Written: August, 22, 2026, for this Week's Poetry Challenge: No Letter E
***************
Autumn walks, a vagabond in gold,
gamboling in gossip,
rinsing last growth
from trunks with song hush.
A crown of ivy and wilt,
a bold tomboy with worn charm,
rushing through cloudlands
as Icarian murmur—
gauzy, mournful, godly.
Calyx cracks,
stalks twist
fronds scour air with art,
all a glyph of adios.
Sky foam grows thick—
gassy, gaudy,
a cosmic curse of color and closure.
Birds hiss through mist
as urging ghosts.
Not an idyll of gods,
a labyrinth of motion,
a slow waltz,
as foolish visions fall into dusk.
Still, in loss of sun's glow, joy stays—
a holy cornucopia of final acts.
A tonic of rot,
a song of parting.
Autumn bows to nobody
a smash of vanity, a pliant mouth of hours,
gamboling past grand norms with talky charm.
At Autumn's call, folks prowl past,
pluck catharsis from vast hush,
sip sap of shift from that odd cup.
ICONOCLAST
timeless
twictching
as solidity
endures
tomorrow
a conundrum
resolved
appears
as
a shadow running
asunder
a reassurance
so uncanny
resembles
tonality
in its
surtounding
perspective
glaring
patches
a cornucopia
of
pictorial
pleasure
in
erudite
convention
lingers
afresh
erudite
sensitive
fiitingly
frequenting
&repostioned
thematically
otherworldly
ravishing
& compelling
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
i made supplication
to my heart
to my very heart
thudding and flopping
chambered
apart
i prayed to the flesh
how the spirit gives way
i set up my altar
i found beasts to slay
i asked only that
the beat would go on
my glistening, grinding
red organ song
but the flesh made no answer
as if by design
the Universe tune
is ever so fine
i smashed up my idols
i burned up my books
i cast to an early grave
the high and proud looks
and the Universe met me there
and It said, “I’m Alive”
and It beat like a steady heart
that was keeping good Time
and It entered pact with me
a civil cease-fire
after It had destroyed me
and a new breath inspired
i’m cutting my ties again
i’m burning those old bridges
around the world and home again
i’m making decisions
Because the little children and animals that are molested, tortured, and unjustly abused. That has morals confused. Then all the guilty priest are just rearranged, relocated, "forgiven" and not even a f*cking slap on the hand. And possession and integration are only caused by what's conjured and summoned by his Holiness's priests. Which these "exorcisms" are performed by. Exorcisms are an excuse to hide the powers of prayers on the mental defective, misunderstood, and weak minded innocent victims.
Like an iconoclast -
who desperately wants to remove
the portrayal of a false god
from the mural -
I want to relegate you;
your image from the chapel of my mind.
Oh, how I wish to do this tonight..!
The dusky dawn has come at last,
and what has gone has long since passed,
the game is done, the die is cast,
the sun is rising all too fast.
The scope is both minute and vast,
and most of us are left aghast,
eardrums ruptured by the blast,
black and red in stark contrast.
Although sweet hope is held steadfast,
the parody has been unmasked,
the gold, it seems, was only brass,
as dreams slip through the hourglass.
In silence, watch the storm amass,
reject the vile iconoclast,
this too, we're told, shall also pass,
while we stay mired in morass.
©Danielle White
Brother, have you lost your way
Or is it just my imagination
You always seemed to have everything so together
Answers for everyone else
Pretty melodies and moving verse
But you’re looking worse for wear
Brother, is that fear in your eyes
Or is it resignation
All those causes you fought for remain
As the years slip away
Life grows shorter every day
There’s no escaping the march of time
Feel the spirit within you stir
That’s the voice of the Lord saying
Surrender to me
Call it conscience
Call it what you will
You can’t purchase grace
It’s free
But you must believe
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