I can not longer ignore this weight attatched to my ankles or the hole I tore in my chest.
I have been trying to convince myself that I paid enough,
that the weight was heavy enough,
The hole was deep enough,
That it was okay... to be okay.
But Im wrong.
Ive known it all along.
I had to build the me who could face this.
And now here I stand.
I will carve my payment directly out of this weight.
And I will sharpen what I tore out of my chest to do it.
No matter the pain.
I have no right to complain...
Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will carve something beautiful out of this stone.
Maybe then.
if I add something beautiful to the world...
Maybe then.
Ill have earned the right to find it again.
calm, cloudless lavender like a starry breath...
Wild Irish sea pounds spray ashore,
its white teeth gnaw the stone down,
each tide returns, bites as before
wearing away the brown cliffs.
The wind flattens salted bluegrass,
while gulls wheel up in the sky
soaring as on an overpass
hang gliding over the crags.
Breaking waves surge up the sandstone
Falling back as white foam veils
stroking the old wounds to atone
for the endless scouring blows.
The strong swells drum through sea caverns,
blow-holes spray up in the sky
bringing cheers to seaside taverns
for the pipe, fiddle, drum songs.
Irish seals dive through kelp seaweed
silver backs, flash through foam spray,
twisting and turning at high-speed
laughing at angry sea grasps.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
Quiet, clicking keys,
Verses bloom from silent thought,
Words carved line by line.
Haunted Cemetery
Carved stones stand in a silent place,
The moon sparkles on every face,
Not live faces, but carved in bones,
Where whispers warp and shadows moan.
On moonlight nights, near tangled trees,
Spirits roam, with their will quite free,
Beseeching stuffs from passers-by,
Rolling their tongues with a blunt sigh.
One night, close by the graveyard`s gate,
A spirit in white, crossed my fate,
Pleading for a candle as gift,
I took to my heels, with a rift.
A wood carved elf
placed on a shelf,
his bones began to tingle.
He said to himself,
I'll jump off the shelf
to work for old Kris Kringle.
Names carved on a stone
A stele made for the dead
Denoting the hunters or fighters
Chasing to kill innocent animals
Or fighting the lives of people
For dying brutal or dying cruel
I realize they are all in heaven now
Both the killed and the killers
Each of them has to do a thing
In front of the altars of equality
Whenever God feels sleepy
To quarrel with one another
A stele with their names carved
Reminding everyone to remember
This fact would've been in a head
Led through a road paved with fire,
they thought she would incinerate;
Flying with wings of titanium
ashes only raised her higher;
They thought she would incinerate,
instead a hand grenade was thrown;
Propelled with power into the air;
Flying with wings of titanium
nothing could bring her down;
So tough wrapped in a soft sound;
Ashes only raised her higher;
Chipped polish grace sharp talons
of a woman who carved her crown.
NEWLY CARVED :
Once a dejected filthy vessel,
Jehovah's renewed me so well.
Forever will I dwell in his Bethel.
His divine hands keep me nestled,
So much I can't even tell.
Sins held me to die in a fierce tussle,
Even when I was young to wrestle.
Had no idea of freeing myself from this hurdle;
Iniquities and transgressions at high level.
In fact I'm a changed person.
My flesh was satisfied by lust,
And my life was passing out very fast.
Excluded from cattles grazing on Zion's grass,
I was found dwelling among wolves class.
The negativities were vast.
The smites of harsh fads;
Suicide thoughts seemed a must,
'cause the situation was such a gast.
Hope was erased from my heart,
Before the Holy Spirit rescued me at last.
I was really wretched and cuffed,
And my heart, mind and soul starved;
Drinking from the devil's cup,
My whole being's carnally puffed.
My raggered self extremely fouled,
But now I'm beligned in the glory of His love.
Saved by the incorruptible blood of the Lamb;
Redeemed and empowered in heavenly arm,
By grace, I'm cleansed by Jehovah's palm.
Hallelujah, I'm newly carved!
Praise GOD, He's all I have!
face
carved
in
bronze
enigmatic
expression
carved into pumpkin,
crescents, teeth, black holes, a nose—
smoky, orange flame
9/25/2021
sinews reverberate with power of the strike,
as the chisel cuts into the rock on hillside,
his face glistens in sweaty heat of summer light,
lost in the passion of his work no shade to hide!
with every hit the sound echoes around the site,
the rock crumbles to his wishes as he desires,
he works all day and rarely stops at cold of night,
some pass by in wonder while some stop to admire!
his heart will not rest till this hardened rock is carved,
until he creates in stone what he lost in flesh,
his mind is set, fabric of his being love starved,
no one has seen him eat, sleep or pause to refresh!
seasons go by as the figure slowly takes shape,
an exquisite beauty stands where once was cold stone,
serene face most delicate in finery draped,
an embodiment of love that his heart bemoans!
what can restore a love that is lost for ever?
his catharsis from her depthless pool of romance,
stands she alone, the result of his endeavour,
see how a flame of passion does a stone enhance!
2nd placement
Catharsis poetry contest
Written 4/12/2020
Silent One sponsored
12 syllables each abab cdcd rhyme sequence
5 quatrains 20 lines
Carved in stone (sonnet to Ishtar)
Hail beauty, still as death, in smooth stone hewn,
The Great Earth's Queen in regal posture stands,
Who in the underworld sings out her tune
Of justice, law and power o'er her lands.
The land of Kur, the realm of all the dead
Is her domain. With eagle wings and claws
And serpent hair entwined about her head,
Athene's owls are there to give just cause.
She rules supreme, in nakedness and pride
On lions' backs her feet grip with sharp hold,
Four thousand years an image petrified
Her regal glare still dreadful to behold.
Carved in stone, as Queen of night she reigns
O'er gardens of the fertile crescent's plains.
I was inspired to write this poem after visiting the 'I am Azurbanipal' exhibition in the British Museum. One of the exhibits, a stone relief of the goddess Ishtar, the deity associated in Mesopotamian mythology with love, sex, death and war, displayed carving of startling clarity and beauty even though it was made around 4000 years ago in ancient Babylon.
With a sacral dimple you can't miss
he looks like a hand carved ivory Angel
as I draw him close and feather him a kiss
he gurgles with laughter, "I'm your Angel"
Original Poem: My Little Angel
Posted on October 8, 2020
Sponsor: Gregory R. Barden for contest Rithimus Divisa 9
The sun is out
The sky is blue
Hearts carved on a tree
Spell Me and You
We stroll by the water
Forget our cares
Summer's here now
To enjoy the fresh air
Smell the red peonies
Gorgeous pods on a stem
Pick a few, don't deny
The table its diadem
Scoop up some stones
Choose one smooth and flat
Skip it across the lake
and marvel at that...
As the sun works its way
Into the last gentle wave
The day's etched in memories
~ For Eternity to save
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