Best Sinewed Poems
A priest once told me that the lump
on my hand was a ganglion,
a fortress of fat besieged by health.
At last it burst and the hand swelled
like an old man's,
shovel shaped and splayed.
It was her black pan, butcher's meat,
too many eggs; backed up
on a plate like silage.
It was her slight hands shaking,
the constant poking with a bread knife,
the endless journey to the
first biscuit from the pack;
a menace that caught our hearts
and buttered them,
teeth marks, crusty.
Moreover, tomatoes,
pulpy and bloodlet,
burnt my wicked tongue,
purged a shard of shame,
dare I eat a box full
bedraggled in juices
and spitting at the angle of a chop kept?
Caked at the start in the corner
of the pan, beached in lard,
over fried, sole fit, chewed in discontent,
longing for more
between the acceptance of juices;
hope swallowed with brittle rashers,
timbered and gathered.
It was the thought, the deed,
the plan, the wait and duty of it.
Potatoes, eschonced in the pot, sullen, strewn;
a flaky hand sliced them deftly,
washed the starch off and raked them in.
It was sausages, flame ripped,
dashed, blackened and wedged
on the barbs of the fork,
heaved in with fried bread,
salty with froth.
It was puddings,
sinewed and cut crooked,
corpuscles of grizzle
congealing the blood,
jaws working the skin like the cud.
Eggs like ignoble sea creatures,
speckled and stiff,
surviving on the rise and fall of breath,
morphing into another gender
or something to wonder,
to chew on, to mention, once.
Perhaps a bean to lubricate,
to allow a channel of liberty
but still reheated to a lump,
a thankless sweetener to a morsel,
not unlike news.
Tea, besugared and welcome,
a scald to erode stubborn detritus,
a wash to emerge from.
Between mouthfuls of talk we glided,
sometimes low to the ground
near silence, seldom
scuttling to any real height.
I suppose that was left for
pipe and ***, in the latter end,
when all offence was shut up tight
and we had regard again;
the smoke curled up
and carried our souls,
and mingled, indiscernible
and flowed away.
Categories:
sinewed, food, friendship, loss, memory,
Form:
Elegy
For more than forty years he mustered horses to the yard,
Reminding all the younger blokes “You’ve ‘gotta’ stay on guard,
For even decent broken horses have a spirit that is high,
And the months of lengthy grazing, can make them saddle shy”.
His spoken word was ‘gospel’ to the ringers on the rail,
As they watched the flighty gelding with it’s sinewed body flail,
In a wretched test of strength between a man and bucking horse,
With just a moment lapsing came a death demanding force.
The sickening thud of hoof against the now defenseless skull,
Placed a numbness through the ringers in a seeming timeless lull,
Some rushed toward their mentor, some to keep the horse at bay,
And every face looked grim as they carried him away.
Time can seem eternal when the basic aids are not of use,
A man is hardly breathing and his limbs are falling loose,
When the doctor is still coming from an hour’s flight away,
And the women of the station ask the station men to pray.
Throughout the day the horses wait beneath the bloodwood shade,
And ringers eager in the morn have felt their interest fade,
Their thoughts are feeling for the man upon a homestead bed,
Not knowing if the man’s alive, or if the man is dead.
Their faces gray and gaunt have their vision quite impaired,
As they sought their own direction and in silence quietly stared,
With prayers of understanding (that ringers rarely speak),
The silence and the waiting turned around their other cheek.
The hours passed to falling dusk and still there is no word,
The whinnying of a waiting horse is all that can be heard,
And the tension in the quarters caused a snap toward a bloke,
When the eerie still was broken by… “Has anyone a smoke?”
Through homestead blinds by shadows, steady movement could be seen,
The ringers broke their silence wondering what the movements mean,
They walked across the yard and heard the footsteps on the floor,
And every mind was focused on the opening of the door.
Categories:
sinewed, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
Blizzard, Blizzard Everywhere
Frozen branches scratch against the window.
Snow flakes flash like daggers through outside lights.
Frigid wind comes howling down the chimney.
Pine trees take on a wonderland delight.
Bare branch trees rocked down to their foundation.
Black sinewed roots hold fast in frozen ground.
Snow drifts pile against back doors and fences.
As more snow is falling, swirling all around.
The ocean is a pounding frothy mess
Colliding waves throw geysers in the air.
Dune fences cannot halt beach erosion.
Home owners look on helpless in despair.
Traffic lights shine garish through the whiteness
Consistent switch above deserted streets.
Heavy branches form a cozy arbor
In an attempt to stretch across and meet.
Commuter traffic ground down to a halt
School children still tucked safely in their beds
Thoughts of teachers, homework, boring lessons
Replaced with thoughts of downhill runs on sleds
Categories:
sinewed, beauty,
Form:
Quatrain
My veins now spill forth scarlet waters,
Rent by serrated silver teeth.
Like Her breast sinewed all life,
Fervoured my wrist, when She jilted me...
Repleted by once Her love;
Now became Death, a nocturnal drapery...
"My Goddess What didst Thou to me,
Lust priapic to Thine ardent ****?''
A sylph bewinged like an Angel,
That withered love infected me...
A morbid plume falling from grace,
The celestial eye ebonied.
"My Love; Doth thou not want me?
Hath I becometh a Daemon?"
...
No...
this blooded brine, mortal wine,
this etch on my pale canvas.
is nothing more but a single sign,
To pain's anathema,
-yet you my love...
Will nascent from my blood,
and be robed in ether cardinal...
My suicide, although it's sin
Will leave you happy with akin.
My body was a tumour around my soul,
but waning life, will take control...
Categories:
sinewed, dark, death, depression, emo,
Form:
Free verse
Creeks in your heart flower the moss that stagnates
blood is red rubied and frozen dead
it is protoplasmic is my guess
rooted deep check with floss
slights and rejects have numbed you sad
emotional rocks and hearty shocks
have slithered in snakey and they are sinking glad
poison is sinewed and wide spread
if there is anything sourer than sour
then it is you my lad!
any sharp look pierces in like broken glass
onlooker is enemy that you wished were dead
down eyed not syndromed so you live
breaths do come and go-life does not
violence builds in grey not escaping
though you wish with impotent futility
to give them all back
dear boy! hold on to all you got
here is another SACK!
over the brink and good gaud (with him yeah) solid dead!
Categories:
sinewed, life
Form:
Free verse
Olga Scheps embodies Chopin's Piano Concerto n° 1
For a pianist who ponders her prey
The taming arms-length erect posture
The torso and pulsating violin back encased in red-rich ornate coarse wrap
Nape muscles strung by swaying grace-groomed arms branched aloft
Pursed lips part for allegro romp
Tensile gushed groin screaming on seat-edge flailing fingers
Averse to sleek chord whale case under knee-cap check
Who is the Master of the indomptable Mistress
Does the script express and extend the actress's role
Or trundled chords liberate hidden Polish voices yearning
Cabriole on prairie pastures
The yearling kicking high on the keyboard
Startling the chevron-sinewed munching herd
Light lambs and kids throwing frolicking fits
Round and round the heifer humping high down the meadow
Stung to the quick half-recurring bars of the theme
The feline fauve now appeased by soft churning cuddles
Pages of screwed signals hung on lined sign-posts
Roused by nut-cracker knuckles
Flush out repartee collective timbre strings
Doused by the sweet-sweating triumphal orgiastic release
The wilful eyes of the hungry panther
Turn soft and pander to the prey
Is this when the poised moment of the composed kill
Misses the mark just once
The sleek black whale bears its twinkling teeth
in hollow rage
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Categories:
sinewed, inspirational, music, passion, sweet
Form:
Free verse
SPRING - LOVE TRANSFORMATION
His river-bed flows in love-warmed lands
But when it’s shelled with loneliness frigid,
(That isolation brings in empty hands ),
Then he feels the pain of coldness rigid.
All too solid is the frozen shell of solitude.
All too absent the emotion flow he needs
When heart returns to beating sinewed
Life, which warming water feeds.
Oh, let the spring come quick on winged heels:
Oh, let him find an overflowing love
Until his empty bed once more feels
The penetrating light from there above.
Then the transformation’s seen in him
And soul’s replenished to the very brim.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for Debbie Guzzi's Contest "Transformation"
Categories:
sinewed, allegory,
Form:
Sonnet
Xmas tide,
a time for familial gatherings,
The golden chain of friendship
…and companions
Sweet on each other,
parading arm in arm
Together to share a feast and gift giving
...Nativity scenes, red, gold, green
bells ringing
Garlands, wreaths, and holly
Holiday romance rekindles and
swindles kisses under a mistletoe
Lovers making love!
…A lonely time for others
She arrives solo, one link’s absence sears
her heart yet another year
Smiles seem forced they’ll think
…Cry out the hosts,
Drink up, plenty of champaign !
Chums come and go quickly
Good to flatter one in a funk or ho-hum
The dinner is served, everyone rejoices
Mingles and reacquaint
Toasts and jingles can’t take her gaze away
True feelings are hidden
Like a disconsolate widow,
mournfully she yearns for him
Not a soul to tell, nor a cherished confidant
to share a secret or a private matter
Of the sensuality of karma sutra wooing her gently
Mesmerizing thoughts of a distant lover
have taken her far from the celebration
…His sultry eyes, savory lips
Sleekly sinewed neck, and bulging biceps
Quite an exquisite exhibition
Into his warm embrace and into subservience
Draped in satin, his fingertips tracing her curves
duplicating guitar intonation on his
gears, depressing down fretted notes
Making sultry harmonic tunes
Counting down at the twelfth fretboard
Lusty lullabies erogenous, with more alibies,
Keeps silent not to arouse suspicions of
an affair's existence that shouldn’t be
She counts down the twelve days of Xmas tide
her yearning entails
love is starved at Xmas tide~
he plays keep away
Categories:
sinewed, character, christmas, lonely, longing,
Form:
Haibun
wiry wily
snakily snake
like a load of spaghetti
all coily not straight
roundy and writhy
curly with flow
like stringy all knotty
and cotton to sew
a scribble of dribble
all longy in length
and bendy and turny
beginning to end
spirally spiralled
wriggly and roll
wiggled and wavy
like a zigzaggy pole
snakey and snakile
like an old twisty loop
sinewed and mazy
or ouroboros hoop
so anyway a snake
a snake anyway
did I mention a snake
I think I did say
Categories:
sinewed, animal, dedication, imagery, nature,
Form:
Light Verse
Oh come with me ye boys and girls;
And what stops, I ask, the youth and the old?
Come ye of all age and gender,
I'll lead you to magic, wonders untold.
I lead you deep into woods, dreary and dark,
And moss-laid meadows by a rill and a brook,
Where dragons and demons cast their fiery spell,
Great venturings into quests are undertook.
Did you summon up fairies, is that your wish?
Or perhaps sinewed heroes, comely maidens you'd like.
I'll give them all, and some more, if that's your wish,
Perhap's you'd like some Zen, linked with maintaining your bike.
Most splendorous are my realms, on Earth and afar,
From dark Styx to Elysium, Valhalla's Halls,
To Barsoom and beyond to Syrius, and Dog,
I'll take you through great deserts, through Poseidon's squalls.
Or perhaps you'd prefer to hear from wizened old sages,
Of wisdom, of life, of what awaits you in the pale,
Or some sagas of survival, of heroic strife,
Maybe you want the telling of whodunnit tales.
I'll get tired of the telling, leave plenty unsaid
But you're sure to be richer by the tales in my book
I ask of you nothing, neither fee nor a price,
Just cosily curl with a tome in your favourite nook.
15 Apr 2016
Categories:
sinewed, books, fantasy,
Form:
Quatrain
BEGIN
AGAIN
It all began
with a torch,
then a touch:
—from pale, lustful glances—
—of a burning desire—
—to muscles sinewed—
…then the whining
of an unwanted child…
Brother Sole!
You've abandoned your role
because you let your pole
lure you into the hole
that hollowed your whole
life.
Begin again…
©Angel Simon 2013
Categories:
sinewed, desire
Form:
Free verse
Time will catch us by surprise, reach out with greedy talons
scratching moments from our eyes. Bucolic broccoli lives.
Born again Christians, prophets all. Born again
And again and again. Each measured moment chosen
With which crier’s call. Moments laid by each to waste
unseen, unused, unanswered. Gone. Contents never faced.
No touch opened such as this one gift embraced. Alive.
Dripping in remission. This world was taught to us.
How to live, was not.
Cheeks touched or brushed with gnarled, sinewed hand of God,
Walking in fields of flowing wheat between each downy hair
On each surrendered arm a soothing voice, alluding voice
Softly walking long through single minds
Embracing flowered memories Son and He and We entwined.
Touched in mornings when the body’s most alive.
Held in evenings when the fragile soul can least survive.
Reached with broken arms and stunted thoughts,
Impaled on jagged edge of broken spirits
Holiness escapes us as a frigid death
Each life from all is torn by silenced breath.
Wiser men too soon become our younger Gods,
And we will make this new life work
Because it is the only one we have.
Categories:
sinewed, america, angst, culture, faith,
Form:
Prose Poetry
mohair grips
as certainty slips
away beneath the covers
blanket
heavy as sleep
recedes
sinewed lovers
breath
escapes blush lips
sense
fingertips
hush
touch lingers
caressing
fingers
Categories:
sinewed, kiss, love, passion, winter,
Form:
Free verse
The tanned brown leather is stretched impossibly taut atop the battle drums.
A thousand sinewed warriors beat their war cries as one.
The thunderous pounding echoes across the African plain
That’s my heart when I hear your name.
An expanse of wildflowers as far as the eye can see,
Hues of purple, red ,orange and green.
Silver Waters cascade into pools of aquamarine.
I am lost , spellbound in that ethereal place,
Every time I see your face.
The winds gather and the gales blow hard,
The lightening strikes illuminate the dark,
The Sea has no mercy as the maelstrom rips,
Tossed about, the seas flood the ships,
That’s how I feel when I kiss your lips.
Categories:
sinewed, love,
Form:
Kaleidoscopic optic, nervous eyes;
Blinking disbelief while dropping
Moisture-laden kisses.
Each one misses.
Sorrow such an individual thing.
Truth be said,
There are places that it cannot go.
We cannot go.
No one can go.
Until they go.
That is when all barriers collapse.
Mighty sinewed synapses
Coagulate no more.
All are sprung as spring
With no more traps.
All are papered to the wall.
All is as before,
Between the sex and naps.
This manufactured mill
Will spit and spill,
Toil and kill,
Leave its mark upon this soiled rug.
A hound in heat.
Windowless, stenching odor;
Crawling, Clawing,
Outwitting air, displacing care,
Releasing coiled form
To strike a soul.
Reminding you
To take your pill,
Eat your fill,
pick up all you spill.
Stand outside your head for just a moment.
Feel the life that’s bled from you.
The morsels that are fed to you
Envy for a bread that’s new.
Waiting to seize a prize you never knew
Existed.
You are the smoke that others of your tribe
Insisted,
must be true.
Each of you is you.
Smoke reflected in the mirror.
One and Only Holy Terror
All your nightmares dream of;
The other side of love.
Categories:
sinewed, abortion,
Form:
Prose Poetry