A weaving of words
Part the II By: Caleb Alan Kestner



A weaving of words
Part the II By: Caleb Alan Kestner


Copyright © 2009 by Caleb Kestner. All Rights Reserved. (I make no claim to the illustrations; they are in no way my creation, unless otherwise noted. If you happen to know the author of one of the pictures listed, as anonymous, please let me know so I can give them proper credit.)

2nd Story Press Minneapolis, Minnesota Printed in the United States


This book is dedicated to my Mom Who gave me words. Thank you.



iiiiiiXIV. Exist ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~12 iiiiiiiXV. Beautiful Accident ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~15 iiiiiiXVI. Stars ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~16 iiiiiXVII. Symphonic ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~19 iiiiXVIII. Floating Castles ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~20 iiiiiiXIX. Questions ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~21 iiiiiiiXX. Ode to a Napkin ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~22 iiiiiiXXI. Ode to a Pencil ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~23 iiiiiXXII. Ode to a Lally ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~24 iiiiXXIII. Paper Cut ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~27 iiiiXXIV. edeturs Pleaze Skip Theis Pome! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~28 iiiiiXXV. Human ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~31 iiiiXXVI. Hubris ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~32




Exploding Clock ~ Salvador Dali Baby ~ Anonymous Stars ~ Hubble Telescope Hagia Sophia ~ Anonymous Clouds ~ Commons Question Mark ~ Anonymous Paper Napkin Skull 2 ~ skulladay.com Pencil ~PJH Natalie/Lincoln ~ Mary Kestner Domesday Book ~ Andrew Williams Old Grammar Book ~ Anonymous Vitruvian Man ~ Leonardo da Vinci The Confusion of Tongues ~ Gustave Dore

13 14 17 18 20 21 22 23 25 26 29 30 33


“It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.” Lewis Carroll


I’m sitting here within a class with nothing left to do There’s twenty minutes left before this misery is through I’m buying words to spend the time that I don’t want to wait A woven web of moments that are written on my fate The paper shifts and crinkles as my pencil wears away It’s markings span the eons of this slowly moving day And now ten minutes have gone by; I’m only halfway there The clock spins down to just five left between my frequent stares At last the class is over and I’m finally free to go But I have no ride or transport so I still cannot go home And so to end this tragic tale I’ll leave you all with this The worst of ways to spend your days is simply to exist




Beautiful Accident
Beautiful accident, perfect mistake Cruel twists of life that a better life make Moments of madness that if given time Smooth out their wrinkles and measure their rhyme Heartbroken sadness, purest of pains Life falls apart but the choice still remains Will you accept it? Or toss it away? Lifetimes of moments are hinged on a day Life unexpected, death now decide To accept what you've broken, or break what you hide Greatest of treasurers, tragically won Webs of existence yet to be spun Two hearts in rhythm, two lives entwined Brilliance unwanted that's blinding your mind Sad for the moment, or sad evermore? Choices are littered like shells on the shore Will life take life in an effort to live? What right's the greater, to take or to give? Beautiful accident, perfect mistake The whole world is moved by the path of its wake


Illumination, light let be All that is, is due to thee Violent spectrum, color roars Breaking waves on cosmic shores Fire flies with blazing wings Life and heat its brilliance brings Across the vaults of heaven ride On paths from which no dark can hide Suns of thunder, worlds of light Swirling spheres in black of night The engines of both space and time The clockwork of existence's rhyme




Sifting sound in semblance seem a million things or more The songs of long lost ages crash like fists a upon a door Music floats through vaulting hauls and spins through shining air Tendrils flowing gently down like strands of golden hair Orchestras a thousand strong or wandering minstrels few From might oaks of silence symphonies of songs do hew Stirring fast emotions that before would barely turn Teaching lessons never taught to those who could not learn The chorus of the rustling leaves the music of the snow The gurgles of a bubbling brook that sing as well as flow Music’s simple majesty, the beauty of a tune Moments if to late begun may also end too soon Hearing’s not the greatest sense but still the most enjoyed Providing that the sounds they sense are properly employed Music makes complete the heart and sound fulfills the soul Sight may paint the picture but its sound that makes it whole


Floating Castles
Floating castles drift on high Weightless mountains brush the sky Cool blue ether shifts and swirls Misty landscape twists and curls Kingdoms form and fade away A thousand times in every day Dragons spawn in every storm Spitting lightning as they’re born Angels coast in regal pride Painting sunsets as they glide The vastness of it overwhelms The awe inspired by its realms To think that seas themselves could fly Or fall in specks to small to spy That a thing so great could be so small To rises so high to merely fall That a simple vapor in the air Could cause the darkest heart to care


A sleep deprived mongoose once wondered a thought A quick postulation capriciously caught "Is sleep for the dreaming? Or dreaming the sleep?" "If I look through a peephole does that make me a peep?" "Is the sky up above us? Or the earth down below?" "If your audience is blind can you still have a show?" "If you smell what you eat can you eat what you smell?" "If a water-hole's sick. Can it still be a well?" "If strikers are struck is it just retribution?" "If you contribute no help is it still contribution?" These questions were heavy. Too hard to endure. So he went to a friend and he gave them to her Ah ha she responded you look quite confused Me thinks that to much you have recently mused But answer I will (to the best that I‘m able) Now please be attentive (don’t chew on the table) Yes, no, could be, I just couldn’t say No, perhaps, maybe, it might work that way I hope I have cleared all the questions you raised That I’ve answer the musings that had you so dazed Now if you don’t mind friend I really must go There are so many others who need what I know And as she walked off with her confident stride The mongoose just chuckled then sat back and sighed I may be confounded confused and confuddled But at least I admit when I know that I’m muddled I’d rather ask questions though answers I’ve none Then pretend that I’ve solved them and prove that I’m dumb


Ode to a Napkin
Napkin lying on the wood Once quite useful now no good Your life so short now ripped away A tragic ending to the day Shamefully I am accused of tearing you apart And Josh in laying on this blame has torn'n up my heart


Ode to a Pencil
Pencil, pencil on the ground Lying there without a sound What callused heart abandoned thee? Took all you had then set you free? How fickle is the human mind That leaves once valued things behind Cast off you lay there all alone Spent and broken on the stone Your life was measured in your length Your worth in words you gave And when you could erase no more They tossed you to your grave


Ode to a Lally
Sister, sister best of mine Wonderous the name is thine Who else can by line and verse? Quote any movie unrehearsed? Wax eloquent of Shakespeare's ways? Or speak of rats and pies for days? Triumphant in each altercation Homestarmy strong determination Short in stature, tall in heart Beautiful as well, as smart Gryffindor without a doubt No Hufflepuff will sort her out A shining example of why one should read A beacon of knowledge to all those in need A sister, a mother, a daughter, a wife You've played to perfection each role of your life My big little sister, missed more then she knows My heart travels with her wherever she goes From Bucci to Tula this poem is for you From Caleb to Natalie, these lines I construe In laughing remembrance of each "Oo-de-lolly" I do now deliver my "Ode to a Lally"




Paper Cut
(Dedicated to David N.)
Pain thou name is paper cut Foe thou name is page Ruthlessly I was attacked Provoked into this rage Dare thee I, again to try To rend me skin from skin For if thou do then I shall too To thee and all thy kin


edeturs Pleaze Skip Theis Pome!
Bye; Kalab Kesnur
ise writtings this to speaks abouts a Terrible immposation a pandemic epidemic that is Sweepings thru the nashun with words Mispelt and gramer wong in evre single skool its amasing evre student doesent Grajuate a fool the Greatist problem I have found in all mi manie sirchings is the lac of dots and Sqiggle lines that keep your writings lureching the Sentenzes all run amuk the Pareagrafhs are gon just lissen to the way thay sing in all those Wrapping songs so as you no this problem must of Coarse be delt with quicklee for rob the pen of gramer and Smart thoughts wil all grow sicklee we needs to trulee educates each child in its verbs to teach them what a Pronown be bad habits we must curb now you may find it funy when a person Fumbles letters you laugfh and moc they’re Stumbles as you shuld fore we’s there bettors Butt if we do knot change there ways and give a helpping hand they will REC our gorgous language and theyel tear a part ouwer land so Weather you may chuze to here or give this Pome a thought you can knot ever say again that of this you new nought a Tragide it seems to me is creeping up on man a loss of writen Beauty could now finelee be at hand and though you may not feel this problum is of massive Relavance remember without gramer that there’d be know written Elegence




Human I enter, human I leave Human I'm happy, human I grieve Human I ponder, human I pause Human I look for some purpose or cause Human I tower, human I fall Human I hurtle, human I crawl Human I wonder, human I see Human I search for the human in me Human I hope and yet human I fail Human I'm locked in this fight to prevail Human I'm only, perfectly flawed Human by heaven in every way awed Human I've loved, and human betrayed Human I've followed, human I've strayed Human I've laughed, and human I'll cry Human I've lived, and human I'll die Human forever, human soon gone Human too little, human too long Human I am, and I was, and will be Human I wait, till from human I'm free


Hubris of the human soul Bliss that slowly takes its toll Grasping minds can’t comprehend Breaking thought’s that need but bend Far to busy fixing things, to ever get them right They disagree to disagree, and only talk to fight Pride their overwhelming flaw, Babel’s built of sand Soaring castles in the sky, delusions more then grand Ever rolling rocks uphill, the repetition builds Self inflated genius that their ego quickly guilds Shadows of their ignorance are cast across their path To try and bring this fact to light just sparks indignant wrath Happy to reside within the worlds that they create Blind to all they need to see until it’s far too late Stubborn in their surety of what they think they know Confident of evidence that never seems to show Carefully they craft the information that they find Selecting slowly bit by bit what goes into their mind Making their decisions long before they need decided Locked inside the layers that at first they’d used too hide Seeing their deficiencies in everyone but them They prosecute their problems in the people they condemn For understanding, in the end, it never even tries Lost forever deep within its labyrinth of lies



Continued in . . .

A weaving of words
Part the III By: Caleb Alan Kestner


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