Each vein
is a memory
Each wrinkle
attests
Her bones
dry and brittle
Her grip
still arrests
Each day
brings a promise
Each night
a regret
Her will
is sustaining
Her heart
is at rest
She speaks
in a voice
that is shrill
out of tune
While losing
her wits
often
long before noon
But when
that itinerant
coyote
calls
She looks
down
at her hands
— and remembers it all
(Cody Senior Center: November, 2025)
My timid heart is at a standstill
Quiet through her gentle whisper
She gazes my way with disquietude
Can this be?
She empathizes with my habitual dolor?
Are we one and the same?
Her beauty reflects her buried affliction
Her coming and going reflects her astuteness
Her downfall of fallacy attests to her reality
The persistence shines upon her personality
Truth prevails through her love for humanity
The gun seems gun-shy in this space;
where deer hides hang on rustic walls
and granddad-tick-tocks beat, instead
of hearts in hollowed skins. The gun
a “trophy-bagger” in its rack,
a loud-mouth predator at rest,
this motherless, brother-less thug
perceives no pity-pangs... the gun
now quiet, buckshot empty, cold.
Above the stove’s phoenix soul hangs
an antlered head with prideful tines
the man, with bear-paw hands, had won.
A fox in freeze-frame-trot, a stiff
with cat glass eyes, attests his prize.
Indeed, like litterfall they fell,
unseen his haunt in hunter gear, his gun
a junkyard dog of steel. I say
they're beautiful in life. He says
they’re beautiful in death. Between
our words — a stand of pine — the shot!
that brought the shock of ammo air
that rib-cage-ripped and broke the breath,
that hurled the crows against the sky —
the blast that felled the 10-point buck that failed to sense your goddamn gun!
Yeah... blame the buck his reckless pose
and buckled throes. You felt the king!
Behind tight trees you sat with dawn
in sniper-silhouette. The gun
felt nothing; no remorse, no joy
—it, too, hangs upon the wall.
Arsonists almost eighty, are
under arrest.' What to expect?
Zealots for climate cause?
Causing death; life attests!
Devestating action to cause
Draconian reactions? How
Much is reported? And what
Treatment(have they courted?)
Who will defend them? What
Will authoritys hand them?
A soft time of counceling? A
Time at Davos? Maybe a
A cancelling? I think that is
Far better, i'm not much on it
Per se' yet here it could have
A way' coupled with exposure
A way if healing, also closure?
Could 2023 hold some hope?
For reason and clarity not just
Force fed inhumanity' led by
Zero carbon insanity '
I love what I obtain
and what do I miss...
And what I have of mine,
i appreciate it..
All that's too much
I despise but
nothing, I put a price...
My life is tied
what I carry in my soul
and in the chest...
nothing upside down
attests what I feel
and what I deserve...!
Fan is
essential ,
the windy foot
that refreshes us...
Alarm clock
natural is
the sunbeam...
that wakes us up...
silently!
Circus
universal, it is
the city street
who makes the party...
permanently
Love consultant
unique, it's
the bridal moon in
vestal truth...
Water park
colossal, it's
the sea in summer...
and your smile attests to it...
Paradise
divine is
the sensory sky
that uplifts, manifests...
Mother of love
unconditional, it's
nature in bloom
that feeds us...
From the beginning
Genesis...!
Lights all
men is
without even taking it out,
Jesus the savior
that redeems us, and
accept us...!
The un-clouded blank sky says it all
As no smile nor anger is expressed above
The withering grasses express the pain
As the foggy air attests to its harshness
The drying streams hope for wetter days
As the birds have to travel far for just a drink
The soil cracks in pains of dehydration
As all await the rains to replenish and reawaken
The rains must come when it is it's season
For that purpose that it will serve in the cycle
The inhabitants of earth must survive and live
To perpetuate the undulating cycle of life
How can I show you, God,
When I am confused,
When I am mystified,
The closer I get to Him,
The more troubles I see,
The nearer I walk,
The higher the mountains,
I have walked this alley for years,
I have been assailed by
conflicting thoughts for decades,
None has the answer to my numerous questions.
How can I show you, God,
When He is everywhere around,
When He is that calm voice
that speaks amidst the turmoil,
He is the invisible wall that props up,
He is the light that beams on that dark path,
He is the ladder that leads to the summit,
Nature attests to His existence,
The sequential order of the
day affirms His magnificence,
I'll show you the door that leads to Him,
The onus lies on you to unlock,
See, know and understand.
I don’t have a lot, but I've got all I need,
A ticket to enter, a program to read,
A wide winding staircase of marble to climb
As I tour the Museum of Time.
My eyes gaze in awe while I wander the halls,
The wealth of the ages affixed to its walls;
But one missing portrait attests to a crime
In the fabled Museum of Time.
The void is so empty it forces a halt,
A work of art absent from memory's vault –
The graceful aesthetic of Love in Its Prime
Once adorned the Museum of Time.
This thick mucous essentially
the defense mechanism of a healthy
body electric to restore biz zee nose
as usual, which for this mild mannered
liberal leitmotif from the chronicle of one
matted nattering nabob of nativity attests
congested mob functioning like
a well lubricated machine, yet
for the life of me, nary a handy dandy
blues clues evident as per, how
the human entity empowered
to steamroll over
any reasonably annoying bugaboo.
Ah, now if only a similar innate
defense mechanism arose
within the mental health,
that would be a supreme testament
to thine atheistic tasty mints of miracles
minus the attendant pharmacopeia
of this, that or some other drug to aright
skewered psyche (of this contemplative,
emotive and intuitive literate outlier),
whose sixty two plus eight shades
of gray matter went awry and skewed
toward tipping point (to cope with ordinary
cares and concerns of an uncertain
whirled wide web) found the bulk
of his life riddled with a joe king,
gun slinging tub back ha chew win,
bard **** wordsmith,
who doth newt like to utter any
cryptographic crossword.
Skin deep
Sharon Maria Moemise
My God-given crown of femininity is my nappy hair
My skin in its freckled golden-brown glory belongs to me
If perfection is what you're looking for, then let’s be fair
Look in the mirror and decide who you really want to be
My rounded thighs bear witness to life's great gifts
My ample bosom attests to my absolute femininity
If the hourglass figure is on your current wish-list
Then my sagging backside and breasts are an impiety
I walk with my shoulders straight and my head held high
Every move makes my breasts jiggle and my backside sway
Every mark on my body bears testimony to the reason why
my beauty lies not in how I look nor in what anyone has to say
My worth is not measured by smooth skin and rosy cheeks
My gender no justification for being struck by anyone's fist
I'm a woman who brought forth man and was left with silver streaks
My worth is in loving myself, in deciding to finally put myself first.
Infallible one born among the weeds
He heeds the call arrested
Some declare another one the clarion
Yet one within attests to truth forever
Time for tares to dominate a conversation
Truth the test evades the seed hopper
Time the tool for cultivating iterations
Long in passing, short in eternity
Eve outlines the curves of an old terrain,
where antique bottles in their moonlit sheen
reflect pillars’ glow…now mildly unseen
from vintage halls of paling, roughened grain:
All through this vine-clad manor’s dusky shade
poses outside its elegant fig tree--
Which attests to a once- royal marquee
this landmark, our own hometown’s proud arcade.
Written 9/7/2019
Free Verse Or Rhyme Contest of Eve Roper
Picture # 3
Faint drums in distances rolling
brave tales before us unfolding.
Over proud battle cries it will fly
saving grand dreams that shall not die.
Bloody sands seen at Normandy
attests mankind's will to be free.
The daring who marched as one
arm in arm till the war was won!
From space we see a tiny blue ball
seems not so important after all.
Stare straight into adversity -
hard fought pride and diversity.
Bursting towns, shoveled ditches,
Dust Bowl plains that yield us riches.
Our views changed on world order
as more humans cross our border.
Those wise fathers of our founding
the din of principle keeps pounding.
More hopes today than ever before
opportunity stands at our door.
Purring drums on a sultry eve
a new dawn in which to believe.
We shall solve the world's perils
as our famous flag now unfurls!
Glee freely flowing from the heart
The countenance captures; hard to depart
Jubilation gladness* of gratitude start
Contagious, defying selfishness-dart.
Laughter midst sheer bliss is indeed therapeutic
Poetry attests midst schedule so hectic
Joy-bursts brighten the optimistic
Delighting all; exempting not the religious fanatic.
April 11, 2019
*Psalm 45:15 With gladness and rejoicing shall they be brought: they shall enter into the king's palace.
Edited on April 25, 2019
1st place, "Free Verse or Rhyme Poetry in its Beauty"
Sponsored by Eve Roper; judged on 4/23/2019.
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