Poetry by James Wadman
I’ll revolve around
the light that shines
from days I used to know
still I smile,
though not a single revolution
takes me closer to home.
By James Wadman
I chose to conceal my voice for several months to refresh my mind and to ensure that what I wrote truly had purpose. To start the new year I wish to break the silence with a poem I wrote about something that has played a very important role in my life recently: music. This is my latest poem, entitled To Break the Silence. Happy New Year to all.
I want to hear the crashing waves with you
and the songs of birds running from the storm
while we sit there still
watching the sky fade from blue.
I’ll promise never to part ways with you
for as long as the evenings still end,
the mornings shine,
and the angels hold their tune.
So I promise I will wait for you
in those silent mornings before the sky falls,
one day vibrations coy to you ears
might provoke your mind
to sing to you heart
and then, just then,
you will hear the music, too.
Physics is the closest we can get to a pure language
Biology is the closest we can get to ourselves
Chemistry is the closest we can get to magic.
I feel as if so many other words can fit into the same places of those subjects of science (love, wonder, thought, family, dreams…).
-James WadmanPosted by James Wadman | 1 comments
I saw the beach on which stood
from the sands of my own shore.
I read your story from stars in the sky
and in that one light
shining in diamond-yellow
was the you I had known before.
And though I followed the sunset
I could not be by your side.
I called out above the crashing waves
so that just one bird
flying in the night
could bring you my good-bye.
My melody in her beak, away she flew
hoping to find her way to you
but no, a bird cannot fly
to the shores of an endless sea
no, a bird cannot fly
a lost life back to me.
Posted by James Wadman | 2 comments
Sometimes I get so amazed by how far my mind wanders. It might be in the midst of a song, at the sight of a sunset, or in conversation; it might be in the evening or in my dreams. I’ll see more than the path in front of me; I’ll see more than the trees, the skies, or Austin’s rolling hills. I can’t call the musings of my wandering mind hallucinations, however, for my ideas are just as real as the air I breathe. It is as if everything my heart can desire and my mind can conceive is a form of reality in one way or another. The memoirs of nostalgia, the foresight of a paradise, a destination reached, a dream beheld…these are all real, even if not quantifiable outside of the observation of electricity in the human brain. There is a spark in human curiosity that makes our desires illuminated in the fervor of our actions. There is something else out there, so embrace the hallucinations of your passion.Posted by James Wadman | 1 comments