Canada geese arrowing south,
Black-op's drone's hum overhead,
their silhouettes caught in the last blush
of a winter sun.
Old woman
sweeping gray hair back into gold
as she bends to a labor
only her eyes remember.
I am going to sell-up,
take this patch of land,
and farm myself out
as a useless yellow hound
for kids to miss
every time
I stupidly kill myself.
The days are chained to each other,
I am ready to jump off
this old blanked-out window
loco
motive-lessness,
follow the geese
to where weird aircraft
are considered the new norm,
and question nothing -
all answers are soft landmines
for the heavy-footed.
C raving
O nerous
N arrowing
T iring
R eactive
O ppressive
L onely
.................
L iberating
E asy
T herapeutic
G reenlights
O pen
A Blue Heron unleashes itself from a
surfing wind and flowing sky.
Wings spread it rides, almost hovering,
as it seeks a nestled place to land.
There, the long reeds
have been hollowed out by its mate,
but she has gone to fish,
gone elsewhere.
The bird lands,
for a moment its long legs are buoyed
by the merest whisp of gravity.
The heron settles, folding its wings
like a cloak around him,
now as the wind ruffles its feathers
he seems only a scrawny effigy,
of the bird in flight,
a plumed twig planted in the disturbed shallows.
The pond ripples with silver whispers,
small fish dart, their heads
arrowing deeper.
The Great Blue
strides slowly to the shoreline
becomes a living statue,
a patient presence
amid the rushing blow.
That is when I saw
how the world is stirred around
by a stillness,
how an unmoving center
can turn within a heron's eye.
BEGINING, none that I perceive;
where that dot in time
where the dot or seed,
where the trigger
and the stripey tiger
that leaps ahead of itself?
Then
the linear sprouting’s
along an arrowing line
see how they are mine
yours are invisible,
you must follow your own thread.
TIME_______________
was there really a backwards
was there ever a forward?
What small rodent
nibbles this moment?
An imaginatively decorated
string, an intricately sewn
long-bone
that has walked you.
everywhere but here.
ENDINGS\\\!
The crunch is staggered, vaguely certain.
Some call it a pause, some, a full-stop.
All ‘what ifs’ are handicapped
by reason and chance.
Believe it or not
we must let go of our legbones,
leave and relieve ourself
of so many of those good things
that have danced us
down blind alleys,
backed us up
beeping like empty trucks.
Though the end be
a may be (maybe)
it is always shrouded in hope,
for the end will begin again somewhere -
anywhere
it must surely be
further than a pointing finger
and that could be an END
or another barrel
of swimming fish,
all dreaming of larger WAVES.
A raw red crater of hunger;
the clacking tongue a buckram spear
shaken at all comers.
The gulls mouth is the gull,
the gullet is the gull
the torso, the snowy pale blue plumage,
that dark under-feathering
all the body of the bird
a perfect bow
for the arrowing beak
and its raucous bugle.
A neck stretched for greed;
above that gorge, hard-set and avaricious,
glint eyes long allied to savage seas.
The bird has the primal scream
of a scavenger,
the gall of the harassing hunter
- and yet is admirable,
sleekly beautiful, often graceful,
until,
rigid jaws agape
we regard its wide-open craw,
wince
as those shears clamp down
on some still wriggling shred.
Harrowing, scary stories
Abundance of ghosts
Laughing jack-o-lanterns
Lots of candy treats
0ld, creaky stairs
Witches on broomsticks
Eerie sounds
Exciting adventures
Naughty tricks
Written September 28, 2022
A red raw gape, a crater of hunger,
the clacking tongue
a buckram spear shaken at all comers.
The gulls mouth is the gull,
its avian body
only a winged engine for that open maw,
a perfect bow for that arrowing beak
with its raucous bugle.
A gullet for a perfected greed;
a throat that yawns wide enough
for any a scavengers scream,
a call allied to the pitiless winds,
and thrashing seas.
Stars blink out;
another dawn triumphs over a defeated night.
The wounded and dead hidden by time zones.
Echoes of a brief brutality, too far off
to rattle backyard grills and beer cans.
Let us lift up our hearts in song
to drown out the drone
of arrowing smart bombs,
for we have taught our ears to un-hear.
the distant dead, their surgically dismembered voices
just sparrows chirping upon pleasant lawns,
We forget to regret the weakening wink
of their semaphore signals,
and no nocturnal flames dare pierce or mar
our pillowed and peaceful rest.
This is not some verse of weed or wine
discovering now that six resembles nine
What diction or numbers can cover the blows of time?
Those blows hitting and splitting
As hurdles harrowing and arrowing
And then taking your wall for their vine
Those blows sending and pending
Bitter shivers down your poor spine;
Grasp by the time of waking at dawn
there is still room for things divine
Yet never will the garden’s gates unlock for thick hearts
Face it yet with a smile!
Those blows of time
are rambunctiously rampant and windy
to render your sailing ship strong and fine.
Chokri Omri
(Tunisia, 2021)
late in the night
when I am so tired
thoughts of my bed
and me trying to sleep
saying a mantra
trying to empty my mind
trying to hold at bay
thoughts calling to me
my windows closed
cannot withhold
the thoughts that clatter against
like pebbles cast
out in the dark
beneath bright stars
pale light of moon
casting silvery light
I feel a longing
of something unknown
of a deep hunger
that I cannot feed
if I should slip
back into my clothes
go out into the night
and into the cold
bright stars twinkle
bright blues and reds
cold wind does whisper
through blowing leaves
dark empty road
arrowing into the night
perhaps going to somewhere
that I need to find
cold breeze does whisper
through my graying curls
cold chills that tremble
shaking my soul
whispering voices
carried upon the wind
rushing about me
with words I can’t hear
oh that I might
the curtains draw
closeout the thoughts
that call unto me
slip into my bed
and darkness find
closeout the thoughts
that call unto me
Bright light lances down
burning hot on all their found
black ribbon too hot to touch
arrowing straight across the land
traveling to the mountains far
jagged peaks within the sky
capped in white so bright and cold
blinding to the eye to see
white clouds within the blue
floating in the endless sky
carried on the gentle breeze
their shadows flow across the land
from their curves straight lines fall
cold clear drops of water pure
splashing on the ribbon hot
stealing the heat found there
soft mists then do rise
flowing then across the land
bringing coolness to all their found
from the heat of shining sun
End
Drama
Creating
Belligerent
Acts
From
Glory
Harrowing
Insensitive
Jeers
3/27/19
Light Up The Page 4 Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
S olemn strikes the hour of society’s discontent
I see angry fists rise up with shouting and protests
G hastily grave disasters, ISIS terrors mark headlines
N ation against nation, shootings and high crimes.
O nly the naive live in blindness to it all
F uture fears and worries, will mankind finally fall?
T he Apocalypsis scenario plays often in my mind
H arrowing events will come to usher in End Times
E ver watching, God above is Sovereign, not surprised.
T o look ahead and see, from this world to the next
I see increasing chaos, until God fulfills His quest
M arvelous will be the day when Christ returns again
Every knee will bow, He’ll reign and judge the deeds of man
S in and suffering will cease, peace and life will never end.
Written on 4/28/2018
You are my sun shine girl.
You know I love and adore you
You've lit my heart yet again
You already know I find this both intriguing and captivating.
You always pierce through my moon
arrowing your pin dart.
By: Felix Emeka George
Copyright: 24 March 2017
'All Rights Reserved'
CITY GEOMETRY
I’m on big town
Inserted
Yea, transplanted
Within its swaying wave
Of box and angle
Where my self-identity
Is something throbbing
Upward gazing
Arrowing
To sky points
So, it’s confusing
The hate-love factor
Stiffness
Restriction
Formal sharpness of angle
A quite eye bewildering sight
This swirling circumference
Of a giant
Fractured
Circle
And oh!
The Stravinskyish
Jagged continuity
Of line
Of dissonance
For distance
I follow parallels
Lines receding
With absolute straightness
There a promise of
Those cherished
Fading meadows
Of nature’s roundness
Her natural sweetness
Suddenly!
I take a ninety-degree angle of turn
With mandatory city goose step
Toward sanity
Toward home
Dave Austin
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