Best Sulfur Poems
Within the creeping shadows,
do you think you can find me?
Before chaos implodes my soul ~
I’m lost amongst childhood
memories, pounded to ash and dust,
clouding my sight,
as silence stifles my screams.
Whilst rivulets of water collect
around cracked soles,
cold liquid rushes
with each word left unsaid,
rising as foreboding
talons scrape against the ballast
stones of despair.
Spiritual hunger gnaws at my insides,
pain filling a closing throat.
O Helios Flare,
burning the crystalline odyssey,
sailing through sinister sapphires ~
I let my muse
spill cues of clemency,
allowing the salt of stillness
to kiss the bronze bones
beneath my quivering skin.
As I taste the f e a r s ,
the trembling turmeric
of the sun I once loved ~
soaked in
t e a r s of the dragon,
for you and for me.
Yet will the green-eyed gales
ever know, ever feel,
the truth I have traced?
The caged nightmare
that bound my gossamer,
leaf-like wings,
taming me to a gruesome game
of bleeding blame and bruises,
as though I were fated
by the blaze of kismet ~
to be the chained dreamer,
drowning in darkness,
choking on unspoken sorrow,
suffocating on splitting stars,
oblivious to the opalescent
shimmers of moonlight
singing within these vain veins…
So tonight, in muted midnight,
I write ~ and I weave ~
swaying to sulfur-laced,
gustless breezes,
all whilst the choir of dead dreams
serenades abounded hopes,
departed in fractured equilibrium.
No longer able to stay
afloat amongst raging riptides
of repressed trauma, I plummet
into the seas of tranquility,
hoping to emerge
b a p t i z e d by the
empathetic estuaries
flowing through heavens...
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Chamber of secrets
Locked in wisps of steel incense
Swabbed sulfur din
The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.
I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.
In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.
How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face
of eternities long time clock...
I ache with wanting, with need and passion
it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
when I faced realities shock.
Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
and make the broken whole?
I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me.
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
that so many leavings have left?
Cherish and love to honor and protect
but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?
I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
with the brush held in your hand
I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.
Internal rhyme
Imagery
Assonance
Alliteraton
Repetition
Synesthesia
Valley of despair,
eager, burns eternal flames,
delivering souls.
Loathsome lake of fire,
choking forth ash and sulfur,
swallowing the damned.
Cursed, unholy ground,
biblical euphemism,
forge of wickedness.
There’s no comparison to Nature’s Art;
It’s seen with the eyes and felt with the heart;
I see it in the trees and the ground that I walk,
In the prance of the deer and flight of the hawk;
The unearthly quiet before a thunderstorm hits,
The sulfur and electricity that a storm emits;
The mighty mountains standing tall with pride,
An artwork that can be seen far and wide;
A blank canvas that nature made all it’s own,
From the air that I breathe to a moss covered stone.
Rancid lemon rope squeeze
around a rotten tomato neck tie,
crooked odor bow hanging out of place
Acid reflux raisin tax bleed;
dripping spoiled, milquetoast lies
out a sour-twisted, prune puckered face
Tart tongue
sulfur speak disorderly,
dirty saliva fingers in the propaganda pie
Such a bowel movement disgrace
Bottom rung
bung opening vault key
Onion groans ... chittering fermented cry
Boot-licking patent leather taste
Smells like government to me,
corrupt as can be
Dung pile of voter promises,
sits atop a pungent idol landfill heap,
swarming with stinking lip flies
Smells just like reeking government gluttony —
O beast behavior ...
swine odor, foul as can be
Swindle spit vapors perfidiously wafting,
kindle the vomit pit
Sewage waste material ash labors fanning,
can you stand the stench of it?
Smells like dead paper figurehead
government to me
Bait-and-switch fishy business ...
close your eyes,
what does your nose see?
Tainted meat polltry speech,
pluck the purse feathers
off the cable perched pigeon bodies
Smells like government
is about to make a putrid, baked-in story
Made up facts ... maggot video feed
Stale, bureaucratic policy hard rolls
warmed over twice
Buttered late with expired date lies
Served with a cloying cup
of steaming sound-byte coffee:
Substitute truth ... false sugary
Toilet swirl coffin cake,
gutter floss the oral cavity
Bad breath vows made,
garbage hope nobody needs
Government smells
like a morgue dog in heat
Very omit cadaver, obit disgusting
Smells like
a pot of burning bones
on a boil
Bottom lip scum
rising to the top
On a truthful breath: Let me tell you,
it stinks an awful lot
Smells like scurvy government to me,
corrupt as base bribery can be
The lobbyist rats are scarfing down
the moldy green government cheese,
so silver spoon tongue greedily
Nothing like some regurgitated split-pea pleas
to hit the decaying belly ballot gastric spot
Can you make a federal case
of this rank-and-foul flatulent republic rot?
The nurse ordered her to push, push, push
in her best proper voice
and linen balled in red fists knotted
and sweat falls from red face knotted
while Billy, head first, tugged and yanked by nurse's proper hands,
emerges, gently laid upon the blood soaked sand
motionless in the sulfur haze, almost well-behaved
amongst the rifle clatter and bewildered screams -
get down! get down! get down!
while Billy breathes slowly, undisturbed,
his eyes closed with new mom
gently caressing matted, cark curls,
her fingers, no longer knotted, extended,
Billy's tiny hands and infant fingers
grip the plastic ribbing
around the rifle barrel smeared in stickiness that flows out
from below Billy and onto sand, puddling, his lips chapped and parted,
suckling as new mom exhausted weeps
in relief of two arms and two legs and everything okay
as she holds him, hurting for him,
everything that might happen,
everything that will happen,
and she drifts off to slumber,
mother and child peacefully spent
in soft pretty colors
and the soft murmur of the television as the sedan
with government plates at the curb
and a Marine in dress blues (Oh, God) stands plastic in the doorway
and uses his best proper voice (Oh God, not Billy, Oh God)
to regretfully tell her,
and uses surprised hands to catch her when her legs
regretfully cannot hold her
and she sobs on the floor like a mother who outlived her son,
exhausted as the day Billy was born.
Screw this war.
The piercing stench of sulfur and death tears through my nostrils
Angels of retribution spread disaster as told by many apostles
My flesh melts but leaves not the bone like skin encasing the sun
legions of demons surround me leaving nowhere to run
I pray to be lifeless not realising I hold no breath
The weight of my sins within so strong they deform my chest
An unending thirst for mercy develops that can never be quenched
my transgressions pile onto my spirit an I am now entrenched
I have become eternally comfortless as my book of life sealed
I could have changed my lifestyle but to late I have been killed
This scenario alone I fear phobically and so I attempt to humbly
ask for forgiveness daily to protect my soul spiritually
Sha'ntez Jefferson
10/30/12
Whats your fear contest
Her death STARING me down
Staring. . .
Her drooping eyes dangling low
Warm blood
COLD blood!
Don’t come any nearer!
I told you to leave!
You killed them all, one by one
I did it for you!
DON’T BLAME ME FOR LOVING YOU!
Give me a kiss. . .stay quiet
NO! Tell me it’s a lie
. . .
This must be a nightmare
The nightmare ends here—I swear
Hold me close and we’ll comfort each other
While they pass by
You’ll be safe, unharmed
And then you can run, you beautiful soul
It’s too late to run, remember?
I lied
There’s still a way out
You’re only giving me a shred of hope
Hope. . .
So you can tear it all down
Tear them all down. . .
We’re together. . .just you and me, And Nobody
I’m scared of you
What’s new?
Use me to save you
You were built to destroy
To CHASE
Run. . .run. . .I beg you to run
I’m not going anywhere
The pain has just begun
Hide. . .hide. . .they’re coming inside
Let them come
I’ll never say goodbye
You left me with Nobody
And Nobody is me
So I’m stuck with you and you’re stuck with me
I want you to go over there
Don’t look—turn around
They will enter me and you will see The Nobody
I’m not scared of Nobody
YES YOU ARE. . .
Run. . .run. . .please run. . .
No I’m not
Bodily odors and sulfur
Blood and oath—SUFFER!
At night, a huge creature floats to the surface of the tart ocean to dream into the moonlight, which barely penetrates the sulfur clouds. She sighs, her skin made of stainless steel is luminescent in the dark, her nuclear heart continues to work, but she is empty: the last restless souls have long gone from her body. She floats out of habit: inanimate things can’t dream. What did she dream before?
blue sky verdant strip
of land on the horizon…
she doesn't recall
19.11.2019
All About The Environment. Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
I hear your tiny fingers shuffle
against the textured walls, trying
to feel for a crack to slide into
and hide from the fact that you are
still too small to make big changes.
It is the same
for many, for most, that can not move
mountains or make headway
and simply decide to sit quietly in
anger and wait for anything
to cut enough to create an outburst.
I feel your eyes stare into the room
as you smell the candles cast the scent
of vanilla and sulfur into the doorway.
Welling from within, emotions rise
and fall with ears strained and weary bones
ready to stop and sneak back to sleep.
It is different for you
to be without a voice, to be outside
of decision and determination in these matters
of heart and home. This is hard
to be small and quiet in a loud
and large part of your world.
strike a match.
sulfur grazes my nose.
the flames tickle
the surrounding sky.
internal screams,
questioning motives,
FIRE is born.
smoke infiltrates
my lung and throat.
coughing greets the
unwelcome visitor.
FIRE reaches out
touches my hair,
eliminating every strand.
lesions blister on my scalp,
neck, and arms.
FIRE leaving its ugly scar.
burning flesh and hair
is the aroma of the night.
FIRE engulfs me.
We are One.
but through the ashes,
I rise again.
Self-Destruction --
and I remember
FIRE is an old friend.
Nippy brisk night draws a cloudless backdrop.
Fireworks and gunfire shot into the air
Whistling, exploding ka-boom, pop, pop, pop
Lighting colorful spiral flowers, there.
Fireworks and gunfire shot into the air
Smell of sulfur and gunpowder wafts through;
Lighting colorful spiral flowers, there.
Sparkles scatter, freedom about it drew.
Smell of sulfur and gunpowder wafts through;
Whistling, exploding ka-boom, pop, pop, pop
Sparkles scatter, freedom about it drew.
Nippy brisk night draws a cloudless backdrop.
12/28/2020
Example for Rhyming Pantoum
Contest 10 syllable count
Symbiosis
Sitting on that rock
Like a suburban mermaid,
You look like a lost girl
With a long sad story to tell.
So honey, why don’t we
Mosey on over to Wide-track Town,
Where the freeways meet in purgatory;
There are singing hipsters there,
Dressed in the regalia of the deranged,
Sniffing salt through straws,
There are ten thousand latex surfers
Returning from the dead,
Returning from their brief sojourn
In the distant backwaters,
The yellowish green sulfur waters,
That seep into your bare flesh,
And send mad biting impulses
Straight into your seething soul.
Ah, yes! So, how long have you had that…
Pardon me honey, but,
Is that a bruise on your neck?
Or maybe it is the love-bite I recently
Gave you, as we rode in the back seat
Of a lavender blue 72’ Land Yacht,
Spread out fine under a blanket,
As Broten, up front, steered us down the long highway,
Through a lit-up suburbia,
Like a chrome dragon spitting smoke from its butt.
Kissing you, honey, is a meal unto itself.
Like eating electric spit
With a dash of salt!
Now is the time,
Now is the moment to touch you.
If you don’t want me to,
I won’t…
Sitting on that rock,
Just like a seducing mermaid.
So, honey, what exactly is your story?
Why don’t we mosey on over to Wide-track Town?
We can talk incessantly until the stars appear,
We can watch the latex surfers find nirvana,
And I can give your daring thigh,
My thirty-minute love bite.