Best Gnarling Poems
Wood sapped Energy succudancing up gnarling roots
grasping trees of life
erupt to full parasitic bloom
within millennial Great Transition
blaring autumnal winnowing of karmic stamina.
Fire brings full-flaming confidence
derived from summer's thirsty rain of seed-
recessing roots
plunging and emerging
rich deep regenetic learning:
Communing forests blanket mythic understories.
Keep going back, back further down,
before space emerged from tempered Voice
to once within our EarthTribe Time
when Trees of Life pushed out
from gravitas of boldly hidden
coincidental embrace.
Villages incarnate from fire-lit stories shared,
and love of Other
bursting nature notes
dancing Earth's Permacultured Opera.
My chords and chorus sing through ears
I hope to synchronize with gratitude,
sight with sound
becoming with being
longing with belonging
bi-rooted functions
uncovering emergent Tao
co-engraving information of Positive Teleology.
What grows primal
feels irrationally magical
crystal-fractal;
green-leafed anonymously silent saplings
waving from and for ancient cliffs of paradigmatic rock.
Stoned paradigms of ancient Orthodox
sing echoing synchronicity,
dancing rocks within my rolling mind
learning how to rhyme with age,
unfold color fragrant grace-carnating
Great Transition Time.
There survives a burg, strangled by,
A fume as thick as thieves,
Where soaring glass stalagmites screen,
The adroit aggrieved.
Skyscrapers and broad avenues,
Where vast trains shunt and squall,
Where soaring glass stalagmites screen,
The vestige’s caterwaul.
Where night tide is perennial,
The gargoyles chill and ward,
Aged curves and finials resist,
Thick gnarling walls contort.
Splashing, thrashing, wetly crashing
rages the rolling sea,
like a dying serpent swirled
in waves of misery!
Through stormy gales and black of night,
these sailors from afar
seek out the dim, faint, speckled glow
of heaven's Compass Star.
But howling, howling, madly scowling
swells the deadly squall
with spite and ire in its briny veins
to damn them—damn them all!
So far away from home and hearth
their ship has sailed the seas;
its men seen sights of boon wonders
with deft and seafaring ease.
Trapped by the foaming, deadly squall;
the wrath of the ocean
rocks their masts and strikes at their hull
like Neptune’s winged griffon.
Gnarling, gnarling, viciously snarling
the squall’s stormy tempests
strike and savagely beat at the
ship’s wooden bow and breasts.
Alas! Alas! All is now lost
as soul after drowning soul
lose hope, panic, and then perish
with HMS The Merry Troll!
The stormy tempests of the squall
sink, swallow, and devour
up all without rue or ruth: so scorn
not the squall's wrathful power!
There is a victory, written in the rotating of stars,
A victory of Spring at the death gasp of Winter’s jaws;
Yet as black toffee ice trickles from the black hills,
Like moonlit blood on the teeth of the land,
Clouds and demon rain shape elemental claws,
Ground mist and cemetery gas in swirling nebula,
Trespass upon the living world one last defiant time.
For the ancient dead can dance beyond forest barricades,
Waltzes of pagan discord, gnarling bones in gruesome poses,
And the witches, drunk and naked, arouse talon orgasms,
Impotently curse Beltaine’s advance and de rigueur hibernation,
They damn the virgin swell of the buds of new red roses
That will surely arise from their flesh made dust
Where lips, ripe with the blood of sacrifice, kiss the seething earth.
WINTER BLUES
A cold, rainy, winter day brings sadness and a blue funk
No sun to disperse the gray clouds of despair
I must look for something to do
to stave off the dregs of another Christmas
a Christmas that had been filled with the joy of family,
friends, carols being sung but now --- all gone
So why do I feel alone and dejected
what must I do
But wait, I know a neighbor who's crippled and cannot walk
I'll go down and visit for a while
and maybe just sit and talk about the weather
After that,there's Mrs. Jones over on Maple Street with arthritis in her bones
and gout swelling her feet, and gnarling her hands with pain. She would probably enjoy a visit
Then of course, there's Mr. McCord in the local nursing home
whose wife went to be with the Lord two days before Christmas and left him all alone
If I visit each of them today to catch up on all the news they have to tell me simply because they need someone to spend some time with them
These winter blues may go away and finally clear the air so I won't feel so rejected but filled with joy and cheer to know that I'm much better off than my
neighbors who have no one to show them love
1 January 2018
For Laura Loo's contest
red lights blinking rapidly
I didn't make the connection
as soft music floated unseen
from cars heaving with undulating motion
gentle, rhythmic, but forced upon
as ruby lips pressed into service
with legs spread wide, most welcoming
a toll bridge where the final cost
was negotiated and never preset
lying sighs to the different beats
hissing throughout the dead of night
expressing love, but was truly only
an example of cheap gratification
seen within heavily mascaraed eyes
wandering slowly, wondering about their lives
what story or lack thereof brought them to this
fumbling in the back seats of foreign cars
leather smells, the scent of money
or cows, depending on how they are perceived
of fish net stockings, with their scaly look
to hook ones attention, with come hither smiles
even in this seedy world are seen class distinctions
from the two dollar whore to the elegant madam,
who spreads their legs wide, while she reaps the rewards
untouched by the stench of leftover sex
that seeps from the pores of the overused
the numbers counted only upon her gold card
and the status that it so readily affords her
as her girls line up at free clinic doors
curing the diseases of the body but not the mind
what of the two dollar girls, lives exploded
in the harsh glare of the red light district
of addictions that drive them to sacrifice their bodies
let alone their souls to feed the hunger
always present, deep within, gnarling, crawling
an urge that never subsides, only controls
they no longer care of what happens to them
all that remains is the action, or as they lie
covered with another strangers body, the inaction
leading only to the ultimate reward of payment
yes, I visited the seedy underbelly
asks the questions and wondered aloud
but as I left looking back to see those blinking lights
I still made no connection to the lives
that are so sadly parked upon this lonely road
that surely leads to nowhere except their ultimate demise
Carrying the fever and heat
of love’s first flame,
I set out on a journey
expectant and anxious,
sealed and tight lipped,
all emotions bottled.
From port to port I journeyed,
travelling in a little love vessel.
What a heavy cargo of dreams I carried
with the scent of memories perfumed.
Did a black cat cross my path?
Behind all veils of cloud,
hope lingered
My spirit…. pulsating inside.
My senses….
waiting for the moment of beatitude!
Skyward I flew
floating through the air
to land, finally in your trembling hands,
dreaming of a nameless delight,
bursting out at the earliest moment.
With my heart beats rising hoarse,
you slit my mouth,
pulled my soul out.
But,
gnarling at my face,
mercilessly you tore me into bits.
and threw me into the bin!!
In the Westerly wind,
slivers of me flew about like ghosts,
unable to get back to their graves.
After whirling naked in the gust of wind,
pieces of me fell down one by one,
to lie inert on the ground,
gasping for the final breath.
Did the firmament tattooed by stars
mock at my pitiable plight?
Dragon gnarling gaze
The fire mouthed beast gurgling
Deluges of flood
And creation cringe
Before the broiling fire, razed
All things with desire
Toppled thrones, doomed kings
Mangled and twisted in wrath
Shambles to the bone
Melting citadels
Smoke choked lungs screams sin's silence
We crumbled to ash
gnarling branches are
grasping up, reaching for rain
in hopes to give life
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Nathan's "Skeleton Tree (haikus)" contest
7/3/2012
It was very cold outside .
Mist and fog engulfed everything on the earth
to be viewed by mortal eyes .
I was roaming aimlessly –
unclad with any manmade clothes .
Frowning lashes of tortures of the winter night
could not make me a slave,
to succumb to her austere oppression .
My insolent indifference to her pungent calamity
aroused her ire and she got infuriated
to my punish my audacity.
All her massive weapons fell flat on my nonchalant attitude .
I moved on naked ignoring
gnarling howling of the nocturnal nature boiling in rage !
A fusillade of sleets
with the speed of missiles ,
was trying to perforate my head with hundred holes .
At long last my human body
surrendered to the omnipotence of the hostile nature .
I took refuge temporarily ,
under the envelop of unconsciousness .
A new smiling morning dawned
spreading a sheet of oblivion on the earth
making her forgetful of the furies of the last night .
I opened my eyes –
gently unfolded by the soft touch of sunshine .
My unbalanced , morbid brain got back complete sanity .
Rejection in love turned me mentally retarded.
Dancing sleet rearranged my disrupted cells
to its regular array –
and my insanity got recovered .
I even forgot what happened in my past life .
Loss of memory helped me to start a new life .
The blue sky waved me a welcome journey
to my new phase of life .
A hilarious swarm of butterflies
whirled over my head to greet me .
The flowers in the nearby bushes
peeped out to congratulate me on my recovery .
I stitched with thorns the spacious leaves ,
collecting from the nature’ s wardrobe,
to sew my garment to hide shame
and set out for the nearest town to turn over a new leaf .
Hey bro,
Have you checked up on her lately
Did you ever apologise for what you did
Have you asked her friends how she's doing
Bro,
I know things are not the same as they were
I know she doesn't want to talk
But bro, you gotta be her shield
You have to wipe her tears
I know you thinking this is bull
But you gotta realise
She was busy with the sick that never thought of herself
And her shift is over now
The pain is gnarling at her
She writhes in pain
You gotta get to her first before depression hits home
Flame of life flutters, tide wanes sans reason,
Death drops shutters whilst life sinks in a pit,
The day looks dull, dark clouds when hides the sun,
Night gets moonless, cloudy and stars are no more lit.
Life's breathless breasts hide failing heart beneath
As if to mask a universal truth,
Creeping unseen, Death gnaws with gnarling teeth,
And still, the dying life dreams of her days of youth
And returns home carrying no suitcase
And leaves bare hands, all unfinished hopes hemmed,
As loveliest words get frozen on face,
And as some rarest poems may just die un-penned.
As some of life-long goals remain un-scored,
As one-sided love remains mute, wordless,
As life’s set sailed to float across un-oared
Lo, it suffers a new sentence to sail clueless,
Death cometh, two un-dotted times to dot,
To bring together two random journeys,
Sepulchral silence falls, church bells toll not,
As the air thickens and freezes, as doth chilled breeze.
And ye Life, like kids’ paper boats collapse,
Mere puddle it takes to soak it and sink,
Not a great storm to tilt as paper snaps,
Death hassles thee O Life to kiss thy own last brink.
Much maligned Death, thou art no enemy
Of Life— a darling friend of so many,
Ye walk with Life, so light thy levity,
And yet, for such largesse, ye get not a penny!
To thee Death, the morrow’s but next moment,
Thine future tied on a tenuous thread,
Ye live half-shut eyed, instant to instant,
And still, the last goodbye of thine is such a dread!
So, Death, feel thou firm as my fervent friend
Not to forget, we’re a Siamese twain,
Be my morrow till my life’s very end,
Together die shall we as one bound by a chain.
_______________________
Ode (musings) | 03.05.2012 | life, death
Note: the fourth line of each quatrain is two-syllable longer (a hexameter, with apology to Alexander Pope*).
* A needless alexandrine ends the song,
That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
- from his poem An Essay on Criticism
thee deep seated hatred gnarling
at ones soul beckoning eating away
of the sheer foundation of self
a terrifying entity alive and well
searching the innermost calm
of a peaceful being believing in
the purity of goodness only to
behold the hidden shallow virtue
of demonic human angst being
carried out between the realms
of envy curled up beyond a quaint
sudden rapture gathered above
a sinking notion of the death
of human compassion hindered so
to the point of no refuge from envy
forced to end ones on life in return
comes across quite appealing rather
than behold the mere notion that envy
has crawled inside the attic of your mind
hatred employs wrath murdering my soul
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
It was very cold outside .
Mist and fog engulfed everything on the earth
to be viewed by mortal eyes .
I was roaming aimlessly –
unclad with any manmade clothes .
Frowning lashes of tortures of the winter night
could not make me a slave,
to succumb to her austere oppression .
My insolent indifference to her pungent calamity
aroused her ire and she got infuriated
to my punish my audacity.
All her massive weapons fell flat on my nonchalant attitude .
I moved on naked ignoring
gnarling howling of the nocturnal nature boiling in rage !
A fusillade of sleets
with the speed of missiles ,
was trying to perforate my head with hundred holes .
At long last my human body
surrendered to the omnipotence of the hostile nature .
I took refuge temporarily ,
under the envelop of unconsciousness .
A new smiling morning dawned
spreading a sheet of oblivion on the earth
making her forgetful of the furies of the last night .
I opened my eyes –
gently unfolded by the soft touch of sunshine .
My unbalanced , morbid brain got back complete sanity .
Rejection in love turned me mentally retarded.
Dancing sleet rearranged my disrupted cells
to its regular array –
and my insanity got recovered .
I even forgot what happened in my past life .
Loss of memory helped me to start a new life .
The blue sky waved me a welcome journey
to my new phase of life .
A hilarious swarm of butterflies
whirled over my head to greet me .
The flowers in the nearby bushes
peeped out to congratulate me on my recovery .
I stitched with thorns the spacious leaves ,
collecting from the nature’ s wardrobe,
to sew my garment to hide shame
and set out for the nearest town to turn over a new leaf .
one day i will laugh
lines draw on my face
thin lines like cracks in a cake of mud
though not deep, am carved
my cheeks rise to meet my eyes
as my lips lay thin in the dry greys
an expression of great amaze
my eyes stare wearily out
in the deep abyss of nothingness
with a hunger and fear of the unknown
with the wisdom of the long forgotten
and yet i fail to see time pass me by
and i'm roused by that thud, a why?
gnarling thoughts creep in my mind
taunting me, crashing to reaction
still I remain
to adjust to my where am i?
a place defined by alien memories
and a maze of what if's
i'm met by a resounding silence
that sends shivers up my spine
dries my tongue in my lips
chokes my lungs...I can't breathe
my knees weaken and i know
I want to fall
maybe in my descent I will find peace
in letting go of that which haunts me
this web that keeps me dangling
holding on to some fallacy
a lie that soon change will come
that chance will not pass me by
maybe in my fall I will open my eyes
to see the world not in a dream
nor through the stain coloured glasses
I will see you as you once were
and i will remember how to laugh
yes! someday I will laugh again
(c) Moliehi Molupe 2020