Spinning to re-shape
on the lathe of misfortune
tools of memories
slice the old dead-wood away
shavings curling around feet
Round and round I go
ghostly hands remake my form
what I was, is gone
what I am, waits for pruning
severing grief from rough years
New clay on the wheel
trembling hands begin to mold
the shapeless mass pile
a new form slowly rises
shaped by daring, bold fingers
Painted ponies churn
straight road offers no answers
yet the circling does
we learn the truths we forgot
etched deep in the wheel's lament
Wood or clay spinning
hands caress, carve, and refine
as circle chants on
form and spirit are re-birthed
making a new beginning
Round and round I go—
shaped by the spinning
the rough falls away
a new form rises
in the clay, that's spun today,
-on the merry-go-round
-on the merry-go-round
Categories:
churning, angst, anxiety, character,
Form: Lyric
If the dawn light
we're not being pounded into blindness
by the pelting rain,
if the earth and sky ceased
crashing into each other
churning threads of twilight
into a bitter pulp of crushed worms,
a clogging alluvium
then all must lay as it is
until a muddled earth resettles the land
for in those muddled mounds
there will be the seeds of a new sky
Then brooms, shovels and the titans of charity
will once again labor to seal the rift
between hearts and eyes.
Categories:
churning, poetry,
Form: Free verse
“Prairie Storm”
The air turned
Deadly still,
The trees no
Longer swayed,
The horses neighed,
The church bells rang
Rabbits ran
For their caves.
Old men rushed
To close their doors.
Storm on the Rise!
Storm on the Rise!
Twister but a mile!
Be here in a while!
Hurry, grab the kids
To the cellar quick.
We haven’t the time
To worry.
It’s coming with a fury
The clouds grew deadly black
As deadly black can get.
Whipping and churning,
Rumbling and growling,
Twisting and swirling,
A tail was coming
With a vengeance it came:
Bolting and striking,
Snapping and crackling,
Exploding and blasting,
The tail kept churning.
The roof from the
Barn was thrown.
The windows in the
House were blown.
The trees ripped
From their roots.
The horses ran.
The rain
Came pounding.
The hail
Came battering.
The wheat field
Turned to straw.
Up from the cellar
The family rose.
The mother poured tears.
The father fell to his knees.
The little ones clung
To mother’s skirt.
There was little left.
His dreams disappeared.
The neighbors
Came calling.
The storm unkind.
He lost his mind.
The church bells rang.
Categories:
churning, nature, storm, weather,
Form: Free verse
My head burning!
My eyes turning!
Stomach churning!
It’s a new twist
Requiring a priest:
To God close enough to clear the mist
Prayers firing while holding my wrist
Or delivering right hand on my splitting head
Now, often seeking a pillow on any bed!
Or should I a doctor try?
To halt this that does my system fry?
Would a doctor
Prove the victor
Or a worse actor
And me our priests not hector?
Categories:
churning, cheer up, health, how
Form: Rhyme
fluid skies
wash
surreal
scenes
from the horizon,
clouds
rise
light from sunsets
abides,hides
swirl rides
above
the sea
highly wrought
strange
&daring
translated
transcribed
views
naturalistic
inner visions
interpreted
the
intense
revealed
derived
from reality
Categories:
churning, art, tribute,
Form: Ekphrasis
Churning of holistic sunrise,
churched by God above.
Preaching of vivid truth.
Gleaming eyes see it.
No words — baby crawls
into Father’s lap.
In passing of years
fiery reds, tangerines —
lost in translation;
the tongue lies.
At death’s incline,
impending groom
holds up the globe of the sky.
Like a newborn baby
with no teeth,
an innocent smile
resumes.
12/29/2020
Categories:
churning, god, imagery,
Form: Free verse
Churning Milk1949
Every Monday after school
churning had to be done.
Milk that went sour on Sunday
was turned into butter on Monday,
as the creamery was closed
on the seventh day of the week.
Sometimes we kept it fresh
by putting the can into the pool,
where we buried it half way up,
almost to the handles.
The can was heavy, even when empty.
When milk went sour we churned
with a heavy wooden handle,
the end shaped like a cross and
inserted into the can of milk.
We sealed it with a wooden
lid fitted over the churn,
moving it up and down
splashing the milk into a thick
butter that floated to the top.
Afterwards we drank mugfuls
of buttermilk to quench our thirst.
Categories:
churning, drink, farm, history, work,
Form: Free verse
Turning and Churning
How many clocks will keep turning
And inside many things may be churning
Over here there and ending up everywhere
While wondering about a cross to bare.
Not only are there words, deeds and facts
You can even come by a Book of Acts
In Bible and believe in God's only Son
After all of the things you have done.
Should ask for forgiveness in each prayer
And ley God be your key critical player
In your short life with His greatest goal
To make you free from sin and also whole.
Wherever I want to have gone or went
God is truly the greatest cleansing agent
When you want your soul cleaned and washed
Bugs in you and your computer system squashed.
So should think about this for a little longer
And when you want to become much stronger
It is always gracious God who does intend
Your many broken fences and body to mend.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
churning, religious,
Form: Couplet
churning milk
cream butter produce
not others
Categories:
churning, introspection,
Form: Haiku
Stone tossed in water,
caused ripples,
your words,
churn me inside,
though straight and simple.
Categories:
churning, inspirational, life, philosophy,
Form: Free verse