So when the lake reached for me,
I did not kneel.
I did not sink.
I did not become what they expected of me
Instead, I opened my mouth
and screamed.
The sound split across the water like lightning.
The lake convulsed.
The shoreline cracked apart.
Churchbells howled beneath the depths like wounded animals
For one terrible moment,
all the drowned brides rose.
Veils dripping black water.
Pearls spilling from their mouths.
Eyes bright as stormglass.
Not victims now.
Witnesses.
The village sank before sunrise.
Every house.
Every stone.
Every man who called that sacrifice tradition.
The lake swallowed them whole.
Soft and fragile, the black petals lay.
A hand plucked it, tucking sorrow in its pocket.
A venomous sting struck the chest;
desperate, agonized, the body convulsed.
Shallow breaths lingered—
pain devoured the blood of the soul.
Prickings gnawed at flesh;
a scream rose for release, alone.
The rose mocked the trembling frame,
whispering: “Pass me on.”
Its constraints laid bare,
it warned of bleeding more petals
for the next to bear.
The offered chance was welcomed,
unaware of the treachery it held.
Since then, the hurt loops endlessly,
leaving a black, glimmering petal
upon each bosom.
The cursed rose still hunts a worthy hand;
humans pass it on,
wrapped in bruises and despair.
Everyone bears a petal now—
while one shoulders
the ever-growing curse.
And the black rose waits…
for the final heart to shatter.
A comma pauses coma in mid air,
released but not delivered is its serve
but in truth we have nothing to declare,
so life continues with gusto and verve,
even though numb becomes our mental nerve.
It may appear that our form has convulsed
but there’s no vibration to be repulsed,
so outcome any we remain tranquil,
accepting our fate as has been impulsed,
for with ego exhumed, we have no will.
It must have been made
and rejected
in times grinding gears –
a knobby irregularity,
a leftover of smelt and dross.
This is all there is
a gobbet of oven clinker,
but behind it I sense cracked teeth,
soot seared across burnt eyeglasses,
blackened bones,
for after the gas came the flames.
Here it is,
a fragment long convulsed
from its own incineration,
an irregular rake-off, smithereens
dragged across a blind stone floor.
This tittle of slag once had to fit something
the rough rim of an iron door perhaps
behind which an old furnace
still cools in faraway minds.
A ferrous chip chiseled from a gulag,
or a souvenir from an SS campfire meet.
There is always something left
after the unthinkable,
always some spicule of irregularity,
detritus to explain or confound
as we toss it back into the fire again.
The First Paradise
We humans are related to the dolphins
not so smooth, that's why we stayed near
sea was shallow
Fruit trees grew near the shoreline and
often apples fell into the sea, which was
as a blessing, and we walked ashore
On dry land, we become aware of our nakedness
and hastily covered our bodies in palm leaves
Flirting and lifting palm leaves became a sport
disapproved of by the adults
In the apple trees lived snakes; if a woman was
bitten, she convulsed, and if not given
satisfaction becomes what we know as Karen
When children asked where we came from
adults told us we came from Mars
Now, scientists tell us they have found dry
river beds on Mars. I say no more
Till our sun falls from the sky
The weather was frigid or she was,
reminiscing daydreams convulsed May.
Gray Dodge Omni parents backyard,
baseball players in a hotel room.
Graduate weed university age 16,
Stoned in the coffee shop,
high at the state speech tournament,
Ginsberg foggy and oblique,
country music radios.
“Till the sun falls from the sky”
Either the weather was frigid or she was,
reminiscing daydreams convulsed May.
Gray Dodge Omni parents backyard,
baseball players in a hotel room.
Graduate weed university age 16,
Stoned in the coffee shop,
high at the state oral interpretation tournament,
Ginsberg foggy and oblique,
country music radios.
Thank you for your faith
in the country you so love
that you’d offer up your life
in a cataclysmic strife.
Thank you for your courage,
although you shook inside.
You did all that was required,
no matter what the price.
The noise of guns and mortar
convulsed the fetid air.
You saw beloved comrades
lie bleeding at your side.
You suffered pain and conflict
when you had to kill another,
against what you’d been taught,
to love, not hate, your brother.
We call you strong and brave
and admire your fortitude,
but the toll that it has taken
is in your mind and soul.
To kill for love of country
and the freedoms we possess
takes strength we can’t imagine,
and thanks are not enough!
give me your aorta ~ and in exchange i will give you a nice pulse
said the kidney bean to a cabbage heart ~ as it openly convulsed
but the black eyed peas protested violently ~ acting with impulse
of course i needed a leek pretty bad ~ and suddenly felt repulsed
In Florida state prison, a tale I'll unfold,
The first electrocution, a story untold.
Anguish, pain, in chambers of despair,
A prisoner's torment, his soul stripped bare.
Electric currents surged through veins like fire,
His body convulsed, his screams were ignored.
The pain, relentless, coursing through his core,
As death approached, its grip, he bore.
Through darkness he traveled, his spirit confined,
A prisoner of agony, cruel and unkind.
Till finally, death's embrace offered reprieve,
Release from the torment, forever to relieve.
In Florida's history, a chilling page was turned,
The first electrocution, a cruel lesson not yet learned.
Yet the echoes of anguish forever remain,
A reminder of his price the state still ignores.
Stranded in the caverns of darkness,
I am convulsed with fears,
and confounded by delusions.
They get morphed into aches and pains.
Apparitions enter,
unlocking the doors.
With razor sharp canine teeth,
they claw into my neck,
tearing me apart,
making me reel.
They raid me at night and day.
Fears! You lowly demons,
when shall I escape your evil schemes?
Don’t boast that you are victors!
I shall vanquish you.
Will never let my spirit be caged.
Surely someday, I shall,
break free from your clutch!
She walks with dreams, deep passions woo,
Into euphoric ambience of a moonlit night
Carrying sweet secret, so intimate and true,
Sprouting in her womb blossoms of delight.
Though they are together, he feels all alone,
Trapped in turbulence of memories unkind,
Nothing she can say would emotions atone
Grief of matrimony he chose to leave behind.
Agitating unspoken, dissonant pulse of strife
His turmoiled heartbeats now brutally amplify
Frightened by weary past to embrace a new-life
When spiteful bonds of yore earnestly decry.
She tries, yet decides, now is not the time
Waiting till moon and stars are so inclined
To witness with Venus, dear-moment sublime
And unveil the script that destiny designed.
Clenched clandestine vibes utter a soft sigh
As happily her stomach churns butterflies;
And, until next-time, she bids him goodbye,
When they’ll guess the color of baby’s eyes.
Vulnerable she feels now, how will he react:
Will he welcome baby, yet harp in the past?
Will he face with courage or opt to retract?
Convulsed, she shudders~ will this love last?
May 5, 2023
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 36 – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Here's Jack's philosophy in a nutshell
Did you catch that, in a NUTshell?
Got a little bit off the track for a while
But he's chugging along again like hell
Didn't think it would be too too long
He's basically a real jester at heart
Things always seem to strike him funny
Like when someone lets out a big fart
His LOCOmotive's chugging along again
Some sillies will be coming along soon
It's how this guy rolls, the silly old jester
As he attempts to eat spaghetti with a spoon
Seems like I'm trying a wee bit too hard
That spaghetti thing wasn't that funny
How bout a fellow who's had one too many
Balancing a beer on his tummy
Okay I promise to work on this stuff
I'm more than a bit rusty it seems
BARE with me, or fully clothed if you wish
Convulsed with laughter you'll scream
Selene was smoldering, the shadows shrouding Her face.
Alone. I crept through limp leaves and decaying debris.
I felt grim fingers grasping, gripping, slowing my pace.
Faint flickers filtered through gnarled trees like fine filigree.
I wondered why I am here; I wondered where is here?
I stumbled over shallow mounds, smelling the stained soil.
Alone. A putrid presence charged me with fetid fear.
My queasiness convulsed in a turbid, rancid roil.
Murky dampness clambered over clammy, flaccid flesh.
If this were dream, I prayed to end my nightmarish plight!
A chilling calm came over me and I feared afresh.
Alone. Selene hid Her visage and sheen from my sight.
Alone. The noxious night darkened, enveloping me.
Notes:
1. Selene, Greek goddess of the moon
2. 13, symbolic of rebellion and lawlessness in the Bible
3. 13 syllables in each line
4. 13 lines in the poem
5. today’s date, 13 October
IMPLIED TENSIONS
interlaced
celebrations
in beguiling settings
anticipation
consumated& fulfilled
in a textured
tapestry
a variegated nuance
in convulsed
gestures
of conscious
sensibility
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Sub Categories
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