(my part six entry into the crown sonnet started by Debs)
Ahead the bear in sudden motion stands.
I want to turn and run, but this is not
my way; I grasp my knife in trembling hands.
This fight will be like none I’ve ever fought!
The beast is greatly wounded; I can tell
by how he weaves, and I must take his life!
His neck I’ll strike. I breathe in; then exhale. . .
With all my might, I lunge out with my knife.
My free wrist he has clawed, but I am good!
Again and then again, I thrust and thrust.
Blood gushes from him as I knew it would.
I willed his death, for in myself I trust.
His warmth I’ll take by scraping fur from skin.
I bow before the bear to honor him.
As the men of the great sea carry me
Assuring them of safe travel on water
Courage and serenity are given free
Am restless anxiety adjuster
Feel so soft smooth as nestled in pocket
Look deeply into my pale blue colors
Ye men of wide sea who wear bluejacket
Those who my purpose are sure acceptors
How my healing powers strength your heart
Throat, spleen, immune system, mouth, ears, breating
Offering protection for journey chart
Constantly in your pocket safely abiding
Mental, emotional, physical
Aquamarine polished smooth possible alchemy
Written for Stoned Contest
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey
Contest had closed when posted
When the time arrives for me to depart
from the sunlit harbors of the living.
Take me aboard a navy fighting ship
and carry me back again to the sea.
Order the boatswain to construct a skid
made of wood and painted with fresh white paint.
Build it to hold a gray weighted coffin
draped by Old Glory with her stars and stripes.
Cruise the coast of my beloved home Whidbey
until full abreast with Ebey’s Landing.
Muster the funeral party astern
Play taps and slide me into the blue drink.
Let the storm-flecked waves of the rolling sea
take this old sailor to his final peace.
The moon plays at being the midnight sun
with abandon he struts across the sky
in such majesty it catches my eye
I bow in obeisance, my heart is won
Behind him come plunderous clouds of white
riders on horses with dust in their wake
racing steeds on a quest to overtake
the renegade moon in his selfish plight
Closing in for capture they poise their net
as the stars watch their proud King's demise
the clouds press on eager to seize the prize
and use the moon's light to their own benefit
The final bugle sounds, in hues of gold
The sun peeks up to watch it all unfold
The night emits a citronella scent
From tiki torches topped with living flame;
I swim in circles -- softly speak your name --
While starlight washes over us, content.
Cicadas still sing secrets to the trees
Like Summer's heartbeat throbbing in the dark --
While on a new adventure we embark,
Sped onward by a silent, gentle breeze.
Your kisses ripple slowly down my spine --
Your touch is strong and steady, like the tide --
Warm bodies wrapped in motion dip and glide --
You turn the turbid sea to fragrant wine.
The rising moon gives witness to my cries;
Tonight I drown within your ocean eyes.
Your wings shades me like a wild oak tree
gentle and warm leaping the spiraling sea
the seagull rushes in the sultry soft breeze
speak forth your dreams and let them be free.
Songs and festivals we drank to the depths
and lovingly, prayed to the devil, bewitched
too many lovers passed this charming ditch
where all I have now is one lonely breath.
With my brazen fire I kindled the beasts
fallen from heaven dried brown the earth
down on my knees to beg my own worth
hungry dark angels circle the feast.
Surround me Seagulls your voices sailing
Where can I fly to quicken my failing?
Meeting Van Gogh…sonnet
the wheat-field, blond as a Volga German milk maid, heat
intense and in the shade of a demanding olive tree I saw
grumpy Van Gogh, glaring at me intruding on his painting.
“Sorry for the scooter it is electric blue and doesn’t fit in,
pretend it is a donkey free of its leather harness.”
The vines, deep green leaves and fertile soil, soon there
would be grapes, mostly dark cerulean, an army of wine
to come tempting souls into surrender… liquid pleasures;
and the narrow road snakes amongst fields like a black
mamba hunting grey rabbits in the meadow.
I have the afternoon sun in my eyes, a cooling breeze
on my back; and then I drive off the road fall amongst
thistle and thorns and the spell is broken, look around
but only Van Gogh witnessed my disgrace.
The Pirate and the Sea
Come sail to sea with me
Let me show ye how it’s done
Sailing that is, I’m not the only one
Let’s go sailing on the sea
Many a storm, thar will be
But yer life has just begun
Look up and see the shining sun
Did you hear that loud boom?
Just listen’ ta them thar drums
Tonight they be drinking rum
As pirates we’ll have a blast
Ye’ll be dying whilst yer young
Ship’s a sinking fast
Life at sea really be such fun
He is the Never-Poets' mostly frightful curse!
His job is to expel those who compose like gnoo
their discontinued lines to diagnose for verse;
and mambo jumbo nasty e-mails diddle-do. 4
Their mind begets dull trash on muddy blight
and sanctimonious behavior that transmits
some unintelligent metamorphosing might,
their multitude of odd account-ing e'er submits. 8
He is the marshall that goes after Trolls on sites,
those using pluralism of pseudonyms to blast
inflicting wounds, exceeding any given rights,
and cowardly then hide, in order to miscast. 12
He orders website Trolls to decently compose
or else their hooded selves to properly dispose. 14
© 12-08-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Sonnet - Iambic Hexameter)
I revel in the falling leaves
their fluttering flight to ground
I listen to the falling leaves
hear their pitter-patter sound.
Oh see, the ruby red, the pale gold,
the omnipresent sable brown.
Look, see the shivering birch let loose...
add their colors all around.
What glory's found, as form takes flight
each transformed, re-formed, astounds,
May we detach with such serene grace
when our earthly life's unbound.
Oh, listen to the falling leaves
see them rest, upon the breast of ground.