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New Bass Poems

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put a groovey bass behind it that say bump:bump by Terry, Allan
Bass Akwards by Ellison, Jack
Brotherhood Bass and Black by bruce, denis
Bass Ackwards by Hauser , Mike
Bass Akwards by Ellison, Jack
Bruce Played A One String Bass by Ellison, Jack
Bass beat by Elle, Dani
Sledding with Sea-bass by Song, Gwendolen
A Piece Of Bass by Yvonne, Maurice
My baSs gUitar stRing by Whispers, Inner

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The Best Bass Poems

Details | Bass Poem |

Music of the Night


With the tremulous dark vista so far and yet so near
Abandoning my defences ~ I stand in awe ~ not in fear

 Virtuoso Maestro unleash 
       a Composition Grandioso
              To Overtures of a Symphony 
                   herald the raging storming Tempo
                                   Staccato Strains cascading
                           rapid torrents of Treble and Tremolo
                    Rhythmic Beats a Prelude 
      to an intensifying Triple Time Scherzo


Silken sails unfurled I embrace the storm of your tempestuous symphony
Crashing~ drifting~ floating~ flowing~ tasting ~awakening my melodic epiphany

                               Effervescent chilling thrilling air as 
                    Allegro whelms Allegretto
                               Electrifying sizzling Musette ~ 
                                         Trills a mesmeric Capriccio
                           Registers booming Bass Notes 
                    rumbling within your thunderous Vibrato
    Echoing claps of thunder Prompt 
                a spectacular Cadence Crescendo


I release my Spirit to gratify every phantasy in its sight
The soaring Tempest of my Soul liberates its own Philharmonic flight
Inhibitions abandoned as I succumb to your Music of the Night


Footnote:
By way of musical term allegory, I have endeavored to dramatize and romanticize the Awesomeness of an Electrical Thunderstorm and simultaneously likening it to the rush of tactual Sensual, Sexuality and Emotions experienced in romantic instances. I felt that the instrumental rendition of ‘The Phantom’ Musical, aptly accentuates the trepidation, anticipation and elating sentiments portrayed in the various elements of my poem.

Details | Bass Poem |

Leonard Cohen was right

 


Standing before the microphone,
blank faces stare from cushioned chairs
Jewels sparkle, acting like they’re real,
while bow ties just seem sad…it happens

Marching to the beat of clicking heels,
unbuttoned vests as strange eclipsed spotlights
illumine smoke swirls in overhead rafters 
flowing from my ember’d fingertips

And my hair is a mess…but it always is
and I don’t care…do you?
I’d clear my throat but that does no good,
gravel has taken up residence…it pays the rent

The room goes dim, the audience worries
Glares spark like steel on asphalt
I can see them clear, slowly fading in anxious doubt
My mind scratches some ink in dusty thoughts… 

I love you, I love everything that is you
Need surpasses desire, and I need
My arms long to cling you, crushed against me,
breathing as one, harmonious breath…dusty thoughts…they come

The bass player plucks and that is my cue,
flicking my ashes I begin to read…poetry
and the audience smiles…I am a poet and poetry is cool,
Leonard Cohen was right

Details | Bass Poem |

Light On the Devil's Chord -Day 1

And the music began,
And with power so strong, I nearly fell back from the force
Snarling, smiling, demons held me upright,
As the Precarious Prince began,

“Dare you in silence come to me, Daughter of Eve,
To challenge my wisdom with your lust to sing,
A child of God—you provoke His flea,
A monster in the dark—a sight to see!

In meditative silence, I was ever blooming,
The passion for power in my mind consuming,
In silence, my brilliance berated all other
My beauty, shocking, my wings of color

Etched in golden array, 
Silence was my everything,
A bud so tight, so light, so moist,
In heaven bright—its beam rejoiced!

And now, as knowledge, as power do burst,
I sit in silence, though in the worst
A quiet so perturbed your stomach curbs,
I long in luster for demons to disturb

Silence, once a subordinate to my wit,
Had found its way into this grimy pit,
Where now your God has given me,
A work of sloppy treachery…

Had I been He, and He been me,
I would throw His heart into the sea,
And watch the eels suck each artery
And listen to his lullabies for a century,
To feel his spirit sweat in the flames of my power,
I would shred his head on the highest tower,
Give him something to really Bab-bel,
Make him wish Eve had crushed that apple” 

He smiled at me with teeth protruding, 
Head craning,
Keenly waiting for my reply
My throat was insanely dry, and my heart racing
I had expected more, yet expected less…
And now all my wits were a wretched mess

Yet still Death severed those deep bass chords..
I began as a child would, with a doubtful sigh,
I wondered yet again what kind of trouble I was coming by
And inspired by The Reaper’s little push, I began

“In my days in your presence, dear one
Silence shall not roam too close,
I do not sing to disdain you,
Rather to know you, 
I do not grow quiet,
To decompose you…”

I stopped for a moment, 
To see him staring rather attentively,
As if he were expecting a miracle
His almost angelic expression changed as quick as it came…

“Go on…” He demanded. “Sing me what your God would have sang…”

“You speak of silence, in the fogs of doom,
In your pit you dwell, and with a child you make room,
I have ached long in the vision of your cries,
Watching the happy children, and the relieving sighs,
I imagined you just as I see you today,
A beautiful sufferer, with wit, bite, and sway
Crushing courage in your wake,
I implore you—you quake
Moments like these I will never forget,
To win, to lose, to KNOW I wait yet!
What is it with man and his thirst for the truth,
Leading him to fall, to intercede his youth,
And as I do now, wrong or right,
By God and his angels has found delight!
Allowed me with confidence to face you Prince,
A sauntering being of ire and impertinence
I see where your attention bleeds,
I see your mind and I see your needs
Such darkness must now allow some light,
By accepting my challenge—a bravery so bright
Do I mean to admire you, accept you, despise you
Am I hear to judge you, taunt you, transpire you
You and you alone I come for, oh Prince
To show you I care, to break the silence
To share with you the precious gifts of song,
To love, to sing, and in turn…belong…”

The demons chimed with laughter dark
As the Prince sat close beside me
He stood very slow, towering over me,
And took me by the arm

“Charming voice, darling,
You sing quite well,
Shall we sing for as long as you say?
Will you not be missed?”

He pointed above me, and stared at me deeply
There was warning written all over him
A threatening, distant eye,
The other full of desire

“I am missed by you, though I stand before you,
This I say, Prince
I shall stay with you 40 days and 40 nights, 
And then I shall leave you, in the breaking dawn of day…”

His grip tightened upon me,
“I have you, child, woman…light…
For 40 Days and 40 nights… 
Before then, let us make history of song
Yes, my dear... let us both belong…”

The demons gasped,
And Death stood still…steadily strumming a pulse of daring life


----Thank you once again, Justin Bordner, for the title to this work. 
This may be confusing if you have not yet read the other parts to the poem.  If you are interested, they are called Light On the Devil’s Chord – Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 as well as The ChallengeThanks for reading friends! ~Laura

Details | Bass Poem |

Surround Sound

As the sun tinges the horizon
A pale shade of rose
Beauty touches the slate gray sky
White canvas painted exposed

Surround sound of Dove's voices
Coos echo on all sides
Roosters' fill in the deep bass sound
Mockingbirds' tone abides

All song birds in chorus sing out
on this still quiet morn
Melodies lift above trials
As the Doves' song is born  

There's that stillness saying wait
Rest before one of life's storms
The Holy Spirit does comfort
In my heart there's His form

No matter what life's trials present
The Comforter is there
Like the assurance of a daily
Sunrise no need to despair

As the orange sun glows like embers
Through the silhouetted trees
Thoughts run to the Savior's anguish
Who did so much for me

He made this awesome provision
The gift of the Comforter
Just reach out and touch the Savior
He's the great Affirmer

Details | Bass Poem |

Old Faithful

No, not a geyser,
Not a woman,
Old faithful sits
Patiently in my kitchen,
Awaiting my need for her

Old faithful is an organ,
Rich velvety tones
Growls when I ask her
Or spits, or even moans...

What a companion
She does make
No need for deception,
No room for fake...

She's gotten me through,
Many a rough time
She asks no questions
She's guilty of no crime

Her teeth, bared...
Ready to rock
She needs no food,
She reads no clock

She takes me away
On many a mystic trip
As we soar together
Joined at the hip

So keep your guitars,
Your trumpets, your bass
This girl is mine,
Smiling toothy face.

Details | Bass Poem |

Be Careful what you Hook

  I once heard of a fisher Luciano,
  who sang bass as he played on his piano.
  Once he fished and cast his line
  by mistake hooked his behind
  since that day, when he plays he sings soprano.

  How many syllables.com
  11, 11, 7, 7, 11
  
  11.11.2014
  Sponsor Roy Jerden
  Limericks Clean and Clever

Details | Bass Poem |

Bobcat Moon

She sits on the porch in a cool desert night
A bobcat stalks prey in the day's fading light
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
Evoking old memories she thought she outgrew

Memories of nights of moutons and mums
High stepping half-times and booming bass drums
And homecoming dances that ended too soon 
Under West Texas stars and a big bobcat moon

He sits on the beach in an evening gulf breeze
An autumn vacation in the Florida keys
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And brings to his mind an old memory anew

The reunion that gathered together that year
Old friends and acquaintances scattered and near
To tell stories of glories till late afternoon
And share in the evening the big bobcat moon

We sit by the lakeside past sunset one time
The end of another communion sublime
The moon looks like a big orange in the blue
And summons a vision of friends we once knew

She flies round the barrel with her long ponytail
He yells and rings joy on the victory bell
We loved them and all those who left us too soon
We'll remember them well with the big bobcat moon

©January 10, 2013

For my high school reunion group. The bobcat is our school mascot. 
In Texas, girls often dressed up for the homecoming game and were given a chrysanthemum (mum) corsage by their date. In the late fifties an inexpensive "fur" coat made from straightened and dyed sheepskin called a "mouton" was often worn by girls wanting to look elegant.

Details | Bass Poem |

Pain of Night, Joy of Morning


He is now a band of sky, 
a bird, a cloud, a stream of blue 
drifting by in midafternoon,
a dragonfly, a butterfly, a speck of light dancing by, 
an abandoned sheet of loose leaf paper
with a poem scribbled on it, or maybe 
a grape ripening on the vine 
sweetening to perfection in the summer sun;
he is now a feeling deepening, gravity, energy, peace, commotion, the tide –
forever August, forever June…
an ocean wave never reaching the shore (the sand and sun evermore), 
a smile, a tear, laughter that never ends,
a child’s open, inquisitive mind, a friend, the welcoming voices of home,
the cracks in the walls holding my secrets, 
the comfort of a favorite blanket or familiar pair of warm arms.
Perhaps, he’s eternal summer, youth running with ease 
in his favorite shorts and flip-flops, hair sun-bleached tumbling free, 
or perhaps, he is one feather floating high on the ocean breeze.
I often see his face in rain clouds mixed with tears, 
singing the Grateful Dead or a great hymn.
He is the music forever playing in my ear and 
the sweet tropical air filling my lungs; 
He lives in the cozy log cabin in a clearing of pines 
and the largemouth bass jumping from the lake at dawn’s break,
He’s the tortoise sunning on the shore, the buck running wild,
the heartbeat of a father holding his baby for the first time,
the joy of my morning, the pain of night, 
and the wind calling my name, dancing with the leaves on the trees…
he is the trees, the air, he is in my eyes and theirs. 
He is in Heaven but his love is everywhere.

Written, 3/7/15 for The Pain of Night Contest

Details | Bass Poem |

The Life I Love

(In the words of a happy little mermaid)

I slide through silky cerulean seas
Silently swimming wherever I please;
I glide through water with buttery ease,
With skin that is smoother than ivory keys.

There are secret gardens I love to explore
Far below the world on the ocean floor,
Where are colors no man has seen before
Hidden in an underwater treasure store.

Deeper down in the sea, where I go on a whim,
The light is so far it is grayish and dim;
There the masts of shipwrecks rise dark and slim,
And coins of gold line passages I swim.

On tropical islands with flowing waves
I play in uncharted, mysterious caves,
Or nap in the sunlight's golden rays
In a silent shoal on balmy days.

I pick pretty flowers to put in my hair
And splash in the shallows with never a care;
The droplets shine like diamonds in the air,
Rising and falling like a crystal flare.

When the day is over, the dolphins sing mass
And the sun sets fire on the leaping bass,
Then I lie in a bed much clearer than glass
And pray a sweet dream for this mermaid lass.

Details | Bass Poem |

Yard Sale Cowboy On CD

From here to wherever, I'll follow a yard sale sign,
it's a past time endeavor, for my collective state of mind,
I may buy some furniture, or a trinket for a dime,
yard saling is a pleasure, yes, a personal hobby of mine,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
and it gives me great joy, to see a yard sale sign,
from here to wherever, cloudy days or sunshine,
I'm searching for that treasure, ain't no telling what I'll find,

I may find brand new things, boots, shoes, or clothes the right size,
silver and gold chains or rings, or an antique will catch my eyes,
I could find my brother a nice bass lure, or a spool of fishing line,
or maybe a nice piece of furniture, or something for a friend of mine,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
and it gives me great joy, to see a yard sale sign,
It's a past time endeavor, for my collective state of mind,
Yard saling is a pleasure, ain't no telling what I"ll find,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, I just spotted a yard sale sign,
searching is a pleasuree, ain't no telling what I'll find,
I may find an old bass lure, or a spool of fishing line,
now one thing is for sure, I just found my cat a ball of twine,
and look here, I found my ol' dog a bone to grind,

Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
I may find an old bass lure, or a spool of fishing line,
from here to wherever, cloudy days or sunshsine,
I'm a yard sale cowboy, on the trail of search and find,
Yea, I'm a yard sale cowboy, ain't no telling what I'll find,

Hey Bud, how much for that there what-cha-ma-call-it?
Naw Naw, Naw, that there thing-a-ma-jig, there next to that do-ma-flitchie,
Yea, Yea, that thinga-ma-jig right there.....ya say three dollars..um-m-m..OK...
I'll take it...here ya go.....and how much for that do-daddy over there?
Yea, yea, right next to those 2 onion skin tires...Uh Huh..yea..well I'll be..
Well yea..I'll take it too...it's something I just can't live without...ha ha ha..

Details | Bass Poem |

Rules and Regulations

How long did it take her to be free?

How long did it take
For the wingless dragonfly to finally open her heart to the world

How long did it take for her to overcome Devil’s workshop
Slowly caressing her retinas
With silky daffodils and two-faced tulips

Where
Now
She dives into a glistening pool of complicated risk
Opening her atrium to the masses

Shedding incumbent teardrops
Just for that one standing ovation
To SET
HER
FREE!

It was then
Where pieces of plastic chains fell from demure stratosphere

Dented taps, similar to a shoeless dancer,
Setting off bass tones and low-key monotony

For she was
One cholesterol filled syllable short
To be genuine

One tearful, hyphenated lyric
Too blunt
To be embraced by their “god”

One dilapidated vowel shy
Of being honest

Her diary didn’t have enough pages torn
From emerald sanity

There were too many “Wows”,
Diluting into disingenuous shoulder pats

Her stanza pushed aside

A glorified booty call with no call back number
Leaving messages towards empty dial tones

…

How long will it take her to be free?

Until she looks up
Knowing she already holds the key

©Drake J. Eszes

Details | Bass Poem |

Sound of Silence - Lady Hawke - with Darren White

Synopsis
The lovely Lady Isabeau and her lover, medieval French Knight Etienne escape to flee the lustful advances of wicked Bishop of Aquila causing them to run afoul of him. The evil-bishop places them under a curse preventing the lovers being together in their mortal form except in the fleeting moments of twilight and again at dawn. At dusk, she transforms from hawk back to woman but alas he changes into a wolf. At first light of dawn she transmutes back to hawk as he reverts to his mortal knightly form. Through the daylight hours, she sadly rides untethered on his arm In - The Sound - Of Silence.
                 
                 Yesterday’s love with evocative thoughts 
                 She watches for change in horizons light
                 Her coal black eyes and hawk like stare
                 Peers anxiously for her loved ones sight

                 Her clarion call as he comes in view
                 In mortal form he does appear
                 Her amplified thoughts for avian release
                 To grasp what little time - for fear
                 The darkness that will steal from them
                 Time so precious they hold so dear

                                                         'So vague I know her yet so well
                                                         The sight of her makes my heart sing
                                                         I wish to hold her I wish to tell
                                                         Her all the love that I will bring'

                A fleeting state of obscurity
                Is twilight time between Sun and Moon
                A cursory moment for Loves Embrace
                As darkening sky arrives too soon

                She must flee her lover’s jaws
                As mortal state is cast aside
                And primal instinct takes predatory form
                To darkened woods she runs to hide

                                                         'I growl, I run, I chase her, need
                                                         To catch her, capture, not let go 
                                                         My teeth, my claws, I need to feed
                                                         But who am I, what changed me so'

                In dawn’s first rays comes transformation
                Mortal to Hawk she must keep this alliance
                Then swoop to her loves outstretched arm
                To travel by day in the Sound of Silence

                 And thus they live a Jealous one’s Curse
                 Denied the love that was once so pure
                 Bestowed by a man from Hells own gates
                 In vain her love he tried to procure

                                                      'Je suis Etienne - I am Etienne
                                                      Remember me here - in this cage
                                                      Don’t hurt her or kill her, I’m a man
                                                      A wolf I hurt, inside I rage'

                   So Evil does what Evil wilt
                   Her love for this bishop will never be
                   He portrays a picture of what he’s not
                   From his evil curse they must break free          

'Etienne mon amour - I know thee well 
In my malaise, I fall, I cry
Je t'aime for a moment more
With broken heart - I change - I fly'

                    Unwavering credence in good endures
                    Shackled even in their depths of sorrow
                    Questing release from their dastardly doom
                    Yearning the twilight hour - tomorrow

                                                         'Isabeau mon amour, we will survive
                                                         This evil curse will not prevail
                                                         On wings of love we’ll soar so high 
                                                         Je t'aime we won they failed'

Acknowledgement:
To my good friend Darren White for collaborating with me on this melancholy story. 
My deepest appreciation to the master of languages for adding a romantic French touch.

Footnote
Critical on transformation to mortal, unprotected and naked she speeds away on Etienne’s horse to escape the slashing jaws of the wolf.  A cowardly plot undoubtedly designed by the evil bishop to meet her end, in her avian form or as a mortal, at the predatory jaws of her star crossed lover.

A solution to their quandary may manifest in the person of an escaped thief who serendipitously befriends Etienne - But that’s another story…

Lady Isabeau’s voice can be envisaged in the plaintive, haunting strains of the lead Violin. The resonant tone of the Wolf, Etienne, can almost be heard in the rich sonorous timber of the bass Cello - brought to us by - THE MUSES rendition of - Sound of Silence 

Copyright © Maria Williams & Darren White | 19 June 2017

Details | Bass Poem |

One of Texas's Best

“Back in my day” his stories all would start
I’d  lean in close to listen though I knew ‘em all by heart
He was a living legend, one of Texas’ best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest

He fought along “RIP” Ford & John Coffee Hayes
When Texas was wooly & wild, back in the good old days
“One Riot, One Ranger” I’ve heard it said many times before
from fighting off Commanches to turning the tide of a range war

A Ranger never faltered, never imagined he could lose a fight
He’d  go hell bent for leather just to turn a wrong to right.
From Nueces to Salado Creek he patrolled the border land
Dealing out swift justice with a smoking Colt sitting easy in hand

Hardin, Iron Jacket & Sam Bass thought they could get away
The Rangers ran them down to ground, the stories still are told today
Great Granddad was a hero, one of Texas’s best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest

He passed on the legacy & the stories I’ll now tell
as I hear his voice echo when I start off,  “ I remember well”
So tip your hat & raise your glass to the Rangers out there on patrol
and to all the Shadow Rangers, Rest in Peace, God rest your soul

Details | Bass Poem |

Untitled Visions

 Cold clear water lapped 
against the tall green grass
from lakes filled with bass 
and red and black robins
 stand splashing their backs
 Among green waving ferns
 lying on the sandy bottoms 
 As mists gently tiptoe through
 on silent feet  in early Autumn

 Bright yellow dandelions
 and white daffodils dot the wilds,
as fragrances of wild rose drifts across the fields
 Puffy white clouds hurry by in reply
A shiny red apple hangs alone in the sky

Three girls lay white in the sand 
And snow lands gently on  feet and hands 
Brushed by the wind it wanders thru the night 
And each one arrives clean and bright
Red ripe strawberries snuggle against bright green nests 
While lazy white rabbits and big black owls rest 
Orange  and gold leaves float serenely by 
Tracing patterns in the fading twilight 
And still three girls lay white in the sand

Details | Bass Poem |

Lavender Rain

Breezes WHISPER in the trees after cleansing rain;
FRAGRANCE of Wisteria WAFTS following rain

Thoughts of my love's LILTING bass voice WAFTING brings BLISS,
As FRAGRANT Wisteria comes with flowing rain

As SPLENDOR of sun peeking from behind a cloud;
The bright glow and warmth is as TRANQUILIZING rain

DULCET sun melts cares better than TRANQUILIZER___
Better even after a spring soft washing rain

ELOQUENCE of my love's romantic poems soothes the heart,
SUNFLOWER listens through LAVENDER flowing rain.

Details | Bass Poem |

LAUGHTER THAT NEVER GREW




Weary... my footsteps reach a dark alley
as kohl light pushes stars into tender
tempest; notes from an old man's
weeping guitar choke my lungs droning, droning---
as if bitter bass of winds silences
my voice--- never to hear pang of a numb day
that holds this sacred dream I'll never possess.

 
Entering the halls of my mind, there she is,
laughing like an angel divine, shaping a lullaby
I hummed when arms cradled her when one
night's breath snuffed my child before her time.

And though without her, the young plum tree
that grew under her shade will always bear
sour flowers...its leaves and branches
reaching out to me with tender longing. 

Perhaps I'll water them one day,some day...
because without their blooms, I might forget
the face of my little girl whose cheeks
looked like their flushing sheaths...and I gaze
at the same moonlight to touch her eyes
then fold them to sleep. Opening the rusty door,

we kiss," goodnight, baby... I am home."




---Based on my first cousin's experience

BEST SAD POEM EVER II  Contest for Laura Loo 
Resubmitted 9/12/2016

Details | Bass Poem |

The Five String Banjo Man



When I sit alone with my memories

My mind drifts back to the early 60s

When folk music was all the rage

The New Christy Minstrels, Peter Paul and Mary

The Brothers Four, The Limelighters, The Kingston Trio

The Canadiana Folksingers... who?????

A six member group called The Canadiana Folksingers

Included myself and my first wife Linda

Along with two guitar players and and a one-string bass

And I played the five-string banjo

Did we have a blast? Oh yah!

Made an album called “This Land Is Your Land”

And a 45 rpm single called, “Hi Jolly!”

Along with appearances on both

 Of the only two Canadian TV Networks at the time

My memories of those days long ago fill me with pride and tears

We can't go back but we can dream

About when we were young

And the world was ours to explore!



© Jack Ellison 2014

Details | Bass Poem |

My Least Favorite Things

 To the tune of.. “These are a Few of my Favorite Things“.

Bass boomers spreading their mis’ry in traffic
Craving attention and driving me spastic,
Not caring an oodle for anyone else,
This **** will drive one to poor mental health!

Cops who ignore them and keep right on driving,
Passing we drivers who are suff’ring and sighing,
Speeding, ignoring all laws of the road ,
Why do they think they’re exempt from the code?!

That lady texting who’s climbing your bumper,
Foll’wing for miles, you’d sure like to dump her,
Getting so peeved I just ran a red light!…
But she’s hanging in there with all of her might!

Here comes a pick up and he’s really flying,
can’t push me over but he’s really trying,
sans blinkers he cut me in one single swoop,
You scraped my bumper you dang nincompoop!

Sweating and trying, for my place I’m vying,
Choking on gas fumes, ‘n some kid is crying
That lady just stopped for a friggin green light,
I screeched on my brakes and near died of fright!

That bass nut’s still booming, my blood  pressure’s zooming,
That green light stopper’s picked this time for grooming
That texter’s horn behind me is starting to blow,
The light turned red and she thinks I should go!

These are a few of my least favorite things,
That I could avoid if I only had wings…


I commute 3 hours a day and this is just 
a sample. : )




,

Details | Bass Poem |

Swamp Life: Human Nature Contest

Swamps are like places where dinosaurs roam  
shadowed by ancient moss-draped trees.        
A prehistoric world in shades of green.            
I paddle my pirogue through algae foam.     
Around me it's taciturn and serene                     
as I collect for whittling, cypress knees.              
Fishermen, hunters, and I call it home.             

Nature's garden profuse with wildflowers;
cattails and swamp iris in brown and blue.
An alligator, inert near the banks.
I sit and gaze at the beauty for hours.
For my primitive domain, I give thanks -
for the bass I caught, simmering in stew,
and for herbs I use for healing powers.

In the swamp, it's as if time has stood still.
Under lily pads there lurks big bullfrogs
hiding from herons and the egret.
I can hear them calling out their trill.
Time in my cabin I never regret.
Life is peaceful in these foggy bogs.
I ready myself for night's misty chill.

Sinister snakes slither in shallow brine
and cling to low branches overhead,
trying to catch the last ray of sun.
I descry them while checking my line
then gather up moss, and when that's done,
I will stuff it inside my mattress bed.
Living in my swamp suits me just fine.


_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_
January 21st, 2016
Human Nature Contest
Sponsor: Marugu Mo

Details | Bass Poem |

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 6

Upon this date he spoke no more of the preceding moments, 
Tearing and hurling insult upon insult
In several directions, his tongue whipped and scorched me,
And he waited relentlessly to see the spark in my eyes fade…..
He was so livid by my silence, he began thrashing around the walls,
Grabbing a  wayside demon and crushing him into the ground…
He destroyed Death’s bass, pulling off each string in monotone menace
Glaring at me, as he yanked each off,
The whine of its timbre flooding the eerie, murky pit……

“Nothing else, but you and I,
No more music, no more beat…
Your heart alone is enough to drive me mad…”

He spat into the crushed instrument, 
And Death cowered, scampering away like a wounded rat
Picking up the pieces as he disappeared into the soot

“Just you and I, 
I will not hear another cry except from your  lips…
No cheer, except from your voice,
No fear, except from your soul…
No support from above….no love to bring us light…”

I circled him my tears glistening,
The light burning him, as he laughed bitterly
And I sang…

“Your attacks drill against your friends,
Your darkness sifts, in pending motion,
You can crush the pulse that you began,
Though you cannot end my faith and devotion.”

He stared, his nostrils flaring,
His claws protruding in and out
Suddenly he smiled, and he was calm again
The wailing of a freshly injured demon faintly sounding…

“Tell me Loving Lady, 
Of what you recall of mortality…
What do you miss the most?
The rush of Death’s call, 
The touch of slowly falling? 
The thrill of free-will…kissing the darts…
The crushing of sadness in your feeble heart…
You have missed mortality I am sure,
You have missed the spirit of mutiny,
The infernal blaze of my brilliant core…
We need not but our voices to replay such times, 
I remember your days as much as I do mine…
Remember you used to lust and lie?
Remember when you were afraid to die? 
Those darkest nights, remember me grinning?
Remember the infatuation of sinning?
No, it was your art, and you left a trail,
So He might follow close behind might you fail…
He allowed you to suffer, to ache…to retch 
You forgot Him, and embraced my ways…
Do you ever miss those wondrous days…
Surely, surely you must appraise…” 

I picked up a lone string of Death’s mighty bass,
Feeling the metallic twine cool in my hand
The crushed demon moaned in agony beside me…

“Mortality was a rustic feat into the fray,
Many times blinded in the dark, to emerge into the day
I miss the way danger led to discovery,
In suffering greatly, I miss the relief of recovery
I miss the way it was so bittersweet, 
When the wrinkles began to appear…
I miss the sound of that single drop of rain…
Falling into the rest, never missed, always blessed…
Recalling the times I have stumbled,
I miss what now I clearly see…
I recollect darker emotions and I miss how they built me,
How they led me to the ones that guarded me to the end
So I might live in a better place where pardon became my friend…

Death’s voice intrigued me, frightened me, redeemed me, 
The falling of those around me led me to my calling,
And swiftly, failing became a past that set me free…
The test of free-will became a weight upon my shoulder,
The challenge became what shaped me as I grew older…
Sadness became easier, and less enjoyable,
When I focused my life to the skies and into open eyes

I remember the lusts, the lies, the sins—they never belonged to me
At the time, I didn’t see this—they were all I wanted to be….
I hunted to wallow in the madness and sadness of darkness…
I believed I did not deserve the wisdom of righteousness 
In my mortal skin, I learned to look deep within…
And fight off the urges…the lusts….the timey wages of sin
It became my duty to no longer allow you in…
Though my love for your redemption grew brighter within…”

The Devil clawed the bass string in my hand
And it strung an empty sound that echoed dryly all around…


“Immortality has its torments too…
See how gently I return to you…”

He never could destroy the beat thumping from my chest…
He merely hummed along with it in begrudging dedication 
Stubbornly, he sought for my pain 
But the hurt had been released  far above, where still he dared not look…

I lifted up a crippled demon and kissed his forehead
“I love you as well, demon, do not be afraid…” 
The weary eyes stared into my own, than quickly glanced in fear toward our fuming Prince…
“You understand pain, fear, and torment more than any, I am sure
Would you like to sing too?”

The Devil in rage grabbed the demon by the throat before he could answer
“You foolish woman… he is MY pet… 
Nothing else, but you and I…
He has no voice, no heart…no mind…
I give him no permission to,
And he accepts his place…
Unlike I …unlike you…”

I touched his clenched hand, and his grip loosened upon the demon
“All voices deserve to be heard,
Through compassion, let his existence ring…”

The Devil scoffed and threw him down with much force, perturbed
The demon dared not move

“WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE TO US…. To mock me…to turn them against me…?”
The hush of his question held more intensity than his shouting
 “Surely…surely not…..
He belongs in the dust, 
At my command… he can never be like us…
You love him as much as pity will allow…
We are special, Silly Being, and his fleck of existence is but a toke
To gamble with for my amusement, nothing more…nothing more….
Stop this attempt to become the idol of the underdog
Don’t be such a predictable bore…”

The demon shriveled, but remained…
Like mortality’s fate, his body did shrink and fade…
But I heard his somnolent thoughts….

…I am but the refrain…
 Immortality….. has….. its torments….. too…

Details | Bass Poem |

drifting plankton

I was thinking
of you touching my belly
in one moment in time,
and me kissing your shoulder
in another.

I was thinking
of talk
and whiskey,
the sound of bass
and shyness.

I have no wishes.
I was just thinking
how it could be
if the world stayed round
but got so much smaller,
for only one room to be,
for you and me.

Details | Bass Poem |

To whom-

Let's sit together and talk like we used to. . .
when we were young; your voice was like a bass drum-
pumping through my brain. You were a white noise to
block out the rest of the world. 

I can never remember what we talked about but
I remember the silence when we expelled all our stories and fears.
Closer, you came, and I heard the sound of locusts flying-
their beating wings, drowning out my vision.

I was senseless and clung to you, stable and strong.
There was a deep rent in your soul- I saw it one day.
And for a moment, I fell in love with you. I felt strong
where you were weak.

I wanted desperately to be the one. Am I beautiful
enough? to fill the void, the gap, the space? 
When you look at me: you see my shell,
pretty and useless, with soft hands, soft lips. 

You never did find out if I was beautiful. We stopped
talking long before it ever came up. And I-
never healed the part of you I loved the most.
Where do we go from here?

Details | Bass Poem |

Poucha Dass Meditation

I close my eyes 
locked in a millisecond
the moment before the bow 
touches the strings 
where silence has a tremor
and wraps me in darkness 
until I hear its particles 
vibrating against me
 
the bow wrenches
from the depth of the bass 
a groan from the earth
as if waking a millennia of slumber
the first note
long, rich and haunting
now coming to life 
now ready to speak 
 
legs crossed and hands limp
pay attention 
to the sources of discomfort
tension in the neck, anxiety in the chest
fatigue in the limbs
heaviness in the core
 
let this weight sink
pull down through me 
melt through me
let it drag and seep 
through my bones
until it submerges 
into the ground below
 
transform to roots 
connect me
grow deep into the soil
until the energy is revitalized 
until I am reminded
we grow from this intricate system
no different from the forest and gardens
spreading, connecting, entwining
 
the earth is booming 
the bass its voice
chanting, singing, commanding 
a mantra in a language I don't understand
but with a pulse
I can feel
and it is telling me
I have all I need
 
visualize one by one 
sources of emotional exhaustion
with each dredge up the full power 
of all feelings
feelings long suppressed, feelings of fear
allow body and mind to swim 
one last time 
before I breathe in and blow them away
 
my body is lighter, sitting straighter
a tall blade of grass 
swaying as one
looking across the field 
up to the cliff's edge
and over the sunlit ocean 
 
taste sweet scent
of wind
stretch to feel 
soft earth
open eyes 
to unending sky
focus
on what it means to be alive.

Details | Bass Poem |

not me two cats and a mangy dog

the rain fell 
outside 
dogs and cats
Sunday 
was late in coming
rolled over in bed 
played dead

until a red 
long haired cat
named Fred
sat 
on my head
and my face 
turned red

then a stray 
mangy yellow dog
named Yellow
decided to play 
with me
chased Fred away
and decided to stay

his body heat 
was hot
and I rolled over in bed
until a cool fat black cat 
named Frank 
chased Yellow
outside to the riverbank


Frank the cool fat black cat 
started to scat 
at the top of his range
at the edge of my bed
his blues 
went straight 
to my head

then Yellow and Fred 
returned 
with guitar and bass
and played backup
to Frank
while I played the bed
to save face

it was all 
going swell
until my neighbors 
who didn’t like our chops
banged a different tune 
on the wall
and called the cops

they broke down
the door
and took away us four
along with our instruments 
less the bed of course
into a paddy wagon 
we sped 

it was in a cell 
with a cot
that we realized that we were hot
to trot
and started our prison band called 
not 
me two cats and a mangy dog

Details | Bass Poem |

days are over

Green filled farm grounds
My friends and I making the rounds
All around 
the edge of my town
In my old new first car
With the bass turned up hard
Screaming 
about being seventeen


All those times
Trying to catch any boys eye
Get them to look at me
Want me
To make em beg please
Just to give em nothing
 
So called love that doesn’t last
What fun we had
Those days are over 
I don’t want them anymore

Hot pavement
praying for rain
he still wanted to touch me
love on me
I wasn't that kind of girl
I just looked like her
looked at me as some sort of goddess
I wanted real love
The real thing
With a ring
But he had other plans
And still wonders why I ran
fourteen
Shouldn't be so complicated

-

Dusty fairgrounds
Smoke floating thick all around
Hot and sticky we were
In the heat of a young summer
I contemplate forever
Or maybe never
As he looks me over
Trying to hold my hand
At every possible chance
Sick from the rides
Cooling come and go of the tides
Dirty feet
He looks at me
Laughing hard
At how young we are

And how old are you?
twenty-two

Got our biggest wishes
Cuz they weren’t big enough


Wanted someone who wanted her
The way I am
The way I am
Loving me less, loving you more
Not the way she looks in her shorts 
But she was too young to know where to start

My name is his guitar
Wrote his first song ever
All about me
He's worn a ring for 5 years now
Still he asked my friend about 
Me
Says he'll always wonder where I am 
where I am, 
why I ran
fourteen is fourteen 
and sixteen isn't much better
is it?

Boy,

Those days
Those days are over

O green,
As green as me,
farm grounds
Dusty fairgrounds
And I want you more 
I want you more