—A Sonnet—
I dwelt one season, fastened to the bough,
Till autumn's breath divulged my hidden name;
The oak released the covenant we avowed,
And bade my little sovereignty to flame.
I voyaged where the fern rehearsed the rain,
Past lichened stones that kept green books of moss;
Each root composed, through every amber vein,
A slower scripture no man's foot could gloss.
Yet falling proved no forfeiture of place:
The forest hoards the harvest of its loss.
The brook translated gold to dark embrace,
Till silence learned the cadence of the moss.
Now spring unfolds where none have witnessed me—
I bloom as rings the living heart of tree.
What life
without loved ones?
They bring warmth to our life.
Without them life is so barren
Hold them.
Father
Epicenter-
around whom we circle.
In his gravitational pull,
Safety.
Mother
Epitome-
of sweet love and concern.
angel, friend, guide and guardian
Heartbeat.
Siblings
beans of same pod
of same blood with same traits
co- partakers of joy and pain
Blessing
Buddies-
add spice to life
to whom we can confide
grim secrets that can't be divulged.
Support
Night, friendly night
On lone walks past
Whom I've divulged, through no ' boo!'
My secrets to
Enfold me now
Low-boughed for pine.
A moonless grove's! Trackless sought;
Midst airs, o'erwrought.
Friend, spouse! To hide
Each fright away.
Day-faced, when at me glaring
World, felt odd in .
Cliffs aren’t dangerous
until you make them sharp
with shadows and wild waves…
The woods is peaceful
until it hoots and howls
chills up the spine…
The house is big and beautiful
until the weeping willows are old
and its secrets are slowly divulged…
The breeze-like sound of the sea
holds lively hearts
until they be stilled…
The knife is productive
as it carves a pumpkin’s features
until flames fuel perdition…
Superstition is innocuous
until the innocent
are burned at the stake…
Stick figures -
embers of the erroneous
history of shadows…
you’re my quintessential
midnight, catching traces
of you across the duvet
in the jungle room
cross-bred with speckled
remnants of your mothers’
perfume - or is it a candle?
you’re my ushering
silhouette. I hunt the shape
of you in all my spaces - absolute
or so poetically divulged,
the imaginary portion
slips away. I saw you
become my favorite Sunday
afternoon, blasting Moderat
while you traced well-formed
fingertips across my vision,
and I can feel no other
I've spoken to a raindrop; It listened so intently in its special way
A life so blessed that I never want to end; my only wish is to stay
I've whispered to a raindrop; it offered me seclusion in its special way
Of my thoughts darkest collusion, a demon’s fire it would offer to slay
I've confided in a raindrop; It held onto my hand in its special way
Shared all my tears as they're hidden safely, my secrets discreetly stored away
I've divulged into a raindrop; it touched my salted cheeks in its special way
Special is the way, it asked me to walk with it, while it down poured for a day
I've disclosed into a raindrop; what my heart wouldn't dare in its special way
Next time I see the storm, I will listen, never leaking what it has to say
I've imparted to a raindrop; its value proposition is its special way
Within this budding liquid friendship our love is so much more fluid per se
I've lay bare into a raindrop; dysphoria concealed in a special way
So thankful, I am for all this rain, clouding another wonderful birthday
.
I woke this morn
eve were gone
I showered this morn
i left the towelz in the dryer
I prepared breakfast this morn
i burnt the eggs
Twixt stanzaz i prepped noon'z meal
i drank wine 'stead milk
I got lost this eve'nin tap'n think
i skipped mine dinner
I showered tonight with mine in eve's wet
she giggled az i divulged mine nun hern
whilst she worked her double shift
Our love rhymes:
Do poems sound like a test?
Know that there is so much love I have here.
You can hear it in my chest.
What we are now is because of our past,
But do past mistakes define my ability to love?
If I question you:
'Are you still in doubt?'
This love is fragile
That even a deadly stare can kill us.
But I’ll fight because I should,
For that’s the best way to protect us.
There are some gloomy days,
I paint grief on your face.
Time will tell when love can be divulged,
At the right place."
We tried to hide and could have died.
But we only heard the faint cry
Of the wind whistling aloud
As the devastation passes by.
From the darkness, we heard cries,
weeping voices of the night storm
Crashing through invisible barriers
That head the names of our heroes.
The storm uprooted old trees.
Bludgeon tool unable to rule.
Fearful plow into the houses.
Crumpling like an ancient scrawl
Night storm is an ancient journeyman,
Come on a visit to the isles each year.
To enact revenge on the jealous land
The divulged appetite has no fear.
The hunted died, and the storm's gone.
an evil force, crawl back into its silent shell
Planning a surprise for the next horizon
With whispers of awakening hell.
A peacock to some,
but to others a confident and close friend.
Confidence, humorous,
displays feathers,
selects the perfect mate.
Unbeknownst is he of the
defects
within his selection, too much time
lusting the outside,
never fully knowing the inside.
Secure in his vibrant colors,
overconfident that his mate would never stray.
Too concerned with the outward appearance
of those within their circle.
Neglected is she who grooms the offspring and tends the nest.
Healthier to leave to the injuries she's received,
yet flaws hold her bonded.
Too late you come with the validations
which she required.
Divulged is the straying
with those of lesser colors.
Injurious is it to your
prideful mantle.
Both are now imperfect,
insecure in being,
and require a pal full of time.
the allure of the sea
divulged to me
a whitecap's primeval roar
waves gently lapping the shore
come ye, landlubber
her hidden bosom awaits
swirling waters' pleasures
nature's womb recreates
Rumors are invented by liars,
divulged by scoundrels and accepted by imbeciles... !
P literary interaction with excerpt
from an author
unknown
Must explain my reason for grinning
It's not what you might think
Got a cramp down in my nether regions
Maybe too many beans methinks
It's easy for people to think I'm just happy
Coz I am the majority of the time
The look on my face can be very similar
This time it emanates from behind
Think I just need to let a big boomer go
One that could shatter tall buildings
I hesitate to let the damn thing fly
For fear it would loosen people's filling
Guess I'll just have to suffer in silence
Till I reach a McDonald's restroom
If I make it, I hope they build 'em strong
Down with my drawers then kaboom!
The shattered remains can still be seen
They decided to make the site a memorial
Seventeen people have lost their eyesight
Six swore off Big Macs overall
Now I've divulged my reason for grinning
It's not that I'm happy, you see
The real reason is internal combustion
Not allowing my wind to blow free!
A bush lark in the Greenwood forest sings.
She sings all day long near the mountain springs.
Is she trilling in notes so plaintive of her missing mate?
Unleashing her heart of its doleful weight?
Or easing the pangs of a heart that starves
For a soul mate yet to come for whom she craves?
Or sending a missive through the aerial route
Sounding in every ear a low melancholy note?
From the covert of dark leaves, her song percolates.
Through the sinews of my heart it permeates,
Striking a cord between two souls equally deprived,
Stirring in me an inarticulate ache, never once divulged.
Placed Eighth
April. 29. 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
We hide and could have died
But we only heard the faint cry
Of the wind outside whistling aloud
As the devastation passes by.
From the darkness, we heard cries,
Bringing voices of the night storm
Crashing through invisible barriers
That held the names of our heroes
A mythical storm uprooting old trees
Bludgeon tool we are unable to rule
The falling fowl upon new houses
Lay crumple like an ancient scrawl
Night storm is an ancient journeyman,
Come on a visit to the isles each year
To enact revenge on the jealous land
with divulged appetite it has no fear.
The hunted died, and the storm gone
an evil force, crawl back into its silent shell
Planning a surprise for the next horizon
With groaning whispers of awakening hell.
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