What the Quack!
I dont want my poems in Poem Zoo!
You lay upon the warm wet earth
torn from limb to limb.
Your present shape denies the girth
of the form you once had been.
Truncated tendrils mock your birth
about you ivy climbs,
my love for you evokes true mirth
but love does not end with time.
Now fallen, slain, cast for rebirth,
the core of you sublime,
an earthly stump, at forest skirt
a memory of grand times.
Yet, love lingers beyond base veils
and passion’s youthful prime.
I’ll wait for you beyond the pale
and you’ll return to be mine.
On her terrace where she once had viewed a crimson field,
she stands recalling heroes who were battling their foe.
She still can feel the terror! How her poor heart reeled
thinking of her lover fighting on the field below,
with others on that plain bathed red as the sun dipped low.
The brave men lie in caskets which now are concealed
beneath a plain that ran with blood, where bright irises now grow.
She thinks of her own strong brave man, draped in white and sealed
forever in a casket too. He was her Romeo.
The sorrow flooding her she had never thought to know.
She looks down from her terrace with a heart that won’t be healed.
The mighty dead now lie in grassy fields. . . and lo!
Around the graves are swords, which are green blades revealed
with *purple flags that softly wave as a May wind starts to blow
and she is bathed in red again, there in the sun’s last glow.
* Purple flags refer to the name of the purple iris that resembles a flag
It hovers here, a moon opaque,
obscuring mountain trails I take.
No other living things appear.
A moon opaque. . . It hovers here.
I follow on along a ledge;
below a swirling river’s edge.
In front of me, the canyon’s yawn.
Along a ledge, I follow on.
I see no hue when fog congeals.
Oh, doom of one who no more feels!
The moon has fled, as so have you.
When fog congeals, I see no hue.
Now all is dim; it matters not.
My dear one’s heart I have not got.
No use in living without him.
It matters not. Now all is dim.
At peace I’ll be if I should fall
to murky water from this wall.
Oh, yawning canyon, swallow me.
If I should fall, at peace I’ll be.
'for the Gothic or Romantic (old/new) Contest of Giorgio Veneto
and now for the contest of PD
She briskly walks in January’s rain,
which drums the endless rhythm of her pain,
pulling closer round her shoulder in the downpour
the leather jacket he so often wore.
Another day like this she can remember
when he had worn the jacket, and against her
he’d pressed as they stood kissing in the rainfall.
The world could wash away; he was her all!
No storm could stop their loving as they raced
with great anticipation to his place.
Before they’d even reached the bedroom door,
they’d flung their rain-soaked clothes along the floor.
Underneath the sheets, though cold and wet,
they madly kissed. He was as passionate
as winter’s storm away from which they’d run,
and yet he warmed her like sweet summer’s sun!
She‘s almost home; the rain has nearly died.
She thinks of all the nights she lay and cried.
While thinking how the rainstorm’s cold still lingers,
inside the jacket’s pockets she moves her fingers.
In the lining of one pocket, her fingers meet
a crumpled piece of paper - an old receipt -
its date from when, without a word, he’d left their town
and in the city, by a drunk had got run down.
The piece of paper gives her now a revelation-
A high class jewelry store had been his destination.
He’d planned to ask her very soon to be his wife.
and bought a ring there on that last day of his life!
His parents gave his jacket to her, yet
she’d always guessed the worst for why he’d left.
What happened to the ring? She cannot know.
But now her tears with bitter sweetness flow.
I look to the Moon, hanging aloft
Among the clouds so milky soft.
How must it feel, so high above?
So chilled and bleak and void of love.
Collapsed and sunken are his eyes,
Dark and deep as the onyx skies.
As the Moon shies from the sun,
I share no love with anyone.
The Moon is alone, without affection.
In its grim face is my reflection.
Inside my heart, the longing grows,
And rots my soul, a sickly rose.
While I look beyond this cage,
I clench my fists; they shake with rage.
I desperately stare above,
Wishing to fly, free as a dove;
For release from the troubled heart I claim,
To be finally rid of the madness and shame.
Although reprieve is found in song,
To no one does my soul belong.
In music, may the pleas be spoken,
But all in vain; the heart is broken.
The Sphere returns, begins to sigh.
We are not so different, You and I.
So twisted and fractured is the White Stone.
We both have no one; We are both all alone.
The day I left Madrid, I waved goodbye
to someone dear to me. I still can see
his dark brown eyes that could not tell a lie,
those same eyes I’d beheld so tenderly
each day when he would show up at my door.
Where is my friend Eduardo, whom I left
behind so long ago and never more
would see again? I know he was bereft
from letters that he sent, and I replied
that we would meet again. I could not know
how wrong I was or if he ever cried
for me. How easily I let him go!
How innocent and beautiful was he!
Unbearable the beauty of my memory.
For the Soulful Words Poetry Contest of Kim Morrison
I waited, dressed to kill
and in love
both, of which
I could have been coaxed out of
You have turned a pale shade of white,
Al Green sang to me,
as my pen danced as your substitute
we danced all night long,
stationary, our dance floor.
As we whirled to the emotions
of words' sounds; hand in hand,
we went round and round
No one else in the room
most of all, not you
as my ink turned
from red to blue
On cold evenings
Surrounded by friends
I could stay up forever
From the blackness
Feeling that I could float upward
And walk with the stars
On their lonely journey
There was a girl
I was with then
When I first saw her
I wanted to feel her softness
Her breathe on my cheek
Brushing against my thigh
When I held her close
And even closer
I wanted her
To say she loved me.
Had a perfect balance
Teasing and challenge
A subtle change
That I never understood
The closer we became
The more anger
And resentment followed
When she smiled I was envious
When I laughed she was angry
We broke up
We were young
It was my fault
Or blame it on the times we lived in.
Outside my room
In a long and empty hallway
And like an undeliverable letter
A message scrawled
To no one in particular
Haunting visions are
Returned to me
The slenderness of her waist
The way she arched her back
The touch of her hand
The way she kissed
I feel her presence
Yes, I relive all that.
It’s a precarious perch
High by a skydive
In such a leap of faith
A leap of love
Circumnavigates these boots of Earth
Fellow to the stratospheres
These butterfly landings
Of you in my heart
Has shot me full to the sun
On the twirling chant sung
Ever re initiates
And sounds the river onward runs
Of your name
Settles red iridescence
To tip the scales
These butterfly landings
Of you in my arms
I see you in precognitions
In my obsessions of your hair
Lip-syncing to the kisses
In my passions of your eyes
Where my heady desires evolve
This molecular bonding’s
These butterfly landings
Of you inside my soul
It’s a precarious perch
To expressive to encapsulate
How much I love you
It’s a peculiar laugh
That admits I have never even met you
But all of you inexorable
I am conceded to the pull
I am bound to the groundings
In these butterfly landings
( Everything I am
Everything I do
Those landing butterflies
I cannot express
In any vocabulary of words
Only in the dictionary of unspoken eternals
Lay the definitions of
How much I love
How much I need
How much I want
They beg with you
This man on bended knees
How this strength in me
Come back to me
Come back to me )