Damming Poems

Blessings Unused

What is a color
obstructed
What is a sonnet
untold
What is the price
of reluctance
Tainted in silver
or gold 

What is the weight
of your damming 
What is a blessing
unused 
What is the lifespan
of choices unmade
Measured in freedom
— recused 

(The First Book Of Prayers: July, 2025)

POLITICAL SPRING

Although it is spring,
Cold political raindrops
Continue to fall:-
But do not worry,
“God’s gon trouble tha water…”,
Damming injustice:
In the renewal of spring,
We shall also overcome:-

MAY OUR WATER FOREVER BREAK AND FLOW

MAY OUR WATER FOREVER BREAK AND FLOW

As like the water, we were created;
In the breaking of the water we came—
And it is said that we did not come here
To be sitting or standing around for nothing:-

Indeed, we are here like the waters of rivers;
Like waters of oceans and seas—flowing to be;
And like the waters, we must ever be about flowing—
Flowing to ever be free from oppressive inequities:-

Strong flowing waters can burst damming dams,
And frozen ice melts in warm flowing liberating water; 
And although slow deep streaming water evaporates,
Does it not eventually fall back down on oppressive ground?

Let us forever run and flow in physical strength;
Let us forever run and flow in mental awareness;
Let us forever run and flow in spiritual uplifting;
Let us forever run and flow in undying faith:-

God has baptized us in the water of His divine love,
Graciously dipping our heads in His divine wisdom,
Guiding us towards His shores of divine liberation,
That we may forever flow in His gracious deliverance:-

Tempered Tongue

There are words that I’m slow to say,
Bound inside and kept away, so
My tempered tongue I won’t betray.

Without much thought an ass will bray;
Many with their jawbone slay, so
There are words that I’m slow to say.

Fire forged barbs will make you pay;
Injured mettle I must weigh, so
My tempered tongue I won’t betray.

Unbridled thoughts expressed all day;
Biting cuts will spark a fray, so
There are words that I’m slow to say.

Floods of emotion rush my way;
Damming walls deflect the spray, so
My tempered tongue I won’t betray.

Feelings expressed in shades of gray
Shield and keep this heart of clay, so
There are words that I’m slow to say;
My tempered tongue I won’t betray.

A Holy Person

One moment after
you get,
that your self-image of yourself,
is just a concept of a concept -
that you are in reality,
a scripture yet to be written -

only then
do you become a holy person.

Beware,
let no one eat your promises
as truth,
for they only want their beliefs
to stay pure,
and if you humor them
with other well-meaning myths,

you may well have to take holy orders,
and hide behind a whole lot more
damming words.

A-Eye Full of It

A software programmer named Arty Fishal
Tried to design something beneficial
But his programming
Was rather damming
Not unlike intelligence, artificial

As they push their wannabe pie in the sky
In our face until we see eye-to-their-eye
But the more they push
That tells me their tush
Actually shat out the @#$%!, they call AI

We learn that it takes lots of borrowed money
To try making us believe clouds are sunny
So they’re giving a try
At slinging AI
Which is too devious to be funny

Droughted Love

Canyons of loss
emotional wastelands
Spires of hope
grasping for sky

Riverbeds bake
 mountains are damming
Feelings once deluged
—barren and dry

(Dreamsleep: June, 2022)

Runaway

How does an orphan

Vocally display the need
to runaway

What it's like throwing a 
coin into a wishing well

Too curse a spell

Grow not skin but shell

Seek the face of one's mother

In every single damming crowd

Never destined to find

Walk emotionally blind and love less

As comfort less as a sleeping bag

At the bottom of a concrete step
on a hailstorm mattress

And worst of all feel it's somehow
your own fault

Surely i must have done something
wrong in order to deserve this

As not even life itself wishes
me nor my stolen tossed coin well

As still it remains laying rusting 
green in a Roman fountain bath 

Green with envy yet eternally blue

Cast the First Stone

To the cameraman who through your distant lense 
sees one man with another's wife,
and clicks and silently uploads, to expose, 
and so to make those lives implode.

Who do you see behind your shuttered home?
With wife away and children gone,
no prying eye save God's alone,
yet, still you pick and throw first stone.

To the journalist, seekings idle chatter 
and thinks it does not matter to craft
your print for more damming slant, 
that glint of gossip, that careful hint 
arising from unguarded natter.

Let’s take a lense and see your life, alone,
and how you sniff that chalky line;
and while you pick and throw that stone,
drink just one more 'fore callng ‘time’.

To the editor who holds their coats,
while dreadful damming work is done,
do tell us  how you treat your wife,
and your daughter, and your son?

Show us all, expose your lives.
Before you seek those speckled eyes,
look to the logs that are your own,
before you cast your wounding stone.

Rack,Reck,Rock

Blitzed.Sagging.Worn
Wild waves awash with pain
Bursting all over his frame
Its daggers sharply sending shivers
Right into the heart of his brain
Wilting under the piercing thrusts.

There in the hand of the nurse
Lodged that tender tablet
His temporary respite
And momentary salvation
The oasis promising ease
Calming the rough swells,
Damming  the pain
Until the savage seas die down
And a peaceful lagoon looms large

But the storm will rise again
A tale of shipwreck and rescue
This odyssey of torment and release.
When will it ever end?

No Happiness Here Either

No Happiness Here Either

She loves me, she love me not, knots
As he picked the petals of her heart
Why the cold chill your heart sought
Your petals cold, damming my start

A river of tears cries from the sky
Mine, forever a rainbow lost a pot of gold
You, a commodity richer to my eye
Than blossoms of bosoms a smile behold

On your surface I lie in your meadow
Wandering sweet dreams held in lost escrow

connie pachecho

8/5/17

The Sixth Lake

Deep within the wooded thick of a coniferous forest's vascular limbs,
A chorus of loons cry in mosaic croons which echo from where they swim.

They swim in a lake, the sixth of eight; a link in a mountain chain,
Forged by the damming of rivers filled by the gathering of rain. 

As the birds' words wash across the polish of water sitting still,
Moonlight melts in speculum upon this lake of swallowed ichorous swills.

You Will Know

Today, churches are held in disdain;
sullied by scandal and outright crime.
The foundation of faith is aging,
undermined by cracks exposed to time.

Salvation awaits those who believe,
so says scripture, to appease the crowd.
Yet, everyone is born a sinner;
damming anyone who speaks aloud.

Religions feed off of frustrations,
Divinely steeped in their self-image.
And enforced rules of exclusiveness;
fuels a dominancy scrimmage.

Once a week, on your knees for an hour,
doesn't test your relationship with God.
But we seek spiritual blessings,
just in case God is more than a fraud.

Some say God's Divine Presence is clear,
for it's seen throughout all creation.
But amidst war, starvation, and death,
can it be seen in Man's damnation?

It doesn't matter if God is real;
unless you believe Him to be so.
But if you don't, look within your heart,
and if you find Him there, you will know.

Fatal Imagination

Dark slay, dull darkness, sometimes reveals in any mind
No wonder it narrows the interior of creativity, that is hard to find
It beats and stones the remark ability of colors, brightness, and charm
They call it being stuck, stopped, and filled with harm
Thus, the end of the battle of blankness and flourishing, pours ideas
Into a never ending hole
Fatality following imagination is it's ugly role

Another damming event of stillness in the head, ruins the process 
Of words to get inspired from what's creatively read
When uninspired letters are placed, the creative and true ones are being 
Attacked and chased by the enemies who don't accept brilliant in art and writing

Heartcrusher

Pebbles those thick drops of hard rain;  earth hail skittering
At the front of your mind growing, sloshing marbled and felt in your teeth
Scratching ache and unbalanced weight rolling forward to escape

Mud mouth soil that packed downslope; viscous vicious 
Damming down rivers the chest, collected tunnel tailings pressurize
Expanded space and collapsed place resisting to make face

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