A different season opens the door,
Nature is stripped of its glamour and radiance.
Sadness sings the songs of the day,
Melancholy paints the portrait.
The foliage of farewell falls to the ground,
Telling a story of a fall from glory.
A rhythm of gloom pervades the atmosphere;
They are swept into the abyss beneath.
Farewell heralds a journey to the beyond.
Feeble leaves dance to the rhythm of the night,
They travel toward the unseen light.
The sacred texts reveal fragments of an ancient mystery.
O fall, let this lore of love be the last entanglement.
Let my soul be free from the haunting and encroaching memories.
O redemption, guide me to the path that leads to your door,
For in the deadness of my body, your light will lead me to the eternal portal of glory.
September 22, 2026.
Feeble boughs sway in the twilight,
The wind sighs and sings,
The rhythm of another era,
Whispers of the impermanence of life,
A door into its mysteries,
I remember my mother’s tales,
About an emergence in the stillness,
When deadness plucks nature’s strings,
Somehow this view left me -
The memories awakened in me.
May 17, 2026.
Nette Onclaud,
Snapshots Of A Night Scene Poetry Contest.
autumn sighs and sings
melancholy rings
deadness tells a tale
that pulls on heartstrings
March 26, 2026.
Only you
Only, nobody, maybe you will be a way
The way, the only one, hope is straight
Straight, your crown is bright, fine of us
The wonder of life is you. Only just you
My life is paying attention to loving you
I know the sin of the past, missed times
…missed you…
We can’t delete it; we need to live in it
Yes. Our lost lives. The lost lives. Hmm
Far. Far. Flying souls above the skies
Hmm. I want to follow them. Our lives
Your new style. Over my life. See bye
The better bye on the other side. Bye
Our lives are not mine. Hmm. No. Mine
Deadness here. My life follows our lives
We live together, waiting for you in our lives
Our lives, our kind, calling you. Other side
Only You, I loved you
Only you, hmm
Stay there
From far
Love
Hmm
We
You
There’s a door through every form of deadness,
Marking the beginning of a fresh era,
The cosmos heralds its emergence,
Life forms at the gate of the deep.
The silence within every deadness speaks volumes,
It takes an unperturbed heart to listen and understand,
And a tranquil soul to discern the path to another realm,
The elements will support those who are willing to journey there.
There’s a beauty hidden in the night,
Mysteries emerge from the night’s cloak,
The mind transcends and descends with the uncommon,
And a stream flows along with its descent.
Nature is saddened when mortals remain aloof from its light,
The cosmos weeps when we refuse to ascend its ladder,
Look out from autumn’s window,
And find your stars in the dusk.
November 12, 2024.
the deadliest of deadiest deaders
with a deadness most deadmous
now, ghostie, ghostliest ghosters
hosting a ghostful ghost ghostfest
o this ghostly ghosties dead mess
Too soft to describe with words
Letters have sharp edges
And speech can’t define
If peace were a river
I would be a leaf
Falling in my deadness
The freshness of green gone
Helpless as I am
Swirling in the wind
Destined for the dirt
But the water draws me close
Flowing with alien weight
The scent of hope and solitude
Kisses my thirstiness
My eyes overflow with the current
My soul pours into the river
And I become whole
Content in surrender
Drifting without knowledge
Led with no resistance
Slave to the water’s design
Take the dead;
use their parts
to make a wretch,
this morbid art—
Frankenstein, Frankenstein!
You are to blame
for the deadness
in your heart.
Great scientists
applaud you,
what— because you
play a god!
Frankenstein, Frankenstein!
Broad paths
are better
left untrod.
Look in the mirror;
See the true beast!
You are the nightmare
stealing your sleep!
Oh, Frankenstein;
The self is the
monster that haunts
you—haunts me.
Yes, the moon is dead,
Yes the sun is but a ball of gas and fire,
billions of stars, other moons
and other planets all the same.
Yes,
but what if all that deadness
were a living universe of you
reflected upon a sightless eye
that only looks outward?
We are not alone, we never were.
We are the living lights,
we are the known and unknown.
We are the never dead.
What we consider alien
is the very elemental construct
of an infinite reality
always blossoming,
while our eyes seek
alien Gods or demons
elsewhere,
everywhere but within the living.
Neglecting spouse
on tempting lover
lavished
champagne and roses
luxury car... caviars
blue pearls on satin
perfumed embracing
on burning sands
of passion
on meadows bed
asleep in arms
of vices
deadness hidden
by green
of wrapping vines
like tree
when dead twice
night of heat
turned ice
from corpse
in horror
running
weightless will
untrained to resist
sucked in by vacuum
despairing in
God's mercy
immersed in pride
to pay unpaid bill
Love required
on its descent to fire
looked up to see
resplendent more
than sun
The Spouse
springtime of ages
reflecting in her gaze
opening gate
of Paradise
her smile
divine
then shutting.
Sixth Place Winner: Brian Strand-No 1240 Unplaced-9/2/23
Distant country
The flat was on the third floor, flights of wooden stairs
deep groves from generations of people going up and down
in the living room, I sat down, had been away too long.
The autumn wind blew, the house swayed and creaked
like an old schooner meeting the Atlantic swells.
The room was simple, a few pictures and an Amateur
painting of a rowboat in a fiord, a boathouse and blue sky
afar the silhouette of a mountain range, the painting was
ominous by its deadness; got up went down the same stairs
I entered; the past and those I knew had gone.
They grow out of our minds.
They excavate the past
with the jaw bones of concussed elks,
time is not in them,
it is only we who shimmer then disappear.
Wind and a cold moonlight
carves them still.
They are the blunt teeth
of an endless angry sky.
The undead
deadness of their weight
anchors the soil
keeps it from flying away.
If we let them they will ask of us,
lead us to recall the dust
in our green bones.
When she stepped into the traffic
did she see the oncoming,
judge the distance;
the fleet footedness
of her thoughts calculating
the crossing,
or did she read the red end of her life
the way a deer might
caught in a blind light,
paralyzed by decisions?
I watched,
perhaps other eyes were on her
too far away from the moment
to save or rescue her time.
When planes break apart
the passengers fall out of it
thinking, calculating,
& dying before the end.
Possums lay in the road
gambling on deadness
to fend off an 18 wheelers.
Did a ghost of a thought
push her back,
keep her swaying
like a cartoon road-runner
on the curb edge,
or did she plunge into the truck
gambling that she would
always be
a moment away?
Was she already lost
as she unraveled a tangle
at the other side of town.
This we cannot say,
for most of us reflexively
looked away.
Rise Up
Rise up o you that slumber
Awaken to the time
The time is to draw near
The time to now wash clean
Let go of all the things
That entangle and restrict
Arise out of the deadness
and adversity surrounding
Arise and stand
Rise up!!
Strength that knows no limits
Will overtake you....
Like the morning sun
and shine its light upon you
Mountains be removed
The angels marvel and surround
Your foot shall not slip
Nor falter
Your path will be clear
And well lit
You will stand high above
all principalities
and powers
Rise up!!
Grace
Daub June 09/09
Ever been diagnosed with minor deadness
When symptoms are stiffness and deafness
Stillness prevails
Absence of emails
Also restricts their game of tennis
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