Best Remorseless Poems
How brave the amaryllis is
emerging naked from the soil,
an umber golden spear to pierce
the heresy of August air.
I am not brave like pilgrim bulbs,
though planted fifty years ago,
still sending offspring to the sky
determined in a hostile sphere
to brave remorseless elements
and kiss the hummingbird in flight
with coronets of newborn pink
that preach the coming of the light.
I am the baptist of the leaves
that peer above the April soil
and tendril hope in emerald verse
to cleanse the pagan garden dirt,
but only lay the nest of that
which must come later. I regret
I'm not the swan of human myth
that floats poetic on a lake
then sings my one seraphic note
upon my death. Indeed I am
but flesh that dies before the bloom
which glows an iridescent psalm.
8/1/19
I rise from the white-wine siesta,
letting go of the serpentine songs,
like a crimson-winged dragonfly
lost in the poppy prairies of Persephone,
untangling my prisoned heart
chained by the churning
deceit of Hades’s immortal chains,
savoring pomegranate promises,
pirouetting through petrichor nirvana,
as the sky smells like a saffron rose
above the castle of emperors
dressed in fallen flowers.
Yet the diamonds sometimes are
engraved with ominous omens
and remorseless remnants,
while I return to cinnamon seclusion,
dancing to the mood of my moon.
O divine dandelion,
in your eyes I see suppressed sighs
of a splintered sunrise,
flickering balmy zephyrs of paradise,
as my soul is tied to the softness
of your delicate dusk~
like a faithful disciple,
forever following your footprints~
while velvety roots of florals
face the glows of alchemy,
amidst the array of arrows,
left as ashes of gold gone cold,
and the gracious gusts of gloaming
devouring the unscrupulous wounds
of a fragranced dawn.
I am the aching pigment
in your palette of purples,
longing for butterfly blurs
to bring me back to a
kingdom of kindness,
where I’ll forever breathe tender lilies
rinsed with wind-swept wishes.
But amidst the clusters of jewels
and raining sakura,
tonight I choose to walk with
specters of scorching stars,
allowing curves of my scarred skin
to burn from the blazing breeze
that bleeds nefarious narratives
upon the bleached borders.
So watch me waltz into the
infernal waters of the deep, bruised bay.
There I’ll write an elegy,
for the sorrow that swallowed your spirit.
I will find an anchor to pull
you back to the land of paper lanterns
as I surrender to the
haunting hues of the horizon;
the sweet sacrifice of a beloved blackbird
singing farewell in silence
to save you from the devilish underworld.
As dandelion dreams
are designed in lucid lies,
carving my essence into wintry wires
of woes and verdicts
from the
growing vines of a
villainous valley.
I feel the blackbird weep, it’s everything
I see the blackbird quiver, it’s what you bring
dreary
d a n d e l i o n
Rich get richer as they
ride shamelessly over
rights, and equality;
remorseless profiteers,
reaping their lust for gold,
reduce the rabble to
rats in a maze of debt.
She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.
The ominous reflection of moon
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.
Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.
Her claws prophesy of vengeance
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency
for a soul's annihilation.
Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.
Leaves a’ rustling
So near to me
I feel your hot breath
I smell my fate, close
Wild
Wild I started
Grew too fast, too bold
Grew beyond myself, grown far too old
Yet looking back now
I regret, I fear
If this is really the end...
How did I get here?
My skin, now so dry
So vibrant it was
My colour now gone
Gone forever, anon
As thoughts peel from my frame
My solid roots fray
I glide through sky blue
I drift in breeze fair
I’m watching all again
As if I were yet to press play!
I land on moist soil
I rest on this rich earth
Eyelids heavy
I’ve found my last hearth
My resting place
My journey complete
My adventure has ended
I cecum to fates grace
That breeze was so sturdy
That wind so forceful
It carried me quickly
As if remorseless
Yet as I lay here
Thoughts are so peaceful and clear
I see myself, I see my worth
What I did to this world…..what I left in my berth
I now know why
As dawn becomes dusk
I’m finally satisfied
They saw enough.
chieftains trade their loyalty behind the clouds
high mountain king Carrantouhil commanding his Macgillycuddy Reeks
men of begotten rank, scheming skulduggery
secrets hide out of sight, Comeragh mystery shrouds Coumshingaun
flighty earls flee from the Lough Swilly shore
priests conspire, a king, a queen, a lord-protectorate exact revenge
imported evil stalks the land and soul of Ireland
near-on half give way, massacre, starvation, transportation and slavery
annexation by stealth, abomination
exposed Shannon artery, remorseless draining through lakes of tears
solidified karst corpses dissolving
into central mireland, ringed by coastal ramparts and remnant towers
turloughs disappear where the ground is leaking
playboys drink from black frothy pools of humour where the craic is good
where sad refrain gives way to rhythmic distraction
where song, stories, poetry, plays and dance merge in murky island brews
native chiefs are stripped of their Ulster lands
to control, anglicise and civilise a rebellious region
the area most resistant to English rule
official and private plantation, top to bottom colonisation
Gaelic hands across the channel disrupted
Scottish and English incomers, presbyterian and church of England
town and country, protestant domination
Irishmen uniting for briefest moments on higher ground
descent into cold depths of history
the Cliffs of Moher plunging from The Burren's bald barren bleakness
disfigured fingers pointing blame, shame and guilt
like the peninsular lands, Beara to Iveragh, Mizen to Dingle
stretching out to a new land of migrating hope
escaping hunger and abuse of long-robed men and women
the stifling heavy hand of implanted culture
two main layers of tradition now overlaying an unfathomable past
End Game
Daylight, collected by ancient violins
Breaks a cadaverous rhythm
From dreams of a crashing heart
And all encumbered the features of its crag
Rages pitiful
It is a sigh, which leaves the unsleeping cushion
To bury knuckles in tired eyes
Daylight
With the auspices of its vendetta hanging cryptic
In riddled made promises
By the sun catches
Nothing
The mirror in its jaundice of coffee, continues
And stares melancholy from its own reflection
Hangs bloodless
Daylight
In its search for continuum
And its succession to hope
Clings remorseless
To love
In a steadfast silence
Holds its will to its own faith in strength
And so anchored on peace, the day begins in patience
And cast as grain to the eternal dusts
The ancient chord of violins
With sorrows bow draws upon the strings
Of my heart
Daylight
And with its first thought; turned on love
A trackless wind scatters his mind
leaves fly away where no leaves are.
A hummingbird inside his chest drums,
the evening is escaping down roads
long plowed over with remorseless change.
It never used to be like this;
he had once been the bold pirate of his fate
his ship sailed away one day only to return in flames.
Sometimes you have to shrug,
keep walking around a small municipal park
until a parked car follows you home
The city will swallow its many tongues
then bury its hummingbird mind
until the dawn
retrieves a life once more.
My dear faceless stranger
No reason to mean so much to me
My defenceless heart caught unawares
By your remorseless charm apart
Weaving beauty with your verses
Blazing my soul with indelible mark
Consumes me within and without
Makes me doubt all that is familiar
If only I can be all that you ever wanted
If only I can be all that is dear to you
If only you feel what I feel
If only it is only you and me
But there is no you and me
There is you in your own world
Far away from me in touch and sight
Me in my own word as it ought to be
Be happy my nameless feeling
Sure of your virgin glory
Pure as only truth can be
Cherished safe till my breath lasts
Seeking patterns
Familiar environs
Sensory apparatus
Thus so languishing
In hypnotic stupor
Yet heart yearns for
Soul's luminescence
Governed by instinct
Fickle egoic attention
Having separated itself
From womb of God's love
Is tragically blown away
In winds of uncertainty
Of duality remorseless
We are where
We choose to be
So we may dream on
Or decide to wake up
Our life, our choice
Yet pulse of love whispers
“Oh child, please be still”
28-October-2022
A giant magnet for young and old
Its many mysteries to unfold
For dipping toes in ebb and flow
Revealing wonders deep below
Calm and still like mirrored glass
Then raging wild a storm can blast
Giving pleasure, causing grief
Magnificent colour of Barrier Reef
Tossing sails yet lapping the shore
Sinking ships in times of war
Sometimes dark, it’s strength foreboding
Tempting too but fiercely goading
A home to fish of stunning hue
Reflecting the sky in shades of blue
Underestimated in its power
Challenging man oft forced to cower
Innumerable colours of blue and green
The prettiest shells you’ve ever seen
Home to coral iridescent and bright
Displays of foam in whirls of white
Dashing the coast in waves of thunder
Giving pleasure, then pulling you under
A background for artists, a playground for tots
Sometimes frightening, sometimes not
Dividing the world in all its glory
The source of many a heartfelt story
Healing the soul when darkness calls
Noisy too when seagulls squall
Shattering lives with remorseless pressure
Beckoning man to false endeavour
A home to many all afloat
Enormous tankers, a tiny boat
Unforeseeable eddies and tides
A gentle sail or risk-full rides
Relentlessly breaking on distant shores
Enticing man for evermore
A means for adventure, for voyages afar
Under sunny skies or a million stars
An erratic, moody source of fear
Taking lives once held dear
A timeless home for hidden treasure
For searching men, unequal measure
Plentiful food for man and beast
A meagre meal or a giant feast
A workplace and a surfer’s delight
A vast beyond - a beautiful sight
A constant means for flight or flee
The amazing, unpredictable sea
dark she rode stealth into the night
grasping unsuspecting souls at will
flagrantly impudent and remorseless
decimating dauntless troops
she showed no clemency
under the veil of night
in muffled silence swept
shrouded death in full flight
while angels stood and wept
bereft forewarning
shells of bodies stacked behind
confiscated souls
how fleeting the illusion
when passes the life of death
(4 successive forms: Crystalline, Kimo, Quatrain and Tanka)
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on April 2, 2018 for contest IT’S ALL ABOUT FOUR CONTEST sponsored by BROKEN WINGS - RANKED 4TH
and April 2, 2018 for contest THE LIFE OF DEATH CONTEST POSTED AS VERSE sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSEN - HONORABLE MENTION
pitiless storm boils in the sea - heaven reign with mercy
10/21/2019
"When terror strikes you like a storm
and your calamity comes like a whirlwind,
when distress and anguish come upon you." Proverbs 1:27 English Standard Version (ESV)
Erase my existence
I break my own heart
until the black smoke infests
breathless lungs,
tortured by the taste
of soul’s inkless touch.
If I am your refrain ~
burn my name
into the pulse of pain,
I need not the sermon
for loneliness
as love asks me to
simplify my demons.
If only words could warm
the wounds I wear
like a warrior lost
in the toxic wilderness of want,
perhaps the algebraic angst
would no longer multiply
and divide the despair,
subtract the sickness
estimate the end ratio
from the sum of somberness
to leave and resolve
a remorseless remainder
too erratic for the
sapphire sigh.
I am an equation
without an equilibrium
measuring the metaphorical
distance between your
dreams and my darkness,
a shattered diamond
scattered on the tip of
infinite intersection of infatuation,
calculating the chaos
amidst your fickle fractions,
I wander as the unknown,
faithless ~ consumed in fears
like a forgotten kiss from grief.
So let the numbers roll numb,
toss a silver to the twisted
tower of garnet tears,
there I will forever remain
the quiescence that failed
to quantify quaking skies
of conflicted clouds,
carrying tales I wove
as if I asked for
this walking nightmare.
Must your hustling highs
see the muse of madness
losing sanity?
I know myself in this
mathematical mayhem ~
a variable without a value,
collapsing into complex
combinations of
constant nothingness,
a negative numeral
drained behind a decimal point,
a disappointment hidden
beneath matte curves
of lipstick lullabies
posted on the walls
of sinners and sunsets.
I never wanted to be the reason
your rhymes wept,
but I am doomed,
a jinxed Juliet of sorrow...
I could have been
your guardian glow,
glistening in confetti gold ~
yet, I am too broken
to be your pink-laced star-catcher,
it isn’t written in fate;
it’s tattooed in bones.
this is the sound of tainted trammels
releasing you from the
smoldering
skin of eternal inferno ~
pardon the paranoia
it's haunted inside,
this is my
island
of
s t
o r
m
s ...
-- Re: Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, Rue de Fleurus #27, Paris --
What would Gertrude. What, Gertrude.What, Gertie?Have thought.Have thought what thought?Thought thought driving,forward,remorselessly.Remorseless Remorse? Forward.Never reverse;no reverse.No.No remorse.
Remorseless,spurning reverse,seated.High!Seated high in Auntie.Then in Godiva seated. Looming.Enormous.
Looming enormous.Unsinister presence. Certain presence.Definite.Definitely not sinister. Positively looming;enormous in brown. Brown,
in brown corduroy,driving Paris.
In Paris,through Paris.Looming high in Paris in Godiva.With Alice,
quiet beside her. Quiet; always, Alice. Alice always.
And zipping, about -- coming to Rue de Fleurus 27.
Zipping to Rue de Fleurus.To 27. And Alice so able.
Able Alice, each a.m. transcribing.Able Alice typing.Automatic Gertrude.
Typing Gertrude.Great Gertrude.GeniusGertrude.Talking Gertrude.
Genius talking.Great brown Gertrude; Gertie, to Alice.
Absorbing, talking, buying art --- buying Matisse.
Absorbing Matisse.Showing Matisse.Banishing Matisse.
Selling Matisse,collecting Picasso.Great Gertrude -- genius Gertrude
at court, holding court at Rue de Fleurus 27.
And Leo.Gone Leo.No Leo at Rue de Fleurus. Not at 27
After Leo, after Mr. Stein, after brother Leo. But there was Alice.
Alice was there Among Braques.And Cezanne.
(Not Matisse.)No longer Matisse, but Picasso.
And Picassos, Picassos, Picassos!
And Alice; alongside, was Alice.Next to, was Alice.
Alice next Gertrude,Gertie, G. --- Gertrude, Miss Stein.
Genius Gertrude Stein Quiet Alice always.
And a great Gertrude. A great brown Gertrude. A leviathan.
A passing ship; a great leviathan.Gertie, a genius.
A hugeness.A shibboleth.But to Alice,
just Gertie.