Best Flanks Poems
Out in the middle of a large farmland, I become a girl of old charm and unexpected songs again. Past the flanks where cluttered rows of hyacinths and ferns quiver, disarranged huts begin to shake as the rough wind wheezes. And on this late July, mounds of dust remind me of summers back in my grandfather’s hometown. Yet, a different vanishing overtakes me.
a season passes…
carrying all its flowers
to emerge as buds
11/19/2015
Creative Haibun Contest
For Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
A freezing cold evening
Where the stars shining bright
With frost blade flanks
From mouth and nose steam
In the clear silence
White untrodden snows
Nature's frozen pulse
Sleep like a little baby
One gracious moon
After the night the light is shattered into gold
At sunrise raise your heartbeat
03.01.2016 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
This aspect is succinctly told by, W.Somerset Maugham from an Arab tale:
The speaker is Death:
There was a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, "Master, just now when I was in the market-place I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw Death had jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture; now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me". The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the market-place and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, "Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning?" "That was not a threatening gesture," I said, "It was only a state of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra".
(A far older version forms part of the Babylonian Talmud)
A divine blacksmith didn't forge winged hearts of gold,
to soothe the burn of others.
Nor mold my body into a scratching post chant.
Where others can shed their dying dream ghosts.
I was conceived from the sable fingertips of Dali.
Flint-hearted, with a sheen of midnight black matches.
Straddling devil's dunes, in an upside-down desert...
My heart wields a wicked chain, with selfish yellow teeth.
It billows like an old factory,
discharging microscopic monsters,
easter island heads
the bones of carbon and oxygen
a pure oasis of death...
Ride these ragged flanks
eat the melting clock
roll the chipped-toothed dice.
Turned from flower to flamed-out rock...
If you want.
The battle begins with an assault on the hill
Our men respond knowing my will
The white warriors continue their drill as before
My men are confident to the core
I order attack on the right white flank
The whites maintain their tightened rank
Generals continue to deploy the men
Since the White attack, this general must defend
My right bank archers saw the chance
Neutralized the left bank Archers in confidence
The trench warriors were stopped in their tracks
This stalemate will eventually end on the flanks
The White General moved to his right
Surrounded by warriors ready to fight
A squad of tanks guarded his side
The Master General needed to hide
My main power entered the fray
The enemy King cornered in the bay
The battle continued action to action
General to General, Grant and Jackson
Both sides fought to the end
The White warriors had to defend
I saw the opportunity to be great
My final maneuver delivered Checkmate!
A Chess Poem
'Hey J-Dog..!' alpha squad's boss, a real character,
pointed an exaggerated finger at my chest..
Asked him 'yeah, what?'
'Your shinin'...' - Looked down to see,
a bright red envelope pokin' out my breast pocket.
Goin' on Big Eye patrol, NOTHING better shine,
makes for an easy target for snipers,
gives away your position to enemies unseen,
pulled the pocket flap over and snapped it shut.
'Meet me at Starbucks it's starting to rain'
my new love said to me..,
jumped into the truck and leaned in for a kiss..
put her hand on my thigh, with that telltale smile,
both knowin' it was gonna be a good night..
Back at her place grabbed both cheeks from behind,
biting her earlobe, a crazy she understands best..
'did you tell him yet?' - she fell in her seat with a bounce,
'I tried to, they're still out on a mission..,
so I sent him a letter'.
Three weeks up and down steep hills, humpin' an M-60..
felt like a year in Helmand province.. thought about her,
try to wipe it from my mind., gotta stay focused..
or you go out in a casualty bag.
Rollin' on the bed covers feelin' every inch of me singin'
two passion smoked eyes calling 'come to me now',
pulled off our cloth barriers to strike up a new conversation..
hands movin' on me and in her, loins lightin' on fire.
Bullets rained down all over alpha squad's flanks..
heard someone yell 'Jay get to cover!'
Saw his face in her lover..
as the rocket exploded,
sad look of terror, his mouth shaped in her name.
Just before the end.., he thought of her letter,
maddening words spelled out in g'bye,
yet still prayin' 'stay safe'..
stingin' still in the flyin' dirt and rock.
Feelin' that far away explosion all her own,
in that last moment of clarity..
thinkin', yeah..
there are things in this life,
far worse than dyin'..
your shinin'..
I saw her comin', guitar a hummin,
An' a smile on her face lit up the night
I said,"My you're pretty, but this ain't the city -
You're ridin' alone an' travellin' light."
She said,"That I am an' his name was Sam,
An' I caught him with some red haired floozie.
Gave his keys a toss an' forgot the loss -
Went to the bar an' had me a doozie."
Well I liked that tale an' since I'm a male
I offered to help however I could.
She laughed real low, said, "Wherever I go
I can always find some cowboy who would."
She smiled,"No thanks",then slapped the pony's flanks
As she rode off into the pitch black night.
I sat on my hoss and pondered this loss,
An' wondered at her travellin' so light.
Out of the dark came a dog with a bark,
An' a sheriff with a frown on his face.
Said he'd come far for a gal an' guitar
For she'd shot old Sam in a mortal place.
Well,I said,"No, - I didn't see her go."
An' was thankful she hadn't stayed the night.
He had no clue what that woman could do
While playin' guitar an' travellin' light.
9/19/2017
“I stared up at the mountains, and every beat of my heart pulsed for the chance to climb Everest myself.” Jennifer A. Nielsen
“Gazing at the beauty of Everest,
With near-perfect triangles of such height,
Takes my breath away, stirs my heart and chest,
Such a beauty of astounding delight.” By Author
*********************************************************************************************************
Breathless
Mount Everest rises in breathless awe,
A milk-white canvas painted without flaw;
From its flanks rivers flow, a liquid grace,
Reflecting sapphire sky in time and space.
Close by, fabulous trees with branches spread,
Stretch as large leafy crown above our head;
They whisper soft sweet secrets to the breeze,
A sedate symphony among the trees.
The blissful blooming flowers, gems so bright,
Bask in morning`s mellow magnetic light,
With pure peerless petals, a pleasant hue,
And dreamy, darling drops of morning dew.
Whole day, swarms of soaring birds on wings wide
Across the dark-blue boundless heavens glide,
Singing savvy seasoned songs in refrain,
Soothing seams of sharp sorrow, easing pain.
At night, the sky garbs on a pitch-dark cloak,
With dazzling diamond dust, a gentle stroke
Of cosmic waxing wonder, vast and deep,
While slumbering worlds start to dream in sleep.
The moon mounts, crystal clear, a pearly gleam
Illuminating forests, fields and streams
A sharp silver sphere, soft and shining low
Where streams of serene silence and peace flow
This sky unfolds in striking sheer delight,
A breathless, simply stunning scenic sight,
A sacred sublime beauty, pure and true,
Celestial splendour that nature imbues.
No need for vibrant words, the heart can tell
The magic held in the charm of its spell,
Our sincere respect, to Mount Everest,
Highest peak, where breathless beauty does rest.
Like many merchant vessels
That sailed from our Mersey shore
This sturdy piece of timber
Can hold its own in tales of yore
A dried up piece of flotsam
Washed up on Wirral banks
Was dutifully cleaned and dressed
And a verse written on its shank
Amid the other bits of timber
That made up the Black Pearl
This poem had taken its place
With the many flags unfurled
Everything in Pearl had stories
Of pirates tales galore
Made up, true or invented
No one really knows for sure
But each made up this pirate ship
That was not built in any dock
Neither wind nor tide could shake her
Sturdy on her rock
And then one day a storm rolled in
December Twenty thirteen
Unleashed torrential fury
That until then none had seen
Tempest battered Black Pearls flanks
Steadfast in the wind she’d sway
Ripped viciously at her robust planks
Sadly some things were washed away
One of these was this poem
That a little boy had wrote
Whose parents could not see the ship
Now at sea awash did float
Although lost in the Mersey’s waters
Both brown as murky tea
This poem on wood was never lost
Nor did she sail back to sea
Instead with the tides it ebbed and flowed
Liverpool’s docks had called it there
From where it may have started
No one knew or even cared
And then one day some months ahead
Lewis Baigent found sure fame
For bobbing in dock waters
He found the very same
Words still clear upon the wood
Not a letter out of place
The chain and rope still part of it
And the skull and crossbones face
The word got round to Black Pearl’s crew
The booty was held and fast
They sent a party to redeem her
To be returned again at last
To take its place once again
Upon famed Black Pearl’s hull
And stories, myths and legends
Will abound ‘til we are full
Of yarns and tales and stories rich
One greater than the other
Dredged from imaginations
And narrated without any bother
So gather round my children
Mums and dads and more
Dogs and cats and grown ups
And you loiterers on the shore
For what I have to tell you
Is not all just hearsay
This poem has ventured near and far
But has been returned this day
Let’s hve haggis and drinks mi luve
Find de bes ina de ole land
Lay yu head on mi chest mi luve
Whilst wi dance musik wid de band
Dance wid de band in de Highlands
Backyard jig good fer de ole soul
Tickle mi nose with yu gold locks
Tigether wi bade ead to toe’s sole
Call Fionn mi Luve with his jug
Nice poems he read at de gate
Summon the Clooties with a mug
Aye, they will cum and bles dis date
We’ll sail de river on Loch Ness
Kelpies will protect our flanks
Goddess Scotia says we bless
Oh mi chamin' sweet Sidhe, tanks
Aye! Mi sweet luve; Boobrie will fly
He will fetch up the Salmon Ring
And a knot cross de land we tye
Red Caps our guard til cum de spring
Then wid haggis and drinks mi luve
Goddesses'pipes blow dem great songs
In the grey mist we skip and dance
Then like Boobrie we fly with doves
Scottish Mythical Legends:
1. Fionn is a Scottish magician, warrior and poet
2. Clootie is a Scottish name for the devil. The name originated from the word cloot, which
mean a division in the cleft hoof of an animal.
3. Kelpie is a Scottish water devil who lurks in lakes and rivers and drowns its victims.
4. Scotia is a goddess normally portrayed as an old hag with the tusks of a wild boar
5. Sidhe (Shee) is the Gaelic name for fairies in the Highlands of Scotland and also Ireland.
6. Boodrie is a wonderful water-bird from the Highlands. It haunts and protects the lakes
and wells.
7. Red Cap is a sort of short, stocky old guy with long gray hair and claws instead of hands
and fingers. He lives on the Scottish border and guard the ancient ruins of castles
Dreams frolic
in the basket of the mind.
Like Easter eggs on Sunday grass
pastel hands for slowing time.
A misty- trusting face
just beyond the frosted glass.
A spirit mare with fiery mane
that licked the heart with lips aflame...
then backhanded
your naive face into the fangs
of loneliness, refrain.
In place of friendly smiles
were sirens with hollowed hearts, void of any grace.
The leather-souled elders taught you the art of
kneading hope then weaving scars.
Turning a room of bitter spirits into angels
taming the bucking flanks of moody stars.
The golden-mouthed flutist
whispers of a long- forgotten dream,
when ice cream trucks and noon church bells
flowed into the soul like rose petals on the wind...
When streams of angels waltzed with innocents....
upon a stage of gilded rosaries.
Now, everything is forever lost.
The flesh-the bone- the burlap- the silky sweet.
The heavy metal of our youth
minced into the thinning cloth of age.
Most every soul is gifted to the silversmith,
who forges halos and shimmering wings...
while a few are hung upon the tusk of
the icy, gray slag heap.
A boob man I could be.
Yours do titillate me,
so jiggly and bouncy.
The two of them and me,
a love triangle we.
But your butt's what sends me
skyward. My ecstasy
comes when I get to see
that vertical cleft be
creased horizontally.
Those two mounds' little 'v'
that sits like a cherry
on a Sundae ought be
against some law. A 'Pee-
ping Tom' it entraps me.
Odd parts entice. Dimply
knees charm, and those curvy
flanks get me all squeezie.
But you bent overly;
Wow! That's pure poetry.
*2nd place in F Hererra's contest 'Erotica' 11/30/11.
The night was strangely hushed and cloaked
by the clouds scuttling across the silvery moon.
The breeze made the night air feel chilled,
yet her flanks were covered in sweat
as she strained, muscles quivering and chest heaving.
It had to be quick as she could hear predators
for now in the far distance yet moving in.
Still she strained the legs and face now visible.
One last final thrust and it is born already
struggling to find its feet and be ready to flee.
Anxiously the mother licked and licked
stimulating muscles, nerves and blood.
Valiantly the baby stands and starts to suckle
its feet going every which way as it fights
for control over its unruly members.
Within five minutes its ready to run
its mother calls it deep into the herd.
Surrounding them with a protective barrier
Out of all this years Zebra foals only a
handful will survive and sire other foals.
The rest falling prey to Lions and other cats
the crocs too will feast at the river crossings.
The odd sickly ones become dinner for hyena's.
Such is life on the East African plains, nature
culls all but the fittest ensuring strong blood lines.
The pounding reins
Of yesterday’s tears
Lead me down
The dreary road of today
The joy I once found
Gazing into your eyes
Is hobbled by distance
And my faltering gait
Unbridled rides at dawn
A beautiful, insipid memory
Breakneck sprints in the dark
An aching need in the final stretch
The rhythmic rhyme
Of our ride in time
We won the race
But lost our place
Your crop too willing
My flanks too tender
Your mount is running,
Full out, yet you ask for more
(unfinished)
rlm '11
TENERIFE
Two lovers by the ragged strand once trod
the sooty sand; slender maid with raven
hair, fisher boy of bronze; the dazzling sun
a gold doubloon, the moon a silver coin.
From rocks, ink-black as witches' cats, they saw
the teeming sea; for Paraiso Beach was
cast for them by Teide's fiery blast, 'neath
Milky Way in wind-blown spray where whale and
dolphin play... Faceless fools from far-off lands
soon found their paradise. "Commercialise
then urbanize, the mountains are for sale.
Bulldoze, landfill, then jerry-build; sewage
on the surf. Roll out roads for traffic roar;
monoxide in the breeze. Machinery tear
at prickly pear and green banana trees.
Throw up bars and apartment blocks; bedim
the stars with flashing lights; fill the nights with
keyboard beat and dancing feet to drown the
ocean's anguished cries ..." Her sculpture scorned, her
flanks defiled, the lady Teide broods - with
hissing sulphur in her breath, inferno
for a heart. Such feelings pent, her rage must
vent to blast the curse and re-create a
silent land, where lizards laze and prey birds
ride the balmy breeze, while a ghostly girl
and fisher lad go gathering wild herbs.
cc CG
Teide = a volcano in Tenerife - rhymes with lady