after “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, by Robert Frost
This bridge meant something in some war,
some yarn of man and God and law:
but I think more of her and me:
what were those others fighting for?
There’s so much here to feel and see,
and yet it’s rubbernecker-free!
I love to watch the fishes jump:
they sense the serendipity!
Lads do the love, dames do the dump.
I can’t imagine now the crump
of primitive artillery,
but I remember Forrest Gump!
The theater, ideally,
was dark and deep: and, as for me,
I’ll linger in the reverie …
I’ll linger in the reverie.
Categories:
crump, nostalgia,
Form: Verse
This morning chilled me to the bone,
For frost had crazed my window panes
'Twas hard to leave my cosy home,
For given choice I would remain.
But no, there's pennies to be earned
For what in life is ever free,
So into winter's arms I turned,
To face grey skies and misery.
But I found to my surprise,
My street was deep in virgin snow,
Falling from a pearl white sky
To decorate the land below.
Such childish pleasure did I take
As I stepped in, ankle deep,
It brought a smile to my face,
To feel the crump, beneath my feet.
Entry for
EARLY DECEMBER 2018,ANY FORM,ANY THEME,
UP TO A MAX OF 20 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
3/12/18. Placed =1st.
Categories:
crump, snow, winter,
Form: Rhyme
July moon, third quarter, patrols the night.
Pierces smoky haze, phosphor and cordite.
No crump of shell or rattle of gunfire
just stillness, man made brambles,
wooden posts and wire.
Not so much a breeze, more a draught
carries distant murmurs.
Someone laughed.
A sudden spark, and glow-
sentry had lit a match.
Breathe slowly. Unlock the safety catch.
Flame moves left to right as he watched.
Gaze down the barrel, through the sight,
line up the V-shaped notch.
A brief flicker of face, then silhouette,
not quite time to pull the trigger yet.
Light moves right to left,
match handed back.
Face number three aglow, and then-
crack.
Extinguished.
Categories:
crump, war,
Form: Rhyme
Fading flowers lie scattered on the ground
Scythed down by deadly horizontal hail
The long, short, and tall fall without a sound
Relentless dawn’s bright light begins to fail
As noxious clouds of gas the sun shroud round
The fallen wait for help to no avail
Their raw, tormented lungs gasping for breath
The only worthwhile blessing now is death
Blind heroes stumble forward towards hell
Unseen enemies fire with lethal aim
The crump of shells, the cordite’s acrid smell
Red-hot shards of shrapnel slash flesh and maim
Somewhere, a lost soul screams. It’s hard to tell
If it’s friend or foe for all sound the same
Whether in khaki brown or field grey serge
In death, as not in life, their futures merge
The war is over and we’ve won - but lost
A generation with no chance to bloom
Victory comes at far too high a cost
Numberless in the Unknown Soldier’s tomb
Bright tomorrows fade to black or lie crossed
In long white rows that vanish in the gloom
Such selfless sacrifice soothes our sorrow
For they died to let us live tomorrow
Categories:
crump, hero, horror, remember, war,
Form: Ottava rima
I am caught today ... freed
by the Host of Light,
the past -- a lonely s h a d o w
swallowed by beautiful tomorrows
I am caught ... between the Wings of
heaven's angels and hell's handbasket
collects the dust of loneliness;
a crump of faded petals scattered
within embered sorrows!
:: 05.13.2017 ::
Categories:
crump, poetry,
Form: Free verse
I stepped out early on a winters morning,
Still half asleep and quietly yawning.
The street lights cast a yellow glow,
That fell upon the virgin snow.
Lights coming on in houses,
As I walked the silent streets.
I took pleasure in the crump,
Of untrodden snow beneath my feet.
The cold air bit at my face,
Sharp as a butchers knife.
A pristine morning to myself,
A wonderland, of snow and ice.
Soon enough, the streets will fill
People going to and fro,
But for a while as they slept,
I revelled in the snow.
Categories:
crump, winter,
Form: Rhyme
I wanna go to Martha’s Vineyard, eat muscadines and drink wine.
I want my belly to swell with the fruit of our love.
I wanna drive on full and eat fillet mignon for breakfast.
I wanna live like God is my Father and Jesus, my Brother who saved me.
I wanna trust and never hate ‘n never be careful ‘bout nothin’.
I wanna be Scarlet in Scarsdale and Sr. Edward Crump at the Macy’s Day Parade.
I want green eyes and red hair. I want hips that don’t exist.
I want Oprah on the phone right now!
I wanna drive my baby to school.
I want tuna on toast with capers and sweet nectar pomegranate juice.
I wanna open my eyes....
Categories:
crump, allegory,
Form: Blank verse
here['s the deal
kept it real
don't run
you songun
when thing get ruff
be apart of the stuff
don't jump
or crump
or a crooper
BE A
TROOPER
Categories:
crump, adventure, devotion,
Form: Light Verse
here['s the deal
kept it real
don't run
you songun
when thing get ruff
be apart of the stuff
don't jump
or crump
or a crooper
BE A
TROOPER
Categories:
crump, adventure, devotion,
Form: Light Verse
In a state controlled by a fanatical militia
Fuelled by a desire for revenge,
They sit cowering in a crumpled cellar,huddled close,
Wide-eyed kids whimpering
Held tight by sad-eyed women and grim-faced
Men,muttering their imprecations
While listening to the crump,
Crump of the incessant shells raining down on their village,
Their hearts racked with hatred
Driven by fear.
In a state born out of terrorism
Hemmed in by hostility,
They sit crowded in their bunkers
Lit by flickering bulbs
Listening for the faint whine of Katyusha rockets
And singing shakily to keep their spirits up,
Silence falling when a shell bursts
As they fear the worst,
Their hearts racked with hatred
Driven by fear.
Categories:
crump, death, sad,
Form: Free verse
Creations I built around your axis,
Skilled with ideational praxis,
Given up like snake-eyed dice,
Sincerely proffered sacrifice.
Tendered freely, fuelled the fire,
Gasoline infused desire,
Whoosh and crump of my damnation
Redeemed by paper masque salvation.
My living blood I would surrender,
Blind crusader, true defender,
Eyes put out by poker vision,
Gouged to death by sweet precision.
Your loosing hounds when all was done,
I tear to shreds, the end begun,
Dragging down, in silence bow,
For all is nothing to you now.
The pain of your dissemination,
Your character assassination,
True but sort of sad somehow,
My all is nothing to you now.
Categories:
crump, lost love,
Form: Verse