I listen to the wind as it dries my tears
because its flowing current is wiser than all my years.
~ Quote by poet
Wind is never silent, echoing its cries
It sings in the night to stars in celestial skies
Stories are told upon the rushing wind
but in the telling, never does it feel chagrined.
Quicker than a heartbeat, it errantly flies.
Across mountain peaks its music is heard.
In its harmony, I hear every word.
I feel the cold of its temperate sting
and with its beckoning lyrics, I sing.
When its message touches me, I'm stirred.
In a gentle voice through meadows, it talks
I feel like chasing it on morning walks
I'd rise with wildflowers to take flight,
soaring to the moon at its zenith height,
if I had pinion wings like eagles and hawks.
I listen to the wind as it howls without grace,
When it blows waves of saltwater in my face.
It speaks of love in such a solemn breath
In its stillness, I hear it mourning death.
Never, for very long does it stay in one place.
Winds of honest scented
insistence glided my wings
through life’s many dramas.
Raw breezes fragrantly
touched my unsure skin
with soothing perfumes
promising my faith was
not errantly consumed.
I thought, go until I had it,
not go until the path quit
without signs I had tried.
I imagined a target future
sat for my eventual,
precisely aimed, bullseye.
That’s a notion I did covet,
even leaned it towards perfect.
If bottled, wind's cologne could
release sachets of peace to
waft serene blends upon and
through times of disquietude.
I listen to the wind as it dries my tears
because its flowing current is wiser than all my years.
~ Quote by poet
Wind is never silent, echoing its cries
Sings in the night to stars in celestial skies
Stories are told upon the rushing wind
but in the telling, never does it feel chagrined.
Quicker than a heartbeat, it errantly flies.
Across mountain peaks its music is heard.
In harmony, I listen to every word.
I feel the cold of its temperate sting
and along with its beckoning lyrics, I sing.
When its message touches me, I am stirred.
In a gentle voice through meadows, it talks
Capturing my attention on morning walks
Inviting me along with flowers to take flight
to soar to the moon. I'd accept the invite
if I had pinion wings like eagles and hawks.
I listen to the wind as it howls without grace,
blows briny waves of saltwater in my face.
It speaks of love in such a solemn breath
In its stillness, sometimes I hear it mourning death.
Oh, my gosh, I’m freaking and feel such dread.
What the hay is this nonsense on my head?
I can’t go to work, can't enter the office!
I will be seen, visible to peers and bosses,
be the fool who provided entertainment gossip.
God, please, send help, I am stress-nauseous.
I do not care about appearing faultless,
but I'd rather errantly tuck a dress in my hose
and walk through the office cluelessly exposed
than have everyone think this is what I choose.
I wonder if I should call in with a case of ugly,
hire someone to gently, but effectively mug me?
Perhaps I'll get pulled and cuffed on the roadside
for publicly exposing the ugliest hair ever dyed.
Shame a wig class wasn't at business school:
"How to Avoid Looking Like the Office Fool."
I look like a horrified, horror movie hostess.
Even my own mirror is refusing to focus.
Here I am, paler than even fresh new snow,
with midnight black hair grooving to and fro.
My very first dye and, oh my, I could just die!
Box said ‘brown’, now I'm so down, I might cry.
Universe, please – send a natural disaster,
nothing fatal, it's just one repair day I’m after.
As believing Christians doubt
errantly forgetting God,
He intercedes judiciously,
kindling love mid narcissism.
Our Paraclete,
quenchable, resident Spirit,
teaches us vital wisdom
xenolith, yokefellow, zealot.
The Harlequins of the night
languish their last aura
Lilly eyed clowns await
commissioners bleed into tweed
Rivillers errantly play drums
Damsels failing in their appeal
Adventurers sent back
Running on empty
the night people slide in between
Those old sinners head for the valleys
backing their wasted years
No prayers are said, just the orbital of silence
O, Lady!
Hard as barnacles
That block the silver skin
Of a Swan Boat
That sails errantly
Upon the Sea of Din
You are the Wave
That lifts that boat
Or sinks it in the mire
You are its ruby eyes that dim
Or flare with bright desire.
I cannot tell,
I cannot tell,
The reason
Why you go,
I’ll grip the rails
And furl the sails
And dumbly watch the snow.
Chaotic rain divulges errantly
how can this be God’s poetry
it plunders like a tsunami
the Devil’s masterpiece
How can this be mercy
torrent waters surge
floods creating oceans
inescapable drowning
Each rain drop becomes louder
caught in the line of fire
no escaping the bullets
tranquil peace destroyed
Peaceful melodies are lost
storms reflect unpleasant music
senseless evil heavy metal lyrics
no purpose – shouting and screaming
Doused, drenched, engulfed
suffocating – soaking strain
where is Noah and his Ark?
Will this barricade conclude
The Silent One
Originally written 7 January 2016
Repost: 1 January 2018
Forsake me not, for I should pine
and waste, like tendrils on the vine
that shrivel when the rains abscond
and nullify our special bond.
For eglantine shall flourish not
when kept in shade, stilled in the pod,
as would our love without the spark
of nature, and the love of God.
So stay forever, do not fear
that I might ramble errantly,
for I shall nourish and protect thee
throughout all eternity.
Forsake me not, for I should pine
and waste, like tendrils on the vine
that shrivel when the rains abscond
and nullify our common bond.
For eglantine shall flourish not
when kept in shade, stilled in the pod,
as would our love without the spark
of nature, and the love of God.
So stay forever, do not fear
that I would ramble errantly,
for I shall nourish and protect thee
throughout all eternity.
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, even in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood is the birthplace of hope and mirth
not fear and perturbation for the budding soul,
a testament to love where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal.
Shun darkness, disillusion, from God's green earth,
cast demons, evil thinkers to the depths of hell.
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, e'en in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood is the birthplace of hope and mirth
not fear and perturbation for the budding soul,
a testament to love where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal.
Shun darkness, disillusionment from God's green earth,
cast demons, evil thinkers to the depths of hell!
Last Modified: January 09, 2016 at 07:20 pm
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...the first three verses: abab rhyming
the next two together: abcbac rhyming
a form used frequently by W.H. Auden
Forsake me not, for I should pine
and waste, like tendrils on the vine
that shrivel when the rains abscond
and nullify our common bond.
For eglantine shall flourish not
when kept in shade, stilled in the pod,
as would our love without the spark
of nature, and the love of God.
So stay forever, do not fear
that I would ramble errantly,
for I shall nourish and protect thee
throughout all eternity.
They speak boldly of bravery
But yet cowardly hide from reality
Falsely believing courage to be found in artillery,
and respect in a casualty
I hope they never have to watch life untimely leave
When someone they think fondly of can no longer breath
They talk errantly since their life is at ease
In another part of town a mother weeps on her knees
But now this new recession
Has demographics intersectin
They on wall street concealing weapons
Even buddhists had to toughen
And I just want to be sky bound
When the clouds come unbound
And the instruments sound
Dont wanna be hellbound
The shadows from his younger days shake his resolve,
and make a mockery of time 'til time be lost
to moments of bewilderment, ne'er to evolve,
they bounce and bluster errantly, much to his cost.
Shades and silences, outbursts of ungoverned rage,
cruelty breeds rancor, e'en in the meek at heart,
kept and restricted, like a creature in a cage,
no literature for him, gentility or art.
Dissimulation, trickery and guile he plies
as tools to engineer his self-preservation,
he tells quaint versions of the truth, and bald-faced lies,
so's to avoid the whip and recrimination.
Childhood should be the nursery of hope and mirth,
not fear and perturbation, for the budding soul,
a testament to love, where supplicants may dwell;
not tyranny or willfulness, a wayward goal,
shun darkness, disillusionment from God's green earth,
cast demons, evildoers to the depths of hell.
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