In corners hide some secrets
They're buried deep in walls and cellars
They lie there best forgotten
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Once when we were young
we thought we could reach
the rainbow’s treasure,
how life does unteach
naivety’s first truths,
and does innocence
suffer loss in fires
of meticulous
rules of behavior,
enshrined by elders
who secret themselves
in moldy cellars?
In Spain they call it Flamenco
In Portugal it's Fado
It's simple life yet so complex
Heavy but light
Dark but so bright
One can step into a basement or a theatre so large
One can feel overjoyed or supremely depressed
These extremes of emotions are life itself
But perhaps there is that balance when you sit and watch and listen
The click clacking of shoes
The desperate strums of strings
The rhythmic slapping on the cajon
The moans of lost romance
Sip your coffee or Porto vino, or Sangria if you wish
Lose yourself in Iberian folk music
And decide how you want to spend your horas in the dancing abyss
A breadbasket
has become a bowl of blood and mud.
The steel claws of hawks
crush concrete towers.
Peace shelters in cellars
bread is broken,
a thin soup stirs the dying.
A droning in the sky,
rabbit ears alert in a backyard cage,
a boy's hunger stole a carrot,
but it did not eat the rabbit -
not yet.
Take my words
Gently
As a thorn-crested rose
Beauty
Shielded by doubt
Shivering
In its self-ness
Caress my words
As infants
Seeking
Sustenance
Toddlers
Tumbling
Over one another
Adolescents
Unsure
of their meaning
Challenge my words
That they
May be honed
Matured
Aged
In the silent cellars
Of poetry
The violent tornado
vengeful
overpowering
through peaceful puddles
trembling windows
uprooted cellars
devastated lives
Wines, sweet wines and more,
Stored, blended in decades,
Cellars scenery.
War, Evil Beast, Just What The Hell Is It Good For
War the Evil Beast what the Hell is it good for
A calamity brings death and great destruction.
Nation against nation, death and misery scores
Onto mankind all its deep savagery it pours.
A darkened force that wipes away precious life
Destroys our happiness, kills the innocent kids.
Ghastly the power unleashed and tragic strife
In Germany the Jews into dark cellars hid.
War gifts battlefields strewn with the dying and dead
The wailing and gnashing of teeth, wars black reward.
Torn up battle fields were brave men and women bled
Pain and suffering, written about by brave Bards.
O' Lord pray we thy light, wonderful saving grace.
We plead, stop insanity in the human race!
Robert J. Lindley,
Dark Sonnet, April 20th, 1973
age 19
Note-
In my small town there were two young men that tragically died in that war.
sad but Teddy Talley , a nineteen year old, a young man from my hometown died there.
Back then there were thousands of our citizens that cried we shouldn't be there.
The tender tendrils spiralling
on the stake
The grapevine weak in structure
Yet the fruit juices makes the
weakest of men the
most valiant in spirits
The choice of vines fit for the
table of the king
Dinners are graced by their presence
Meals are deemed complete by their presence.
The blossom of the vine
is the joy of the winery
Cellars beckoning for more.
Choice wines for the vintage class
The courage of the weak is in
the strength of the wine
A bolster of courage for the faint hearted
(Written 2nd June, 2015)
Can anyone hear it?
The scratch scratch scratching from within these hollow walls,
Mere inches away from children at play
Labyrinthine tunnels contain cellars, cells, chains, colorless creatures, and Nightmares,Terror,Sing-song games
Played for one’s very life.
Can anyone hear it?
They’re voting.
Will you live?
Will you remain?
Human?
Or will you exchange your flesh for a code?
A whispered secret?
A lie?
Technical jargon??
Perhaps you’ll opt for a symbol?
If not approved,
We will hang you,
Display you,
Stretch you,
Expose you,
Shine a light on you, and
Sing your song while
Offering up hymns of worship.
Then we will eat you.
Can anyone hear it?
My stomach is growling,
So hungry,
Calling you by name.
I long to be fed!
I long to be touched!
Soon, so soon,
Satisfaction will be
Carved,
Draped,
Chiseled,
And tattooed
Across the vast
Nothingness of
My Decomposing soul.
Can anyone hear it?
The sound of fullness is Mine.
Please see Gulf of Cadiz
Praia da Rocha Beach
Tour port cellars and bridges
hop-on hop-off buses make travel easy
take oh my cod food tour with Ricardo in Lisbon
I like the old buildings,
the weathered brick,
the worn down doorsteps sanded
by a century of shuffling feet,
the musty smells from
old bond stores and hotel
cellars wafting up through
grates along the street.
I like the defiance
of the old façades,
how they hang on
beneath layers of gaudy paint,
the names and dates
embossed on buildings
refusing to be rubbed out,
the held dignity of a stone wall,
desecrated by graffiti
yet still standing straight.
I like the late night
peace and quiet
that settles along the lanes
and back streets
of the old port,
places only the locals know,
home to the ghosts
of washed-up sailors
and the lost souls
who have nowhere
else to go.
To savor this glass I don't need to go
To see the French vineyards within Bordeaux
Or walk the wine cellars of a chateau.
It won't require to see where the grapes grow
Or squeeze their juices between every toe.
Some might prefer all that grandeur, although
For me, only this does contentment owe –
To sit in my chair and sip this merlot
And drift to sleep with a blissful sigh, "Oh."
11/5/2022
Written for Hilo Poet's
MonoMixoRhyme Poetry Contest
9 line monorhyme with no repeated alphabetically spelled rhymes.
Syllables checked on PSSC (10 per line)
A full-gorged moon opens its illumined glare,
a limpid dementia with predatory eyes.
It enters bedrooms, cellars, attics
creeps into crawl-spaces,
follows us into slumber
to raise the bones of shipwrecked dreams,
and snare the unborn in their unformed wombs,
dark seeds are planted there
before any egg is laid.
A Luna light engenders
an iridescence of last-hope.
!t changes the stories told yesterday
into heart-breaking legends
on the cracked face of a celestial delirium.
In daylight some call out:
“Did you see that moon last night?”
They answer: “No, I must have missed it,”
but their crazy eyes tell a different story.
When the world spins and hail falls
Hardened by the cold from the sky above,
It reaches here below
As we rely on warmth of love
As tornados race, twist and destroy,
Leaving only broken frames behind
We emerge from cellars of darkness,
Searching for hope to find
When earthquakes roar and shake stability,
We reach for something to hold onto
Our prayers get lifted by the wind
Just like the pieces of debris that flew
We are only human, each with limited ability
As we try to understand the call,
When these painful times occur
All we can do is try not to fall
Heidi Sands
5/25/22
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