Black widow, thy fabled mark.
Through a knothole seen.
Moonlight, light path after dark.
Glitch the gangrel green.
Flickering flame, wax candle's gleam.
How to extinguish?
Air. Snuff out. Cut off the stream.
Cover up the dish.
Hellfire, bloom. O woodland, burn.
Ghost, hide in the leaves.
Pain, approval, taciturn.
He who loves, soon grieves.
Life, red ruins. Fain, fast fade.
Silent is the shade.
O for those who were played, glade?
Blighted, bound, bombed, bade.
Will-o-the-wisp, deep the bog.
Follow where it goes?
Light, thy beauty. Slick the slog.
Carrion for the crows.
Tiger in the tall grass?
He's waiting for a meal.
O young suitor, lass? Best pass.
Never shall ye heal.
Vicious viper, poison pit.
Well, we should have quit.
Firefly, how to keep lit? Flit.
Otherwise get bit.
Slit throat, O anodyne? Helped?
Seemed like he had died.
Holluschickie, how you yelped.
Children, woe betide...
Activate, O anodyne.
Free me from the past.
Thought she was a friend of mine?
Hempen rope, thy mast.
Welling up inside you, thus:
Hell, thy fires surround.
Heaven, how I hate! Minus:
All above the ground!
Pain, you spring eternal.
Contentment, you're a drug.
Commands of the kernel?
Diurnal life, zwangzug.
If you dwell in daylight:
The sight of you will tempt.
Fate, thy bite! Fine fight or flight!
Poison, just pre-empt!
Predator, thy fairest face!
Golden is such grace!
O coyote, choose the chase!
Decency displace!
Wind, thy salmon-running ways!
Mate within the maze?
How indeed, sirs, nerves a-frays!
Priceless how it pays!
Space, open a portal.
I wish away to fly.
Demons of the void, stay full?
Anyhow, we try.
Singularities, deep freeze?
Well, we're off our knees.
All day long we're scratching fleas?
Saying please? At ease...
Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One
2nd place contest winner
*************************
Quote: "Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” — By Rumi ( With my honest wishes of a long and healthy life— Very Happy Birthday.
The moon still glows—an alabaster flame,
memory’s mirror, never the same.
Spume drifts, shimmering and bright,
not shadowy, but limpid light.
You watch sunsets and softly muse—
Do you fade, or do you fuse?
Their shades shroud loss and gain,
a peculiar parity of pleasure and pain.
Lessons grasped don’t be acrimonious,
regrets mollified primarily harmonious.
Time’s conundrum teaches clear—
Delicate days are a deep fear.
To your tender time, you’d tell and attire,
Beware quixotry, yet seize the desire.
Do not anathemize your fall—
Failure’s anodyne heals all.
Though tristful shadows at times prowl,
still you liaise with joy, still you howl.
Twilight or dawn, the soul’s refrain—
amaranthine light will remain.
NEW SURROUNDINGS
detached
beginnings
gradually
dissolving
outlines
inexpressive
variations
becalmed
anodyne
gestures
irreconcilable
chaotic
pliable
malleable
abstraction
close-up
care-free
incidental
symbols
of
confidence
breathing
freedom
in
a
relaxed
unrestrained
layered
sequential
atmosphere
a vigorous
vital
amorphous
delicate
conceptual
unchanging
shape
of
single-minded
energy
Written: August 09, 2025, for contest SEASONS NOW AND AFTER Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
************
Aurora sheds her velvet, gleaming flame,
Dusk with iridescent shades fills the air.
Molten winds trick hearts in taking a game,
Grooved meadows grant obedient despair.
The alabaster clouds sparkle with grace,
Empyrean dreams appease the reek ache.
Fertile roots stir zymotic in their place,
Anodyne stars at triptych kindly break.
The swarm is a hive of busy tough bees,
Pavonine clouds, incarnadine with thrill.
Multivocal leaves—ethereal, breeze—,
Rapture in desiccation, soft and still.
Late November,
and lonely resonance of harmattan
salutes this solitude.
A weaverbird's contralto, in one
gale-sweep, lays bare the lower balustrade
of a maisonette,
and the romance of the last seasons
shoots the long throat of the clarinet...
O'classicals, on wings
ye come;
leaf cusps and petal ears —
classicals, swearing oaths of
mellifluous assembly...
Calm rhythms hasten to the
ears of Beethoven —
summon him for a serenade,
lest the dark shelter of a
decrepit day strips this solitude.
Anodyne hisses among
this hidden threshold,
curing and healing the weakness of
Clepoatra's hair, dampened with
the venom of haters of vanity.
Classicals,
rid us now of this grief of mundane
dances...
Even in death, Stravinsky hails solitude
on notes of the keys.
From the clarinet,
the bimetallism of barter —
the platitude of life and death
(symbiosis of percussions)
epitaph to the aftermath of
inveterate tradition —
now and forever...
And the clarinet looms.
Written: February 05, 2024
_____________________________________________
On twilit roads as dusk falls,
from rivers to towers and walls,
when lilting rhythms call,
a gleaming steed sailed.
on pearl-grey pinions, and held,
as the aroma of willow draws.
tumble toward the ground.
through warm beams.
and anodyne smell.
Under the mast of a rusting ship,
over a dazzling web of water and light,
I'm excited to charter out of the bay,
In a silver chariot,
on chrysolite mirrors and carried,
where cinnabar vapor entices,
float gently to the ground,
with cheerful smiles,
and sensual breath,
bright polish—sun fell,
busters grab and break boards.
And tempests rumble and thunder,
In an iron chariot, ferried,
on clods of lava, and carried,
where cinnabar vapor beguiles,
swinging unpretentious,
with savage smiles,
and smoldering breath.
it is often said, love is blue
a poor anodyne for crushed hearts
pity them dearly that after years
they fail to understand
the mirror holds the cynosure
they truly adore
once miraculous, now commonplace
magic surrendered to logic
fails the child within
the alchemy enclosed is dead
an abandoned playground
even more tragic is the bewitchment
was really never there
the Janus exposed in time
the sad tale of the birth
and transition to decay
those highway markers
where tragedy found a conclusion
when dreams have failed to meld
the off-ramps become the easier pursuit
and as such we humans are
lose or draw begin once more
form new dreams and nurture
the decay within
the reality of the chimera desired
lives where horses are riderless
the beggars have all perished
in a self-induced famine
where the walking dead
polish their romance
OKC 5/22
The end of the year.
The pope is dead, no, not him, but the old one
who liked wearing red hats
There he was, driving his VW around the alps
advancing slowly through the clerical ranks
and suddenly, he was a pope.
Many things happen at the end of this year
a famous Haute Culture woman died a dame
Surely, she must have been surprised so much
fame unasked for.
Don’t mention the war!
A low-ranking officer in a secret service end
up a leader of a big country, powerful
like a dictator going to war against windmills.
Not his plan when as a spy walking the night
in Amsterdam.
A very aged man becomes the president
of the USA, going through the political ranks
showing us that mediocrity always pays
and lies win in the end.
Tonight, millions of people will fill the streets
watching fireworks lit up the night sky
Anodyne, you say, I’m not so sure if in doubt
ask the people of Ukraine
So, hold tight let the new year commence
wishing a happy birthday to the unborn year.
From the first filling nascent puff
love’s breath buoyed a ring, filial…
Onward floating where the hearts go
and hands cling during a stormy sea ~
To lift the sinking 'n offer benevolent
anodyne alms easing terrors of aqua
threatening to drown in bereavement ...
Inflated again, waits for a tsunami
on which to ride to placid scenario…
New waves toss and turn till benign ~
Deflated many times when pierced,
ended ties that stabbed once/twice…
Voyaging closely, my true two of luv…
In their re-inflating exhales, have I
come afloat again to remain kinetic
evermore, as their floatation device ~
(8/21/2022 - For 'The Meaning of Love' Contest)
waiting in the silence
for the energy to run aground
yet what flotsam the surf gives up
it will have to keep
i always jetsom, i never lagan
Humpty Dumty, friends with superglue
are not always reality
reality does not always adhere
reality does not care
your freedom, illusions of the amaranth
i have no simpleton delusions, imagoes
i am afraid death the anodyne
eventually, every star consumes itself
Nemesis, my knowing smile
Ate, your mentor
she is behind the mirror waiting
as all ephemerals, you bore me
i enjoy the diestrus
remembering the notches, using other's vanities
every Blackwidow deserves a prince
the Prince of Pandemonium
San Blas 92 The Patient Stones
On the moon a shadow
Colors in a crazy dance
Enlightened by the movement of
Anodyne stars
Naked and fragile under the unveiled sky
Aby
Do you know how much
you mean to me?
My heart and soul
can only tell you so much
I'm a flower,
and you, my gardener.
I bloom because of you.
You can ask anybody!
On the darkest of days,
you are my scintillating sunshine!
You're the anodyne to my pain
In case you don't know.
I wish you knew
Oh, I wish you knew...
just how dearly
I cherish you!
At my weakest, you become
my strength. When I'm...
in despair, you are the sun
shining down hope!
Really, you can ask anybody!
Better yet, ask everybody...
and you'll know you mean more
to me than life itself!
Submitted for...
Strand No 700,Any Form Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
03/18/2020
Date written: 03/17/2020
It's 6 AM in the morning and I'm wide awake,
Insomnia has been a close friend, and so is heartache.
When I can't sleep I write poems;
they're my anodyne to dull me to sleep,
When I get suffocated
by all the wicked things I keep.
I have learned in the reclining chair,
while the dentist mined deep veins of decay,
how to transfer pain.
The needled anodyne of novocaine
is inadequate to allay
the harrowing ache he engenders there.
But not even by bending fingers until they pop
or stabbing nails into the tenderest flesh
can I get the dedicated ache to stop.
Nor did my visit to another woman
after the last set when her shift was done
soothe the bruises on my heart
that blossomed when you stole the sun.
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