They don’t just hang in the sky;
They watch and see,
Understanding that sometimes our lives can be a turbulent sea.
They bear our weights and pains.
They emerge from the cloak of night at dawn,
Happy clouds embraced by the morn.
They race to find their place in the expanse,
Belonging to both the flight and the flightless,
A place where dreams and visions can soar.
They are the artistry of the Unseen,
Woven and spun by benevolent hands.
They are wrung to pour upon hostile sands,
The lands we journey through until the soul transcends to the beyond.
The clouds spill a thousand secrets,
Revealing the made and the caged.
They see the darkness that hides yet walks in daylight,
Seeming to exist in oblivion as they watch during twilight.
August 6, 2026.
I look around at all the stuff
I’ve purchased or created
To fill my home; it’s quite enough
That I’ve accumulated.
My husband lets my choices rule,
Especially my quilt work,
For he would have to be a fool
To share if some critiques lurk.
I never used to think about
Where all of it will go when
I’m gone, because, without a doubt,
There’s no way I will know then.
My children will not give a hoot
About my works of stitching.
My efforts they will not dispute,
Though that won’t stop them ditching
The pillows, hangings, tchotchkes, art,
Plus photo books and keepsakes;
All these tucked inside my heart
Will win the dumpster sweepstakes.
Since I will not observe it, there
Will be no tears or clashes,
But in my mind, it isn’t fair
To turn my stuff to ashes.
Freedom
We thought we were free
Born that way we were told.
Free from being beat, bought, borrowed, and sold.
We thought we were free
To think and be anything we can.
Freedom was different for us the black man.
We thought we were free
From hangings, slavery, and working the fields.
We don't pick cotton, tobacco, or crops to pay bills.
We thought we were free
We work for minimum $3 dollars the wage.
Called boy and , but we control our rage.
We thought we were free
Equal that's what we said
MLK must have bumped his head.
We thought we were free
Free at last! We praise that speech.
Having no idea of the truth.
We only know what they teach.
-Bisonlion
My house blew clear to Texas the cowboy said.
His spittle hit a saddle, and my face turned red.
He was crude for sure, but his stories were great.
I waited to hear more, and it was worth the wait.
He had stories about tornadoes and rattlesnakes too.
Shared some horrific details about hangings before he was through.
Why do you listen to that old coot? My mama said.
She does not know the beauty of an old crazy man’s head.
He can entertain the best of us with stories of far away.
Much farther than most of us will ever travel if Ma has her say.
“Past Abilene that old house began to fall apart, he said with a grin.
I love his stories, his mannerisms, his invented words, and his fantastical vim.
On your walls hang all these degrees
First thing everybody sees
Hanging on the wall so proud
Quietly hanging there so loud
Look at me
This is what I be
Chin held up with pride
In for such a ride
Look at me
I'm something to see
But the truth be known
From all the evidence shown
Doesn't make you a hero
They mean less than zero
Hanging on your wall
They have no value at all
It's how they are used
Not Abused
Used to help another
When life starts to smother
For the betterment of someone other than you
My words are true
Use them for good
That this be understood
Use them for self gain
Their just a stain
Of no value at all
Just words hanging on your wall
Wreaths
Paintings
Wall hangings
A decorator's paradise
Wooden cars
Paint brushes
Stick on designs
A child's moment to learn how to drive for the first time
Candle wicks
Candle scents
Colored wax
A candle maker's luxury
A hobby for all
Who come to seek out
Their good fortune
It isn’t my hand that runs down the pews.
It is the boys with emptied hearts
The girls with arms full and rocking
The treatable gone.
Plastic jugs are more dangerous than they seem.
Knives don’t carve secrets like kerosene does.
Pitchers with pungent swirls jostle as I walk.
They have never before felt a holier water.
Down the aisle to my fate as many did before me.
The Blessed Virgin lies not within the marble form above me
Christ did not die on the wooden wall hangings
And the gold adornments had God melted out of them long ago.
This is not a holy place, but a husk.
The lessons drench the priests’ robes.
What nests here cannot be allowed to breed another season
To gorge themselves on tinkling laughter
Have your god strike me down. I hold the noose and will cinch it as I go.
My God makes matches.
I need only swipe them across a stone.
Childhood’s no longer a time to chill,
We’ve found ways child’s very child to kill!
Time then to draw a line—
Every child's no Einstein,
S@tire that enough of truth has still.
___________________________________
Happenings | 04.01.2020 |
Topic: humour, childhood, parents
Poet’s note: I see an infant in a cradle. Instead of colourful sundry hangings over the cradle shaft (watching which my generation grew up to be a happy-go-plucky child), I see label-banners that read: JEE, IAS, NEET, GMAT, CAT, GRE, all hurdles that a student has to pass for a bright career attracting good salaries, and his parents filled with aspirations looking over . What a way to raise a child!
Ice Hangings
David J Walker
My backward
Paradise
Has entered an
Extended season
Of unexpected ice
Unwelcomed
Not needed in
The February storm
That formed after an
Abnormally warm week
Of unwinter like weather
Winter has moved back in
decorating with
ice hangings like
stalactites formed
over a week of
bitter cold nights
that at any moment
might come crashing down
The thing is
we are bound to have
warmer weather again
but not until
Spring sets in
Despair of spectres whispered, John heard it muttered
Fears spoken, centuries of shame sunk into stone
Hanging tree hoisted him, feet above ground fluttered
Rope bound neck bulged, blood starved eyes shuttered
Aghast, entertainment starved spectators absorbed gore
Under his breath they heard it uttered,
" I am among the lowliest, and the last"
Sentiment collected by authorities, soon to outlaw
Heinous hangings of criminals and martyrs
Testiment to the cruelty, trademark of cessation
Clouds of purest doves spun above the atrociousity
Tyburn' s turbulent history viewed at Marble Arch
Has John's pledge to thank for returning compassion
14th September 2020
For: Line Gauthier 's Contest
Tyburn Collaboration max. 14
I don't want flowers
You know I grow my own
I don't want bull**** wall hangings
To put on my home
I want my soul to be watered
And treated like a flower
And instead of a wall hanging how about YOU actually
"Enjoy the little things" now wouldn't that be amazing
I don't want a card. I'd rather just be held
Not your gifts out of sorry!
That were thrown down near me.
You came back home with hallmark
Material doesn't mean a thing to me when
First thing in the morning
Laying in bed, you left
I still could hear you yelling in my head
Mother's Day is hell
So I held my babies
I gave the flowers to my daughter
She put the hanging outside
I didn't open up the card
I wiped the tears that I cried
We made beautiful cards for our neighbors
We laughed and we smiled
My children are my life
So I'm celebrating with them
Never going to let a man
Make me feel this low again
I'm supposed to feel appreciated
And I do by my kids, so guess what
I still win.
No matter what you're going through
Hold your children tight
Be a happy momma and don't pretend. Show them
Everything's going to be alright. <3
Harry was a yelp and a skip and laugh every day.
His clothes were red, and his voice a cackle.
He made the kids jump, and he made them play.
He was nuts, the grown ups said.
But I was a lad, and loved him better than my Uncle Mot.
He was hilarious, told jokes, and stories about hangings.
He made my day better, and he listened and he taught.
He was a loon, my mother told me.
So if he is a loon, this man who made me happy
This guy who made me smile and feel good, even great.
Then I want to be a loon too, a nut-bucket, a crazy.
Because he was the best, a guy truly first rate.
She’s coming! Mom said this in a sing-songy way.
She knew that my twin and I were fascinated with Florence,
she was like our new toy. We had been afraid of her for years
due to her wizen face and her propensity to look like an older
version of the witch from The Wizard of Oz.
We ran out there like salivating puppies,
waiting for Florence to regale us with stories of hangings
or killing snakes, stories that gave us nightmares.
We were ten, ten-year-old girls live for nightmares, right?
She was leading Charming, one of her favorite goats,
as she laboriously walked toward us, head down, black hat,
nearly touching her shoulders. Her white gray hair was flying
out on one side. She stopped right before she reached us,
not looking up.
“Hey, Florence!” my twin and I both said at the
exact same time. I could tell she was smiling.
“Came to see Charming, huh?” she asked.
Then she giggled, but it was more like a cackle.
A cackle that used to terrorize us, but now it delighted us.
She was our new toy, she and Charming.
Wouldst thou for me an air
upon thy tortoise lyre
play, and sing those words so fair
about the Isle of Tyre?
Within whose walls so grand,
there at bazaar would be
hangings made by weaver's hand,
and colored from the sea.
And ships of cedar made,
all crewed by seamen bold,
sailed to shores afar, to trade
for silk and spice and gold.
Consoled by sweet refrain,
I dwell in dreams of Tyre--
going home will e'er remain
my unfulfilled desire.
_______________
The ancient Phoenician city-state of Tyre, an island off the southern coast of Lebanon, was famous for its production of the prized Tyrian purple dye derived from the murex snails found in its waters. --WW
© 2018 Wayne Wysocki
Wind chimes,
Cling with the wind
Ring with the wind
Sing with the wind
Wind chimes,
Add beauty to the home
They shine &glow like a smiley star
All is fine with the same in the home
Wind chimes,
Hanging from the roof,
Show charm with proof,
When you dine with food &soup
Wind chimes,
With sticks, strings &bells & balls
In blue, black, purple &pink
They nod with happy sounds, Naughty laughs & Crazy Jokes
Look up straight &enjoy the calls
Date-8/20/2018
Name of the sponsor : Edward Ibeh
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