My Muse, My Poetry, My Life

Blogger Family Poetry

Brian — Sat, 28 Oct 2006 01:00:32 +0000

This is the direct link to my webpage at Outskirts.com with the ordering information for my first novel, ‘Real Magic’.

New poems are added weekly to this folder. There are 48 poems in this folder; newest are at the bottom.

“Blogger Family Poetry”

“Dey Call her Cowgirl”

wearing black
fragile red
tumbling thoughts
through her head
canter hard
against the tide
can she ever
be a bride.
warrior lass
so she sings
many choices
for a ring
friend and foe
cannot see
her soul branches
like a tree.
seize the moment
when you know
all that fate
will bestow
love is kind
it stays true
there is someone
just for you.

Thanks cowgirl

———————————–
“A Pair of Beautiful Eyes”

she’s seen the world
in all its colors
she has the bruises
like so many others

her heart is broken
will it ever heal
her friends are many
most have horse appeal

some of us
are so blessed
to know this girl
who shares her distress

our love for her
grows every day
in my thoughts
I often pray

give her hope
in something new
show her that others
share her view

it’s so very hard
living a lonely mode
no one to trust
to help share the load

the girl we all know
with the beautiful eyes
is someone with heart
that we have all surmised

Thanks Cowgirl
————————–
“Just A Horse”

Four hooves that prance,
beautiful eyes that dance,
soft nicker in greeting,
anticipation in meeting,
skin warm to the touch,
my friends I love much,
to saddle up and ride,
sheer joy I can’t hide,
warm wind blows my hair,
creates feeling so rare,
strong bond between two,
something I always knew,
you may say but of course,
he’s more than just a horse.

For Cowgirl
—————————————
“Three Women”

What is the bond,
between mother and daughters?
Where comes the strength,
between despair and hope.
When others twist and poison,
between walls of silence.
How deep is the love,
between pain and faith.
To talk and share,
between the lines.
What is the bond,
between mother and daughters,
to carry on unbowed,
together.
to share the burden,
together.

For Amy aka fridaysweb and her wonderful girls, Big A and Little A
———————————————-
“Lonesome Rider”

alone she rides with her thoughts
the horizon always beyond her reach
a future there that cannot be caught
all around her bright colors leach
change of seasons blowing through
soon to come from northern skies
life a struggle must try to renew
alone she rides with heavy sighs.

For Barngoddess
——————————–
“Passion”

She burns with righteous flame,
passion for her cause,
riding free across the range,
seizing truth in her jaws.
bites down hard on bitter bit,
cares so much it hurts to cry,
screaming loud gives her grit,
feels compelled to help to try.
so glad that mothers like her exist,
praising barngoddess is not remiss.

For Barngoddess

——————————–

“Blue Horizons”

high above this orb of blue
the curve of colors many hues
dark and light all are one
our fond dreams follow the sun

a gentle smile a tender wave
letting go has been so brave
life relived in words so sweet
still red heart thumps it’s beat

paths diverged now conspire
can cold embers burn in fire
unknown future there beyond
love testing this tight bond

the ocean sings in its glory
blue notes write this story
moving on or moving towards
emotions gather in their hoards

cannot see this true path
sometimes ocean is in wrath
then again is sometime calm
a lovers touch can be a balm

this dance we see one must lead
in this time they must succeed
chances many in life lived full
love like this has strong pull

take a chance when all was lost
can anything be worth the cost
blue horizons are all you see
choose your way you’ll be free.

For GG
———————————-

“Mermaid Love”

There once was mermaid out there
Her tail
had scales
you see
she had breasts out to here
and a very nice rear
but none of the sailors got close.

She swam through the ocean of tears
her voice
of choice
she sang
of a life crystal clear
and of a love so dear
she misses her father so much.

She thinks where will she turn
she writes
words so bright
she knows
there is so much to learn
her emotions do churn
clean waters are murky again.

For Jenna
———————————————–

“Graceful Rider”

It’s come to pass
in this her life
that’s she discovered
she’s more than a wife.
Pride in plain
became a chore
lost her way
became mother of four.
The joy she feels
when she’s in her songs
her shining soul
to God belongs.
With His compassion
she cares so much
to those in need
offers a loving touch.

For Trailady

—————————————————-

not the person you were,
nor the town where raised,
never the pain suffered,
will make you grow aware.
It is only love,
that makes you so alive,
some one dear to hold at night,
to share all that is to life.

For Tori
————————————————-

As your Royal Highness requests, so shall you receive.

riding astride a rugged pony,
children adored she’s never lonely.
steady wind blows flaxen tresses,
in lover’s arms she offers caresses.
bubbling sulpher springs beneath,
it has been decided and bequeathed.
in snowy climate and harsh terrain,
that overall an Ice Queen reigns.

Minka.

————————————-
An original poem at Shayna’s.

Lying in bed getting stuck in the arm,
Glaring at the nurse I turned on the charm,
Is it just me or is it getting warm in here,
perhaps you’d do better if you drank a beer.
Or two!
For a way to lose weight being sick is the thing,
why it’s even better than having a fling,
you eat what you want that is nothing at all,
you’d rather be drinking out at the mall.
Or local pub, club, dive, bar.
Now Shayna’s in bed per doctor’s orders,
if she misses more work there will be boarders,
her husband does cleaning and does best to cope,
while all of the blogworld holds breath and we hope.
Or pray.

—————————————————
“What’s fuzzy and warm and lives up North?”

in the wilderness that is Alberta
a Mother Hen and her chicks reside
don’t like dogs she’s gonna hurt ya
give good belly rubs come on inside.

she lives where the wind always blows
and good service is so hard to find
long summer days when the wheat grows
and her children pay her no mind.

spent many dark days under duress
wondering just who she had become
no one told her the brain was a mess
that her chemistry made her feel numb.

today she is better and living strong
enjoying her life out of the blues
her blogger family romping along
Let’s all give Kyahgirl her dues.

looking forward to many fun times
with a good book or two by her side
I hope that these words of rhymes
made you laugh inside till you cried.

for Kyahgirl
######################################

Happy Anniversary.

Eight years ago captured a dream,
all is possible in love so it seems,
our future before us shone so bright,
lost in our eyes soul’s kind light.
dancing as one feet off the floor,
let’s never stop we’ll always have more,
growing in love through all of our tears,
today we are stronger after eight years.

Kyahgirl and husband
————————————-

I paint and I scrape,
the wind blows my hair,
my options they fly,
like chaff in the fields,
I find myself looking,
at all I can see,
but what looks back,
is nothing I need,
searching for freedom,
should not be this hard,
maybe my karma,
is hungry no more.

for Karma
———————-

“Pixie”

she dances with flair
dusts her pixie lair
laughs while singing
swooping and darting
wingbeats shimmer
iradescent glimmer
finished, a sigh
my pretty dragonfly
our guests are here
friends we hold dear.

For Pixie
——————————————–

“Conversion”

converting a heart
this man of faith
a vision of hope
changing dark to light.

a lifetime of loss
a moment so clear
converting to joy
when two became one.

an ancient rhythm
converting to life
a family multiplies
and more candles shine.

friends we have found
growing up fast
a higher power
converting my soul.

For QG
—————————————————-
sun slants through the clouds

lift face healing warmth cheeks blush

already grey gone

For Stephanie
——————————————–

The moon is full
on a summer night
spectral beams
reflected bright
deep in shadows
whispered delight
dancing shapes
celebration so right

For Pia
———————————————–

“My Broken Heart”

If it wasn’t me
then why do I hurt
I tried so hard
to be what
he wanted
failed myself
or so it seems now
to be what
I want
is now my goal.

Love is over
was it ever real
love is over
so how do I heal
love is over
what happens now
love is over
tears on my brow

A broken heart
must be mended
no more drink
to blur
my senses
I’ve come to the point
of not
looking back
I will be strong
myself I do love.

Love is over
was it ever real
love is over
so how do I heal
love is over
what happens now
love is over
tears on my brow

A song for Redneck Girl.
—————————————————–
Anniversary:

A random date
between two souls
struck by fate
years they roll
more in love
in every way
to rise above
this blessed day.

Congrats to Joel and Neva.
——————————————————–

“Companion”

I need to rest my friend.
it’s only a little further.
but it’s over that hill!
the grade is not steep.
it’s too much this time.
you have the strength.
why do I bother fighting?
because you are a Warrior.
I am frightened all the time.
I know.
then why do stand beside me?
I am your Companion.
you should save yourself.
and throw away love?
you love me?
it’s not only I that loves you.
where are they?
we are all here, your friends.
how?
by the blue light of the screen.

Love you Pinky. I have shoulders broad enough for you.
————————————————————–
“Miracle”

I saw white light and peace from her words
her soul called to me and mine answered
who’s there?
I gave a piece of my soul to her
to heal to keep her safe
I did not expect what happened next
a bond was formed when I opened up
she already knew what gift I had
but when connection was forged
it burned red hot
she felt my hands across the miles
cradling and stroking her soul
I heard the tears fall
the awe in her mind
how is this possible
this cannot be
but it happened one night
when two souls met
white and bright
they pierced the dark
holding each other
healing each other
loving each other
this miracle is true
as real as life
two people in love
a bond formed with God.

I love you (((T)))
——————————–
“Shadow Streak”

straight out to infinity
dappled splashes of light
the innocence of racing feet
each sharp line another year
flowers grow in wild abandon
eyes fixed on that thought
freedom calls in naked hunger
floating forever in time.

Ree
——————————–

they stretch from side to side
a perfect arc of color
all shades are there
where ever you turn
young and old of all races
men and women dressed in pink
a rainbow of compassion
united in a common cause

Haiku

shaved skull mark of pride
fractured prism streaming waves
defiant pink stands.

For Swampwitch
——————————–
” Alone”

she’d gone away from me one day
that sense of friendship vanished
I wasn’t worried at first
life happens to us all

she didn’t return as I waited
looking around found nothing there
a black void where once was love
my soul grew troubled each passing day

she came back and told me why
shamed and lonely was she now
thought that I could never see
all the pain that was inside

trusting in me she talked
we shared laughs and tears
she opened a channel to me
sent all my love and warmth

you are never alone
we walk by your side
with love and caring
our gifts are yours

I love you ((((C)))

———————————–

There once was a Lady from London
her confessions made us stunned
for she liked to be naughty
pretended to be haughty
deep inside didn’t give a fig.

For Ann

This is Ann’s reply.

There was an old bird from London
who got her knickers in a twist
she tried to be good
as hard as she could
because she did give a fig

————————————–

“Fence Sitters”

You see them everywhere
Percariously perched
Forever caught
Looking around.

You think to yourself
That looks cool
Never choosing
What a life.

You have no concept
Of how it happened
Growing old
Sitting on a fence.

You can see for miles
It changes quick
Inviting and warm
Then terror filled.

You want to get down
Move on someday
Trust in the ground
Walk with purpose.

You hear their words
Sense the concern
But still you stay
Never can choose.

For Lynn.

——————————-

“3697″

Gallops forever
in their hearts
to the cruel world
was just a number
to little girls
was a friend
he lives beyond
the spoken call
grief for those
who loved him.

Ree

—————————————

“Colors of Darlene”

Look deep into the colors
Mark, a baby, a boy, a man
Why?
Who are we, that come here
Day after day
Offering prayers
And hope to a mother
Look deep into the colors
The world is there
The world is here
We are the yarn
We are the patterns
Love
Hope
Grace
Look deep into the colors
You will see yourself
Staring into the mirror
Trying to stay warm
It is easy to lose faith
Times of sorrow and pain
Look deep into the colors
All your questions
Will be answered
All your doubts
Will be eased
All your love
Will be returned
Look deep into the colors.

“Geometry”

Did you know
that souls touch?
Did you know
that souls walk?
Did you know
that souls care?
Did you know
this?
I know that you do.
What is a circle
but a straight line
What is a straight line
but a path
What is a path
but a journey
What is a journey
but a circle.
Did you know
that people care?
Did you know
that people pray?
Did you know
that people heal?
Did you know this?
I know that we do.

All my love and strength to you Darlene and Mark; and all the members of your family.

And all my love and compassion for all the family of strangers, now friends who come here to lend a hand each and every day.

Peace and faith.

“Heartsong”

Voiceless prayers ascend to heaven
One, then ten, then ten thousand
Thoughts of healing
Thoughts of despair
Thoughts of vengeance
A sound, a gentle beating
The mother’s heart
The Father’s love
For we are fragile in our souls
Needing more than hope
Forgiveness comes from deep within
The heartsong fills the skies
“Steeple”

What do you see
this woman
careful hair
her hands red
the ring
of a wife
her lips
drawn with tension
I see her eyes
green or hazel
they look
far away
into the past
and towards
an uncertain future
I want to reach out
and cup her face
and whisper
that I am here
that I love her
I want to stroke
her taut brow
and whisper
that many are here
that we love her
I want to grasp her
steepled hands
to bring her
lost eyes
back home.

“Blooms”

A rose is still a rose,
The sweet smell in the dark,
Feel his love somewhere,
out there.
Trust in faith that come
the dawn
The rose blooms still
in our hearts.
A rose is still a rose,
when in a vase
or pressed between pages
memories we have.
To care, to heal takes
all your strength.
When evening falls, breath
deep the air, he is there
with you, always.
Walk the path together again,
Hold hands across the thorns
and will find
that you are one in purpose.

((((Darlene)))

For you my friend and your wonderful husband J.

————————————————————–

Eyes gaze other side

Brown and white loyal friendship

Shadowed memories

Pointy ears muzzle blackened

Time to go our hearts breaking

For Junior and SW

——————————————-

((((Diane)))

My love for you
shines more
than all
the diamonds
in the world.

I love
your smile
I love
your heart
I love
your soul
I love
you
Only you.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

For my wife Diane.

“Eternal Love”

They said we’d never make it,
I was too strange,
You were too sick.

They said we’d find out,
That love wasn’t real,
Lust wouldn’t last.

They said we’d grow apart,
When real life intruded,
Long hours alone.

They were all wrong,
We found our way,
Through the tears.

They never did understand,
We are one soul,
Overflowing with love.

They never took that chance,
To look in your eyes,
And say, I do.

For Diane on her birthday

“The Lady In Red”

It was a rainy night, the pavement shone with fierce intensity, illuminating her visage. A face smiled at me in anticipation and desire; it was as intoxicating as moonshine. I could smell her fragrant perfume wafting on the stiff breeze, it clung to my nose like dryer lint. A Gucci bag dangled from her manicured fingers, her diamonds cast rainbows in the moonlight.

I was early as a dog to a hydrant; she was ecstatic to see me for the first time. Her arms were wide open in friendly greeting; she called out, her melodic voice a balm to my troubled soul. Kissing my smooth shaven cheeks in joyous excitement, I felt like a young boy let loose in a chocolate shop, my mind already savoring the sight of her generous form.

We walked to the La Femme Fatale, only three miles away; she was riveted to my every word like a velvet Elvis hanging in a smoky pool hall. I impressed her with my command of the language that I had learned in my stint in the Foreign Legion. I promptly ordered for us both; she daintily consumed her repast and after long hours of conversation, we left, “do you want fries with that”, still ringing in our ears.

Soon returning to the area whence we had met; decided this wonderful date must be repeated. With light heart, she agreed, only to discover, alas, the very next day she was due to report for a six months tour of duty in the Gobi Desert. We clung in desperation to each other, frantically making out with no time to lose. But only too soon, I had to return to prison on my pass, and we parted, never to see each other again.

For Diane

————————————-

“She Cares”

It’s what I admire the most
about Rose.
Her caring
and desire
to be heard.
But on her terms.
She doesn’t always comment.
She’s not around all the time.
But she’s a force of nature,
when she is.

For Rose
—————————————————
“Diane”

Eyes can’t smile!
Absolutely not!
No way.
They’re just an iris;
a pupil.
No emotions, just
flat cameras
constantly recording.
They can’t smile!
Nor twinkle.
Clouded by cataracts.
Glazed by glaucoma.
Eyes are just orbs
of gelatinous goo,
suspended
between temples.

But hers do!
I swear it!
Hers do.
Blue,
like a granite monument.
Polished,
like glass.
Her eyes gleam with love.
Shine bright with hope.
Sparkle with laughter.
Dance with joy.
Shimmer with sadness.
My love’s eyes,
suck me in,
and feast on my soul.
Smiling,
all the while.

For my wife Diane
———————————————————-
Gossamer spotlight
Haunting notes, float
on rippled waves

For O.C. and Quill
________________________________________
Love sounds,
The beat of a child’s heart,
A meow, a woof,
The tight squeeze,
hugs
kisses
Sounds of love,
missed, needed, wanted
Crack, cracked, cracks
in my heart
Love sounds,
The giggle of a child’s soul,
A call, a note
a letter home,
Meals, food cooked with love
Out there, true love,
many, many, many sounds
Sounds of love,
for you
somewhere,
Love sounds
of friends and pals,
more than pals,
lovers of your soul
tender hearts
ache for you
gentle voices in the night,
sounds of love.

For Pixie
______________________________________________________
“Halo”

Sunrise on the bluff,
makes a man pause
it’s said.
A cowgirl too,
come to think
of it.
Trust in friends,
bonds of blood and
sweat.
Years swing by,
morning after
morning.
Soon, too soon,
grown up and
gone.
Advice and looks,
respect earned
in dust.
Safety in numbers,
sometimes two
is enough.

For Josh and The Cowgirl
___________________________________________________

“Hiney Tingles” (Lots of twangy guitars)

Eleven years ago
I meet my match
He’s got hands
of steel
that stole my heart
I saw him there
he was unique
A city girl
my soul did weep

My life had changed
didn’t know how
looking back
seems so unreal
To me my punks
are all I need
‘cept those toes
touching
in the night

Eleven years have
passed us by
wouldn’t trade
for anything
Makes me smile
His love is true
worth more than hay
But a latte
would be nice

He’s my man
supports my dreams
can’t imagine
my life
without his eyes
gentle but firm
he knows me well
one glance from him
my hiney tingles.

For Ree and eleven years.

“Half-way There”

Caught on the cusp
of not looking back
I was starting
my life
on my terms at last
Love wasn’t wanted
but suddenly
I found
that all
my plans
lay
dashed
on the ground.

That’s not
what I’m
talking
about.

That’s not
what I’m
thinking
right now.

My new love spoke
those words to me
An obvious choice
in front
of my life
All clear reason
slowly faded away
I found
that one
would
it
happen
now.

That’s not
what I’m
talking
about.

That’s not
what I’m
thinking
right now.

Another song for Ree and MM.
________________________________________________________

“Heart of Gold”

I fell in love with her that night
Shivering in the cold moonlight
Her golden curves drew my gaze
Caressed softly in the waning phase

A tree obscured my lover’s heart
Above a gargoyle gave a start
Reached out a hand gentle touch
Empty air my flesh did clutch

Instead I raised her eager lips
All talk for now was eclipsed
The golden lady cast her spell
Romance we now both knew well

This quiet street beneath her glow
Our bond together ceased its woe
Troubled souls kissed once more
Inside our urgent passion did soar

Bright healing beam casting wide
Melts the pain of stubborn pride
Inert steel though she may be
For us our love is always free

For my wife Diane
________________________________

Blessings upon you stranger from afar, I wish you well and healing from your ills. The journey of our lives may cross in this manner and both may benefit. Remember to keep love in your heart and be free with your soul, for we are but echoes in the mind of God. Peace be with you and all of yours.
For Baraka
_
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Activist Poetry

Brian — Sat, 28 Oct 2006 01:20:04 +0000

All Content Is Protected

New poems are added periodically to this folder. There are 15 poems in this folder.

This is the direct link to my webpage at Outskirts.com with the ordering information for my first novel, ‘Real Magic’.

“Activist Poetry”

“Friend of Cowgirl”

I hate rape,
I really, really do.
I hate it in the a.m.,
I hate it from the blue.
a moment with a girl,
that should be pure and true,
in a flash turns ugly,
and instead is very crude.
A joining that is sacred,
has now become so rude,
as the girl,
now women,
finds all she had to lose.
No means no,
or so was always told,
but today’s men take,
have always been so bold?
A girl is only meat,
or so to me it seems,
and nothing they can do,
will muffle all their screams.

So what happens now,
to this girl who we abused.
should she be now cast out,
and given to be used?
Nay,
I say.
Stand beside her in her need,
you out there can never know,
when it’s your turn to bleed.
For I hate rape,
I always, always will,
it is a crime,
that makes my heart be still.

———————————

“Because I have a vagina…”

… I am often molested when I’m only a little girl

… I am often kept uneducated and at home

… I am often killed because baby boys are preferred

… I am often sold to brothels to pay family bills

… I am often raped by someone I trusted

… I am often scorned for being so emotional

… I am often murdered by a jealous ex-lover

… I am often ignored when seeking medical advice

… I am often mutilated by cutting off my clitoris and labia

… I am often called a filthy whore for enjoying sex

… I am often forced to trade my body for food

… I am often dismissed by my professors

… I am often paid much less than males

… I am often expected to be only a breeder

… I am often viewed as unclean when I bleed

… I am often filled with shame and fear and remorse

… I am often wondering why God hates me so much
___________________________________________

“The 21st Century”

In the 21st Century.
People can no longer hear,
because they have surrendered
their ears.
And instead they survive
every second by shooting
a drug called apathy
directly into their veins.

In the 21st Century.
People can no longer see,
because they have gouged
their eyes.
And instead they cope
wormlike by following
the noise of culture
blaring from every corner.

In the 21st Century.
People can no longer taste,
because they have severed
their tongues.
And instead they seek
sensations by observing
the suffering and
disasters of others.

In the 21st Century.
People can no longer feel,
because they have flayed
their skin.
And instead they crave
nourishment by rooting
in putrid refuse
heaped in the gutter.

In the 21st Century.
people can no longer care,
because they have siphoned
their brains.
And instead they grope
hopelessly for understanding
by desperate fondling
of the drug called apathy.

——————————–

“Wrong Turn Taken”

Two lives collided in the bloody hood
The sorrow I feel will never be gone
That single perp was up to no good
Slinking around where she never should
Her friends all said he done you wrong.

You go girl and give him a scare
Can’t walk away when he’s to blame
Tired of flaunting heself everywhere
Ragging his posse how he don’t care
It’s his child too dis ain’t no game.

That awful morning she made him pay
Don’t remember bout talking no smack
But got him good is what dey all say
Now sit alone behind bars and pray
Media howls they don’t know jack.

She was abused is lawyer’s cry
Headlines sneer likely defense
Wealth and privilege gone awry
black man dead white girl to fry
A wrong turn taken makes no sense.

———————————————–

“Healing”

It hurts
thinking
remembering.
why?
I don’t understand.
why?
I know why
I hurt myself
I cut myself
I want to die
too many
too many
we share a bond
of survival
of change
of longing to be normal
what is normal?
why?
do we hurt ourselves.
just stop
please just stop
wait a minute
please
it is possible
to heal
to look in the mirror
and see
really see that person
who is I
who is me
who is you
why?
why not?
why not heal?
why not heal pain?
why not heal abuse and betrayal?
heal
heal
it wasn’t your fault.
—————————————

“Our Children”

What is a child?
A string of DNA,
genes structured in our own images.
Sometimes abused, sometimes adored.
Sometimes scorned, sometimes loved.
Sometimes abandoned, sometimes cherished.
Sometimes ignored, sometimes respected.

Our children are very fortunate,
for they are adored,
loved,
cherished,
respected.

What is a child?
a laugh, a giggle,
a heartstopping smile.
We see the future,
and we tremble.
We see our children,
and we rejoice.
Yes, rejoice!
Rejoice in anticipation
of our joys to come.

Death comes to a child,
and we scream!
Why!

Why?

Oh God… Why?

Across the ages,
it has been screamed many times
in many tongues
in many ways…why?

For that,
there is no answer,
but this.
Never to feel grief?
then never love.
Never to feel pain?
then never care.
Never to feel despair?
then never hope.
Never to feel death?
then never live.

I ask you yet again,
what is a child.
A child,
our children,
are this communities heartbeat.

—————————–

“Snowcones“

look at the shiny things
they are floating in the air
what keeps them up?
what are they called?
can we taste them?

envision them running
without a care in the world
giggling, you know the sound
rainbows everywhere
melting on lashes

far above their heads
grown ups work
we children just laugh
hey up there
have a snowcone.
————————————————————————-

“Diversity”

What is black,
What is white,
What is wrong,
What is right.
What is yellow,
What is brown,
all our colors,
gathered round.

The bonds of time that unite us,
the links of place that divide us,
internal thoughts that betray us,
best intentions that corrupt us.

Together we are one,
yet as one apart.
Diverse in outlook,
heart and mind,
Our souls belong to all.

———————————
“Rainbows”

they stretch from side to side
a perfect arc of color
all shades are there
where ever you turn

young and old of all races
men and women dressed in pink
a rainbow of compassion
united in a common cause
——————————————–

“That hateful family bond that masquerades as love.”

This was a line that I wrote recently and I thought what a great title for a song.

The masks that they wear
crack in time
when lies aren’t enough
to hold back the change
with sudden sight
they become real
true twisted features.

holding their hands
up to sky
seeking to blame
all
but themselves.

They said they loved me
as they held me
and wiped off the blood
and dried up the tears
They said they loved me
as they hurt me
and cursed at my name
and broke all my bones
They said they loved me.

Well I’m still here
haunting your dreams
I’ll never leave you
until you all go to hell!!!

They said they loved me
as they scolded me
and used what was handy
and pretended to care
They said they loved me
as they buried me
and mouthed platitudes
and threw flowers
They said they loved me.

Well I’m still here
haunting your life
I’ve decided to move on
heaven is my new home.

——————————————–

“Pissing Genders”

Well you had to do it
bring up the gender
wars
After they’ve been
buried, under an
Avalanche
of politics.

Multi-culture-ism, so many
isms, all perfect
people
Perfect homes, perfect
lives
Identical in every way,
send in the clones.

I’m a mesosexual, I love
poetry and flowers
and NASCAR
Woman and dancing,
rituals in the deep
Forest, turkey calling
and pissing.

Me, a man, who writes naked
prose
open soul and heart and mind
Striving to reach for that
apple
Hanging out of reach in
the Garden.

——————————————–

“Trapped in the frame of an old photograph” (Sara)

“suddenly vivid in a world of lucid dreams” (Moonmaid)

“a faceless fear crept around our circle” (Rethabile)

“Trapped in shadowed box of iniquity” (Beaman)

“Screaming; they cannot hear”

The land cried out; danger comes
near.
We, the tribes out of time,
waited; while there, a mist,
a faceless fear crept
around our circle.
It had no color, just rage
and form that showed no mercy.
Suddenly vivid
in a world of lucid dreams, our
limbs, truncated and
bleeding
seeped into the fertile soil.
Pushed, herded, prodded, we
ran.
Oh how we ran. To no
avail; trapped in a shadowed box
of iniquity, we faded.
Our history had ended.
Our lives were forfeit.
Our children sold.
I wake screaming, they can’t
hear me, but I can hear
them.
Reclaiming my breath, I shake
with emotion,
tears,
tears,
tears, stain the drawing of my
ancestors;
trapped
in the frame of an old photograph.

Although it would be tempting to draw conclusions from this poem, it is not written with a color in mind; nor even a date. It is all of us, and none of us. It is now, and thousands of years past. It is simply a poem, a collection of words gathered just so. But it is also words seared into our collective consciousness by millennia of suffering. Slavery, is one of the most heinous of human endeavors, but sadly, one of the most common, even at this very moment.

Most estimates for modern day slaves range from 20 to 30 million, today, around the world, as you read this poem.

———————————————————————-

“Untitled”

Human beings are monsters, we devour ourselves, gnawing and chewing our sinews that bind us to God, burning and burning and burning we fall, lamenting at what we’ve become, sightless and helpless, overwrought with cares and desires, they ride us with spurs, the blood flowing from a million deaths a year, a month, a week, an hour, a minute, a second we fall, falling we die but not before life lived with hope and peace and justice, is there no justice for me, for us, for her, for him, for we stand together and fight for our beliefs, a sense of harmony and love and trust and peace, peace of the grave for many today, some pass, some killed, all the same, cold and gone, the ones left to ponder is this Hell, Hell of our making or His/Hers/Ours, where does it end, does it ever end, close my eyes, my mouth, my ears, my heart, my heart closed to the suffering and cruelty of Human Beings are Monsters.

Are You?

_____________________________________________________

“Distant Memories”

respectability… polite… yearn
yearnings… froth
that’s it!
froth… yes, froth.

I wanted, you see
doesn’t matter who really… not really
not at all… distant… wavering now
I don’t even remember, what she/he/they looked like.

unattainable… unavoidable… unrequited
buds to be plucked… no that’s not it,
blushing blooms to be sniffed… no! NO!
it wasn’t like that!

let me begin again.

differences… skin… class… style
it never was… never would be…still
still, I wonder… if the chains that bound her/him/them
if the chains were not there… broken… freedom

would I have learned love then?
___________________________________________________

“Living Wage; A Satire of History Repeating”

crack
of overseers whip, multi-thronged
bloody slaves
spoils of conquest, sold
to state

by chariot
by elephant
by longboat
by horse
by

deception and lies, have monuments been raised on
skeletons of ancestors
rotting flesh, multi-hued, murdered for wealth
cached in tombs, plundered from temples, torn
from mines and smelted in
bronze
lead
copper

iron
shackles of losing sides, bitter harvest of cellular treasure
mixed blood flows
tribal councils, locked behind gates of thorns, don wealth
of bangles and beads, met with gunpowder and cannon
forcible redistribution of
silk
tea
spice

opium
dreams consuming mercy none found, harsh addiction of
trade imbalance wars
palaces in marbled splendor rise anew, class blurs with
possibilities of mass commerce and production lines
cause hope for many in
steel
rubber
nylon

plastic
injection molding, heaped piles of toys, profits greater
than gold ingots melted
standard, paper future mortgaged with frenzied purchase
inflating costs, bloated companies replacing kings, palaces
of consumption

crack
of managerial tongue, sarcastic and cruel
worker drones
few benefits, dismissed
to starve.

___________________________________________________

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Project A to Z and Alphabet Soup

Brian — Sat, 28 Oct 2006 00:22:22 +0000

All Content Is Protected

This is the direct link to my webpage at Outskirts.com with the ordering information for my first novel, ‘Real Magic’.

“Project A to Z”

“A is for Annoying”

the toilet seat
toothpaste squeezing
dishes piled up
oh yes snoring
remote surfing
chore slacking
nose picking
no good
couch potato

“B is for Bad”

bad seed
bad day
bad boys
bad times
bad ass
bad hair

“C is for Cute”

I hate being cute
cute is for puppy dogs
and flowers
cute is for hearts
for kindergarten teachers
I want to be called
mysterious
exotic
dangerous
being cute sucks

“D is for Depression”

it’s called the blues
not the music
but the soul
crushing despair
despair that grabs hold
and lingers
like a fungus
that grows on the tiles
in the bathroom of hell
you try bleach
you try scrubbing
til your fingers bleed
but it keeps
coming
back
over and over again
it’s called the blues

“E is for Erotic”

a look
a look of promise
lick of the lips
finger beckons
strip
slowly
dance
move your hips
scent of arousal
soft skin
rasping tongue
clenching sheets
panting breath
yes, yes
ohhhhhhh!

“F is for Friends”

we meet for coffee once a week
she and I go back a ways
talk of children and husbands
laugh which one’s worse
advice we share
hopes and dreams
where they went
do you remember so and so
wonder what happened
they seemed so happy
I guess you never know
about friends

“G is for Guilt”

I told you
should’ve listened to your mother
but did you
no, suddenly I’m no good
I know nothing
after all I’ve done for you
the pain of birth
the sacrifices
what thanks do I get
you go out and buy
name brand
peanut butter

“H is for Hope”

holding hands we wait
nervous smiles
sweaty palms
well doctor
congratulations
it’s a boy

“I is for Indulgence”

such an indolent word
represents sloth
and gluttony
and greed
sinful
oh well
pass the ice cream
and hot fudge
will you

“J is for Joy”

children laughing
a choir singing
lovers holding hands

“K is for Kiss”

chocolate kiss
kissing cousins
kiss my ass
kiss off
a kiss to build a dream on
soft lips
taste of mint
of passion

“L is for Love”

who hasn’t written of love
the perils and dangers
of falling in love
it’s just a chemical
attraction that is
the urge to mate
is strictly biological
an impulse that overrides
that blurs common sense
but he/she’s the one
the only
until the end of time
or at least
until the sun comes up

“M is for Money”

how many times have I told you
I’m not made of credit cards
checks don’t grow on trees
I work hard for this mutual fund
bonds can’t buy happiness
online banking isn’t everything
a fool and his 401K are soon parted

“N is for Nice”

did you see the police
they were over here digging
tearing down walls
ripping up the floor
I guess they found her
what a shame
he was such
a nice boy

“O is for Over”

gleaming scissors
careful pruning
judicious snipping
album after album
cutting out of my life
low down dirty skunk
you are so over

“P is for Prejudice”

you want to judge me
my skin makes you nervous
what about my clothes
yes I have piercings
so I don’t look sick
what’s it to you
how I pray
the car I drive
the food I eat
where I shop
look in the mirror first

“Q is for Quiet”

nursing a child
the sunrise
smiling we touch

“R is for Rage”

you’re late
I told you what would happen
get over here
you stupid brat

“S if for Secret”

I have a secret
he told me not to tell

“T is for Truth”

the truth is
that I like to eat
food is good
late at night
pickles
and chocolate
I’m eating for two

“U is for Us”

the word us
is tribal
us versus them
them that are dangerous
us that are good
us that are righteous

“V is for Virile”

the hopes of a nation
the dreams of our culture
the very future
of our society
rests in the little pills

“W is for Winning”

there is only one winner after all
the rest of you are losers
runners up
second best
always the bridesmaid
so get over it
you’ll never win

“X is for Xenophobia”

not that this word
means anything in today’s world
a world of hope
and peace
and love
compassion for others
a helping hand
oh
I’m so sorry
you’re not like me
after all
are you

“Y is for Youth”

news flash
the fountain of youth
has been discovered
three easy payments
of $19.95
plus
shipping and handling
call now
we’ll double your order

“Z is for Zany”

if you have read this far
you qualify!

—————————————-
silly me I never thought
what this word would have wrought
to see such bloggers in dire straights
makes a bunny paws and heasitate
but never mind I’ll hop along
for poetry is like a song
some are ballads sound so sweet
others thump in metal beat
brings to mind hard rock n’ roll
while winking lines are so droll
althought I may seem so organized
a guest of Dawg’s is so prized
my gift may seem heaven sent
I completely forgot to leave a comment.

at Waking Ambrose guest post
————————————————–
“G is for Guest”

at this lovely lodge
has been many a guest
quite the hodge-podge
but that’s for the best

rocking on the porch
defining the word
dazzling wit does scorch
theater of the absurd

refreshments over there
music blares on stage
sigh a loving pair
wisdom from the sage

perhaps in all our glory
we’ve become complacent
wishing to tell our story
forgot to pay the rent.

Waking Ambrose
————————————————–
Poet N: A shill, a barker of the digital airwaves, offering an empty promise while begging for your votes and money.

Poetry N: A cynical script of the dream, two words offering a paradise that resonates in our souls. If only….

“If Only…”

click, click, the images pass by
earnest voices selling perfection
glittering jewels fantastic colors
rippled muscles gyrating dancers
newest carnage solemn visage
past wars only memories
raining somewhere storms swirl
impossible contests fading glory
flashing lights crashing cars
trauma and blood offering grief
this machine will keep the weight off
black and white anonymous faces
the latest bed swapping affairs
local firehouse pancake breakfast
has anyone seen this child
mansion of stone within reach
sell and buy you need this book
drugs an outrage arrest them all
cheering crowds uniformed heroes
pass, shoot, score life is grand
without leather seats no point
insert card cash dispensed
look this way pout for the lens
another scandal missing funds
how late is drive through open
there is a pill for whatever ails you
wave the flag don’t ask questions

“Wave the Flag”

in times of trouble
wave the flag
when interest wanes
wave the flag
when prices rise
wave the flag
when cracks appear
wave the flag
when fights break out
wave the flag
when business fails
wave the flag
when hunger strikes
wave the flag
when help arrives
wave the flag
can’t make decisions
then wave the flag

This post was inspired by my guest showing on Waking Ambrose. I had figured he would give me a word that revolved around poetry, so these were my first two tries.

—————————————–

These are the daily word prompts provided by the fine poets at Poetry Thursday for Poetry Month, April 2007.

absolve, spiral, perennial, yield, broken thread, unspoken, kneel, leather, at first blush, hollow, breathless, celluloid, bluff, plunge, pearl, hunger, glass, tick tock, root, fishing hole, ten items or less, misplaced, pluck, sheen, blaze, glimpse

“A is for Absolve”

Guilt is a wonderful thing
Causes babies to have homes
And wars to start
Flowers in bunches
And shiny new toys
Guilt is a wonderful thing
But I absolve you of your words
It’s time to move on.

“S is for Spiral”

Over here Stelios!
What is it Alexia?
Look at this pretty shell.
It’s not straight, is it?
No, it’s sort of curved.
What’s it called I wonder?
I don’t know; listen!
This is really special,
It’s got the sea trapped inside.
I know, I wonder if
Poseidon lives here?
That must very neat.
What is?
To live in a Spiral Palace.

“P is for Perennial”

Neat rows of stone
Linger under the
Golden trees
Fading green grass
Littered with umber
leaves.
Neat rows of black
Gather under the
Canvas tent
Drying somber faces
Reaching with strong
arms.
That’s right, she did.
She loved lilies cause
they was perennials.

“Y is for Yield”

Soft candlelight flickers, romantic music swelling in the background that mimics the throbbing surf. Eyes pulled inward, dancing a minuet of seduction. Slow movements, anticipating frantic joy soon to be consummated. Peeling off the layers, revealing soft yielding flesh. “Don’t you just love bananas?”

“B is for Broken Thread”

They called him crazy,
as in crazy old man.
He slept nights in the park,
covered with yesterday’s news.
His tattered coat had brass buttons,
held on by dingy broken thread…

“U is for Unspoken”

A smile for a lover
A nipple for a baby
A tear for a death
A laugh for a friend
A hug for a child
These are a few things best unspoken.

“K is for Kneel”

Such a loaded word
So many meanings
Before you
with joy
I kneel.

“L is for Leather”

It pinches our feet
It binds our wrists
It drapes our shoulders
It covers our eyes
It wraps our legs
It reddens our cheeks
It is soft,
supple,
sensuous,
leather.

“A is for At First Blush”

At first blush,
The birds hold their beaks shut.
Cooled air pauses in thought.
Pale light chases the
rods and cones.
Clouds of vapor coalesce,
puzzled; who are you?
I am a mirror;
that reflects your hopes,
and all the dark wrinkles
in the fabric that is your loom.
At first blush then,
Your impressions are all wrong.
Will you ever
Get a second chance?

“H is for Hollow”

What is an echo called? The kind
you hear when the soul cries out.
A cry that bounces and rattles off the
walls; walls built and maintained at all
costs.
A cry that gathers strength and power, smashing
through windows, crushing the innocent,
trampling the garden, sowing the salt.
What is an echo called when it reverberates
in the dead zone inside, the
place where dreams fade, the
place where hope is lost, the
place where fear wraps it’s talons
and dispassionately squeezes your
humanity through the tube of indifference.The
place where survival of self
equates
to being
that hollow tube.

“B is for Breathless”

her soul shines out loud
tactile touch wraps my body
pant I am breathless

“C is for Celluloid”

The dance of the elephants
in the parking lot
Revving engines
slamming doors
laughing school children
So many, so huge
roam the suburban
highways
what was once
only a safari vehicle
on celluloid.

“B is for Bluff”

Chicken, chicken!
Come on baby, ya
scared. My little sister
could do this. Chicken!
*BANG*
Anthony Martin was put to rest today. Criminal
charges may be filed against three juveniles, ages,
nine, 10 and 12 in the shooting death of Anthony.
Witnesses state that his last words were,
“Don’t call my bluff.”

“P is for Plunge”

Foot tapping, snappy beat
Hands wrapped, frothy mug
Silky voice, ancient notes
Eyes slide, telling smile
Thoughts form, deep gasp
Ask her out, take the plunge.

“P is for Pearl”

Raised voices, walls
muffle thuds
Plaster drifts in
lazy spirals
Worried frowns, shrug
and turn the music up
Next day, we meet out
front
Wry smile, she didn’t
like the string of pearls.

“H is for Hunger”

I burn
I yearn
The more I learn
Must be stern
Adjourn
Spurn
Turn… away
This need
to feed
to seed
to proceed
The more I concede
Must misleed
Indeed
I hunger to breed.

“G is for Glass”

Turmoil and destruction
Violent eruption
Black glass.

“T is for Tick Tock”

Jump the sock
And throw the flock
Swim the rock
And hop the frock
Skip the block
And pass the knock
Fall the crock
And go
Tick
Tock.

“R is for Root”

Hard work it is
Constant digging
and pulling
Finish one patch
Over there
Start another
Sometimes easy
Mostly hard
Deeper and deeper
No matter how
Often you clean
The stain is still there
Why am I like this
It keeps sliding away
The root of my fears.

“F is for Fishing Hole”

There’s a rock, a
slab really, placed there
by hands of ice
eons ago.
It’s worn, rough
and smooth, warm
and chilled, glints
of mica.
Reeds sway, protecting
melodic chirps in
simple refrain, both
remembered.
Vapor waves in still
dawning air, soft
plops of fins
and wings.
Through eyes of youth, I
gaze, my hands, now
gnarled and pained, grasp
bamboo and pail.
I whisper softly, I’m
home my friends; did you miss
me here? At the ol
fishing hole?

“T is for Ten Items of Less”

I don’t believe this! How
many times
does
this
have
to
happen?
Why can’t you
read?
You agreed to
ten items or
less
at the
divorce hearing!

“M is for Misplaced”

fumbling-in the room
made bright-neon
unfamiliar-body
warmth-covers me
I wake-her
excuse-me
seem-to have
misplaced-my life.

“P is for Pluck”

Light-fingered Bugwit
that was his name, or
at least for
an orphan
a ticket to the game.
Life on the streets
can really suck, or
if you’re
fairly nimble
plump purses to pluck.

“S is for Sheen”

she’d adored
from afar
undefined
secret longings
unclothed and rippled
chest
today, she
gazed
enraptured
by his golden hair
immoral, impure
papa would give me
such a whipping
you’re a wicked girl
his sculpted arms with
sheen of sweat
musk filled her
innocent lips
I wonder what he tastes like
as her body
told her mind
to go
away

“B is for Blaze”

No sound
muffled weapons
the warriors
crept
along the trail
grim smile
there
on the oak tree
was the
clan’s blaze.

“G is for Glimpse”

You’re driving
or flying
moving somehow
pictures flash by
all blurry
for now
But the scene’s
moving too
so what does it see
a face, of
you
merely a glimpse.

—————————————————–

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Sestina Style Poems

Brian — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 23:24:41 +0000

All Content Is Protected

This is the direct link to my webpage at Outskirts.com with the ordering information for my first novel, ‘Real Magic’.

“Sestina Style Poems”

Sestina poetry rules. 1-2-3-4-5-6. The lines of the next stanza must then proceed to be 6-1-5-2-4-3. 3rd: 3-6-4-1-2-5. 4th: 5-3-2-6-1-4. 5th: 4-5-1-3-6-2. 6th: 2-4-6-5-3-1. Now, the final stanza, the envoy, is three lines long and each line will end with 5-3-1, with 2, 4 and 6 being buried in the lines.

The first poem “Our Seasons” is followed by an exploded version of 36 poems, and then 11 more sestina poems follow.

“Our Seasons”

my heart has shattered like a stone
the snowy clouds swell low and dark
the embers die from lack of wood
sat at table held face in hands
listen for laugh is this a dream
think of garden filled with roses.

every spring we pruned the roses
beyond the tumbled wall of stone
winds they whispered of a dream
when night has fallen land is dark
caressed her body with calloused hands
as we walked home through the wood.

summer flees so we chopped wood
my lover beside me flushed like roses
pulled out thorn deep in her hands
laid kindling on our hearth of stone
a swift sickening has brought the dark
she croons to me in fevered dream

we talked of things of hopes to dream
fall we planned in our home of wood
with lights aglow room not so dark
through open window scent of roses
cooked our dinner on counter of stone
heads bowed in prayer we clasped hands.

planted bulbs washed dirt from hands
loved our world in a simple dream
on shore of pond skipped a stone
laughed did carve initials in wood
her bower sprinkled petals of roses
contrasts of red her hair is dark.

winter when long shadows get dark
held on tight with clenched hands
in the garden we cut back the roses
has this year been naught but a dream
bed with four posts of polished wood
her picture rests on mantle of stone.

in the dark I woke from a dream
with my hands built coffin of wood
wreath of roses in her vault of stone

The first stanza is about Grief.

“My heart has shattered like a stone”

shards of granite lay at my feet
red pools of blood flowing out
blurring eyes with salty tang
can’t breathe can’t speak
smooth the dirt beneath my palms
trembling limbs betray me now
a shooting pain to my knees
shining light draws ever near.

“The snowy clouds swell low and dark”

unique tears fall from sky
cover form with white shroud
mounded high has hushed voice
quiet stones guard the peace
stretch as far as sight allows
never ceasing march of souls
til shambling gait has broken down
melting crystals on upturned face.

“The embers die from lack of wood”

poke the ashes a gritty taste
vacant stare no longer feel
so cold in vastness of night
sluggish thoughts slowly freeze
draw the covers up to chin
watch as pitted ceiling recedes
walls loom constricting embrace
floating disconnect I sleep.

“Sat at table held face in hands”

brackish water washes stain
shoulders hunched withdrawn within
echoing sobs fade away
a thousand thoughts flashing by
a chair that cushion will never know
what life has faded before it’s time
now a home empty of passion
without a love to share.

“Listen for laugh is this a dream”

upon waking can never hear
far above the stars they twirl
like a dancer in mirrored hall
all bright reflections
that answer back
feel the cosmic music
ringing in my soul
for her song search the heavens.

“Think of garden filled with roses”

perfume wafting on gentle breeze
rainbow shimmers of flexing petals
swaying canes whisper love
tempt us closer hidden thorns
walked together in place of peace
memories of seasons past
trellis now covered in blooms
once all around had been bare.

————————————————

The second stanza is about Passion.

“Every spring we pruned the roses”

flush of green across the land
sweet scent of life renewed
knelt before me offered trust
grasped with leathered palms
metal glinting in warming light
whistling birdsong floating by
as we hear our hearts touch
bright eyes smiling lips open

“Beyond the tumbled wall of stone”

wild growth in exuberant splendor
vibrant colors fluttering wings
clear a path through tangled vines
lay plaid cloth upon the ground
wicker treasure reveals her love
glossy fruit and crafted loaves
sparkling liquid fizzing bubbles
feast my eyes upon such beauty.

“Winds they whispered of a dream”

sink into soil watch changing sky
blue and white are her colors
buttons popped release her curves
lingering gaze as fingers trace
warm lips explore the textured skin
contrast of sun and wind shivers
urgent movements shadows dance
as one reach beyond this world.

“When night has fallen land is dark”

blue has gone now so has red
black blurred shapes all around
fierce light pours from above
shadow moon sailing free
green rhythmic wings pulse
distant yellow glow of home
breathe deep earthy perfume
cup her cheeks devour soul.

“Caressed her body with calloused hands”

deep sigh soft fabric twitches
rough skin abrades gently
circling heavy mounds that peak
sway with each step tighter
up and down nails scratch
tugging hem over flared hips
cracks echo darkening flesh
slick bud writhes panting cry.

“As we walked home through the wood”

an owl hunts in silent flight
nightjar call eclipses stars
insects hum in droning chorus
leaves on trunks rustle overhead
impaled deep carry her home
sheathed tight in liquid heat
long strides bouncing hard
world quiets as she explodes.
——————————————————

The third stanza is about Healing.

“Summer flees so we chopped wood”

groaning bounty weighs heavy on vines
golden kernels waving sea of malt
dark earth bright shapes eased out
harvest of hope days grow short
sweet smell of cooling berries
gentle breeze blows taste of ice
dark blue is the northern sky
cordage heaped sticky resin.

“My lover beside me flushed like roses”

tremulous smile creases visage
gulping water brushes brow
sheen of sweat covers skin
rest my love pace yourself
sit down in shade of lush oak tree
gentle memories streaming by
faraway sound panicked tone
fading pink turns stark white

“Pulled out thorn deep in her hands”

bind her wounds and kiss it better
tend to scrapes and bruises
feed her broth when feeling ill
sit beside the hospital bed
in sickness and in health
care for her when needed
done with love and hope
not a burden never that.

“Laid kindling on our hearth of stone”

deep in thought spark the flame
bright colors shadows flicker
spreading warmth adjust chair
whispered thanks clasp of hands
busy work clear the table
wash the dishes stare out window
she calls out to me I’m sorry
carry her to bed to sleep now.

“A swift sickening has brought the dark”

propped on feathers hair spread out
eyes closed tight shallow breaths
billowing fabric blots the sun
dim shadows creeping over face
cool clothes soothes burned flesh
gentle touch massage the pain
restless movements whimpering cries
lonely night turns to days.

“She croons to me in fevered dream”

a song of love timeless notes
all the things left unsaid
too late the past has swung open
voiceless pleas ragged sobs
haunted eyes search for soul
nonsense words babble on
of new beginnings in our life
hi she says how are you.

————————————————-

The fourth stanza is about Hope

“We talked of things of hopes to dream”

porch at twilight gently swing
promotion soon with bigger pay
perhaps more garden or a pond
a real kitchen hanging pans
yes a workshop with many tools
eyes shimmering…a nursery
she places my hand on her belly
soon you’ll feel the life within.

“Fall we planned in our home of wood”

extra room we packed in boxes
fresh paint and clouds of white
soft fibers to muffle feet
sanding rungs to form a crib
little clothes fill the drawers
many gifts from friends dear
head on shoulder wistful smile
quiet peace envision future.

“With lights aglow room not so dark”

happy home pattering feet
shrieks of laughter down the hall
homework done restful time
look around at all we’ve built
kiss her head on my chest
fingers trace slid under buttons
coy look through thick lashes
invitation accepted.

“Through open window scent of roses”

rain washed air cool and fresh
clearing sky crystal light
glittering beads rainbow hues
flagstone path glistening
moss sprigs soft underfoot
quiet snip cutting stems
linen cloth china plates
with vase full flowers bright.

“Cooked our dinner on counter of stone”

bubbling water scent of herbs
chopping harvest of greens
bustling cooks little hands
sneaking samples watchful gaze
secret smile playful pinch
exasperation waving spoon
are we done yet
everyone grab a dish.

“Heads bowed in prayer we clasped hands”

thank you God for this meal
for providing us with courage
and the strength to love
thank you for our health
and the means to flourish
thank you for guiding us
to those less fortunate
amen.
——————————————————-
The fifth stanza is about Love

“Planted bulbs washed dirt from hands”

partners in life visions of spring
worked the earth in hope
clear liquid soaking soil
breath deep scents of life
splashing clean twinkle eyes
don’t even think of it
doused with water blast
chased her round the garden

“Loved our world in a simple dream”

wake to sounds of pattering feet
happy shrieks buried in children
make breakfast and walk the dog
bathroom shared hurry up
days to weeks to months
many growth marks on doors
equal ever expanding hearts
our family home a safe place

“On shore of pond skipped a stone”

plonk plonk plonk splash
we threw until arms sore
then threw some more
until no stones were left
heat shimmers in woodland
cool waters entice
clothes shed in haste
she emerges fairy creature

“Laughed did carve initials in wood”

haloed iridescence dripping
sweet kisses on her lips
heat dries fans flames
she rides to fulfillment
rough bark chipped
lines and symbols
permanence created
steel and stone

“Her bower sprinkled petals of roses”

soft curves dancing in light
joyous giggles hide and seek
who is the hunter now
she comes to me sparkling
reclines on natural carpet
beckons with firm caresses
reach in pockets release rain
blessings from our garden

“Contrasts of red her hair is dark”

caught my interest long ago
that sable pelt shimmered
physical attraction at first
but saucy wit captured
what causes two to be one
connected souls in love
we belong to each other
willingly ensnared

——————————————————-
The sixth stanza is about Lonely

“Winter when long shadows get dark”

twisted branches stab like knives
brittle stars washed clean
silent petals falling wind
heavy weight subdues soul
icy vapor melted on glass
stillness of chilled air drifting
pale light shimmers of dawn
reveals a patchwork coverlet

“Held on tight with clenched hands”

careful not to stumble
precious burden carried
eyes bleary with pain
grope for balance
table rocks uneven legs
steam winds in tight coils
gulp bitter black liquid
toss grounds for compost

“In the garden we cut back the roses”

every step repeats again
faded blooms turned to seed
caught out by future thorns
sharp thoughts dulled by cold
slick flagstones worn edges
each stark bush named
withered canes laid in heaps
every color an anchor in time

“Has this year been naught but a dream”

twilight now world goes to sleep
brilliant hues melt like chalk
reach out can almost touch
understanding within grasp
endless cycle polished bright
rock to sleep peaceful arms
always wake to sore stiffness
cannot return to emptiness

“Bed with four posts of polished wood”

eyelet ruffles yellowed now
squares of down still await
run fingers over soft cotton
stroke the curving headboard
gentle smile of remembrance
dust swirls curtains drawn
goodnight sweetheart
turn off the light close the door

“Her picture rests on mantle of stone”

forever caught in repose
that relaxed contentment
what thoughts caused her
to accept my offer
ghostly hand rests on shoulder
what do you see in that face
turn to embrace her tight
our future dreams of love
——————————————

“Cliches”

in the pond that is out back
in the water there lives a frog
in the oak tree on the bank
in a branch is a nest of birds
in a room of the house
in a basket sits a cat.

he is quite large for a cat
his favorite room is in the back
he likes to wander in the house
when outside he chases the frog
up a tree in search of birds
with bellyfull sleeps on bank.

hopping along the grassy bank
keeps wary eye out for the cat
provides tasty meal for the birds
to the pond he hurries back
life is simple being a frog
dinner of legs at the house.

flying round and round the house
setting down on overgrown bank
wades in pond searching for frog
not around today is the cat
returns to mate holding back
feeds next generation of birds.

in every tree there are many birds
in the garden surrounding the house
the sides are formal but not the back
mow the turf that forms the bank
noisy clatter chases the cat
all day long croaks the frog.

in my throat I clear a frog
so much work is for the birds
curiosity killed the cat
feels like living in a divided house
work never ends on that you can bank
satisfaction brought the cat back.

the frog waits for the princess while drinks are on the house
people have birds for brains you can take that to the bank
a cat has got your tongue but I’ve got your back.
—————————————————–

“Remembrances of a Life”

dresses herself in uniform of blue
nervously drumming spoon of silver
just yesterday wore diapers white
waves from bus black on gold
mother stands eyes rimmed in red
thinks of child so young and green.

drives to work through tunnel of green
moods fluctuate today she is blue
waves of traffic every light is red
towers of commerce flashing silver
lobby of marble veined in gold
cubicles of infinity walls sterile white.

under endless skies she wore white
entwined in waves leaves of green
digit trembles encircled in gold
wisp of remembrance borrowed blue
tapered candles melt rivulets of silver
porcession glides softly carpet is red.

storm roiled clouds rays rising red
wind waves lines of linens white
her tin covered roof gleaming silver
fields of rye sweeping sea green
clearing skies light pouring blue
orb plunges into oblivion molten gold.

crowd roars guzzling brewed gold
hurled sphere stitches rotating red
pennants snap background of blue
runner slides safe home plate white
she smiles at checker patterned green
vendor waves dogs in foiled silver.

rocking chair head glints of silver
memories more precious than gold
ascends the steps in skirt of green
gently tease cheeks blushing red
holding her baby swaddled white
waves of neighbors out of the blue.

stones weathered silver stand guard while
while flag waves stripes of red
spotlight shines gold always protects
while flag waves stars of white
wreathes of green woven blankets
while flag waves field of blue.
—————————————

Sestina Carnival Edition #1 was held on June 23rd, 2006

“Sovereign Nation”

After the women cooked the bakwezhigan
the children gather round the chiahyaog
tell us tales before the ishkonigan
when our ancestors walked with the geebawug
we will tell you only in Anishinaabemowin
it is necessary as anishinaabe nanaawdchigewin.

before the people had anishinaabe nanaawdchigewin
they ate grains but not bakwezhign
then they were given speech in Anishinaabemowin
and stories were told to the first chiahyaog
one by one revealed the geebawug
this was long before the ishkonigan.

although today we live on the ishkonigan
we still heal with anishinaabe nanaawdchigewin
our shaman are guided by the geebawug
similar to the wafting smell of bakwezhign
we tell you this as your chiahyaog
be proud to speak in Anishinaabemowin.

when you speak and sing in Anishinaabemowin
it lifts you beyond the ishkonigan
someday when you become the chiahyaog
and you teach the ways of anishinaabe nanaawdchigewin
as a lesson when cooking bakwezhign
then you can commune with the geebawug.

behind the veil is the world of geebawug
they speak to our souls in Anishinaabemowin
feeding a hunger unlike bakwezhign
in a vision of hope for the ishkonigan
show the way to anishinaabe nanaawdchigewin
they give prestige to the chiahyaog.

listen well children to us chiahyaog
for our heritage is from the geebawug
they gave a gift of anishinaabe nanaawdchigewin
to preserve our life as Anishinaabemowin
if we keep our faith on the ishkonigan
we will be comforted like bakwezhign.

a group of chiahyaog speaking in Anishinaabemowin
discuss the geebawug on the ishkonigan
as a tonic of anishinaabe nanaawdchigewin they consume bakwezhigan

Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe Language )
Anishinaabe Nanaawdchigewin (traditional medicine)
Chiahyaog ( elders )
bakwezhigan ( fry bread )
Ishkonigan (reservation )
Geebawug ( spirits )

Barngoddess

————————————————————————-
“Saga:Finding Love”

riding my pony I saw a butterfly
touching its wings oh so gentle
being outside one with nature
the harness is inlaid with silver
in my life I’ve had some love
took some time to find a family.

lived alone without a family
felt cocooned like a butterfly
spent many years denying love
nothing about life could be gentle
fog covered me in a haze of silver
thought that was just my nature.

bruised battered by human nature
finally left my hurtful family
took a job for some silver
flew to land of ice like a butterfly
found people there were so gentle
gave to me unconditional love.

was so hard to trust that love
that kindness was somone’s nature
treated with respect hugs were gentle
took me in offered me a family
I fluttered for awhile poor butterfly
my mind still balked in mirrored silver.

everyday collected more silver
but had found a land to love
so freeing to stay garden butterfly
delighted in discovery of all the nature
when realized they were my family
shed tears of joy held in hands gentle.

found my home settled in so gentle
the rocks and snow painted silver
new parents and brother in my family
opened my heart to their love
trusting in soul is now my nature
I am free to soar a new butterfly.

I’ve found a gentle soul and him have grown to love.

gaze in silver glass looking back is not my nature.

chose my family reborn like a beautiful butterfly.

Monika The Ice Queen
———————————————————–

“Hear My Voice”

growing up family
parents are surreal
controlling my freedom
no true happiness
not autonomous
creative so pleasurable.

mind’s eye is pleasurable
say yes to family
will I be autonomous
some days are surreal
finding happiness
outside there is freedom.

tear down walls to freedom
crumbled bricks touch is pleasurable
stomping dust brings happiness
packing and leaving my family
my life ahead looks surreal
learning how to be autonomous.

to speak my mind is to be autonomous
that is the path to true freedom
on my own feels great but surreal
yet oh so wanton and pleasurable
finding new friends to replace family
sing dance perform joy is happiness.

birthing the process creates happiness
inner voice scolds must be autonomous
choose members to bring into family
many paths to tread openly to freedom
an entire body of work so pleasurable
floating never knew could be so surreal.

love rushes strobe waves flash surreal
caresses touch skin brings happiness
cresting flying sweating so pleasurable
to be me myself I am autonomous
open doors walk through to freedom
finally understand my role in family.

life is so surreal being autonomous
I find happiness in searching for freedom
it is pleasurable now thinking of family.

For Stephanie
——————————————————————–

“Mango Madness”

a wondrous sight for my hungry eyes
a heaping mound of tender mango
thinking of taste makes my mouth water
place my choice in bag colored blue
pay with crisp bills heads of green
walking home under the blazing sun.

harsh light reflecting rays of sun
put on cool shades protect my eyes
the rims are bright very green
bruising my legs bag with mango
past the lake surface is blue
stop to dangle feet in cool water.

relaxing drink from bottle of water
face basks in warmth of sun
helps my balance when feeling blue
leaning back head drooping eyes
wonder what to do with my mango
perhaps some nectar is that green.

nectar is sweet but skin is green
should be mixed with some water
after blending the ripe mango
open the blinds let in the sun
stretching arms I rub my eyes
fill my cup glass tinted blue.

gazing out window sky deep blue
all the trees shadows of green
such a treat for my puffy eyes
all that wonder makes tears water
what a gift is the light of the sun
that grows the tree of the mango.

my favorite fruit is the mango
in my kitchen walls are blue
fading light of the setting sun
shines on window fabric so green
walk to sink listen to water
long day ends splash my eyes.

sipping fresh mango nectar put feet up on couch looks green.
fluff the blue pillow did I turn off the water.
the sun is gone now too tired to care shut my eyes.

For Surbhi

—————————————————–

Ann from London and I collaborated on a sestina poem recently. She also has a poetry blog here that has some great poems.

What we did with this poem, was that each of us picked six words that meant something to us, then we picked three of the other persons words and proceeded to alternate writing each line. She wrote half, and I wrote half.

Ocean
Hot
Grow
Smile
Love
Heart

You can smell long before sighting the ocean
Anticipate the sand beneath your feet so hot
All through the workday the hunger will grow
For only you know, your lips, your eyes conceal a smile
A look that says much more than the word, love
A look that belies the singing in your heart

There was a time, long ago, when I took heart
Memories of our passion alike the swell of the ocean
Started with tender caresses that lead to love
One gentle touch, my skin on fire, glowing, hot
Breath coming short, panting, open mouth smile
Oh blissful joy, sweet music plays as our desires grow

So what happened in the fields, crops did not grow
Nor the sun shine its face as rain filled my heart
Bereft was my soul till fortune gave me your smile
Bright eyes sparkling as rays of light skim the ocean
The fertile soil we tilled as the blue sky shone hot
Together as one creating a labour of love

Cycle of hope, eternal vigilance worn, faded love
Through blood, sweat and tears, witnessing our struggles grow
Over the horizon came smoke and flames seared hot
Invincible, indestructible our spirit, our dreams, our heart
We held hands and soared like gulls towards the distant ocean
Flying with faith, a bright fresh future beckoned with a smile

The sounds of life filled the room with a newborn smile
As fresh as the morning dew nourishing our nascent love
The joy streaming on our faces, salty tang of the ocean
Washing away the past for new beginnings to grow
With tender hands we held our child close to heart
Gazed into each other’s eyes, overcome, overwhelmed, tears hot

Many cycles have passed, children grown, passion still hot
Kismet, destiny, fate, good fortune has blessed us with her smile
Across the miles between us echoes a strong beating heart
Deep and rich, resonant it sings refrains of love
A simple touch to spark, in truth it will always grow
As high as the mountain, as wide as the river, as deep as the ocean

Embers glowing hot, flickering light reflects shining love
In their sparks reminiscences kindle a smile and inspired we grow
With fullness of heart, passion crests like blue waves in the ocean
——————————————————————————————————

“Come Closer”

For many the words are hard to say, get caught
in the throat. Choking and gasping feel the panic
set in. Eyes wander in desperation, sweat flows
soaking clothing. Arms folded, fingers tapping
impatiently. I do, you know, like you and want you,
but; it’s a big step. When you decide, let me know.

So many blogs to read, millions actually. I know
that comments are desired, but sometimes get caught
up in other things. Real life takes over; although you
write such beautiful posts, it’s the feeling of panic
that prevails. Sit at the desk, ponder the screen, tapping
the keys. Agony follows, for today, nothing flows.

I understand the emotions you have, the ebbs and flows
of a relationship. Through a blog, how well can you know
someone after all. We connect, but are we really tapping
all that is there? Or are we simply floundering, caught
up in the excitement of new growth. Is this where the panic
sets in? When I realize, that deep down, I can’t see you.

There are many things I wish to say, but thank you
for now. Too few truly care, most go with the flows
of life, just floating in the river. Over the falls, panic
and fear, the boat capsizes and they nod. We know
how you feel, been there, done that. Haven’t caught
on yet? That noise in the dark, it’s death tapping.

Death? That’s terrible! Is that what you see tapping
on the window? Long white fingers beckoning you
onward? Crossing over to another existence, caught
by happenstance and time. I don’t see somber flows
of mourners into the graveyard. We all of us know
that death will come someday, but no need to panic.

I was merely pointing out that very thing. No panic
here from me. At least not yet. I find myself idly tapping
a pencil on my blotter. So much to discover, to know
as the computer screen flickers in my tired eyes. You
would think that I could stop; but still the data flows.
Endless streams as someone else’s thoughts are caught.

I am very pleased you have seen me and helped calm my panic.
Together flows our tears as we hug, hands on shoulders tapping.
The sun caught in your eyes, somehow you always know.

———————————————————————–
“Scottish Spring”

To be in the Highlands so very green
Above on thermal soars beautiful bird
Fresh scents of heather on cool breeze
On bright days like this time is endless
As the sun continues her stately dance
Take ease of your cares sit and be present.

The land sings of the past and the present
Hillsides steep with rocks and lichens of green
White flashes as woolly sheep run and dance
In the hollows come songs of nesting bird
Steep trails cut centuries ago were endless
Climb to the top breathe deep of salty breeze.

Taste the distant sea with freshening breeze
Clouds build and swirl as storm nearly present
Dark pillows release torrents that seem endless
Raging foam leaps from heights washed green
Waiting huddled in shelter of tree is the bird
Flapping its wings sprays droplets that dance.

Flowers bloom in profusion bee’s excited dance
Dazzling colors swaying in the still breeze
Leaping from branch to feed hops black bird
His wings flutter and grabs twig to present
Chosen mate thinks then flashes wing in green
Burgeoning growth in meadows that were endless.

Teeming with life cycles of spring are endless
Vibrant energy in creation an ancient dance
Pollen coats everything in blankets of green
Constant twittering floats in the warm breeze
The deadly struggle for survival ever present
From night’s embrace swoops a hunting bird.

Faint golden dawn greeted by a singing bird
Brilliant stars fade in the black that’s endless
Slowly unwrapped like a cherished present
Day blushes revealed in a lover’s dance
Colored skirts lifted by the teasing breeze
The rainbow palette paints the forests green.

Soft chirping bird leads feet to the dance
Partners are endless just shooting the breeze
This poem is a present for a poet who’s green

For Crafty Green Poet

“Tis The Season”

The voice of a thousand bells rang out with hope
that winter’s day. Bright colors warmed the snow
and the pallid sun strove to melt hearts. Peace
be upon you and all of yours in this time of strife.
For it is said that one shall come to share our ritual.
Glad tidings for some, but others remained cold.

Speech would not fill empty bellies, nor heat cold
rooms. For the poor and desperate, little hope
in empty promises. Had many a century of ritual
and still the land groaned under tyranny. Snow
drifted high and blame placed on the rich. Strife
was now the norm, black looks instead of peace.

Soldiers marched, steel swords kept fragile peace.
Riven with dissension, leaders thoughts grew cold
and harsh. Crushed beneath edicts, grim strife
erupted. All through the night flares alight, hope
blazed and consumed. Come daybreak, the snow
stained red. Too many were given last rites ritual.

Hollow eyes and paupers graves, the empty ritual
of death. The silence felt in town after town, peace
at last, for no one left. The earth, covered in snow
lay dormant. Spring, far way on this biting cold
day, would return once more. The sense of hope
had been crushed, but still cause for more strife.

Change would come, forced from below. Strife
channeled into words and deeds. Codified ritual
replaced heredity, slowly the actions gave hope.
A concept not readily grasped, perceived peace
to be weak. Throughout the long, dark night, cold
plots designed. Strike they would, in melted snow.

At last the heated rays revealed fresh green. Snow
had gone and with the warming earth, false strife
commenced. Old ways and new corruption. Cold
calculations yielded poor harvests for the ritual
of change had sprouted deep roots. At last peace
and prosperity had replaced the longing of hope.

No longer a burden was snow, but a blessed ritual.
No more harsh strife, but harmony and peace.
No longer starved and cold, but a future of hope.

“The Land Of Sorrows”

distant white capped peaks
pilgrims assent sandals worn
sun releases songs
floating beneath clouds
bright colored ancestors shrine
incense curls to sky

trees bend angry sky
waves frothing to deadly peaks
Kompira-san shrine
long stairway steps worn
camphor and elm among clouds
sea deity songs

drums pound ancient songs
thunder lifts to sullen sky
drowned from swirling clouds
ragged lightning peaks
poor rice farmer spirits worn
downstream floating shrine

sacred temple shrine
petitioners chanted songs
polished wood planks worn
shrieking birds fill sky
Nainokami shakes peaks
landslides choking clouds

flames feed oily clouds
bronze bells tolling mournful shrine
Shinto black hat peaks
white costumed death songs
purification clears sky
new amulets worn

old trembling hands worn
brown eyes contain milky clouds
memory of sky
last journey to shrine
lifetime spent prayerful songs
Amida call peaks

pale clothes worn to shrine
parting clouds hear somber songs
blessed sky sun warm peaks

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