Best Tombed Poems

The date
July Twenty Eight
The year, 1914
The War which we feared 
It began, something we could not foresee
This date, still haunters me
To this very day
Those bewailing screams
And those traumatic scenes
Words to do not to justify 
The violence I've seen
Those images cemented in my brain
I still have...

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High home summer hill

Straining, sucking, sitting

Staring, stopped and stick-

A pit-prop tight and gripped.

The trees across the valley

Much higher than he can go now.

I pant to reassure him

In time with his withered eyes.

His tongue, tombed gritty green

He’s faithful, though he’s fading

Bones in death-grey jumper

Where will he...

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As we stand looking up from planet Earth

observing Milky Way so many stars

some fade, die, some gracefully dance with mirth,

our moon reflects, shines bright, silhouettes mars

Through eyes full of doubt, curiosity 

seduced by such beauty of the unknown 

Universe so diverse, infinity 

that's Unexplored, is...

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This is dangerous
said pirates to their vampire allies
about losing past regeneration fees
and bloodline contributions.

I'm being treated unfairly,
said pathological hurt
to self-redeeming anger,
loss of sacred winning patience.

I've lost something precious,
said virginal grief
and sacred matriarchal refugees
of WiseElder
wombed through tombed
synergetic loss.

I've wronged future and past
goodfaith generations,
said shame and felt...

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A quiet place where silence begins and anger stops. Tombed in a clever little spot 
where only we can enter. A barrier between life and a huge hostile world. a place 
where pleasant memories linger and faces stay the same. Colors are much brighter 
and...

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Regarding merit: absent, missing, void
Of all redeeming qualities, save one,
The apple of His eye, His "very good.”
Was He, in pleasant garden, much annoyed
When they His one divine decree did shun
To taste forbidden fruit because they could?
And did He not foresee that such an end
Would come...

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What are these days of mourning stories
I choose not to tell about myself,
my emotion-driven journeys
to windy hot imagined future
and remembered warm wet green
and impossibly resilient blue past
pre-historic paradise,
before people
and our mosquito
and cockroach
and locust
and indoor rats and mice
win/lose devolution issues.

Are these stories
whispering epic ego-passions
darkly overpowering all...

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Five WiseElders come together
hoping to complete their life circles
resonantly yin, right embodied
sacred light
resiliently yang, left enspirited
secular polypathic bright

Hearing emotions
before seeing to speak changing motions
of flow-strength, river currents spinningly deep
and winningly wide
to move Earth's deforested
un-glaciered mountains.

I asked them
and they asked me
and each other,
Would you have still...

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~Thy Heart~

To What Thy, . . .
To What Thy, . . .
Thy, . . . Wonder.

Thy Loss, Twass'ed Thy'est Attune,
Thee Loss,
Carress,

Less Thee Loss, . . . To Thee,
Evening Moon, Not seen, But not missed,
Colapses' thy, in tombed Glory seeking, to me I find thus
Amusing to...

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Zoya sits, now all alone, 
just staring through a window pain 
to where a pink magnolia blooms 
in someone else's garden. 
And all her dacha's winter buds 
are crushed and tombed in oil and mud 
where tank and track has churned 
and soldiers on their...

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An open window beckons the
silence held in darkened nights

with wisps she carries her tune
dressed up in black attire all too soon
tomorrows memories wake
terrified tombed to the stake

sing to me a sad song
where stars all weep goodbye
sing to me a sad song
where my yesterday's sullenly cry

last...

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Spring:

Genesis shod the tapestry splendour
  wrapped global in the skin of creation,
derma-terraformed rock and flora,
  beauteous beast, tempered landscape foundation.
Stirrings in the forge of tropics,
  in sea of saline and deep blue birth,
singular cells of life evolution
  and microbes ruled the...

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Perennial plants do it.
Possums we presume.
Those who pretend to die,
But found alive,not tombed....

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To What Thy, . . .
To What Thy, . . .
Thy, . . . Wonder.

Thy Loss, Twass'ed Thy'est Attune,
Thee Loss, 
     Carress,

  Less Thee Loss, . . . To Thee,
Evening Moon, Not seen, But not missed,
Colapses' thy, in tombed Glory...

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I pried with a screw-driver driven into a lid 
sealed with age, and rust, to crack open a 
callous retribution, set aside, tombed over.
I was curious to learn how much remained
and in what condition. Up came the lid with
a gurgle, fizz, hiss, expelled with age...

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