Best Northward Poems
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A lilac endeavor
of promised importance
came strolling along
on a path in the sun
Its fragrance unfurling
this side of September
when springtime was singing
for winter was done
With meadowlarks chatting
in off color language
while watching the roses
now bloom by the wall
She fancied a smile
in lace covered cotton
with hair gold and windy,
the belle of the ball
I stood there a’ staring,
my eyes hardly leaving
the shape of her world
filled with raspberry dreams
Along an old footpath
with grass patches growing
and banks touching lilies,
all lining the streams
My heart felt a tremor,
like mountaintops falling
in piles of pebbles
and granite like things
Her beauty a fashion,
none other was wearing,
a fine velvet cloth stitched
in apricot strings
She looks my direction
with eyes colored passion
and lips made of honey
as sweet as the bees
Now watching her fingers
collecting the samples
of Ginkgo leaves floating
the back of the breeze
She laughed in the open,
a bright sun was shining
midst butterflies tinting
their wings greenish blue
I followed her northward,
my hand in my pocket,
then pulled out a poem
said, “This is for you”
An unfolded whisper
‘tween petals of daisies
now telling a story
of love or of not
Her glance towards the paper
was finding her grinning,
her painted toes tingled,
her breath just forgot
I melted like butter
on sidewalks in August
when feeling her smile
pressed tightly to mine
I guess in the verses
with lines penned in rhythm
she knew of my joy,
I had told her in rhyme
So now we just wander
directions that beckon
when autumn is sleeping
and summer awakes
Picking up branches,
like sculpting a sunset
or bridging a pasture,
whatever it takes
With overall blue jeans
and knees wet and muddy,
we tend to the gardens
the earth it does claim
While sharing our wine
with a cat and a moon bean,
enjoying each other,
now who could complain
Open doth my soul and thine own breath bequeath
for here in this realm of mine, none else exists
gage me in dear moon, for I hunger here beneath
the ribboning rays of blue, come be my Deist
Open doth my mind and thine own thoughts ingrace
for over there the world is whole again
no wars, no diseases, no hatred of men on each face
sewing stars on God's breast, let us whisper Amen !
Open doth my heart and through thine own hold true
like the northward river of cane that flows through me
keep me aligned to your light and I will never be blue
as long as I have you close, I will always be free
Open doth my soul and thine own breath bequeath
gage me in dear moon, for I hunger here beneath
Wings flutter
off in the distance
as I shuffle through these stones,
tasting the energy trapped in each,
scouring my lands
for my lost crystal,
that which can mend
what I’ve torn asunder.
In frustration
I abandon my quest,
deciding to find
my feathery deity,
the wind carries her scent to me
and I head Northeast,
diving through brush
and dodging trees
like only a Lycan may.
She must have picked up on my intentions
for I sense her
heading towards me
so I veer more northward,
there’s a place I know.
As I draw near
you can hear water
cascading off rocks,
when I arrive the moon is up,
clouds curled beneath it
as if it were a white pearl
resting on gray cushions,
to the right
the beginnings of a river
being fed by the waterfall,
about 80’ tall
careening off the three
stone outcroppings
and filling the air in the clearing
with a fine mist,
the left is ringed
by long needled pines
which have supplied the ground
with a soft cushion.
My winged beauty
lands on the third outcropping
whipping her hair back
under the waterfall’s edge.
I sprint to the water’s shore
and leap to the first,
as my claws connect
bound to the second,
paws touching
then legs thrust me
to the third
where I bring myself erect,
better to ensnare my love
within my arms.
As I bring her close to me
she raises her left hand up
and caresses my muzzle and cheek
with her claws,
I bend downward
and gently
sink my teeth
into the side of her neck,
she springs off the precipice ,
me entwined,
and glides down to the pine needle bed.
As we land
she pushes herself up,
drags her right claw
down my chest
and leans in to drink.
I drag one nail along
each shoulder blade
and let her blood
drip down on me
while I lick my claws clean.
After hours
she crashes down
into my chest,
exhaustion settling in.
I cup my hand around the back of her head,
hair entwined
in my fingers
and as she uses her wings
to blanket us
we drift off
into a pleasant slumber
while the stars blink at us
and the night creatures
serenade us with their calls.
born under the sea, an irresistible force
two bodies reluctantly embrace, shunting, shifting, tectonic drifting
alongside the southern Iapetus Ocean
equatorial deep-time child of Laurentia and Avalonia
journey northward, surfacing, submerging
surfing the waves again, a colder Hibernian dalliance
precariously perched on Eurasian plate
old bedrock confused, youthful erosion above the ancient order
darkness entombed around channelled winter light
early New Grange civilisation, the Boyne valley before the blood
river mouth vikings, raiding, assimilating
birth of the coming capital, eastern stronghold, Baile Atha Cliath
chain-mail Norman conquerors castle-building
appointing pious supplicants with sword, cloth, crook and cross
wholly unholy alliances unravel
rival hierarchies sharing ill-gotten earthly reward from overseas
saintliness, brutality, men and women
expanding Christendom, pagan kingdoms adjusting to defeat
Patrick, Brigid, Columba, Columbanus
Irish civilising roman catholic conduits, Dalriata to Lindisfarne
outreaching, a strand of Irish character
yet to encounter future revisionary metaphysical thought
protestant rebellion, mainland overspill
praying elites competing, preying on the island's god-fearing people
avian watchers on Skellig pinnacles
warm ocean currents well-up, catching the southwestern gale
enduring the ill-will of nature and man
supplanting, subjugating, saving souls, the power of might and fear
treachery within or well beyond the pale
fair and dark hair, ginger genetics existing on the edge of life
tossed thin people hanging on, many leaving
scraping blighted ground, returning to the sea, promise of the unknown
Death shadows, furious, frenzied, fought
Waiting for this wretched soul to rot
They redeemed me, tortured me, ceasing not
Crows perch upon my severed breast
Picking at the insipid flesh
Vultures of glee coo and ratify my rest
Love pierces my heart that is dead
Maddening my severed head
Feeding ones engorged instead
Deprived and empty of soul within
My ribcage grows bare and thin
Eaten away by my own cruel kin
Skeleton bare and scorned
Fowl breasts of youth unadorned
Cascaded in grotesque glory, basked and ever-mourned
I fly! Hovering over my body too weak
As tears fall down my hungry beak
Let me fly north toward winter so bleak!
The tears freeze on my cold bones
In the dark snow that blackens, I grow old
As wind, birds and corpses forever moan
Homeward north I fly…I feed
I, the coal-beaked corpse still need
To roam…to rot…to unremittingly greed
I am shadow, vulture, corpse, woman—all in one
Feeding on my own meat, enriching everyone
Absent of my own skin, the pain has just begun
For Justin Bordner's Death Shadow contest
Imagine it today
a rag-tag procession
two-three million souls
advancing northward
Mt. Sinai their goal
A bearded prophet
leading the way
leaning on the staff
he waved yesterday
When lice swarmed down, locusts, hail
Egyptian first-born at midnight dead
Pharaoh sent forth a wail
his subjects in mortal dread
Israel reached the Sea
her joy turned wary
trapped ‘tween it
and Pharaoh’s pursuing army
Then brave Nachshon
of Yehuda’s tribe
walked into the waves
setting the vibe
The waves parted
the sea split
Their path charted
Israel passed through...
You may not believe me
~ but I was there too
They stand tall like a monument, the wayfarer’s journey guide
Rough stones shaped into human form, the meaning to unhide,
Inuits first carefully piled these stones, the meaning becomes clear,
Traditionally “you are on the right path” or “someone was here”.
These unworked stones were used for survival and a method to communicate,
Mountain passages or an open channel, the stone placement was your fate.
A cache of food was near an Inukshuk without arms or one with anthers attached,
For the lost hunter in the Arctic, their beckoning and comfort was unmatched.
These rocks are used for navigation, the right direction to select,
They can also signify a memorial, a quiet place of respect,
Or mark where the spirits abide or where the fish can be found,
Think- the amount of information provided, without uttering a sound.
Winter 2010, in Vancouver, it became the official Olympic mascot,
“In the likeness of a human” is the modern meaning, now it’s thought.
I am no expert on these stones but driving northward, I keep a watchful look,
And respect the stone monument there to welcome you, the Inuit Inukshuk
Written July 30, 2011
For “Stoned Contest”
Sponsor Catie Lindsey
There is a place so beautiful I'd love to see again.
My dream vacation started in Madrid, in central Spain.
How I long to stroll again down by Retiro Lake
and see El Prado art museum. Then for old time's sake,
I'd find some iced “horchata” down by Alcala Gate,
and later see Flamenco at a bar where folks stay late.
Come tag along with me as I remember old Castile.
We'll bring potato omelets in french loaves for our meal.
In any one direction, heading north, east, south or west,
is something quite amazing for your senses to digest.
A cross upon a peak is near the great Escorial.
And Avila, by Romans built, is circled by a wall.
Segovia, Toledo, and further by the sea,
lies Valencia. That's a place I want to be!
Try the calamares (squid). I like it best when fried!
Oranges abound and the paella's bona fide.
In March , through all Valencia there is a grand display:
people burning giant statues made of papier mache.
Northward are the Pyrenees, rugged, vast and green,.
Sheep in fields, refreshing clime, and villages serene.
There's bustling Barcelona if we journey up the coast.
Farther west, along a bay in Galicia, I like most
a place named San Sebastian, a very lovely town.
It has some trees with tops like cute umbrellas upside down.
Last, to Don Quixote's Andalucia -south let's drive
where for centuries the moors' enlightenment could thrive.
Cordoba, Granada, and Seville we have to visit.
The mosques with marbled columns at Cordoba are exquisite.
Granada has a palace like none you've ever seen.
The ornate rooms and gardens were fair pleasures for a queen.
Malaga I never saw, but if ever I should go
back to Spain, that's a beach I really want to know.
So many different nations arrived on Spanish shores:
Greeks, Phoenicians, Visigoths, Carthaginians, Celts and Moors.
Iberia is fascinating. Its diversity
is so enchanting, it's the best vacation spot for me!
4/28/2015
Dedicated to Eileen who has expressed her love for this beautiful isle.....
Roman mosaics and Phoenician tombs
Byzantine castles and Venetian walls
Pine clad mountains and valleys full of blooms
Windswept wild beaches raked by sudden squalls
Vineyards lay across the land like green shawls
An island of custom and tradition
Yet this stunning land lies in partition
Churches to the south and northward mosques lay
A land in need of redefinition
For reconciliation people pray
.
The geese are in form
Northward bound, SPRING springs forward___
Loss of sleep for man
They danced and they turned and they tumbled
In wind, how it sighed and it grumbled
With force, how it howled in its fury
But still they bore no trace of worry
In cool autumn winds they cavorted
My foot! How they laughed and they sported
They flew through the air just like pheasants
Till set in my excellent presence
“Red Leaf,” quoth I unto the leader
“To fly, there is nothing more neater
But weren’t you the least bit affrighted
As thus from the breeze you alighted?”
“Dear sir,” quoth the leaf as he flitted
“To fear, for a leaf ain’t permitted
We’re taught from a bud in the cradle
That even a crash isn’t fatal.”
“I say,” quoth I unto the yellow
“You seem to be such a neat fellow
I wonder how likes you this sporting
Or if you a damsel are courting?”
Quoth he, “All this sporting is splendid
The days of my courting are ended
My lover has flown to the northward
While I am constrained to fly southward.”
Before one more word could be spoken
The peace of that moment was broken
Away flew those leaves o’er the treeses
Borne by the chill autumn breezes
October 25, 2012.
For the contest, Up in the Autumn Air. Second place.
While I was waiting by the peaceful stream
I was lost in contemplation and dream
I looked up northward toward the mountain pass
Suddenly a cloud appeared, boiling mass
Quickly dark clouds tumbled with windy throw
Purple sky and thunder crash pushing snow
While I watched the snarling sky wind began
Oh no, I must find shelter if I can
Replaced with dread all peace had flown away
There was no time to wait, terror pushed my day
Speeding down the winding path I ran fast
Was that a giant hollow tree I passed?
Sweet shelter that I’m looking for, I ‘m blessed
Though in the passing moments I’ve been stressed
On a pile of rotted wood I sat still
While outside snow began to fall, the chill
The wind was roaring stirring all the trees
Branches falling, blinding snow, would I freeze?
I’m waiting for the time that I can go
I need to see a break in wind and snow
Then off again I run, I couldn’t wait
Flying through the snow, what will be my fate?
Through the fresh new snow I trudged short of breath
Lightening crashed close by, would this be my death?
I see the hill; in but one mile my car
The joy, I’m safe again and not too far
Those big rolling plains,
as if the ground with golden sun is stained,
and that sky as if the oceans northward rised,
layed flat above:
the sky and earth are making love.
There, I breathe the air,
As if my final moments here, are laced with God,
a divine plot,
and the end is drawing near
Pellucid pearls in northeastern North America
since planetary birth
Comprise Lakes Superior, Michigan, Huron,
Erie, and Ontario dearth
Largest group of freshwater lakes on Earth
Straddle Canadian–United States border
tethering partial global girth
Constituting 21% of world's surface
fresh water species hearth
Total surface equals 94,250 square miles
And total volume equals
5,439 cubic miles immeasurable worth.
Lake Erie from Erie tribe, abridged form
of Iroquoian word erielhonan “long tail”
Lake Huron named by French explorers
for Wyandot or “Hurons” whence they did sail
Lake Michigan likely from Ojibwa word mishigami
“great water” aka outsize gold quail
Lake Ontario i.e. “Lake of Shining Waters”
shimmering like hammered coat of mail
Lake Superior coined from French
“lac supérieur” "upper lake", an emerald watery dale
Ojibwe people called it gitchigumi medicinal
to cure that, which might ail.
These five lakes each reside in separate basin
Form a single, naturally interconnected body
of fresh water caisson
Linking east-central interior of North America
to Atlantic Ocean akin to an escutcheon.
From interior to outlet at St. Lawrence River,
Water flows via Superior to Michigan-Huron
southward to Erie to avoid a shiver
Finally released northward to Lake Ontario
as like a well taut archer with his quiver.
The lakes drain a large watershed via many rivers
as an Olympic team
Populated with approximately 35,000 islands
this estimate not x stream.
The Great Lakes region contains
many thousands of smaller lakes,
Often called inland lakes undulating
in cascading analogous to a fluid ream
Lake Michigan the only one located
entirely within United States
While the others border between
United States and Canada – essentially a liquid seam.
When you get bored
Go at the edge of the Seine
Be the friend of swans
Divide some bread into pieces
To throw to them!
Don't be in charge of shippers
Letters remain in consciousness
By dancing northward
Consider bottles
Carried away by fluxes...
Never present yourself
Instead of others
Don't conform to others either
Rest as you are...
The art that is contained in you develops
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Impose your existence
Like a rose
On the pages of society
In the mirror of a page
And in the middle of a mirror
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Pretend not to see
The cold winds which pass
Near to you
Drink the sun
Dispel your sadness
Burn griefs one after another...
I cannot say to you " rest in the night ".
Hardly believe what you hear
Weigh all that you see
Review all that you learn
Speak of your feelings
only to those you like
I cannot say to you 'rest in the night'.
Üzeyir Lokman ÇAYCI
Bruxelles, le 05.11.2005
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick, 06.03.2006