Best Cask Poems
Mascara black tear fell as she looked on
the silent man
stretched lifeless
in a
cask
full
suit he
loved for years.
Pale lips smiling.
She will never feel those soft lips again.
4 November 2020
Double Tetractys 5
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Recently, my ears have heard
Some news that sounds quite absurd
My eyes can’t believe what they have seen
Is this for real, an outright global panic
Regarding the Coronavirus COVID 19
An epidemic that has turned pandemic
Has it been proved to be certain
That this is not a world government gimmick
I may be in serious denial when it
Comes to this coronavirus microbe
But it’s only because this is my worse nightmare
I am such an enormous compulsive germaphobe
Can’t even engage in my usual weekend shoppin’
Friends messaging all early saying, you better get to coppin’
But why rush, it’s my day off I’m home chillin’
Listening to my music cleanin’ and rockin’
They type back in all caps, EVERYTHING'S GOING FAST
I get to the store and of course it was too late
All the water and toilet paper scarce
In such a remarkably short time span
At least they still have disinfectant
Wait, why is Human Coronavirus
Listed on the Lysol can
Well, well, what do you know, it has began
Definitely have to stock up on some gloves and a mask
And if I’m going be under some kind of lockdown
Do I dare google where to buy a wine cask
Possibility of containment, no bueno
Too think, people been trying to warn us for years
I’m so mad I ignored the signs
Remained knowledgeable but yet comatose
I never thought I would live to see
The day where the world gets attacked by Thanos
Drink your herbal teas and keep up your immunity
You might want to also grab a zinc dose
I would hate for me or you to get a positive
Coronavirus COVID 19 diagnose
Good poetry is like an Old Master
Crafted with expert skill imbued with soul
No abstracted throwaway disaster
Or a bland undistinguished casserole
Of poor ingredients cooked up faster
And deposited in the toilet bowl
No, it should stimulate the appetite
And explode in the mind like dynamite
Good poetry should stand the test of time
Like great art it should make your spirit soar
Made memorable by structure and by rhyme
Utilizing simile, metaphor
Allegory and precise words that chime
Never should its contents the reader bore
Linking thoughts and ideas that one can quote
More than just a run-of-mill anecdote
Good poetry conveys thoughts in a way
That prose cannot - however full of wit
As a good photo brilliant in its way
Rarely reveals the person who took it
But a crafted poem - like a Monet
Should bear its creator’s mark and transmit
A recognition of the poet’s style
Whether it’s limited or versatile
Good poetry is like a single malt
Aged in a golden sherry cask of oak
With which a connoisseur can find no fault
Redolent of heather and peaty smoke
So, any poets worthy of their salt
Should let thoughts marinate, mature and soak
And distil them once, twice or even thrice
Before serving neat sans water or ice
Republicans? Immoral! Lord, that's all there is to that!
Like in the song, "Their heads are full of cotton, hay, and rags,"
Though Democrats (not better) hate to stoop so low to win,
They feel Christ's death, seek brotherhood, at times admit to sin.
Republicans are arrogant, love "trickle down largess,"
To get rich, they'd leave others bare, stark naked, not a stitch,
The way to know Republicans? They idolize control,
While Democrat's may lust, they sometimes think about their soul!
Republicans say Dems enable poor to stay a mess,
No doubt of that! We think, at least, we ought to offer chance,
Good school for kids, a right to vote, and tools for basic health,
A job that pays a decent wage, slaves owned aren't proof of wealth.
Republicans, some Harvard trained, smoke existential snow,
Think they are free, there is no sin, the mind is only art,
God loves the rich; there’s just one hitch, their virtue’s just a mask,
Their s--t stinks too, their Waterloo, salvation from a cask.
The Democrats parse life with guilt, long for utopia,
In saving others save themselves, they won’t let justice be,
They think that they can honor God by pinning truth to mat,
It’s vanity when man attempts to woo Jehoshaphat.
Though ‘Right’ thinks Rich means they own God, I know God loves them still,
The ‘Left’s’ self-serving brand of justice proves they have no cure,
Both Left and Right think they must fight to prove the other wrong,
The love of others all day long is Heaven’s only song.
Long Tooth
August 3, 2017
He sat at the beer stained table,
a cigarette in his fingers.
Smoke pooling round his cloth capped head,
the look in his eyes still lingers.
From his rough wool shirt to his DIY tattoo
I could tell he was no stranger to labour.
From the scars on his face and his broken nose,
you wouldn't want him as a neighbour.
Yet he had about him a dignity,
a rough hewn, no nonsense stance.
And eyes that spoke volumes of his life
that sparked and mirrored and danced.
His hands bore the wear of a life of toil,
his shoulders a little stooped and weary.
And, whether it was the smoke or memory,
at times he seemed a little teary.
He sat and sipped his favourite drink,
a dark, nutty ale from the cask.
What tales had he? What stories to tell?
If I'd only the nerve to ask.
I want to tell you a story that will not end with the glory,
Of a good friendship gone gory, come on drink the drink from my flask.
You have backstabbed me through my worst, so come on now, do quench your thirst,
And to be buzzed, you will be first; I know you’re love to have a blast.
Thanks for helping me; you’re the only one who could help with this task.
Come on, let us bury the past.
Do you remember my good friend, often times you try to pretend?
Saying in you, I should depend, masked people must take off their mask.
Behind my back you were lying, in revenge now I’m applying,
Like in your lies you were trying, to avoid whatever I ask.
And now you will feel, what I was feeling, on the wrath that I cast,
Go on; drink the drink from my flask.
Do you feel inebriated, perhaps too intoxicated?
It seems your vision has faded, my, you have gotten drunk so fast.
Come on help me mix this caustic, hurry now! Is it too toxic?
It’s not harmful; you won’t get sick, be careful it could give a blast.
I push him in, but he don’t fit, so now I had to use my rasp,
I vowed my revenge, so take in your breath; it is to be your last.
And now in this drum you will bask.
You have done me this way too long; lying, stealing; the same old song,
And in life you do not belong, for it’s your lies that are too vast.
I’m done with my contemplating and your death I am awaiting,
Should I go, I am debating, now you’re time in there has surpassed.
I am not like you; I take it further, can you see the contrast?
For your help, it’s an A, you passed.
Sips of liquor is what it took, to rid this liar, thief, and crook,
Now entombed in this little nook, I wipe the germs off of my flask.
And though he’s dead, I am upset, because my clothes and shoes are wet,
And for this day I won’t forget; my senses I begin to grasp.
But for now all of my problems are floating, in acid and gas,
There they’ll dwell, in the wooden cask.
_____________________________________
For Elaine George's 'Tell me a story' contest
The form is Trochaic Octameter
Iambic pentameter serves as the substitute.
BLACK,RED and GOLD
Location---SOMEWHERE IN KÖNIGSBERG 1945 APRIL 9
Scene---A Dying German Agent/A Soldier`s thoughts/reflections just before death
On this periphery of life
Let blue jeans of my ice blonde Brenda wear me to marry with death
Fire will be her gown, ashes shall be my girdle, shattered is everything beneath
Smokes so discerned sprawling
Some will say it was a poetic corpse after so deadly the strife
Wrapped in unknown funerary fetes
My blood will be poured in cask of mimicks
A yawn concealing me in semicolon as I saw I was dying,
sickened of the sicks
All the ravens of sorcery lurking the corner in full stops
As if I knew nothing following the wisdom of Socrates
Boots and kilt emphasizing my lost treasure
At last the casket to embrace me from the provocateur
No persuasive argument will be my candy,
a keepsake solidarity in barter
A marked plot spewed by shrewd men
An aftermath velvet and a last squint of Prussia far and near
Death so dear only to see if the lady in red silk I loved has red roses
My dear Soviet plezhvadya
for the wide-brimmed black hat, red bloody eyes hers, a gunshot
,yellow mouthful venom of words oozing out in raucous abuses
Hatred carped in end and unend Olesya, good as gold my Olesya
Now the bastion they called bastards buccaneered before her epithet
Kaliningrad`s cloud full of black so black an obnoxious smoke
Davai! Davai! they shouted and again nemesis eavesdropped
Eagles died I know not if a death of glory as I felt I saw an 1871 gauntlet
That’s my last shot of life before I became death`s forgotten lucky bloke
Vocabulary --1-Plezhvadya(Russian/Czech)- A Soviet dish
2.Davai!(Russian)--Let`s do it, Come on!
3.Obnoxious-extremely unpleasant
4.Gauntlet-An armored glove of the tectonic Knights
5.Raucous-Harsh,Sharp,Loud
6.Barter-Exchange,Trade,Swap without use of money
7.Buccaneer-Maruader,Plunderer,Raider
Where is the Justice?
(The Eden Agenda II)
Where is the justice? ..the question
But small is the matter at hand
For fairness was lost at creation
It’s useless to take a stand.
Existence of man is a sham
Even the beasts know no peace
For man is the cause of their qualm
To them, the greatest disease.
Where is this peace that we seek?
It’s hopeless to look up above
Just look at our history: it’s bleak
Man will shoot [and then eat] the Dove.
Looking for love is preposterous
Man ‘loves’ to kill and do ill
Love turns to hate; so dangerous
Comes greed, jealousy and ill-will.
Where is this ‘love’ when we cry?
A ‘loved’ dear one - now deceased
Can they still love up on high?
Or is ‘love’ just pain, increased?
Go to a neighbour for a hug
Make this your next ‘Port of call’
If they ask why, just shrug
And say ‘shoo!!!.. damn protocol’.
Where is the nous we employed
When judging a man for his crime?
The first-timer ‘guilty’ destroyed
We make those that repent do time.
Asking for help from a stranger
Is no worse than asking a brother
Too much emphasis on danger
Means we’ll never trust each other.
Where is the truth in this life?
That concept still gets us tongue-tied
How can we avoid all the strife
When every man born has once lied.
Is death a friend in disguise?
Albeit strangely mysterious
Who can tell of mortal demise
We grieve; perhaps should be joyous.
Where is the trust of the ‘self’?
When living is all raw emotion.
One moment of madness itself,
Is part of passion in motion!
To be the hermit …or hero?
Both content with their life-role
The end-game of both? …still zero
As, useless, they lie in a hole.
‘Where is the justice?’….I ask
I asked not to be born …yet I’ll die!!!
‘Persona non grata’ on my cask
Just pray for this world.... and sigh!
(The Fg 81.5.8)
(Dedicated To Submariners All Over The World)
Dived deep in the bowels of the seas
My steely shell’s a womb.
Deep down amidst the oil and grease
I am at peace in the Lovecraftian tomb!
What’s with the antonyms, you may ask?
Two opposite words you’ve used -
One’s a warm and wonderful cask,
The other’s dead and worm-abused.
The words are apt, as you’ll soon realize,
For a sub’s a Faustian hell
Where the soul imperceptibly dies
A place where sub-human’s dwell!
Dimmed lights cast a sepulchral gloom,
Myriad machines sing Orphic songs
Of palpable peril and impending doom;
Each one of us a Houri’s groom!
To us’s denied the kiss of the sun,
Not for us the fresh blown breeze,
We know not when the day’s begun,
Nor when the night’s a-freeze!
Up periscopes and down again
The klaxons’ strident screams
Make us jump from where we’ve lain
To drilled duties in well-oiled teams.
The sighting of a laggard prey,
Spells sure a petard blown,
For a homing submarine fish tail spray
Brings terror to hardened men and grown.
Though through silent prowls of the deep we hunt,
Like coin could be our fate.
Our shell could crack with the depth charge brunt;
With Davy Jones we’d have our date!
But when heightened pulse and throbbing heart
Have ceased their labours wild,
Routine sets in and all is “back to start”
Each one an unborn child.
The sub becomes a womb, you see,
A place where your thoughts get sorted;
An amniotic envelope, safe and cozy,
With fair chance to get aborted!
So I hope now that my ditty’s run its course
The message’s plain and grim
That life and death share the same source -
For a submariner womb and tomb are synonym!
In light of good memory of how things were, a woman stands unguarded.
Pleasantries, talents, and secretive skills.
I offered to you a drink, allowing you in.
Thinking I had chosen carefully over 37 others. This vexed me.
Read and reread the commentary side-by-side distant eyes and sad smile.
Extracting honesty from typed remarks.
When our eyes met for the first time and you had a smile that broadened
As I drew nearer through a sea of hurrying people, just knowing that it was you.
You felt like home, like mother's sweetened tea.
Later, a little scared to let you drink from my cup, to be your rebound.
You did not hold back your ale, I let you lead.
That first drink of you that sip of your lips, melted the iciness of my demeanor.
My thirst for you consumed better judgement. Intoxication of the moment quinched by your touch.
Offered to you my liquid that sheltered liqueur. Wine housed away deep within me.
Robust when allowed to air. Poured out slowly not to be bruised.
Your skin, your touch like sweet cream. Pouring into me.
To you I poured back mead. Whispering softness in dim moonlight.
Delightful nothings in each others ears.
Trusting the sincerity of a drunken mind.
Rapture in sleeping with you the first in a long time.
The next morning you left the taste of vinegar in a short, curt kiss.
So now several days pass and nothing not a hint of you anywhere.
I ask for closure you respond with the crux of the matter.
Hurtful this declarative statement of wanting to taste test more.
Almost more than I can bare. Though i did not mind being the mouth wash,
Removing the bitter taste of a day old tequila from your palate.
The aspirin for this hangover of past drunkenness.
Codependency in a relationship to this drink.
But that was not how I advertised myself.
You did not follow directions and warning labels.
More to the point, that was my lot in this sell in our path of life.
How we should meet, and offer coffers to one another.
Now I close this cask, and my cellar save what is left for another.
For I am not a lady who can stomach cheap beer and the after taste of malted hops.
The scents I remember like hand rolled cigars
Wine cask lined cellars in musty cool basements
Chocolate miniatures nestled in bright candy dishes
Tea leaves and mint steeping in dainty china cups.
Baked goods cooling on the kitchen counter
Roast with potatoes in a rich onion broth
Lilacs and roses lined on back yard fences
Channel #5 clings to grandmother’s sweater
Scents I remember from childhood spent
Fondly reminiscing with a wistful smile
In this sterile world I live in now
What will my grandchildren remember?
No leaves burnt on a cold autumn night
No carcinogens cooked over red hot coals
No second hand smoke that will cling to your clothes
No hairspray, no tea roses, no creams or colognes
No Sundays exploring my old Aunt Ruth’s farm
No chickens or guineas; no old dusty barns
No fresh moved hay or cinnamon apple pies
Just germicide, purified, Ionic fresh air.
~Internal Rhyme~
I longed to explore the seven seas, sails filled with tropical breeze.
My sturdy craft, Hope Anew, would carry me upon the oceans blue.
I was captain and crew of my ship, a bit of rum from cask to sip.
Appeared an island not on my chart, mutiny came from my heart.
On love's course we then flew, in dangerous waters I never knew.
Captain Heart sailed through a reef, to a bay off the Isle of Grief.
Filled with many a dorsal fin, what a mess my heart had me in.
Island reef was shark infested. If love awaited, it would be tested.
I heard a call from the beach. A man held out his hand to reach.
Capt. Heart yelled, "To shore! I want him and nothing more!"
I, no pirate seeking treasure, but Heart demanded her pleasure.
Dinghy loaded with my gear, I felt more than a twinge of fear.
Upon Heart's harsh command, I accept the man's offered hand.
His touch I soon came to know, I felt love take hold and grow.
Bur before long it all changed; my life altered and rearranged.
The isle earned its name when love chose to play a cruel game.
I left the bed where we slept, down to the beach where I wept.
I sat upon moonlit sand, against Heart I had to take a stand.
Hope Anew rose on a wave. "Come", she creaked, "I can save."
I looked back, tears in my eyes, treasure lost but he was no prize.
Into the sea I started to swim, knowing I had to leave him.
Ever closer to Hope Anew, I heard him calling me, "Lady Blue."
He stood looking out to me, I turned away and swam out to sea.
I felt a salty tear sting my eye, as I cried farewell and goodbye.
Onboard my ship I felt rancor, but managed to pull up anchor.
At the prow I faced the breeze until pain took me to my knees.
Isle of Grief took its toll upon my heart and wrecked my soul.
I escaped emotional death. I'll swear it to my very last breath.
I cast my memories into the sea and from pangs of love I am free.
I painted over Hope Anew, she now wears the name of Lady Blue.
My tears have all dried and I've restored my life, and my pride.
Captain Heart is bound to the mast, for treachery I've tied her fast.
The clouds -on which angels stand
Lurking and pursuing the rubble-
Are directly above the human land,
Whispering about some stubble;
When they glimpse the scattered lavender.
Tracing it becomes their task,
Until they glanced a traveler
Holding the flowers, veiled behind a cask.
The angels were finally called for duty
Striving to collect the traveler 's tears.
They couldn't help but notice her beauty,
Together with shreds of her lamenting years.
She was whispering to them while sobbing:
" O, angels above, I had a dream once,
I dreamt I was a harpist,
Performing in front of my loved ones.
I dreamt life would be fair
But I'm selling lavender for a living,
There is no one else with whom to share-
O, angels above, please be forgiving."
By the time she was done reciting,
They had filled a gallon of her tears,
Her cravings- they were also writing,
Determined to wipe all her smears.
They took her tears to irrigate the human land,
That grew into trees with lavender
One of them stretched his hand;
To seat a harp under.
And suddenly the horizon twinkled,
Because a star was made by the angels in the sky;
To lead the girl to a tree -with her feelings mingled
In order for her to see the harp lying under- with a sigh.
Her Fate lies on a
Predestined canvas
Of muted red
Darkness speaks truth
Though gifts are silent
Blindly, she feels for
The magical key
That will finally unlock
His lonely chamber
Her spirit is gentle
Ready to disclose the one
She has loved
Forever…
’Drink the blood that patiently
dripped from my heart into
this Sacred Cask, and as you
feel me rushing through
your veins know…I love you’
Can he see beyond
Time’s Regal cloak?
Lift the veil of which separates
logic and emotion?
Sight and touch?
She’s coming for him soon
With the key to his
Rebirth
‘Meet me at the
Bottom of the Spiral Staircase’
The tears she sheds
Belong to him…
For him…
Reaching
Within the nucleus of an
Isolated cell
Love hurts that much
A seemingly black abyss
She descends
Answering to the Dark
Moon's Call
Discovering
The deepest place
That eats away at her flesh...
She’ll sacrifice her life
For Him…
If one moment
His eyes see…
He flung his arms in amusing laugh,
At the passing funeral bier,
Beside the herd of lily blossoms--
This stout little man, in his full air:
''What say...'', he asks with a chortle,
''And thus of laughter this man dies!?''--
Gave another big guffaw--
Tears filling his beady eyes.
The birds chirped, and the dogs--
They followed-up rather slow;
The deceased was laid in his cask,
With mourning women, crying low..
He mused a moment at the sight he saw,
Then burst-up in a loud 'Hee-haw'!
''Forgive me, but it's hard to take''.
(His belly danced, as he spake)
Slightly flushed,''now'', said he,
''I choke of laughter, do you see??
Tell me will I be dead next.....''
Then stopped to take a deepest gasp
With some force, and a wasp
Was sucked into that mouth and he
Agonized with pain, stifled and red,
Next we know, lay there dead.....