To all the Misters
Who thought me a sister
Who found me a bore
In which to abhor.
Who tolerated me in "loving" pursuit of something "else"
Than "love 'til death do us part" as chimes
The whimsical of chapel wedding bells:
I do apologize for having stayed so long
I wish you well, though I dismissed you "gone"
Please do know...from the depth of my soul
I wouldn't have stayed so very long
But, if I did over-welcome my stay., I'll just have you know
I only did embedding the simple thought deep in my soul
That YOU were suitable for me to build MY dream,
Fulfill my goals and visions - yet unforeseen
First thing's first: A "safe" haven is what you miss
All for YOUR exchange altar-trade - a dollar for a kiss....
Very few realize how precious a heart really is!
The physiology comprehended by medicine and science
Offering no mysteries on the morphology of its inner workings.
Yet when Love is manifested in any form
Offering no palpable evidence to unravel,
Trying to decipher the impulses from the soul,
The unconscious governed by the senses,
Insuppressible sparks in the synapses
Sending bursts of life like clockwork,
A rhythm of beats defying comprehension,
A full circle of inhale and exhale
Embedding life a while longer.
The will to live on a premise
When a broken promise ends the cycle
With a name and a few words muttered on the very last beat.
Love does make all hearts very precious
Starlight and Blue Moon cast color above
Inspiring artists and thinkers alike
To aspire to reach their twinkling sky heights
In an artistic act of dreamy love
From all sorts of passion that they speak of
Nature’s lightening will vigorously strike
Embedding its golden whip in their psychs
Until creation of a morning dove.
A striped cat sneaks around without a care
As it embodies true simplicity
Such cat puts all ideas into its snare
Artists rely on such felicity
They’re whimsically mixing words to prepare
For hidden cat-like authenticity.
Are we on the same page
In the big black book of life
What would your words say
Would they cause relief or strife
Are you an onyx optimist heart
With views worn on white sleeve
Rather are you pink pessimistic shark
Waiting to take a bite of cocoa me
Can we grow towards a center
Perhaps merging in our violet view
Could cooperation create splinter
Embedding in thick skin like bad news
What is it about the opal opposites
Do they indigo in the soul attract
Can we build truce with rock and stick
And merge in a communal lime laugh
I admire your passion and dedication
You’ve a right to have such a stance
Join me in a cranberry celebration
Where unique ideas rise and dance
Writing pretty words
you hide from the truth
Arrangement your mantra
all substance eludes
Masked behind structure
embedding each line
An empty betrayal
— in meter and rhyme
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)
Kindred in bound twine,
inseparably free by fiber,
torn by the heat from dual flames.
Chase and kick outward,
indiscriminately,
spiral—undone.
Bystanders are able to face blame,
even though disconnected from incident.
A Bastard those still may be,
if the case is taken up for them
like it wasn’t for our sake.
A landfill of waste,
a place where grace spoils
under a soil of turmoils thickened
by crude oils.
The semi-conductor to
man’s moral coil.
Unchanged by full or semi-sweet molasses mixtures.
Only taken on tour
and touch torch to name,
shining in a spanking light.
Change.
Limos stretch far past
The Vanishing Point.
Ethereal Limbo.
There, in decomposition,
In their lair.
Laughing down at the idea of fact,
which he protests to thee,
threatening its way
past thy door threshold.
With sand kicked up,
irritating the corneal scale
embedding deep within fine carpets
oriental pattern's detail.
As Twilight gleams by, from the arrival of dusk,
Both were engaged, in conversation being brusque.
were They wholly sat, beneath the darkness subdued_
Overwhelmed with replies, "I'm not you."
Staggered were thoughts, embedding the head
Where altruism gets mould into such schadenfreude'
While benevolence vanquishes and affinity becomes due,
For the reasons they clarify, "I'm not you."
The name they chant or the bible they preach;
Profound logic they share, comprehended to each.
Entirely identical, though the question stands by..
"I'm not you" and "you're not I"
I'm totally exhausted,
wondering if life is a car exhaust.
Maybe I'm just smoke in motion,
burning dreams for fuel I can't afford.
Or I might be just a windscreen,
only of use when it rains.
People look through me,
but never pause to see the stains.
Often ignored,
like tires only checked on
once I'm worn out—
still I keep rolling.
Even gravel can’t convince me to break.
How many needles and glass
have I endured
to keep the train moving?
Still they wonder why I creak,
why my silence sounds like breaking.
I have chose you
in every turn and curve,
thinking you were my destination
but some maps lie in silence,
and not all roads were meant to arrive.
So reclaim what I have lost:
I'm taking the sharp glass and gravels,
embedding them on my crown.
Let them see every crack I survived
my glory isn’t gold, it’s grit.
Today I’m shamelessly proud
of every journey, ’cause
it showed me new roads.
And every scar sings of motion—
proof I never stayed broken.
Mystique mist shrouds the penultimate path
to the future, fading away in obscurity.
In twilight hour the sunset swansong resonates
the echoless tune of forlorn somber life,
silhouetted against the faint skyline of longing.
The threads of turmoil weave
the blue motif with sadness mold
in craving satiation, riding the sensuous storm
to the blank mindscape of frustrated desire,
once embedding the fervent fascination for repletion.
The shards of splintered hope adrift on buoyant flow
of cascading memories of the lively times
bring back the flavor of the old spices of life.
The remnant vibe of rejuvenation returns
within the sanguinity sphere of listless life.
Perhaps it is the yellowing autumnal foliage
that the evening light reflects,
or it could be the yellow corvette
parked beneath this particular tree
that up-lights the sky?
Dusk brings diaphanous flights
of jonquil-tinted clouds
The horizon retires
embedding itself
within a canopy of brocaded gold,
a gown so embossed, so quilted,
it has become too deep
to be lifted.
The headlights of the corvette
gleam their seeking suns.
Night drives out
sweeping before it
russet murmurings.
May their dying prayers
illuminate the dawn.
The One who writes the music
In notes of hope and peace,
Leaving out the darkness, embedding
Grace that relieves…
The One who writes the story
Between joy and faith,
Echoing life through the pages
Inspiring such thanks….
The One who writes the moments
With a pen of sun and rain,
Silencing the worries, easing
Even the past…
The One who writes the smiles
Through intimacy and light,
Foresees the edges of sweet joy,
Enlightens and enlivens…
The One who writes my colors
In hues of wonder and love,
Brightens all my heart’s yearnings
With dreams forevermore…
The One who writes my journey
Through blessings so unique,
Miracles and Godsends – consenting
To bring me a full book…
This volume is made up of wonders
Far more beautiful than the eye can see,
Far more brilliant than the sunlight,
Far more amazing than I can explain
For it comes to those who know Him
The One who writes with a creative hand,
The One who inspires and understands,
The One who answers all my prayers.
Because of Him, I know what it means
To love beyond my wildest dreams!
inflamed by its sputtering,
cavity muttering-
opened by oaken and metal frame fluttering,
lapsing from pavement and pierced into meat.
uttered uncomfortably, aortas ushering,
sizing in varicose clumps that then gush and bleed-
underneath-
addling-
marrow now callousing,
blood pools in pockets that rise then fall avidly,
omen of tragedy-
spilling haphazardly-
out through the holes in the abdomen cavity,
ribs weaving in with the antlers and atrophy,
breaching the velum, the lungs, and the tapestry
matting the fur and impairing anatomy,
mottled in apathy-
unsatisfactory,
violently waning to seize.
soothing the battery
bathed in a subtlety
gathering suddenly,
proboscis covering-
over the spills-
haemolacria bubbling,
butterfly, moth, and diptera now summoning-
spreading, embedding their needles and string.
bleating, unfleeting lachryphagous meaning,
now turning the pool to a flowering weave.
The Month of November Glum
Late Autumn bloomers, mums galore,
Crowd the mantel with Fall décor,
Filling one’s heart with warmth and timbre,
In the glum month of November.
I watched her pick them one by one,
To place in a vase of chrysanthemums,
Of beguiling colours and scent,
Tempting romantic engagement.
My eyes stretch the fabric of time,
Embedding this vision of mine,
My love’s rapport with chrysanthemums,
In the month of November glum.
***
Note:
The month of November’s birth flower is the lovely Autumn bloomer, chrysanthemum, aka mum. Chrysanthemums display the many colours of Fall. They represent friendship, honesty, and happiness, and symbolize joy and beauty.
Are we tedious, given the camera's dexterity?
Requiring what our reasons tell us to escape.
The topic's dualism generates disparity.
Using these subjects to symbolize "reshape"
I'll dig them up and bid farewell, verity.
Desire and aversion avert the soul's clemency.
Cynical evil hinders delight from spreading,
You foster anchoring and hedonistic tendency.
Happiness shrinks as expectation embedding.
If you're an oddity, then bear the pendency.
The realm of light is infinite and over pure.
Ethical glow would rouse delight and bliss.
Lack of egoism defines the core of the cure.
Aversions and desires give a lead to the abyss.
Wants are sheer unless mingled with body lure.
Being selfless is fun, and it's fun to be free.
Life on earth grants a test of love and fear.
Freedom is devoid of craving and worry.
What drives sadness, fear, and smear?
Desire only fuels a broader wishful story.
Written: September 24, 2022
Desire And Aversion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
CONCEPTIONS
fashioned
originality
freely
conceived
&
acclaimed
in
considered
dimensions
the centrepiece
&
the
highlights
of
a whole
potential
&
overtly
&casual
contradictory
in a more
rounded way
a core focus
&lifelong
interest
beginning
by encounters
sharpened
&embedding
a concern
to try
out
ideas
a new impetus
to take
risks
with
with
what
comes to hand
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
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