I can’t say exactly why I write
Beyond the physiology
Or why a fish swims
Or where an ocean feeds --
All a great mystery
Of crops and weeds --
As I wish the world well fed
Every child with a safe, warm
Bed.
________________________
A breeze just passed
A Whisper of sorts
On its way due west
I believe
If lesson or intensify
One must know prevailing
Currents
A Child just passed
Blew on by, with energy
Of youth -- prevailing currents
Little matter -- no one knows
The breath of a heart....
I wandered on a journey, in search of treasure,
priceless far beyond any kind of menial measure.
After weeks of hard trekking, 258 miles due West,
on 6/25 I lost my 20/20 vision. I needed a rest.
I was sick of the infernal heat on this tiring quest.
The warm breath of summer became quite a pest.
A coral snake bit me but I didn't cry and ballyhoo.
I ate him for dinner and wrote about him in Haiku.
I was singing my swan song; an ache in my breast,
so I gave up the search for finding that stupid chest.
Because of my selfish need for greed and pleasure,
I learned a life lesson. I've become a lady of leisure.
Views For Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Funom Makama
Posted on July 15, 2020
Poem Name: Warm Breath of Summer
Views: 258
Poetry Form: Haiku
Date of Publication: 6/25/2020
Open highway and a convertible car
full tank of gas cruising farther and far
Into the night alongside a silver moon
coasting my soul avoiding soon
Nowhere to go and nowhere to be
riding the lonely highway feeling free
Wind in my hair you on my mind
driving due west my heart blind
Taking my time no need for speed
driving on cruise control, my foot at ease
City of Angels will I find her there
will she accept me or even care
Promising not to see her I know I ought
but I must see her for she crowds my thoughts
No need to rush for something I know
got my heart on cruise control
Once again you slide inside
to chiv me,
to stick me with a blade.
Cold steel is not
when your blood's running hot
but the signals get mixed
then we're fixed
fine? it's dandy.
You don't feel the stiletto
as it tiptoes in and your
life falls out,
and I thought it was
all about that.
Centurions in Century city
reaching out to the witty,
the pithy
and are you with me?
okay,
it's okay
I
lose it too.
On a heading due West,
of oblivion
colliding with starlets
like Vivien.
that's Leigh in case you were wondering.
no escaping
just scraping
the bottom of the barrel
the cider tastes better down here.
Zephyr,
echo of the eastern wind,
gentle and balmy is thy caress,
your kiss leaves the hardened heart due west;
breath of hope for steely-days,
winds of change whisper fortune,
do they raise the spirits of righteous device,
and speculate to riddance,
of tempests to come,
flee me forever ---
in thy pleasant climes
Spirit of the western wind sings,
thy floral in flowered Spring,
whistle in the wombs of weeping willow hangs,
the grated ground from stretching hands
(courtship of the tasseled frays)
so human is thy playful ways,
and child-like thy fickle display
(though so earnest is thy whistled word) ---
I leave thee my levity, and forget thee not,
keepsake to keepsake; when the hour is late
and the icy-ridges of doom do renounce and boom;
in the breath of my end days
sing in my ears once more
(the coda of drummer calls)
and play thy earnest tune,
in the vestige halls of evermore
(I do wait)
My thoughts breath, like a wave from the deep,
Some are fleeting and breaking too soon.
Others grow steady, becoming bigger than big,
With all of the help from the moon.
And just like a wave, that's out in the deep,
I can't tell which idea is the best.
My ideas are confused about where they are heading,
Like a wave heading east or due west.
To the shore my thoughts head, gaining momentum,
Coming together directly to land.
And like a great set of waves breaking to beach,
They wash up all over the sand.
The waves of my thoughts, from the deep they do come,
Some are huge and some are mundane.
I like my ideas that are perfect rip curls, I wonder,
Are your thoughts kind of the same?
Brutality’s Day
There’s been a terrible accident
A plane rammed into the World Trade Center
What? Another plane?
The other Tower?
You mean it’s intentional?
Me at my desk
Thirty miles due west of downtown Manhattan
That’s how it was all begun
September 11, 2001.
Up my shield.
Emotions not breaking a steely barrier of denial.
And so the towers fell
As did my wall
And finally my heart succumbed at such mistral.
My cyber buddy, gifted poet, working in Kuwait
Said some were dancing in the streets.
They even gave out candy.
Can the fallout of carnage be displayed with sweets?
Oh please, ye dancing devils
Please, be you few compared to we.
We, mounted on earth’s primordial pebbles
Ready to smite the enemy.
Let’s annihilate the treachery.
This wells forth of desperation.
No! Not begat by hate.
A plea for brutality’s eradication.
© September 15, 2001
Kathryn McL.Collins
morning afterwards
best possible experience
waterfalls due west
A meadow of Spring,
due west evergreens peering down;
yonder above snowy Hood.
If the air can burn like fire,
Let your heart supply the flame,
Merge your passion with desire,
Till they both become the same...
Watching shadows as you cast them,
That reflect your inner peace,
Disappearing as you past them,
While they're searing in the heat...
Watch yourself in shades of amber,
Scorching earth as you collide,
With the skyline as it cambers,
Just beyond the other side...
So you rise due west of Heaven,
Just to settle in the east,
With your eyes upon the leaven,
As the sky begins to crease...
If the phoenix that has risen,
Is from the recess of your heart,
You'll return to the beginning,
So the fire can restart...
Terry
WWW.WhiteLionPoetry.com
WHERE’S MY LUNCH, MUM?
Mum bird’s in nest:
Her small pest wants
Food lest it starve.
She says, you’d best
Fly due west - and
With zest and speed.
Chick says, this test
Is a jest - for
My rest is due.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for Dr. Ram Mehta’s Contest “Than-Bauk”
sleeve of heart and head in hand,
blindly pacing, sight and sand.
faces lose all faith and will,
blurred and silent, always still.
one eyed man among the blind could tell the endless lie,
and all, shy god and insects, miss the falseness of his eye.
anchors weigh the state of mind,
imagination ties the bind.
see truth is rarely logical,
where as, sense and fiction rhyme.
due west, press on, leave east to mourn the plight,
of fading stars and last moonlight.
eyes open with the morning to see the sun ignite.
these days yearn for movement, move sloth from mind and sight.
activate the tools or comparison will pale,
despite your every effort, gritting tooth and biting nail.
path ahead is tomb for good intentions of the failed.
occupy your minds with thought or waste and wallow in the mess.
our home and hope will wither while you find what to assess.
for dormant minds, the truest dream, will always be no more or less.
I found a Stetson cowboy hat
lodged in some tumbleweed
somewhere a hatless cowboy
must be in urgent need
the western sun will be relentless
upon his sweating brow
and burn the tenderness of the face
unless he waits in shadowed boughs
this poor hat has seen better days
it's dirty from blowing around
the band is missing, the brim has holes
from bumping against the ground
where are you cowboy? I have your hat
I will keep it here for you
mount your horse and ride due west
it's in the valley you'll ride through
We walked by them…
The lovers on the beach…
The night hid our presence
and the waves silenced our passing.
There was no missing the intensity of their caresses
and the throes of their passions in the gentle falling of night.
We walked softly to honor their magic.
The lighthouse sparkled in your eyes
and the quiet laughing in your smile
echoed the warmth of younger days.
On an island, long ago,
the dunes of Ossabaw
had whispered such spells
and we, in our youth,
had listened to the ocean’s love songs.
The return to our camp
passed in rich silence.
Under the amber glow of candles
the adventure returned
and I fell in love..
again.
Originally published in "Bang" by Due West Publishing. duewestbooks.com
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