Best Castings Poems
Coffeeblood castings surface
Earthworms rip through trenches
Tangleweeds tug at my limbs
Twisting ferns rake through my hair
As spikes of foxglove ready a violet strangle
The sun itself is fixing to swallow me up
Its incisors cutting through the sweet dream sky
Grass wet with venom spit
The vapors rise to sting my eyes
Red and yellow seeps through thin skin
Sweat, the traitor, dares to join with soil
Morning is the enemy.
Resonating magnificent resplendencies of such rhapsodies
Resonant, amid this glowing renaissance of her resurrection....
Lost opaque dreams, awakening to find these vibrancies of colours
As if van Gogh himself had been summoned through this periscope of visions
Brilliant brushings within passions poured from such viles of rebirths
Castings of callings, transposed from atop this vestiges love laced canvas
Splashings, of spheres now captured, within a concerto's reprise
A Swans Song....
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{Under Construction}
Fortress
Stone by weathered cobble I build,
calloused hands ache in sweet surrender
Mortar’d affection of a coalesced consistency,
mixed and blended, bound by love’s tether
Stacking to heights of protective design
Patterned on roaming hillsides, serpentine wanderings,
Lush green fields crawl, blue sky diversions,
as song birds whistle to the day
And I sweat, my brow now drenched,
muscles pushed to horizonary boundaries,
tattered clothes sway in late afternoon breezes
Still I push on, fitting, finding, filling this need
Something so precious as glistening morning dreams,
crystalline musings, fragile bisque castings
Destined for my world, beyond battlefield dawns,
sifting serene country settings…quiet peace
The long day ends, I marvel at my accomplishment
steadfast and suited to defend in sunset flames,
turrets of observative reachings soar above
timber and heavy iron chain…gated sanctuary
Now my love you may rest…
beneath starry heavens and comet renderings,
upon your bed of satin feathered sighs as with my love,
I have built this fortress…around your heart
**I was listening to the Sting song “Fortress around your heart” and was inspired to write this one.
And for those who noticed, yes I did make up a few words, but I’ll just invoke “poetic license” in those cases : )
Wrought liquid metal, hued in the fire's of hell,
Pored into a castings shell, then hammered well,
By the angry fists of Satan himself, behold the skeleton key.
Accursed by evil's malevolent spell, one size fits all,
No locked doors can resist against its turnings twist,
Opening unto the supernatural's mystical power, and unlocking
Humanity's hidden passages and darkest corridors,
Leaving no secrets left unspoken or in silence.
Crimson blood spewing forth from corrupted key holes, oozing
Downwards unto the floor below, staining ancient
Tapestries of the royal gentries, and the upper classes refined.
Skull to the cross bones, it possesses a will of its own,
A vile living entity, with its own consciousness.
Molding, reshaping itself at pleasures dark whim,
Feasting on hatred's malice, then releasing it unto the world
Of men.
A twisted wanton thing, laughing with intentions cruelties,
And relishing in our agonies pain.
But *****sapiens are a curious species, never realizing when to
Leave things well enough a lone.
We must know what lies beyond that forbidden
Door, where mankind is not allowed to trespass.
In these dark places of shadows ethereal, it rocks in a fetal
Ball, a creature, waiting to be disturbed, go then seek what lurks therein,
If you dare, only the key knows what it really is, and it laughs,
At our ignorance, mocking us in the darkness.
Four it is the beast, chained and shackled within our worst
Nightmares, a fierce devilish demon, that pierces through the
Darkest of night, to hunt the innocent souls of wayward men.
You've have ventured to far, beyond thy safety zone of no return.
Four death lies in those reddened eyes that watch you within
The darkness.
If you move it will attack, motions movements attracts
Attentions reactions, so remain frozen there is no safety's retreat
Thou'art trapped, again the key so laughs in the abyss,
Mocking at humanity's ignorance.
Shaking with anticipations glee, it begs the next
User to place it into the key hole, of the unknown, come along
Now what can it hurt, just one little peek, let’s look beyond the crimson
Door, as the skeleton key heckles with unbridled happiness.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Have we dreamt the crystal morn, this day of beauteous bones,
tinkling icicles which ping, as they melt, this sun warmed day.
Lilac boughs appear egg white dipped, now over-glazed, amazed,
in the mirror-like majesty of a frosty ice draped morn.
Tinkling icicles, which ping, as they melt, this sun warmed day
licked by children as they play, sliding on a virgin crust of white
in the mirror-like majesty of a frosty ice draped morn.
All that's innocent is clothed, encased, adorned in sturdier forms,
licked by children as they play, sliding on a virgin crust of white
the ice embraces every sunlit surface with auric glow.
All that's innocent is clothed, encased, adorned in sturdier forms
too soon the skeleton of night will melt within the heat day
The ice embraces every sunlit surface with auric glow.
Lilac boughs appear egg white dipped, now over-glazed, amazed.
Too soon, the skeleton of night will melt within the heat day.
Have we dreamt the crystal morn, this day of beauteous bones?
First appeared in Mused: The BellaOnline Literary Review Winter 2014
Have we dreamt the crystal morn, this day of beauteous bones,
tinkling icicles which ping, as they melt, this sun warmed day.
Lilac boughs appear egg white dipped, now over-glazed, amazed,
in the mirror-like majesty of a frosty ice draped morn.
Tinkling icicles, which ping, as they melt, this sun warmed day
licked by children as they play, sliding on a virgin crust of white
in the mirror-like majesty of a frosty ice draped morn.
All that's innocent is clothed, encased, adorned in sturdier forms,
licked by children as they play, sliding on a virgin crust of white,
the ice embraces every sunlit surface with auric glow.
All that's innocent is clothed, encased, adorned in sturdier forms
too soon the skeleton of night will melt within the heat day
The ice embraces every sunlit surface with auric glow.
Lilac boughs appear egg white dipped, now over-glazed, amazed.
Too soon, the skeleton of night will melt within the heat day.
Have we dreamt the crystal morn, this day of beauteous bones?
First Published in Mused: The BellaOnline Literary Review January 2014
Unreason
- by Bob Atkinson
"... ode to those
who teach creative
writing at the
college level,
yet have not the
talent nor
understanding
required
to produce something
worthwhile ..."
to listen graciously
then turn away
feeling for the
first time
wonder at his
sayings
carries burdens
newly minted
for my life on lumpy
pavement
simply put this
wreck of words
drives not my lucid
statements
in fear of simple
castings made
those so hard to
correctly gage
find difficulty in
believing
what should or
shouldn't stand
feed me what to this
date
has not been allowed
percolation
to equate justice
circumcised
against wispy
thoughts berated
metaphors mixed
until complete
that nonsense we all
believe in
can only drive us
deeply down
a path toward firm
unreason
Tex’s shadow defines him—cut-out
from the heat haze of Karnak’s quartz,
a scintillating contrast to Egypt’s questing sun.
He slouches among the other black castings of
denser composition mottled with grays,
and Prussian blues, incongruent in a cowboy
hat. This six-gun scenario’s frame
disrupts the crafted precision of
a chiseled arch.
****-kicker, lizard-skinned, boots point
toward the desert’s dunes—death hides.
Needing no words to enjoy a taste of antiquity,
Tex shuffles sighs and takes a draw on
an American cigarette. With a flick of his fingers,
he deposits the butt alongside the others
in the white sand. His contribution
to posterity.
First Published in Spank the Carp Issue 21 2016
Majestic Eagle
Imagine the sights
of an eagle's keen eyes,
gracefully gliding
through soaring blue skies.
Dominion she known
since the earliest days,
Kings of the air
even natives would praise.
Regal in nature
with confident class,
no movement unseen
should her eyes chance to pass.
A warrior hunter
with valor and grace,
no match is her prey
in the predators race.
The size of her talons
are gripping with fear,
while the smallest of sounds
can't escape from her ears.
A life like a Phoenix
amidst it's ascension,
worthy of honor,
respect and attention.
Her powerful wings
a sight to behold,
so fitting her castings
are polished in gold.
Sharp as a razor
her beak takes its prey.
a natural warrior's predator way.
Aside from her grandeur
of honor and pride,
the eagle is from
whom the rest of all hide.
No match for
her majesty, power and size,
even great owls
find respecting her wise.
In slumbering slope they lay,
their gaiety snores in rhythmic peaks of cadences,
The lily livered japes
Kings from central castings,
Heroes of one hour,
jostling for President with mere words
Resigned to bed now, save one.
Cowards, afraid of prison walls
seeking fame by fraud.
Oh Fame, how Disinterested
oh time, how revealing
motives concealed but not to all,
they were boys all along
impressing us by publicity
with drama for the surface
But the sternest stood alone
though jeered and calumniated, yet undeterred
taunted by the guns of the oppressors
marooned in their prison
confined to Abuja
denied of dignity
Yet his passion soars with coruscation of brilliancy
The quest for freedom stems from the heart
the cause for which he dared a tyrant
who sought a cause by a fraudulent jurist
to make him bend or make him bow.
unlike the cowards he never stooped,
he stirred the oppressed from their slumber,
and made some men by delayed revolution.
where are all the orators who came to bury Caesar by campaign?
They snore in the bedroom unaffected by the groaning of the people
some seeking publicity by suing twitter,
others purloining at the tables of business felons.
In the struggle for emancipation,
the boys are separated from the men.
Dedicated to Omoyele Sowore
The Nigerian Born Activist
who stood alone when other younger candidates resigned to fate after the fraudulent election that imposed Buhari
casting away all pieces and parts
of an existence full of casual talk
of board rooms full of rage
lost bodies in burning classrooms
full of philosophy and apathy
on foolish babble on time
lost and found morality
memories based on foundations
of aimless travels
looking skyward
casting thoughts incalculable
emotions of love
hate or disdain, unimaginable
full of the rage n pain
playing the blame game
who are we to say
rooms full of empty views
the apathetic feuds
glass shards, crack
crazy crystalline harts
like falling cards or raining stars
as bodies burn in lethargy
casting stones into the ocean of tranquility
small are the thoughts that ripple large
reflections hard as yesterday’s tomorrow insane
cast away photos in a scrapbook of memories
pieces n parts of arcane life, disregard
full of white rooms and silent storms
staring into the mouth of madness
casting all way the pieces
parts of an existence full of casual talk
in classrooms of apathy n despair
watching burning bodies sitting
in boardrooms full of misery
looking into a city, feeling its toxicity
counting the bloody beads of a rosary
A tight fist of emotion sprouts flames in my chest
and I fan the flames with a chilled smile
chiseled like the block of ice
stored in the freezer for the party.
I have stood empty as a discarded seashell, perhaps a clam's shell,
whose pearl should sparkle like the sun spattered sea, that is its home.
But it gleams like the moonlight
castings its light across surfaces- changing them to white or silver,
like the tops of carved glaciers, drifting as they change the shape of the earth.
Too heavy am I to walk on these surfaces,
even if they are frozen.
Seabirds wind up and spin lazily,
calling the wind for their flight- or at least to float momentarily,
like my spirit, needing so much to be released.
What is this creepy thing
Infecting my body?
Busily digesting my flesh, melting,
The first stages of the blob.
End of my extremities
Swell ominously, wriggling,
Undulating like giant worms
Busily digesting my tissue
I’m becoming what I fear most,
Mistaken for castings
Shoveled up and thrown
On the compost heap.
Of pale melancholy
And the infinite fall
Of broken machinery
Cast upon vast shores
Decimation reservation
The prodigal son returns
Jagged reigns of jaded egos
Amber suns stretching upon seas of sanctuary
Blue oysters cast a cult of personality
Here is where the mechanicals recoiled
Gears turned deep inside the obelisk
Onyx realms reaching to monolithic cities
Blacken the sky is on fire of desolations dawn
Volumes fills my fancies with arcane dreams
Milky white universe’s immaculate ejaculate dynastic
Covers pale melancholy machinery of it…
Drips and drains into serenity
Tides borne cryptic things from ancient depths
Fathoms different shores
Odd engines images forges, engages, enrages
Facades of the Deities
Castings from altered shores
Drudged up in desolate depths
Dark quagmires in nightmares explore
The Melancholy and pale machines implore
Something fetal feral twisted engorged
An abomination spills upon the floor
A pale machine of marrow and blood
In spines broken bones
Hooked finger Nails Nine Inches long
Pitch black eyes watch a haloed star
Of holocaustic blooms
In infernal flowers, flames, flurries
Something seeps, creeps, down deep, furies
Lurches on to heavens door
Breeds, seeds, forsaken monstrosities
Of pale machinery and mythic beings,
The melancholy of humanity,
A pale something expires
Eternal winter of
Broken Machinery
cast upon vast moonlit shores
Where am I
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of Angels, and have not love....
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Resonating magnificent resplendencies of such rhapsodies
Resonant, amid this glowing renaissance of their resurrection ~
Lost opaque dreams, awakening to find these vibrancies of colours
As if van Gogh himself had been summoned through this periscope of visions
Brilliant brushings within passions poured from ardent viles of rebirths
Castings of callings, transposed from atop this vestiges love laced canvas ~
Splashings, of spheres now captured, within a concerto's reprise....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Swans Song!?
Note: Smile ~ A repo from the Summer ~ A song of hope; "A Swans Song" ~
"All of Creation," by Mercy Me ~ "'Love' & Warmth, 'Always,'" John!:) ~