Best Cordoned Poems
My neck crooked backward,
I stand between the stacks
feeling the weight of centuries,
the distilled wisdom of minds
who graced the earth with golden words,
words that pace the pages -
vellum, parchment, fine and common papers;
words, cordoned in lines, confined,
yet powerful tools to set one free,
a roamer far from home,
across universes,
beyond time's reach.
The light filters through high windows
downward to where I peer with squinted eyes
teasing out a jewel -
a title, an author, an adventure, a friend.
The air is charged,
the static of adventure,
heartfelt journeys of a hundred thousand writers,
their souls etched upon the pages
for ones such as I to stumble upon decades,
centuries later,
dream maps
thought castles,
imaginative quests.
Quietness reigns.
The elements of books -
leather, cloth, paper and ink -
infuse a rich elixir,
a mind expanding potion,
companion to best wine and oldest friendships
seasoned,
mellowed,
treasured.
© Faye Lanham Gibson, August 11, 2015
Categories:
cordoned, books, words, writing, universe,
Form:
Free verse
She ventured far beyond Earth's realm
past cordoned confines of heart and soul
Tumbled, as did Alice, down the rabbit hole
Drifted, like an Autumn leaf blown from an elm
She soared past distant planets,
on paths lighted by effulgent moons
Weaved her tears among Saturn's rings
and all the while she was gathering stardust
before they mingled with sand on Mars' dunes.
From mountain peaks of Jupiter,
she bottled mist, to which she clings
And all these amazing interstellar things
were collected as caressive tokens for him;
the one she had vowed to love more than life.
From far reaches of dark galaxies
she held treasures from her jaunt;
Mystical items she hoped he'd want
brilliant beacons of silvered moonbeams,
fading light, captured as the sun dimmed.
She carefully wrapped her gifts to offer
in layers of cosmic flecks from a comet's tail.
Trussed with silken threads of time, unraveled,
she tied celestial troves she would soon proffer
to the one for whom she holds in fervent affection.
From his heart, she hoped would spill
the love that somehow waned to a trickle.
Then in abundance, once more it would flow
like a wildly churning river, Yes, she loves him still
Categories:
cordoned, adventure, love,
Form:
Verse
We decided to turn Paradise into real estate.
Trouble was, we weren’t too sure where to find it,
Though experts had located it somewhere
Slightly west or east (left or right, looking north)
Of a point midway between the Euphrates and the Nile.
According to some, it moved sideways a few inches each year.
Computer systems would relieve us of Adam’s curse,
Which many wanted back as soon as they had been relieved,
And Eve discarded more and more items of covering,
And everything (a forgivable exaggeration)
In the garden (the upkeep of which had to be paid for by taxpayers)
Was lovely (or at least pleasant enough for most).
The Devil, who no longer existed (save as a literary metaphor)
Had been extradited on a drugs smuggling charge
And was last seen heading north.
The Forbidden Tree had been cordoned off by
Security people and no serpents were allowed near.
One day we woke up to discover
That Paradise had absconded in the night.
The more sensational headlines read PARADISE LOST,
But this was watered down in a subsequent official press statement
to read PARADISE MISLAID.
As to its new location, even the pundits failed to agree
Whether and if so, by how much, it had moved left or right.
It was even rumoured that the Devil
Had bribed the Angel at the Gate
and infiltrated the Intelligence Service.
The Ministry of Defence reported that a large flying object
Had appeared as a blob on the radar before slipping off,
And some wag even suggested that this was Paradise in fact.
Adam uttered “What the..” under his breath,
switched off the telly – it was an old war film –
And gave Eve a knowing look.
Eve didn’t fancy an early night,
And the ensuing row
Raised Cain.
Categories:
cordoned, paradise, satire, tree,
Form:
Free verse
tiny black shriekers
swarmed the evening sky above
cordoned the estate
Categories:
cordoned, animals, nature,
Form:
Tanka
Sneaking A President On Presidents Day
Sneaking President Biden to Kyiv without anyone noticing, sounds like something out of a movie. It really happened. He arrived in Kyiv on a surprise visit, signaling 'unflagging commitment' to Ukraine.
The United States signals its ongoing support ahead of the anniversary of Russia's invasion. This is the first time in modern history that a U.S. leader visited a warzone outside the aegis of the U.S. military — a feat the White House said carried some risk even though Moscow was given a heads-up.
Over the next five hours, the president made multiple stops around town — ferried about in a black SUV rather than the presidential limousine — without any announcement to the Ukrainian public that he was there. But all that activity attracted enough attention that word of his presence leaked out well before he could get back to Poland, which was the original plan. Aides at the White House were surprised the secret held as long as it did.
Meanwhile, in Kyiv, many main streets and central blocks were cordoned off without explanation. People started sharing videos of long motorcades of cars speeding along streets where access was restricted — the first clues that Biden had arrived.
President Biden Just Destroyed Putin’s Last Hope
Other heads of government preceded him, earning deserved credit. It is an altogether different thing when the president of the United States—who is, indeed, the leader of the Free World—shows up. His words mattered. He pledged “our unwavering and unflagging commitment to Ukraine’s democracy, sovereignty, and territorial integrity.” And even more important, that the United States will stand with Ukraine “as long as it takes.” Democracy, a beautiful word, from a beautiful President. We thank you for your statement of defiance.
Simply by taking the hazardous trip to Kyiv, Biden made a strategic move of cardinal importance. (He took a train for ten hours from Poland).
The End
Fun Fact
Jimmy Carter may have saved a nuclear plant from melting in Canada! Longest lived President 98, sadly, the former President chose to enter hospice care instead of more medical help. Taught Sunday school for decades! He absorbed the maximum amount of radiation a human can take.
Categories:
cordoned, presidents day,
Form:
Free verse
After Bill got Brick’s emergency call about the new find under the Bywater bridge, he downed
his coffee, shoved his files in a drawer, donned his 9mm w/shoulder holster, traded his
Stetson for a NYPD ball cap, made for the squad car, punched the blue lights and headed to
Brick’s destination.
When he approached the bridge , the bus was already there and Brick was talking to the
driver. His car was parked slanted into the traffic slow lane so all had to slow and go around
the scene. He already had it cordoned off with tape.
Bill pulled up behind Brick’s squad car adding blue lights to his. Brick spotted Bill getting
out of his car and motioned him over. They both stepped towards each other after Brick
finished his instructions to the bus driver. When Bill first got to NYC. He had no idea that
the cops referred to the ambulance as the “bus” but it was just another colloquialism he had
to pick up on after his stint in Texas. .and here it was on the scene again. It wasn’t usually
a welcome site.
Above the noise of the oncoming traffic, they shook hands heartily and Brick grinning,
beat Bill to the punch saying “What the hell took you so long? You stop and kiss your horse
good morning on the way over here or something?"
“Nah, I just decided to take the scenic route. I figured you’d have this case all wrapped
up by the time I got here. …How in the heck are ya, Brick. Seems like I ain’t seen you since
back before the Alamo. What all this fuss about here?
“Well let me show you, cowboy.” Bill followed Brick to the blanket laid on the cracked
pavement roadside in the shadow of the bridge. Even before he got there Bill could see
blood oozed out from under the cover in a stilled puddle. Brick slowly pulled the blanket back
to inspect the victim while looking up to Bill to catch his reaction. “ Whaddya think?”
The grimace on Bill’s face said it all. He had seen a lot of carnage in his time but never
anything quite like this. He caught his breath and let it out slowly and quietly whispering the
words “ Holy crap…. It’s a butcher job!... “
(continued on Richard Pickett poetry (Taz)
Categories:
cordoned, adventurecar, blue, car, time,
Form:
Narrative
Fireworks bulging from pocket decay --
Mostly the boys; but, a few girls held rockets.
Back-in-the-day, when it was still okay
To stick metallic cutlery in electric sockets.
The four corners cordoned off.
Block upon block awaiting dusk,
Impatient for that fiery cough
Of blockbuster, gunpowder musk.
And so it begins, for all ages and kin:
Tots sparkling in volcanic river lava;
Adults ignite pails of every which sin;
Eardrums assaulted, nerves of java.
Grasping hot candles and crackers in hand
We, being dumber than a dead-end,
Tear a gaping hole in the side of a friend.
It was a good day -- until the end....
Categories:
cordoned, america, birthday, celebration, firework,
Form:
Quatrain
Penelope Alecknavage nee perskin whose death aye assay
to comprehend, this son of the late Harriet Harris -
November thirteenth 2016 marked her eighty first birthday
if she still lived these last eleven years - instead met crossway
where grim reaper awaited - though my mum sought to delay
futility to accept Pyrrhic outcome - homage pep rally
thru poetry n essay
writing, and finding cadence of words
helps me (with powder milk biscuits)
gather courageous foray
and means to grapple with demise
of a loved one, and hence my gray
matter sifts thru childhoods' end,
where remembrance of hooray
amidst claque of chattering aunts, cousins, and uncles
the fuzzy interplay
of Penny racing at dog speed across lawn of family home
cordoned off via a jackstay
looms in forefront of my mind,
vulnerable to grief most people sad - me, oh kay,
reckons cessation of life = equalizer of sorts
when significant person without breath doth lay
Tom foolery deft hands of motley crue prestidigitation
playing game versus sobbing as corpse
driven to graveside viz motorway,
where belief at such stark catastrophe - nay
numbness pervades next of kin survivors
especially when passing occurs pre-holiday,
yet no matter whence one departs
bobbing along River Styx to unreachable quay
mourning iz broken with nary sunny and Cher full ray
to warm earth, wind and fire - seeking soul asylum,
trying to blink away ill logic cheap trick re: acceptance,
but inxs of tears for fears begs scene 2b screenplay
not hard rocking coldplay accursed reality
terminal illness ushers helplessness cuz part of ourselves
agonizingly rent asunder, which psychic tearaway
far exceeds any physical pain, and will underlay
the immediate future, which bodes hollow
with the sounds of silence
despite informing musicians or veejay
to lighten moody blue -
boot invariably bono fide, green day,
Lady gaga emitting beat,
per the human league (plus the culture club
of heart felt village people affiliated with goo goo doll
traversing into nirvana)
creates clangorous discordant ringing
increasing nostalgia for loved one lost before yesterday!
Categories:
cordoned, absence, beautiful, bereavement, death,
Form:
Ode
Onwards men
Let us succumb
Like a lion with its pride
We shall certainly play our prey
Off we March
Into the fray
Hold your rifles to your heart
Squeeze and muzzle out your fears
Hold the line
Let's reunite
Release the gas of integrity
Let our quarry bleed in peace
Out from no-mans land to the Isle of doom
The Pen will prevail us lasting victory
Onwards men
Let us succumb
Such are swarm of locusta
We'll devour to all ends
Down we go
Cradle your Spears
Invoke the senses of your being
Crush, destroy no confessing defeat
Out beyond the missiles range through the cordoned plane
We Hum a hymn, our salvations whistle
Onwards men
Round up the troops
Sound the cymbal and it's tears
We shall taunt our ears with courage
Drop those shields
Vibrate your throats
Far and wide we'll spread these tales
Historical legends they'll bathe in our eminence
Far to the darkest dreads into the deepest trenches
We'll bare the boast and eternal throngs of peace
Categories:
cordoned, march, integrity,
Form:
Free verse
Couples desperate to gloss their matte lives
Hug each other in the hallway
For a picture baiting likes and comments
Before retiring to separate bedrooms for the night
Kids older than their years
Feed on the gruel of smart phones and tablets
Their cyber avatars cordoned off
Live parallel lives with integrity
Friends professing love and allegiance on Facebook
Sharing jokes and ‘Good Mornings’ daily in chat groups
Turn abruptly from ‘Milk’ to ‘Apples’
On chance sightings in grocery stores
Written on:03/02/2017
Categories:
cordoned, internet, life, social,
Form:
Free verse
His hair is alive,
serpents writhing, a man Medusa of the tropics,
as if he wore the demons
of colonialism and injustice on his head,
unforgetting,
a dung-brown-and-black hologram of
the ganja-fueled reveries inside,
the broken record of fight and redemption in his ears
masked by an ancient face, all taut leather,
placid with a sheen of absorbed light.
Bloodshot eyes, not insomniac,
but from the weight of things that, once seen,
cannot be unseen,
scleras color-coding history,
the blood of dead slaves on white.
Yet the heat-chilled island calls a daily truce.
In the shade of the commodious palm tree,
the bleach of sun cordoned by a shower of shadows,
even the gluttony of Babylon
and the promise of Zion can share a siesta.
Looking out to the silvering sea beyond the beach,
exchanging a patois-scented greeting
with two passing brethren whose hair hang like roots,
he puts fire to a fat, white-jacketed spliff,
herb smoke curling up,
rising,
rising,
a slow exodus up into the dusty fronds above,
hung with the fruits
of a tender mantra as,
ever,
the spirit of Marley
sings.
Categories:
cordoned, culture, history, memory, slavery,
Form:
Free verse
I seem to fall in love constantly;
Seem to find it everywhere I go,
Half buried in the sand, like pieces of fallen moon
Waiting me to pick it up and devour it –
To shred myself to ribbons from the inside
The serrated edges slashing my heart,
And painting my soul with bloody lacerations…
They say love hurts and they would know
But they are men, with hearts cordoned off, locked up
They don’t have my soft core of need and despair
They don’t feel the things I do…
The things I feel for you
Of course it didn’t come as a surprise –
I handpicked you for your perfection after all,
Chose you above a thousand others…
But that doesn’t lessen the pain,
Or the crushing sense of doom that descended when you left
And it doesn’t console me now, as I sit alone
Trapped in my tower of solitude, miles away from you
Not knowing if you could even comprehend this agony,
Or the way my heart glimmers when you smile…
For all I know you are totally oblivious,
Or just thought it was a bit of fun, a casual collision of souls
But deep down I am hoping you aren’t that shallow,
You didn’t seem to be, when you sat with tears on your lashes
Mourning the way life has let you down…
Or when I gave in to my grief and you held me,
Rubbing my back in soothing circles and murmuring your pity
You know we are two tortured hearts alike, mirror images
Your pain matching mine in bleeding lines
We shouldn’t let this camaraderie go…
I don’t want to watch you fade away or turn your back
Because I can’t spend another endless stretch of nights like the last one
Weeping into my pillow as I listen to your favourite song…
I can’t handle that kind of gloom, beauty and despair,
Not for very long…
Categories:
cordoned, angst, lovelove, me,
Form:
Free verse
"Write your dreams," said Carolyn Kizer,
(She, the wiser of our workshop fools.)
New rules for us, so I rise from bed,
still cordoned in sleep to record this one
of many in which you star, now far
away, to help you pack, knowing you'd be
back always, from where without me,
time took you. In the midst of this,
you turned to embrace and enter me
with such ferocity of passion as was your
fashion, anyway; the door shut against all
comers, no pun intended, until our first-
born knocked and entered as he did
that February day so long ago, and when
you were gone, he said, "I never thought
of you as lovers," and I said, laughing,
"How did you think we got you? by
divine design and direct intention. "
Husband of late, you attend me now,
it seems, only in the parallel
universe of dreams.
Categories:
cordoned, husband, me, universe,
Form:
Ballad
Children play on the stumps of the fallen giants, mocked in death by the glitter of disco lights and the raucous cheers of drunks.
Asphalt long melted round their dead roots where once they hovered over what is today the RV dump station, the lit restrooms, and every car and truck that ever was.
They stood tall and strong and bright in the sun.
Ancient even long ago.
Relics of bygone time.
Even so long ago.
The Ranger will tell you some nights, around a warm fire, on wooden stools, all about it.
Once there were giant trees even here.
They were alive.
Then men came.
Charged with building a civilization.
Powered by smoky manifest destiny
they toppled the great giants
to build banks, message parlors, and prisons.
In their guilt and because of the rage of others, people cordoned off parks where the giants are to be left alone to entertain the children of their enemies.
We drive to them in our shiny cars and carve our lover's names in them.
We record their many moods unknowingly in the digital memories of our smart phones, and share these images in our favorite social medium.
We buy t-shirts at the Visitor Center and listen to advice on which of the many paved roads we might travel to see them best from our car windows as we drive by on our way to lunch.
Back at camp the smoke of many fires makes it difficult to breathe.
The noises of auto camping drown our memories of ancient majesty and remind us it's time to cook a real campers dinner and have some wine before bed.
Categories:
cordoned, abuse, betrayal, environment,
Form:
Free verse
H-E-L-P!!! N-e-e-d s-o-m-e b-o-d-y!!!...
Spouse booby trapped husband!!!
Homicide courtesy munch
house zen by proxy
immediately suspected hunch
police, K9 corps, and ambulance
nearly lost their lunch crossing over divide
yellow crime tape
cordoned off homicide
booted feet did poetically crunch
while leashes untangled,
viz braided bunch.
Law enforcement officers i.e. they
Perkiomen Township precinct tidy
as... executive attache
case headed by narcotics
mod squad trooper Amelie
Beth knew address of scrivener brother
immediately quaffed mouthful Schuylkill
downing requisite with "FAKE" sedative cray
zee that seems giving
judicious punch to allay
time and again marital altercations daresay
put Schwenksville neighborhood
under immediate lockdown
Bay of Pigs in comparison childsplay
summoned rookies re:
instant karma coldplay
witnessed unusual display
officers, paramedics, and trained
German shepherds on faux pas did pray
(canines formerly under religious sway
nsync with neutered saint Matthew Scott
sacred church fathers and mothers
panglossian benevolence ne'er betray
loved spouting doggerel pay
Canis lupus familiaris obeissance
oh... I got scent tum mental anyway
kit and caboodle - women in blue,
plus aforementioned cod ray
regarding medical technicians
braced themselves steely, fiery, burly,...
former career recruits, thus okay
toughened courtesy green beret
fearless motley crew did sashay
gingerly, nimbly, softly... treading listening
faintly hearing sauntered without delay,
whence plaintive bent down on haunches
analogous to plie (plea yea)
including dogs ready to spring,
where overly curious inquisitive nee
bores asked to take selfie oy vey
afterwards quickly made bee line
discerning most strategic way
to enter apartment and rescue
a scene no stranger Giacomo Casanova,
to Rabelais, or Marquis de Sade
chaos theory put thru paces
mind boggling utter disarray
courtesy the missus
floor to ceiling clutter, perhaps soiree
gone awry with personal paraphernalia
strewn helter skelter hodge podge
bajillion potential accidents away
one misstep to temper and disable
garden variety trumpeting popinjay.
Categories:
cordoned, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Dramatic Verse