.

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Zen and the bicycle

Posted by Peter Liptak in Poems, My Travels, A Sporting Chance, Quotes

Adobe Spark (4)

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    Goodbye Korea

    Posted by Peter Liptak in Poems, The East, My Travels, Caffeinated Contemplations

    Visa hot in hand... 'merica here we come!
    But when will we land? And what will become
    of the friends who made this place home, those expat alum...
    How do you say goodbye to 20-year associates,
    to the long friends, the Seoul mates that made this place almost home?

    And where will their fates take them? Beyond borders to what will be from what has been...
    I will keep you in heart and head, remember all I heard and and all unsaid,
    the things we did, the beer we had, the late nights kalbi fed.
    To the runners and the drinkers and the thinkers, to the sometime (by-my-side) sinners,
    to the incessant selfie girls' subway sessions and it's kimchi soju stench,
    to every ajjuma in all her color, the sticky-rice culture, to the traffic - yes, somehow I'll miss you too.

    So with tangled ends still untied. Making' knots and dotting dots. Still much to be clarified...
    (When will the mad dash subside?), I bid you friends a fond farewell.
    I'll await your knock at my door. And for those I return to, it is my pleasure to tell...
    so glad to see you once more!

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    My Travels

    Posted by Peter Liptak in Love's Name, My Travels

    You are my Ireland.

    Your eyes are moors.
    Your hands are angels.
    Your hair is Autumn.
    Your lips are frosting.

    I am a fog,
    an early rain.

    My heart is yours.
    My eyes are drawn.
    My hands are velvet.

    ...like the theatre
    and dancer's passion
    and tragedy
    and despair.

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    Four and More

    Posted by Peter Liptak in Love's Name, Death and Chocolate, My Travels

     

    I love you like music
    and hope
    and tears.

    My love for you
    has fallen
    in rhythm of raindrops
    and in loves sweat it drips
    from aching thighs.

    I love you like the theatre
    and dancer's passion
    and tragedy
    and despair.

    ~ by Peter N. Liptak

    If you fancy this poem share with a friend, (or a foe… you never know) so that others might stumble past — ’TIS ALL THE FASHION!
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    Everyday is a Journey
    and the journey itself is home.
    ~ Matsuo Batso

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    On the Journey

    Posted by Peter Liptak in My Travels

    lest thou must in fear conceal thine own little Achilles heel.

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    Prologue

    Posted by Peter Liptak in Poems, My Travels

    Author:

    We only ask that in your readings
    of this, the play and all proceedings,
    be now thus of Theban mind
    and unto gods so be kind.
    Knowing that the gods are real
    as the Greeks of old did feel,
    lest thou must in fear conceal
    thine own little Achilles heel.

    A Missionary Man’s Monarchy

    Posted by Peter Liptak in The East, My Travels

    An Ode to Allen

    Steeped in 500 years of Confucianism
    The heritage of a dynastic Yi hermitage
    Indoctrinated its population in the prism
    Of expanding stasis, getting on in age.

    Here begins the story of Horace
    As he happed on the hapless case
    Of Kojong and his hermit race
    In a time of encroaching barbarians and Yi’s passing grace.

    Entering on a medical ruse, Allen early paid his dues
    A wife-with-child in tow, he’d much to lose
    Sharp of face, a sharp-tongued missionary that
    Found favor in the court at which Kojong sat.

    The wedge of medicine he’d use to pry up
    The walls foundation of Confucian doctrine
    To catch the souls to fly up
    That had till now been locked in.

    The accidental occidental entered on a rough note
    With the Kapsin at the young Min’s throat
    Though misfortune would fall at his doorstep
    Fortune would deliver a healing rep.

    Thrice diplomat to mission years,
    This patriotic and mission minded healer
    Remained dedicated despite his fears
    And forged concessions for American dealers.

    To the end, a devoted diplomat
    Preached the gospel of Korean independence
    But those who knew, later said of that
    He’d played into the Japanese dance

    The Choson Allen knew
    Came to a bitter end at the hand
    Of the Japanese as their empire grew
    To encompass the Korean land.

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    Incline

    Posted by Peter Liptak in The East, My Travels

    I remember following up the long incline
    Of cement stairs
    Along the steep sided alleyway
    To the peak of our expression
    And the open expanse

    I recall the lights of HeukSeok dong
    Staring up at mid night
    Arcing like an amphitheater
    With the dark stage reflecting stars… wobbling
    The light movement of shades across the Han

    I remembered your ballet
    And the blackness of your velvet eyes
    Enveloping me in a comfort
    Lacking light
    A place not of sunshine
    But the peace and rest of autumn night

    I recall the rhythm
    Of my heartbeat in your ear
    The curve of your lips
    The color of your heat
    Relaxed… absent of fear

    I remembered the length of night
    I spent alone — a time
    To linger on the laughter
    To ease in with the music of memory
    The scent of you near

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    Ireland

    Posted by Peter Liptak in The Irish Rain, My Travels

    A quiet hold in her notes
    Rises smoke soft
    From earthen fairy mounds
    And bogs and rivers
    To raise our spirit.

    She hides her red blaze
    In mists on lakes
    Of Partholon and Nemed,
    In myths, the truths
    Of druid and fine',
    In months, endless.

    She is ever green
    Beneath a brimming moon
    Ablaze with life.
    Field yellow, full of flower
    I glow for her and grow
    Under sky and stars
    With a moon-night of love.

    I thank Brighid
    For her gift of love.
    May she enjoy it through me,
    As she has enjoined me with it.

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    Koh Phi Phi

    Posted by Peter Liptak in My Travels

    What would you say
    to lunch on the bay
    run a length of beach
    snack on a peach
    snorkeling till two
    become one with the blue
    renew

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