I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
Cockcrows are loud enough to wake the dead.
I cringe and slink as I traipse about in the dead woods,
Among the cadavers of river plants, decimated,
Deserted, and vitiated through seasons’ flagrant ebb.
I see shadows that sing with their mouths tightly shut.
Like them all, I, too, am lonesome, and I draw about me
The dry waves of parched waters.
On my lips is a certain prayer — a revised edition of the
Paternoster.
Return, waters, return from the underrocks, I pray thee.
My sorrows are old and fragile.
Hoots and cries and stridulations beseech me.
I have picked my way among paths that
Cuddle the feet in sympathy and soothe
The souls that hide from the earnestness of
Sunrise.
Wash my dry naked feet, O waters,
And grease my palms so cracked from
Endless chafing.
Categories:
chafing, culture, introspection,
Form: Free verse
Mum used to cater
my every whim.
I was really spoilt
like a large catch of tuna
in the police station.
The local children were cautioned
against talking
to strangers about me.
That was why
I became celestial canopy
in the neighbourhood.
Categories:
chafing, angst, conflict, courage, freedom,
Form: Free verse
my psychic energy
[contained]
like a Matryoshka doll—
chafing for release … to see the light
beyond mere existence
to flow freely
unbound
by constraints
the Victoria Island of Life:
an island in a lake
on an island in a lake
on an island
soaring over the pitfalls of Life
gaining speed with the taste of f r e e d o m —
indispersed echoes
r i p p l i n g
within silence …
Categories:
chafing, analogy, nature,
Form: Other
Streams flowing into a river
ebbing and flowing
rising and falling
The river separating them
back into streams
Many lives merging
into one lifeline
accounting for everything
and nothing
at the same time
Personalities rubbing, chafing
inexorably blending
in psychosomatic asynchrony
yet linked inextricably
with heaven
Streams flowing into a river
The river separating them out
back into streams…
Categories:
chafing, life, mystery, river,
Form: Free verse
He stood on the street corner
Having a much needed smoke
Somehow we got chatting
And he told me a joke
And i started laughing
The way that you do
He looked at me smiling
And started laughing too
And his dog laughed too.
It became a habit
Ever after that
Every morning I’d stop
For a little chat
And listen to any joke
That he would tell
His supply seemed endless
And he told them so well
And his dog laughed too.
One day I saw the dog
Out with another guy
So I said hello to him
And I asked him why.
He said he was standing in
His dad had had a stroke
So I sent my best wishes
And I really missed his joke
And his dog just looked sad.
I asked about him every day
Was told he was improving
Was chafing at the bit to
Get his recovery moving.
I was so pleased to hear
Of progress like that
For I really missed
His joke and our chat
And his dog looked optimistic.
Then one day I saw him back
Standing there having a smoke
I bid him a good to see you
I’ve missed your daily joke.
We both laughed uproariously
As he told me his latest one
And the dog wagged his tail
All signs of sadness gone
And his dog laughed too.
Categories:
chafing, dog, friendship, humor,
Form: Rhyme
there was never any need
to sway from the bunkers
that evening the way the tall
pines swayed mastering
my innermost self to a tiny
craft beneath the woods
as night shattered the small
lantern resistance followed
far beyond what I needed
at the time of the entrance
gathering I remember being
consoled smitten from the bottom
of the calvary where haste had
bothered to intrude I catered
to your manhood even though
it had withered long before
the boots had entered I didn't
dare blink mine eyes wide shut
my ruby red lips trembled I
licked them in a brief attempt
to moisten them preventing
a cracked chafing effect biting
my bottom one merely drawing
blood tasting the rawness of fear
the red coats were leaving now
standing before me was her
in all her beauty in all her glory
America embracing my tiny form
Categories:
chafing, africa, america, friendship, native
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Sidewalk hot,
you could fry an egg.
Arizona summer heat, Phoenix roast factory.
Sweat pouring off my brow like Noah's flood.
Sky, light turquoise, tweaked into a
sun radiant reflective furnace.
Shimmering down alleyways in unison with overburdened air conditioners.
Mirage pools in the distance ethereal,
wavering on blistering roads.
Sounds are deadened by oppressive scorching.
Dogs panting with white flecks of drool,
sizzling on asphalt.
Blow dryer wind chafing my skin,
hard walking in this dry heat sauna,
cotton ball mouth and a raging thirst.
An old man sitting on a weather-beaten porch spits ocher tobacco waste on a dead lawn.
Penetrating blue eyes nestled in a wrinkled brow,
he whistles a forgotten tune in the oppressive heat.
"Hey, you!" he calls to me,
"get in the shade before you fry your brains."
He's holding a cold lemonade,
dewdrop dribbling on a crystal glass.
Ice jingling against the sides in a mesmerizing way.
I lick my chapped lips,
he pours me a cold one.
We wait on that shaded porch,
talking about life, love, and the way it goes.
As that big red ball starts to creep into the cradle of night.
Categories:
chafing, america, imagery, nostalgia, writing,
Form: Free verse
Let go the the past, it's so over and unflinchingly dead.
We walk in its rotting gardens with hearts full of lead.
Your dream, didn't come true as you wished?
Write it on paper, and burn it in a silver chafing disH.
So sorry your expectations went up in flames.
Stop the ridiculousness of hunting people to blame!
Get out your drawing board and make new plans.
Santa is not coming, so grow up, be the very best
woman or man that you can.
11-7-2020
Categories:
chafing, encouraging,
Form: Couplet
one cold dark night,
two bodies, chafing...
against the other;
kindled fire!
Categories:
chafing, passion,
Form: Verse
Your uniform is like unto a sonnet
And you, a poem dressed in vest and skirt.
How peaceful are the eyes that rest upon it
Creative spirit framed in pressed white shirt.
As birds that soar the heights on freedom's wing
Require sturdy skeletons for strength,
The poet, though confined, writes words that sing,
Conformed to proper meter, rhyme, and length.
What landscapes and still lifes the poet paints
Rich words that cause her readers to rejoice,
And all within the sonnet's strict constraints -
She reaches deep within and finds her voice.
Small freedoms may be sacrificed by you,
But still your creativity shines through.
Author's Note - written for my daughter on her first day of high school where school uniforms were mandatory, causing no small amount of chafing in her creative spirit!
Categories:
chafing, 11th grade, daughter, poetess,
Form: Sonnet
Lavender tinted
Two serpents of the sea
Chafing scales
Twisting through
Kuroshio Currents
Prancing Minions
Sirens of the deep
Bathing in rosen lilac
l'écume de mer
Frothing on the Horizon
Silken Goddesses
Submerged in Epsom salinity
Artfully teasing
Envisioning
A Better Tomorrow
Categories:
chafing, i love you,
Form: Free verse
Should tardy relief take full years more
To grace fallen visages with angst taut,
Let kind nature her multiplied joys hone,
And gild final grins past art's fickle fault.
May saddest souls that now fret most
Gleam with heaven's grandest succor,
No more numbed by fear's fake ghost;
Free from inky mists and bleak rancor.
The gloomiest of hearts down with care
Shall glitter under jubilation's final glare,
And forget prickly sorrow's ghastly pain;
Wholly unafraid of shame's broken train.
He'll his victorious head at last carry high
After blacking ignominies and stigmas go;
None shall Art's virgin blossoms blight so,
Killing fresh dreams whose sign inch nigh.
This star-crossed champ at last shall reign,
And his chafing fan her dead cheers regain.
Categories:
chafing, abuse, allegory, allusion, celebration,
Form: Lyric
Scooping up my pain with these shovels as I try to write,
embracing all I lost in a life I never knew I deserved.
Keeping forgiveness and empathy in my clear sight,
and trying to remember all the love I have reserved.
I was scraping these shovels and they quickly swerved,
so, I take the dustpan and try to make things right.
Should I excavate the anguish and forget the pain?
Maybe the torment will cease and I will be free.
I could only hope that the happy memories remain
allowing this woman to be no one else except me.
The scraping of these shovels has made me see clearly.
The chafing and attrition have taken my life in vain.
The metal on the cement gives me relief, yet fear.
It screeches and moans the emotions I never knew
I’d feel when I looked at the world in a shattered mirror.
Believe me when I say the scratching is so true
as I live a life of abrasion with my construction crew-
explaining the scraping sound to all who will hear.
March 10, 2019
John Lawless
The Scraping of Shovels
Categories:
chafing, grief, life,
Form: Rhyme
*Note: This is a tale of honor in which the protagonist refused to tell his lady a truth which would have broken her heart, so instead he allows her to believe a lie, although it cost him her love.
Your tears stream salt into my open wounds
Equitable punishment for a scathing tongue
When deceptive words spilled from its fork,
my palate tasted morsels of amarum gall
Mea culpa Mea culpa
What penance do you deem to be delivered
for chafing injury upon your virtuous heart?
I have perjured myself with loathsome deceit
Condemned a liar, in weeping from your eyes
Deprive me of your kiss, as rain denies a flower
and I will crave death in a cold grave of darkness
Parce mihi, amica mea ~ forgive me, my love
The moment of reckoning weighs upon my brow
Mea culpa Mea culpa
To defend your innocence, I have readily sinned
For if truth I had told, it would've been a sword
and my hand, the one thrusting it into your heart
My life was loyally given; well worth one dulcis lie
Latin translations:
amarum ~ bitter dulcis ~ sweet
Categories:
chafing, grief,
Form: Epitaph
People daily perish so tragically ...
ever dying
to protect things that don’t breathe
Inanimate objects of their desire,
they just can’t leave
So many pulse beings fall in love with inert manufacturing
Mistletoe eyes kiss the chrome,
and chafing lips polish the plastic
Wooden attraction becomes a rotted cleave
When grave fires rain down untimely destruction,
many chose the sheltering embrace
of their stony arm lover
Letting synthetic bonding for the esthetic metal
rule over their survival instincts ...
Fidelity to sparkling glass goes aye shatter fatal
Ever dying to cling to molecular things
that don’t feel
Artificial inanimaticy, it ain’t real
Inordinate affection for the inorganic immaterial
is a terminal expiration date
Bosom caresses for molded figures is cold intimacy
Too many buried souls let their heart bleed vainly
Inanimate things aren’t moved emotionally
to try and help save you in your time of dire need
Categories:
chafing, allusion, death, desire, wisdom,
Form: Tristich
Related Poems