Cinnabar remittance ailerons squall federal cobblestones. Lank alpine squint modest. Nectarine grimace, cloys toothsome.
Coiffure chain rod composure anemic, primogeniture Swedish cotton murk optics
Rodeo riding maiden broadcaster network metaverse falconry. Boreal voyages legalese.
Simper treacle blanched anecdotally. Goofy balm, beardless tease, healthy as a horse, real bee knees.
Tradition.
Cast aside by noise
As worldly attention
Tears and cloys
Permission.
For generous space
To return to stare
Full into the face
Decision.
To walk a monastic way
Brief encounter
At the start of the day
Listen.
To the space in-between
Where God himself
Chose to intervene
Condition.
The soul and heart
Through stillness
Let the healing start
Brilliant light reaches down, a hand from above
Touching life, illuminating lies, searing my retinas
Like something holy that defies tangibility
Reflecting upon the water as a striving, sorrowful soul
A dream of death, the final moments of a friend
Pushing the darkness into the despairing depths of my heart
Hidden from the luminous brightness by walls of stygian gloom
The hallowed secret a friendship locked away forever
Night comes, a god of old billowing from the bowels of the earth
Snuffing the light from our minds like hope crushed under fingers of death
Something we once possessed, now transcendent in our memory
Elusive laughter and light dancing across the pages of our life
Tears mingle with the dew of dawn
A fleeting fog vanished by the sun
Emotion cloys our senses
A miasma of feelings echoing into eventide
The body a prison cell containing only a soul
A vessel for the works of a heavenly deity
A vicious fight for life, taking no prisoners
Touch and go
3/31/21
"Touch and Go"
for "This or That, Vol. 1" sponsored by Edward Ibeh
if dinosaurs existed
today we’d blow up their
beds and they’d be given
red toys, fed cream, their
eyes closed every
time they are visited
we’d still be giants
if fossils had connected
bones and were soft
beings, we wouldn’t
scream, we’d just laugh as
they’d chase plastic
food dangling in front
of their faces
we’d steal their mother’s
babies and put them with
clowns and paint their
lips and they would cry
sometimes as we
are staring at them but
we wouldn’t know because
we are not one
of them
we’d throw them away like
ragged dolls after we are
sick of their shape and
want to see something with
hair and feelings
Thyself it was to heal a heart distress'd,
Thine eyes were on me fixed to blow the pain,
When thou didst fill it lovingly, still ravaged,
Did I redeem the night of loving rain.
Those amative stares I can't recall,
Believe me, for I've found my best choice.
Unhurt, a glance upon thee I stole,
For my belle, indeed me, with her love cloys.
She hath the pleasure to love me well enough,
Or a world of love she fostereth in her heart
For me; thou gavest of thine the gentlest bluff,
By playing with me with no fault on my part.
Thou cling'st to sheer agony day by day,
While seest my heart to her I gave away.
CATATOMB
Silenced
in claustrophobic
dry walled ebony air
where stones hold
nothing
of soulessence
I do my stretches
I crouch and stare
at…
that place underground
deep where soil cloys
Suffocating
Permeating
Perhaps…
someday I will leap
laughing above the
surface. But for now
I lay buried alive
Silenced
in
Catatomb
© Kim van Breda—14 September 2015
Well, poetry or music won’t earn your keep
Many times over we have heard
The love of money is the root of all evil.
Be rich but keep that in mind not to divulge it.
“Some think luxury is the opposite of poverty”.
But It is not. It is the opposite of vulgarity.”
Be rich but keep that vulgarity away.
First, do what the clouds do,
Empty yourself before you start for soulful luxury
Take a loose rein and a deep seat
Cherish not earthly treasures
Swift they flee and all is vain
A clean heart enriched with virtues
Brings to me eternal gain.
Start out on a long journey of pure luxury
Look how the clouds are pure and white
As the flocks new shorn
And fresh from the clear brook
Sleeping on the fields of the heaven
Look at the flowers grown in pure garden
The sole luxury of the nature known.
Take to music, the sweetest of human joys
The soul’s pure luxury that never cloys
Again, do what the clouds do
When emptied.
These are all the feast of intellectual
With no stains.
+++
January 31, 2015
Form: Free Verse
Contest: Indulgence
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