Best Macadam Poems
The road
It stretches out before me,
the yellow center line
holding my attention.
It tells me that humankind has tried
and made its mark known and imprinted here.
But from the woods, the trees stretch their trunks angling across the tarmac,
A canopy of leaves umbrella across the lanes
dropping leaves upon the blackness,
The colors blend the black macadam
into reds and yellows and greens.
The sun etches streams thru the branches down to the lines
and flows around the bends.
the road disappears and nature reclaims its place
If only for the moment, the world is clean and pure again,
alive with living and life.
Squirrels and birds clatter in the trees and brush,
running and racing thru the leaves.
A truck rumbles in the distance.
Everything suddenly scatters
and man leaves his mark
yet again.
Categories:
macadam, humanity, nature,
Form:
Free verse
(An Addingham poem)
‘There! Where every curve
injects another memory.’
Analytic beauty that
nestled in verdant valley
allows the mind to review,
where archaic dry-stone walls
enhance the ancestral ghosts,
impeccable trees, nature’s
guardian to one’s heady days,
inscribed when lovers called.
Now historic brows lost
within the village face,
expressive meadows
from a bygone age did
grace now lay in waste,
every thistle upon
throstle nest cut down
and stone barns redundant.
For cement and brick
replace the gathering blooms,
fertile soil lay under macadam
and house numbers
supersede the hawthorn hedge,
and old ‘Bram’ on horse and cart
daily down moor lane
long gone and dead.
Oh. Them old manifestations
embedded, the labour
of many a village son,
where leaf and wood
do part but once a year,
after seasons of regrowth
give way to winter’s ascetic sun
that rolls across Rombald’s moor.
‘Oh. Yes, the sun, one thing
that man has not yet changed.’
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Categories:
macadam, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
Plain emptiness,
where I touch an ebony
diamond, only gives
me edges— wiped in my
macadam; heartache an
old rust from repetitious
beats
the faceted phantasms
link, perhaps to mask
their face— or mine;
light just off within
its sides— all my
fingers stream sanguine,
no fit for the hollows
on my face, madness
glitters— and so drags
my shadow's shadow—
like far wishes took from life.
Categories:
macadam, angst, dark, deep, heartbreak,
Form:
Free verse
With the onset of earth
man became birthed
perplexed, he pondered his purpose
swamped with wildlife
fish and birds rife
am I meant to run a circus?
I'll need entertainers
and animal trainers
a tent constructed of kelp
moreover, an audience
to add due ambiance
where to start? "Oh, heaven help!!"
"Howdy there
was that a prayer?
Please call me Master or my pet name King
May I call you Adam
short for Macadam
the nickname has a rather cute ring."
"Master, is my purpose
to start a circus?"
"Of sorts but not quite, progenitor ace
I'll gift you a wife
for furtherance of life
but pray don't fall foul of my grace?"
"Nice round to my buns
but I'm still half-done
my titties are dry and flat as a deck
no ring in my bell
nuts without shell.
Will my partner be built to full spec?"
Adam and Eve
were both naive
lacking in sex education
their juicy parts hidden
and some fruit forbidden
their order was tall: create a world nation
Eve, foolish girl
gave it a whirl
succumbed to the charm of a snake
Adam lost flavor
when he sought favor
she begged off; invented the headache
Adam had to release
his lust appease
sans sex dolls and movies tinged blue
a hard task at hand
he took a firm stand
the first argument ever ensued:
"Your sordid affair's
neither here nor there
admittedly there's a hole in my pride
at being deceived
but now I'm aggrieved
my own conjugal rights are denied."
Categories:
macadam, humorous, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
I dreamt your illusion
{In voyeuristic colours.}
Bedded down the rust
of wizen memories
{sun dried.}
Laid harvest moon
upon devils night;
drank vacuous images
it produced.
In the saw-teeth bracelet,
I read another epitaph
{and learned your name.}
A bible, sewn to your heart,
Kerouac’s roman candle
burned bright,
{not a tiger in sight.}
Yet you always purred,
so loud.
I watched as you
overflowed,
drenching the thirst
of arid admirers.
{Laughing at drunken egos.}
That frown you dropped,
landed upside down.
I watched as you picked
up a smile,
then wonder who the madman was.
{It was always you.}
Macadam was missing
(in)sanity that you threw
at empty spaces,
while trying to hide,
{in between raindrops.}
At least in tomorrow’s birth
we can douse explanations.
Categories:
macadam, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
a bar door is ajar, only fading voices
echo into the void, from nowhere...and afar!
Here n there, trash drifts
ghosts in flickering neon.
Broken, floating, bloated
dead down eons halls
a last of white.
Crimson taillights roar along
an empty blacktop...
Ruins of ages-lost buildings hang together
like frozen corpses looking
into desolation‘s aftermath.
This boulevard is desolate n oblique
as enigmatic engines park n die
on this macadam late at night.
Carriages lurch, coughs, wheeze
electric spark, circuits churn
something burns.
...unmoored from the known.
Something in death throes
as hollow oblong boxes
glide shakily to a halt.
A vehicle, an unknown thing,
a machine of divine madness
silhouetted against the falling ash of sky.
The smell of burning rubber
a stench of ozone, the cry of the void.
Drift along a wind-swept boulevard
as streetlights wink on
while headlights die
in empty skull sockets, lie...
A white filigreed smoke drifts
as it stalls and hums
sputters and dies.
A drifting murmur of voices drift
whispers of lives lived out swift...
Eyes reflect and dance in the darkness
over a vacant steering wheel!
Light flickers briefly under the hood
deep deathly hums fade.
Only the tick of a cooling engine
echos into the frosty air.
As shadows puddle in endless despair
something stands at the end...
...of desolations boulevard!
Categories:
macadam, allegory, allusion, analogy, anger,
Form:
Free verse
Stateless
…thatched houses catch fire
sparrow tires from romping in the coned-flower chestnut
tree
alights on the road
tires crunch macadam
sparrow perches on live telegraph wires
winds sweep the plains
topple high-tweeting power poles
sparrow haunts deserted godowns
caterpillar cranes tear down loading wharves
sparrow unloads wings on marshalling yard
trains shuttle screeching now forth now back
sparrow glides then tumbles in air-pockets
temperature plummets
snow flakes
magpie in the châtaignier shrieks disgust to the skies
melting snow runs down eaves
air sizzles with imminent
thunder
Zhen of a sudden clapclaps righteous terror
The Eldest Son of High Heaven has high business to supervise
tapeworms bore deeper into the ground
the cicada scarcely calls to mate
wet hungry ruffled sparrow
has no chestnut tree to go back to now home to transiting seagulls tries to alight on spring-green spare Pawlonia chockfull of crows
averts the mulberry tree à la feuille de platane
fishing gear lie splayed against the trunk
the dense dripping prickly hibiscus hedge
affixes
house-full
sparrow perches on the terrace rose pot
the neighbour’s Siamese cat’s ears perk up
sparrow rolls its eyes
April 24, 1997
From the privately-pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
macadam, allegory, destiny, discrimination, grief,
Form:
Free verse
Trailers sprout from desert floor
Tombstones marking the graves of my aspirations.
Tumbleweeds snag remnants of dreams
And blow across macadam prairie.
A highway carries hope far past this place
Of broken dreams and suffocating despair,
But me the mountains trap; they surround me,
And I'll not see home again.
Categories:
macadam, loneliness, loss, moving on,
Form:
Verse
"Runes"
All galaxies abandoned
within you dimensions
ancient and unfathomable
creating new raptures
borne through fire
a desire to be closer
to gramayre glamours
gedwëy ignasia
right handed
fiercely cast
here there is no element of water
though we flow like electricity
the mother and the daughter
All galaxies abandoned
within you dimensions
ancient and unfathomable
creating new raptures
borne through fire
a desire to be closer
Gambling with
Runes
(LadyLabyrinth/2020)
gvlm
“Bye Bye Macadam” / Rone
https://youtu.be/kfoJUeyMsOE
"She is not any common Earth,
Water or wood or air,
But Merlin’s Isle of Gramarye,
Where you and I will fare "
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runes
2. https://inheritance.fandom.com/wiki/Magic
3. ruins / noun.
the physical destruction or disintegration of something or the state of disintegrating or being destroyed.
the remains of a building, typically an old one that has suffered much damage or disintegration.
Categories:
macadam, love, magic, mother daughter,
Form:
Free verse
Stepping backwards into our future,
blowing into the bag of our achievements.
Fabric stretching reality; ready to burst
Indianapolis track of progression.
Conscience, hard wired from the system
and morality, a discarded well worn tyre.
Digging mines to bury nature,
while we sing a laments lie.
Wailing that our television dreams
no longer satisfy.
Rosacea landscapes “proudly” proclaim
testaments to our “care.”
While we machinate on peaceful accords.
(A bloody blade already drawn.)
Subfusc faces, in rainbow towns,
knock fairytales to the ground,
all wrapped in debts boa embrace
we wear our plastic crowns.
Hero’s come, hero’s go,
like ice cream around children.
Old warriors barricade park bench castles,
sipping 100% proof amnesia.
A generation weaned on high fibre ignorance,
apathetically observing Pandora’s box.
Glibly strutting towards suicidal genocide
beneath peroxide standards of progress.
Do you see the white flag of innocence?
Blowing in the ether of bull-sh1t.
Do you see the hand of hope?
Dead flesh from the severed arm.
Do you see the words of faith?
That fall so easily from blasphemers lips,
and what of love; a four letter word spelled f-u-c-k.
An enlightened people? We shield our eyes,
bounce from walls of our tunnel vision.
Forever throwing problems at the framework,
expecting it to hold.
The faster we run, the slower we move,
sowing dreams on barren ground.
Death; we’re breast-fed on its demands.
Can’t you hear the world screaming,
or is fairground music to loud?
Evolving devolution,
green-mile macadam,
we rush to oblivion.
Categories:
macadam, life, people, social,
Form:
Free verse
I ain't gonna brag, boast, blab...,
lest yours truly suffers demise from backstab,
resignedly taking wheel of our automobile
donning, (but NOT trumpeting)
role as taxi cab
shuttling the missus, (she effusively glad)
to medical appointment
me, the obliging husband
in order for this mister former cad,
debt, now an ordinary dude dad,
who upon snaking, crab
like sighing, shimmying, scooching...
thru bumper to (rubber
baby buggy) bumper drab
morning commute, which
snail's pace spurred shoutout, via ab
dom men null controlled app
designed by A. Habb,
which homonym identical
sound of descendent, sans faint jab,
asper fictitious Capt'n of Pequod
at sea vis a vis
if forced to snatch macadam landgrab
all the while aye spent gab
bing maintaining mindful outlook
for aggressive drivers,
whose cold icy stare
felt akin to painful jab
methought best not to "flip the bird"
subsequently get rushed
to emergency medical lab
avoided, cuz aye hapt tubby vigilant
for brazen drivers, plus additionally
keeping keen eye for police ready to nab
speed demons (mailer or female) even nawab
receiving citation for traffic infraction
and if repeat offender sent to rehab
with license revoked,
nonetheless a slight stab
of anxiety as appointment time elapsed
indicated by built in digital clock
no matter arriving after 7:45 am time
my de facto role as chauffeur,
the wife would disfrock,
but fortunately excuse, sans gridlock
did not necessitate need
us to return at later date, thus no knock
kin wind out figurative sails, hence
circumstance did not
find me laughingstock,
thus any consideration, asper myself
resorting to quaffing hemlock
unnecessary honorable sacrifice,
that versus engaging in lethal warlock
additionally compromising private uber
to give spouse coveted lyft.
Categories:
macadam, adventure, allusion, appreciation, environment,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Let me bash tambourines and praise the mind-body continuum
Grind out the miles, suffer the sweat.
Find me a hill to break if only in my mind
The foot-step's prints on the macadam
Invisibility obscuring the pain I must have.
The anguish broken to bits again.
My ears pop with the inspiration of all ages.
My thighs approve though my calves complain.
For a long instance my psyche melds with my physique
And I am one.
Categories:
macadam, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
Again and again, I scrape through the sand encrusted
macadam pavement, avoiding patches of sunken sorrows,
embossed in tv jingles, uttered from the lips of politicians,
grinning, toothless, at the wandering
immigrants, eager to find no home.
Against the soundtrack of minimum wage, scores
of campesinos work double shifts, avoiding traffic
tickets, the long dark hallway that leers at happiness,
trembling in freedom.
Only Sundays promise solace, playing soccer
with friends, the air biting with the coming winter,
warmed by bowls of steaming menudo.
Once more, the crows, perched on highway lights,
mock the empty alleyways, where crushed beer cans,
and broken tequila bottles litter the sunrise,
unwilling to quench my thirst,
…..unwilling
To quench
my thirst
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
macadam, political
Form:
Narrative
For much of my life I have been portraying
this seamless shell built just for displaying
to a world so intent on miming their play,
that reality’s bored, not wishing to stay,
and I don’t understand why it’s delaying
when all it can taste is a race dismaying.
Perhaps there is hope buried deep in dismay
waiting its chance to bloom and portray,
but with passing moments more it’s delayed
‘cos we are not fit to see it displayed,
and we do not stop and beg it to stay;
with sky tied eyes we drown in our play.
Like a junkie on crack with death we are playing,
waiting for the low, withdrawal, the dismaying
and nothing we do will keep us from staying
on this macadam of madness. This shadow portraying
depths of corruption, a negative display,
where tomorrow is something we wish to delay.
Now my cocoon is in shatters, apathy delayed
and all of my excuses have already been played.
I stand here soul baring, completely displayed
to the reproach of my maker, his total dismay
and no matter the remorse my prayers portray
his back is my answer as he refuses to stay,
so where do I rest, where shall I stay,
when heaven is a place trapped by delay,
and all that I was, in my memory portrayed
is celluloid guilt, constantly played.
A mirror of conscience, of echoed dismay
here on this stage of public display,
and now that my soul has been displayed
and the sentence of truth cannot be stayed.
It’s too late to wallow in self-pity's dismay.
To rebuild what was there can be no delay
and if I should falter, be tempted to play,
I know he is watching this persona portrayed.
An end to displaying what has been delaying,
the thought of me staying in the game we are playing.
To cease this dismay is what I wish to portray.
Categories:
macadam, life, philosophy, social
Form:
Sestina
Voices from another galaxy
drop hints about this blissful daydream dwelling I’m
obsessed with.
They douse the strident yelping from an unrestrained stray pup in my neighbourhood,
when it breaks clear of its tan leather muzzle with a consummate fiendish elan.
This happens when I stroll with abandon round a limp pale green grass lawn,
the type whose rabid cry for spumes of hydrant benefice is cruelly silenced.
Hedgerow choral bird chirps goad supple feats of trailing mental reverie for a wander lust psyche.
They grant behemoth powers, nether world cachet to float invisibly beneath rust sodden eaves,
a torch felt tar macadam chimney sneak peak when belching smokeless coal.
Cherry blossom panel tree house vision,
a tie cable mesh on creaky branch is quite the place,
refuge from an ancient era moss clad node awaiting blue jay flap.
To some this sturdy shoe box cartoon template reeks of animation stuck with maple syrup.
Mere desperado flight beyond an ice rink winter twilight in Ontario,
the makeshift skinflint bramble fire that barely thawed a frozen
infant trauma.
Childhood shriek and shiver may arouse inchoate recall of artic reindeer chariot adventure.
Mourning cloak butterfly aplomb, wing blown flit to deep freeze hibernation.
But alas this starstruck drifter seldom roams despite a far too frequent fictional encounter with earthbound migrant status.
Categories:
macadam, age, analogy, art, celebration,
Form:
Imagism