Elena wore a mourning veil of
lace,
To hide the smirk upon her
painted face.
Her husband, Julian,
vanished in the night,
Escaping debts and fading
from her sight.
She'd forged the letters,
framed a grand goodbye,
And told the town a cold and
clever lie.
Now Arthur, Julian's father,
held her hand,
The wealthiest landlord in the
valley's land.
He sought a partner for his
vast estate,
Within a month, the legal
scrolls were signed,
A pact of power, cunningly
entwined.
She held his arm, inheriting
the throne,
The grand estate was finally
her own.
But as she reached to claim
The iron key,
She saw a coldness in his
legacy.
Arthur smiled grimly,
opening the door,
To reveal the truth he'd held
in store.
He'd found the forgeries
she'd tried to hide,
And cast the deceitful bride
aside.
He dwelled in depths I dared not enter
Satan the landlord; he the renter
He packed his things but left behind
a lidded box he hoped I'd find.
It was not of the Pandora kind.
Curious as to what he'd put inside...
Yes, I was inquisitive enough
to know if its contents had the power
to devour me whole or leave me sour
over the promises he didn't keep...
the vows he broke that made we weep.
He'd stolen my heart and I wanted it back
I the prey, he the hunter.
Sunset descended behind willow trees
before it felt right to open the lid,
for in darkness, he'd left me in sorrow,
grimly haunted by the memories of him.
In stygian shadows is where he often hid.
How fitting the hour of midnight appealed
to me to unseal the box, its cover to lift.
Therein I found his silver wedding band
and felt I should thank him for this final gift.
In the box of dreaded darkness, I found light.
A gift I understood as I held it in my hand.
He the giver, I the receiver.
April winds whip up the air
Making people
Grimly clutch their jackets tight
Heads down, hands on hats
As pear blossoms
Dance and swirl
In eddies and whirlpools
Across pavements
In delight.
(4/14/26)
Bright celestial bulbs over circuit,
All the men and women woven in ink,
Bestowing light upon the library—
Shatters into sharp, blazing shards,
Grimly hunching like half-melted ice—
Forgotten, like a dusty grave.
The first weakening of night
picks out telephone lines,
black against sky.
The eyelid of a garage door
lurches laboriously up.
A car coughs blue breath.
With aerosols and plastic scrapers
clandestine delights of frostwebs
are raked to chemical sludge.
Starter motors whine.
Windshields cloud with pain.
Gears grind teeth.
An electric train
gingerly
utters inarticulate from the sheds,
groaning over cold joints.
Thinking grimly
of tunnels ahead,
it flares with ill-humor
crossing the points.
On unworked land beside the track,
a fox is heading home.
Gliding through
beneath the "keep out" sign,
he grins at the engine,
which just judders along,
headlights trained
on parallel lines
which glint ahead,
reflecting lurid signal red,
extending out, but never meeting,
towards the vanishing point.
I feel your unrehearsed pauses--
the rustle of a blue shirt in leaving
a tangy ache your firm lips make,
holding back cold, collected words.
This rendezvous ... a slow-fire quiver
an ending which has it's own interment;
and outside, night wrestles with time
brittle dew against my eyes, dry mouth
licking an estranged bite that reminds me
of your frivolity . Until sighs
become hollow and stuttering
like a thirst from a weltering breakwall.
So it is with discovery,
the trails of affection are never mine
as I call you grimly,' 0 heart-breaker'
while banging shells litter on the dunes
as this heart shrinks from tangled lies:
There is still much to learn about
young passion... needles upon my chest
losing you from sight like a migrant breeze...
for a woman , fragile at eighteen.
In the wind, hear a plaintive, mournful wail.
It is more than a wolf caught in a trap.
It's more than fishing gear catching a whale
and rainforests being wiped from the map.
It is a voice that cannot speak in words.
Across the ages, you discern the moan
of vanishing prairies, buffalo herds,
that's carried by plowed up topsoil, windblown.
Earth's untamed ecosystems we hold dear
are crying softly, asking for our help,
grimly warning that they will disappear.
Like a badly injured dog's dying yelp,
hear the wilderness's last gasping breath,
"Save me from the clench of languishing death".
Ordinary People
.......................................
walking on the roads hurriedly,
to reach workplace indifferently,
to finish pending work finally.,
saw a bleeding man callously,
looked at passing by people furiously,
and thought did my duty thoroughly.
The dying man could be wishing desparately,
to help him with a heart humanly.
What did he know,we have become possibly,
merciless than the reaper so grimly.
Have the time to take picture perfectly,
but not to lend the hand to help you readily.
Well ,could be anyone’s woman,child or anyone potentially,
to be in a state and watched on helplessly.
My status ranges from low to high endlessly,
and so does my education absolutely.
Do I care about these you silly,
am just like you ,ordinary people living casually,
unhinged,unperturbed ,going along slyly.
After all ,we are all people living so ordinarily.
Written and finished on:21/9/24
I was wondering what a painting about one of my poems look like
Grimly gathering of gnarly letters
So take this one would it
slipperyness of eels in heels
Would my light one haze of neon faze
Would oil slick inks hint of tyres hanging cliff
Stuck between being and bee spell
Check one Czech too
slathering like squidwards tongue
Could you imagine if an artist paints your words
Would colour be redily available
Tones scared of the zones
ReaDy this inbRed distuRbEd if you
CaRED imploRed deRavED REaD
ErR closED follow the road
Penguins in trees with silk people sleeves
Peppered with sir and the gents
Belittle a little be
I mean we’re
would ewe start
I was wondering what a painting about one of my poems look like
Grimly gathering of gnarly letters
So take this one would it
slipperyness of eels in heels
Would my light one haze of neon faze
Would oil slick inks hint of tyres hanging cliff
Stuck between being and bee spell
Check one Czech too
slathering like squidwards tongue
Could you imagine if an artist paints your words
Would colour be redily available
Tones scared of the zones
ReaDy this inbRed distuRbEd if you
CaRED imploRed deRavED REaD
ErR closED follow the road
Penguins in trees with silk people sleeves
Peppered with sir and the gents
Belittle a little be
I mean we’re
would ewe start
The charts and graphs of doom are steep.
Our worries pile up in a heap -
Into our brains it starts to seep -
Indeed, we are in trouble deep.
Will he move fast or slowly creep,
As he, at bay, we hope to keep,
Yet, knowing he will grimly reap?
There will be no one left to weep.
No sir, you will not hear a peep.
The lucky ones die in their sleep.
Epilogue
Then God will gather up his sheep.
They’ll need to carpool in a jeep,
In a traffic jam: beep beep beep beep!
On thanksgiving day we’re eager to see
on dinner table smoked juicy turkey.
We find dismayed the bird gone,
and couldn’t get another one.
No way out, we’ve to turn vegan grimly.
Grateful for God’s blessings as the windfall,
no turkey but wine everybody’s call.
Apple pie, tomato fry
make unique dinner night fly.
Thank His benevolence giving it all.
Skeletal feet clickity clack,
a zombie child chewing bubble gum
giggles.
I have set a cackling witch at my door
but none are sacred tonight,
yet the cold hand of the dark
shivers all.
Candy is proffered,
horror masks nod, drool and moan,
bone handed gloves
grab recently caught Swedish Fish.
I shove the witches switch at them,
it's the only way
to save some treats
for the hungry ghost
that lives in my grimly grinning mouth.
The 6th and 9th have come and gone though none have taken note
that faraway, on those two days, an instant blazing blast
had vaporized morality. A bygone anecdote?
It seems such tales are best forgot and buried in the past.
But nonetheless, one must confess, the odds are highest now
that might and means have globalized the final battle field,
such that the victors also lose and perish anyhow.
The rulers in their zeal decide these facts be best concealed.
The warriors bit by bit rearm, their foes to nullify,
with strategies for victories where winners will prevail,
rejecting thoughts of compromise (though nukes are standing by!).
Yet still its grimly obvious that all will finally fail.
Beware you wide-eyed simpletons that follow, with the herd,
the drumbeat of the profiteers that draws us down this path
with prophesies of glory days and other things absurd.
Instead the skies above will burn, the only aftermath.
When smiles and tears cross
under clouds that faded fast
grimly cold shadows
but bright hopes would always bloom
as the taste of sweet honey
08.03.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
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