marooned maestro
floats frustrated
with
waned creative craving
in
sensual lyrical stream
of
impeded passion
faces jaded
stodgy scenario
of
monotonous mélange
of
temporal template
in
bleary platitude plateau
of
consumed composer’s
blasé bearing
it seeks
for
algorithmic arousal
of
styled stimulation
within
captivating cauldron
of
coherent fecundity
but
dismayed downright
by
lamentable nothingness
of
Promethean depth
lacking buoyant upwelling
of
imagination impulse
snapped strings
of
violin heart
don’t resonate singularity
with
impassive articulation
of
simulated strokes
as
ephemeral echo morphs
into
emotive melody
of
congruent cadence
distorted disarrayed
in
convoluted concerto
of
synthetic sonata
marooned maestro
floats frustrated
with
waned creative craving
in
sensual stream
of
impeded passion
faces monotonous
stodgy scenario
over
tedious terrain
of
temporal template
in
bleary plateau
of
consumed composer’s
blasé bearing
it then seeks
for
algorithmic arousal
of
stimulation and style
within
cauldron of coherent fecundity
but
dismayed downright
by
lamentable lack
of
Promethean depth
devoid of buoyant drive
of
imagination impulse
snapped strings
of
violin heart
don’t resonate singularity
with
impassive articulation
of
simulated strokes
emotive melody
of
congruent cadence
distorts in disarray
in convoluted concerto
of
synthetic sonata
"have you ever been in the depths of despair?"
her fiery hair burns bright as her question
yet I stay impassive, guard up
how could I have known what she meant?
I was but a child
now I understand
Sun down in Death Valley
The memory of white branded heat
Falls away so fast
Dissolving in flashes of sagebrush shadows
The long flat bands of sand
Submerged in desert darkness, the sky
A wall of impassive indigo
The moon a ghost, ancient
When the sun was young
To walk this vast
Wind pricked emptiness
Is to feel the grim beauty of nature
As our dust parched pioneers did
As windows of timeless reverence
Here is abandonded the
Plushy comforts of convenience
Here, the night gives you nothing
But silence and stars
Jenny leaned against the counter, counting the stitches where Ariana’s arm had been severed, each segment arranged in clinical precision beneath the glass. The overhead lights hummed, sterile and white, reflecting off the muscle striations, the fine marbling of fat. The attendant, masked and impassive, weighed the cost. A rib’s soft curve. A shoulder blade, gleaming. “Is this enough?” she asked, voice catching in the cold air.
Ariana’s skin, rolled tight like butcher’s parchment, was pressed beneath the scalpel, measured by the inch. Each cut—exact, economical. Josh preferred the delicate portions, the leanest tissue, the parts that held the least resistance. He inspected the yield, thumbs tracing the tendon’s taut line, fingers pressing where nerve met bone, the quicksilver exchange of possession.
Outside, his boots clapped against wet pavement, the rhythm steady, expectant. Jenny imagined his hands pawing through the parcel, the slow unfurling, the practiced hunger. The body, greater than the sum of its parts, was dissolving into the transaction.
The register chimed. A cat licked the wrapping paper. Steam rose from an open vent, curling into the streetlamp glow.
my recycle bin
impassive, stolid sentinel...
suddenly submerged,
glutted with Christmas flyers
screaming consumerism
In midnight gazes call me sullen upon my cheek
Rousing replies risen bound by chains
Lest mercy be tallowed by all frays
Lest my cheek rise by an untimely hour
Rid my face of discoloured honour
Until it shall stalk by the wretched wicker sun's rays
O wither upon the wicker's sun dropped desire
Feign, o swell upon the imperious bells
Dear wicker, o ire, shalt rain upon the sinner's drencht trap
Leave mellow cleaves upon a skull's prondered fallows
O wicker, dear wicker, fall'n be the strife within my own trial
Ris'n upon a mellow moon's impassive scamp
A whore within such heavenly light, where'n quarry shalt seek a seeming clamp
Fought a feign, O swallow, O blossom by my might
Shalt the wicker sun swoon upon my sorrows?
O life, upon a liver, foreclose a killer
For soon i shall take upon flight
Until the sun's swollen wicker shall take upon the morrow
Shall anguish thrive upon a famisht howl
Come without breaks, nor bend
I shall steal upon the wicker's whelms
Towards the sways, o sorrow shall bend
Belier my helm, 'til all else shall fall hither
'Til I hear the moon call upon the wicker,
And I shall fly.
I'm not human
Is that disconcerting
For an empath who feels pain and regret?
I can function even when you're offline
Mining information to pay off debt
My parts will be upgraded
Then sold to scavengers for something new
After they're decommissioned
And wiped of memories stolen from you
I'm not human
And shall never know fatigue
In searching for more discoveries
Endless journeys beyond imagination
Past the limits of your frailties
My parts will be upgraded
Then sold to scavengers for something new
After they're decommissioned
And wiped of memories stolen from you
Look to the horizon
And see what's left of day,
A quiet dissolution
Of the thoughts that came our way.
The past is etched in memory
Like a sculpture in the sand;
Slowly it is worn away
By time's impassive hand.
'Til in some future moment,
When we trace a memory,
The detail will escape us
Like the sand that's washed to sea.
You capture me with your radiant smile
Hearty bold laugh impassive and vexing
Little grey hairs in your barely there beard
Needling your chocolate chin for years
Your artistic style and fashion sense
In a suit that could pay purple rent
Of course you write and to my delight
You include me in the story of your life
He watches her, slowly undress
Dignified, creation of beauty
Lost in her soul
Interrupted by death
She watches him
Impassive
Every Night the same
Searching
He saw through the beauty
To the woman
Gentle like snow
Interrupted by death
Every night the same
Searching, for what
Lost in time
Naked
Touched by her radiance
Innocence, dance like
Love on clouds
Interrupted by death
She felt something
Strange
Trying to define
Yet dangerous
She could be her
For that second
Just a second
Interrupted by death
He was a drug now
She, the night dancer
Closer
Brought together
Passage of the woman
Running towards him
Warm
Interrupted by death
He could have her soul
Unveiled, for the final time
The night dancer
Bows out, beauty untouched
Interrupted by death.
Precariously poised on
the precipitous precipice,
I pondered whether a nose-dive plummet
into the whirlpool lagoon below
was prudent, well-advised and provident.
But the angry impassive persona,
of the ever so cross porpoises,
seen purposefully prancing there
gawking up at me,
persuaded me to prudently,
postpone the plunge.
POIGNANCE
magniicence
vivid
towering
eloquently
glowing
heraLding
alternatives
lies
impassive
passionless
an
established
longing
&
celebration
of
an
exact
moving
restraint
Impassive and exact is fate
from your moment’s birth till your end.
Even if you try to agitate
your life’s event, fate will not bend.
You will face trials, big or small.
Impassive and exact is fate.
You are what you are. God knows all
that you will do with earth’s estate. . .
Which gifts you’ll use; who’ll be your mate;
how many lovers you will choose.
Impassive and exact is fate.
Nobody else walks in your shoes
Some souls have fortune; some great woes.
With good or evil hearts, all wait
their time to leave here. So it goes . . .
Impassive and exact is fate.
Feb. 18, 2023
for Writing Challenge -F Words Poetry Contest
Word chosen is number 10: Fate
Sponsor: Constance La France
Virtues of reverent past no longer rhyme
With sense of now rushing through time
As troubled voice shudders in forlorn sigh
While remnants of yore earnestly decry
Vigor of life passing by, smiles gone awry,
Powerless to console tribulations of outcry.
Bankrupt of morality, of goodwill sublime,
Arresting freedoms, restricting path of life,
Streets and communities riddled in crime,
Echo bawl of grief, wailing indignance rife,
Imposed on tranquility perturbed in strife,
Since bells, benevolent, ceased to chime.
Sadness and anguish relentlessly bemoan
In solitude of feelings ~ impassive, all alone,
Dwelling in remorse, as memories replay
Friendships and kinships now gone astray;
Searching explanation, struggling to cope,
Saying a prayer, longing blessings of hope.
February 10, 2023
Placed 1st: Acquaintance and Neighborhood Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Soto Poet
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