Best Wielded Poems

Long gone are the golden
Dusty days!
Where once, like Blazons
On Armorial Shields,
The gathered bronze sheaths 
stood -
Cut through at the stalk...
Raised from time honoured
swathes.

Burnished like brushed...

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he crafted word ...
all plucked delicately
like the petals pulled for a vinok
precious and pink and pulpy
wove them, giv'n a similar grace
not for vanity, mind you...

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It was the spring of ‘74 when my student peers and I
were on the tail end of a group excursion  
through southern Spain, across...

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A sword of the heavens did glean

From railings and arbors 
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain

Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
 left...

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now ...

dance for me …
eyes of polished onyx pierce
me like the keen edge of a scalpel,
deftly wielded ...
the blood of my black
heart flowing in and...

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~ Her love abloom fell blinded in the bliss
of one thought gentle in its callow prime,
and if she felt one inkling of amiss,
a thwarted tempest...

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Genesis 0:0
'Before the beginning, God saw that the expanse was vast,
and in its vastness it was empty and still,
and it saddened him, and bored him...

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Death has come this year; still it comes, ever creeping.
It comes for others in my life and in my family.
To one who wielded great control,...

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Above all else
A daughter 
wants to be seen……by her mother

There are small big things
That are said
That are done
Those disapproving glances
Tiny big criticisms
The imperceptible monumental moments
The...

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Horrible, my map upended our time with boot camp son.
Horrible to get back to base, not be caught, had to run.

Horrible, to see Mom hurried...

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I was punctured by punctuations
The words you wielded with such disdain
A ravenous revolutionary
Pitilessly piercing deep into my vein

I pretended such positivity 
Holding happy forward as...

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Misleading, minacious maze now thwarted,
eschews stealth as sandal-clad steps resound.
Determined and dour, destiny draws near;
completing this quest: forever renowned.

Stygian sky grants a much-welcomed boon:
conformable clouds...

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Like anything
There are two edges to this sword
The ragged one has, for now, cut too deeply
The reality of its cleaving
And the intent of the hand...

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I strolled through the local cemetery the other day
And here are some epitaphs I observed along the way:

Cletus O'Toole lies herein
Too much boozing done him...

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The pen

The pen that hoards ten thousand words,
 seeks only guiding hand
To spill it’s blood on virgin page,
 like entrails in the sand
For thus the...

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