waves crash and tumble
washing feet in sifting sand
my mind drifts to hush
thoughts dissolve in frothing foam—
I'm emptied of all burdens
for this brief moment
I'm at peace, sublime, profound
wrapped in the soft surge
before undertow returns—
dragging me below again
yet if I give in
let the current carry me
not fight its embrace
it cradles me in its foam —
to drift alone in its stride
sea and self converge
with no edge lying between
woe betide and me —
I can uncover and learn
that I and water are one
Allusions lead to absence?
Believe it, sir and ma'am.
Hold the door? Then get ye hence?
Why the constant slam?
Truth be told, the terror tells.
Tollbooth of the dead.
Nebula, will-o-the-wells.
Stray to look ahead...
Young the yellow yearling?
It's right there in his name.
Hornets, honeybees. Same sting?
Stake it on thy claim.
Frame of usual story?
O kindness, are you real?
Would if could, morning glory?
Flicker as ye feel!
Unity the ugly damn?
Indeed. That's been true.
Summertime, the crowds thin. Ham?
Blow away the blue.
Hated is the world outside!
Woe betide, landslide.
Pace of poet, poison plied.
How the cockerels chide...
Trickle, river fickle.
Step lively by the side.
Fate, thy strictures tickle!
Hell, Heaven, woe betide!
Wind atop the high cliff wall?
Funeral, thy pall.
Cherry blossoms, heft to haul.
End Times, give a call...
Thunderbolt, hover above.
Levee, fail to hold.
Fit, misfortune! O my glove!
Coals within, glow gold...
Will of human beings?
It must not have the clout.
Everybody, pack thy things!
Doubt, begin thy bout!
Ruin, cover all our world.
Dim hope, flee from here.
Dark fire, lava, how you hurled!
Grind them, O my gear...
Ravine out back, what to pack?
Stuff it in a crack!
Failure, will you? Fade to black?
Turn about and tack!
Sullen honeysuckle?
How better to make wine?
Bridge, beneath their feet buckle!
Doom, undying dine...
Young Mirran lived in Calder wood
all of her spells were for the good
in helping out where e’er she could
But Mirran had a plan
And oft times she would sit and brood
about a mortal man
‘It’s not allowed,’ the elves all cried
‘Against our law, and woe betide
a witch who’d wish to be the bride
of mortal human men.
The bell will ring like you have died
and what will you do then?’
Her case was heard and tossed about
The coven’s vote... to cast her out,
No more a welcome here about
Bold Mirran must be gone.
‘Close the book,’ went up the shout
and so the deed was done
‘We must ring the bell, close the book,
douse the candle,’ declared the rook
The hills around in anger shook
for Mirran was revered
but none would brave the Wizard’s look
his power ever feared
With no more magic in her spell
And fear to hear the tolling bell
young Mirran left sweet Calder dell
in sadness to depart
But mother blessed and wished her well
and peace came to her heart
So light the candle and rejoice
The man she wed was Mirran’s choice
Fulfilled with love we hear her voice
She sings so soft and sweet
A song of thanks, rejoice, rejoice
Her mortal life complete
Such great insight, from Ezra Pound.'
Concise; and yet? Fantastic.!
Truly sound' at this current time he is
Fully in stride, voicing all the insanitys.'
So should we? ignore him?
Then its 'woe betide.!
She took long strides by the seaside,
Weary and world-worried, she cried,
The waves crashed in a misty roar,
Etching frowns in a frothy hoar,
She wondered at what would betide;
The sound of guitar by her side,
Made her sigh and seem surprise-eyed,
The smell of lilacs came to fore -
She took long strides;
Afraid now, she wanted to hide,
But sudden slumber made her slide,
There she lay alone on the shore,
When she stirred, her strength did restore,
Troubles did cajole her no more,
She took long strides.
gather wares for market day
and cauldrons of the land
baneful stock for the boiling pot
before the evening’s end
tankards spill and taverns heave
upon these Beltane days
see magic folk and sorcerers
on an otherwise malaise
then pack the carts and disappear
before the robin sees
and woe betide the straddlers
caught there on Gallows’ Eve
O Captain! my Captain!
In the face of darkness and despair,
I stand tall with unwavering might.
With courage and strength, I declare,
I fear no hardship, no fright.
Through the storms of life, I stride,
With a heart filled with determination.
No matter what may betide,
I am the master of my creation.
The horrors that may come my way,
These are but challenges for me to overcome.
I embrace them without dismay,
For I am the chosen one.
With every step, I grow stronger,
Defying the odds, I rise above.
In the face of adversity, I conquer,
With the power of unwavering love.
So fear not, my friend, the trials ahead,
For I am here, a beacon of light.
With courage and strength, I tread,
Guided by my inner might.
O Captain! my Captain!
I am the embodiment of resilience.
With unwavering determination, I reckon,
I am the master of my existence.
A common fate befalls all men,
Ere since the fall in fair Eden.
Whether dirt poor or filthy rich,
all men end up in the same ditch.
The common fate has no regard,
for the respected or blackguard.
Be he a peasant or a prince,
the common fate makes all men wince.
The educated and the fool,
both must face the common ghoul.
Fate does not tutored men respect
by it, all mortal men are wrecked.
The common fate strikes every race,
stalks everyone in every place.
No matter where men run or hide,
the common fate do them betide.
The common fate, I hope you see,
renders all men of one degree.
Some are not high and others low,
For in death all to one place go.
There is a cure for the common fate.
It is free to all and has no rate.
Jesus God’s Son died for you and me,
So that we can live eternally.
Accept the cure while you are alive
before fate takes you for the dive.
Do not delay, the hour is late.
Jesus is waiting at your heart’s gate.
Up the shore the rhythmic tide strides.
Twice a day, the army marches in succumbing.
Then retreats, tail between its legs, discharging
Its grip and flooding embrace, releasing, disengaging,
It's ebb and flow, a never-ending sleep-breath sigh.
The tide's hidden master and conductor is the moon.
A general seldom seen leading the troops on the battlefield
Rending the tide as irresponsible, willful and unaccountable.
A creature wail-fully uncaring, inconsiderate, wayward in consequence.
In the woe betide comes, seeping into the castle moats and holes dug by kids
Flushing away the fun of seashore frolics,
dampening the joy and the shrill of beach laughter
reminding us that there has to be a morning after,
After the coming,
someone, not me
has to
clean up
the
mess
and ebb
to bed.
You are not a man that lies
God of Abraham
You are not a man that changes his mind
God of Elijah and Elisha
You are not a man that dodges crisis
God of Shedrach Meschac and Abednego
You have no beginning nor ending
You are God of yesterday Today and forever
I put all my trust in you
Woe betide any one
Who invests his trust in
A mere mortal that has a beginning
And a determinate end
All you said you would do
You have done them for me
Cause you are a covenant keeping God
At whose command the universe was created
So why is the race of man and god
Ever selfish and without remorse,
Why do they often stand idly by, watching as one is beaten and bruised.
Mentally and physically abused. How cruel these days are.
So much so the angels cry tears of silvery clear,
In sympathy for what the child of the divine had received
Such pain and torture that no man may understand or succeed with its suffering
Woe betide the con of man to whom all chaos is ascribed.
With only one main sun and the light of hundred stars.
To light the way forward through the dark abyssal times
When all is abandoned why does it hurt to be alone
When it’s the matters of the family.
How much more must I hurt.
why oh why does it hurt when clearly they dont care”
I ask myself this everyday
Staring at life under a tree veiled in silvery tear drops.
Be wary of the ebb of tide
that strands your woes,
bone-dry up on the high dry side.
See how the winds of sorrow do blow.
Right over the mud flats of despair they go.
Desiccating all remnants of life,
that the flooding tide brought in.
Leaving only a trickle of fickle fate
to bleed back down in rivulets into the sea.
Woe betide the stench of mud exposed
wafting up to sting the nose.
Woe betide, the heart torn forlorn,
By sorrows deep, and sad burdens borne.
Oh, woe betide, the weary worn soul,
That struggles through life's endless toll.
Each step a stumble, each breath a sigh,
Strangling the hope out of dreams, that die.
So get back up, stand up straight and tall
in the muddy ooze beside yourself
and call the tide back in.
With cosmic moondust sprinkled in her hair,
the moon blessed his love child amongst the dunes,
As the high cosmos sang celestial tunes,
Her wisdom flared towards an asteroid,
Earthbound where oceans of wisdom are void,
Past vastness, starry streams and many moons,
with cosmic moondust
In emptiness planets and stars collide,
On Earth conflict will not let peace abide,
Each in hostile places where woes betide,
Let there be tea and Moon Child by your side,
with cosmic moondust
09/11/22
Rousing Rondine Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
Were I to ignore the ever-swelling tide
Lay my head upon the pillow unheeding,
Allowing fate alone to be my trusted guide
I would lay life’s better choices then aside
Betraying the inner voices ever pleading,
Were I to ignore the ever-swelling tide.
Seems folly to live a life whate’er betide
Without awareness of choice interceding,
Allowing fate alone to be my trusted guide.
Some take the forfeit of choices in stride,
And I should clearly illustrate the needing
Were I to ignore the ever-swelling tide.
Like building where fates alone decide
Without thought of conscientious leading,
Allowing fate alone to be my trusted guide.
Their attitude is “come along for the ride”
No notice of those who unwary lie bleeding
Were I to ignore the ever-swelling tide
Allowing fate alone to be my trusted guide.
Written September 9, 2022
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