Bare foot walking on a primeval beach
Before people, (it was just 3 o’clock,)
Balance hunched with longer stride
My feet made indentations in the sand.
With each rising step, my prints
Filled with toe-sized ponds and heel-sized lakes,
A tidal microcosm of a pulsing beach.
Life before people after all.
Far away, I saw a scrap of white
Propped against escarpment rock.
Assessed as some precious speck,
As so rare a thing so often is.
Already grains of sand had worked
Between my sandals and my soles.
Curious, I strode towards it,
To more closely see.
A sign of white posted my accidental crime:
Turtle Nest
Do Not Disturb
As easily saying, “Forgo knowing to let things be.”
Self analysis
& motive
imultiple functions
erupt
tradition
chiselled
in reality
distorted
by self perception
folds of skin
furrowed brows
surround
the anatomy of eyes
indentations &
peculiarities
crystallised forever
by self-awareness
in the existential
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 can almost see your paw prints.
But they are simply random indentations.
It is moments like that which keep you alive.
Maybe I am just open to suggestibility-
But when I hear that refrigerator hum.
It sounds like your purr.
To see messages as if you are leaving gifts for me.
But without me, your memory is stagnant.
Paw prints that become more clear…
That is simply some compulsion of mine.
not a day goes past
without me being grateful
for your love kindness compassion
and willingness to share
your life with mine
you have saved me from myself
many times and I happen to know
that it has been the same when
the metaphorical shoe
was on the other side
my sturdy walking-boot
is a torn sandal at this moment in time
no socks and blisters on my feet and soul
strings of depression attached
when my feet make sad imprints
in my heart and on my mind
walking a beach of sadness
longing for joy I remember
that the tide washes away indentations
and smoothens the scape
for a new path
until barefoot
is just good enough again
Emptiness, fatigue, a preconception of suicidal indentations.
While an incredulousness lack of faith dragged me under.
The undertow pulling me down, pulling me in towards a downward spiral.
Pulling me into the fire.
No humorous satire to ease the pain.
No more, “I love you(s) all now refrained.
The night air,
waters (somewhere) burble.
A deer in the dark
hoof-crunches
yesterday’s now 12 degree snow.
A mouse moves. In sudden urgency.
Unseen all.
Unnoticed, none.
The moon is lost in wane,
in fog, in the coldest hour.
I balance a bundle of barky splits
in the fold of my arm. Indentations.
Scratches.
The stove awaits. The kettle, too.
Nearly midnight.
Poetry soon. Beneath the maple
silhouetted only by my memory of
the corner of Sky shared in
differing times by first the sun
and then the moon or first the moon
and then the sun.
Taiwanese whole-leaf, tightly bound.
Soon to unfurl in the new heat.
Some rinds to plop in, too.
The necessaries will wait,
tonight.
The tea, the fire, the words
won’t wait,
tonight.
They are the Actual Necessary.
I come to them in dark.
To drink of their light.
They call to me in dark.
To offer me their light.
The sun is screaming
Miles of nothing, beige on beige on beige
The sun is screaming, blistering my skin,
draining me slowly as breath is heated and tastes bitter
Shoulders slung low, I can’t stand straight,
bent over struggling,
nothing is anywhere and nowhere is here
Leaving footprints for the wind dancers,
black feather fathers, winged circlers
high above, watching
Sifting time in barren increments,
hourglass patterns
of falling granules sinking deeper
Water is a dream and this thirst a nightmare
for it is there, just ahead, I can see it glistening
but it does not exist
Nothing exists, as the oasis in my mind
dries up, leaving only empty indentations
on horizontal planes, flat lands
of arid emotions drifting in and out,
reaching for… reaching
10/09/18
For the: I Wander The Desert Alone Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Graves opened their arms for their lives,
when their mothers cry for their lives,
the lives that paid for our freedom.
Inexorable was the spilling of blood,
tormenting was the fetid of carcases,
when the life of a man was reduced to inferiority,
yes, so inferior their death was a cough.
But lo! South Africa saw the dawn,
when the day 27 April came,
wiping away all the indentations
left behind by the regime.
We celebrated,
when the rays of its sun melted the chains of oppression,
we celebrated,
when fear became afraid of our unity,
yes, we celebrated,
when freedom gave back to South Africa its beauty,
the beauty we call,
a rainbow nation.
Happy freedom day South Africa.
Luscious is an excellent word to describe female bodies
Such curves such indentations, they're my favorite hobby
Gonna start a collection
Keep em in a special section
Behind my baseball cards in my closet beside my potty
My husband wants a big pussy - he's crazy,
draped over chaise-lounge in conservatory,
I said that it would cost a fortune to feed,
to have such an adornment, there is no need.
It would demolish the neighbour's tabby cat,
cause indentations, droppings, wherever it sat;
he said: 'Don't worry, I'll take it for trainimg,'
glimpses of rosettes whenever it's raining.
There might even be pregnant paws, pushing
me aside with it's ****, going thro' open doors,
I'll have to warn friends when they come round:
'It's sleeping now, for godssake don't make a sound.'
So forestall such grandiose ideas whatever you do,
I said to him: 'Please take that cat back to the bloody zoo!'
Winter came early that year
Between colours of the rainbow
snowflakes maneuvered
floated up
whirled down
Frigid winds chilled our smiles
as drifts line the pathway
of fresh footprints
indentations
two by two
You asked me for some warmth
I offered you my mittens
Because my hands
were needed
for snowballs
That is when you began giggling
then kissed me shivering
I closed my eyes
Forgetting
The cold
On your hair snowflakes played
hide and seek, behind us
the undergrowth
surprisingly
split and
Whap, you hit me with a snow ball
when I wasn’t looking
I reached down
with my hand
and scooped
You up, and while holding you tightly
fell in the snow backwards...
Two smiling, overheated
frantically flailing
snow angels
***
October 15, 2017
Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White
Alabaster pillars
reach to heights I’ve never known
Marble indentations
feed the facets which have grown
Carved before the spectacle
that time forgot to keep
Oh these ancient sites I find
my mind decides to reap
Sculpted statues stand there
looking down with faces stern
Painted garments scaled off
overgrown by grass and fern
Dwarved I dwell among the mute
no figments of my mind
Looking at me with those eyes
austere and far from blind
Goblets made of copper
shimmer bright the vintage vine
Amethyst and ruby
circle close atop the wine
Tables set for many
with a feast for all to share
Here before my hungry eyes
which now can only stare
Mossy marble benches
are my bed now for the night
Hungry I go sleeping
in the slowly fading light
Shuffling through the darkness
ghostly visions of the past
visitors from ancient times
But sleep now comes at last
***
June 16, 2017
Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White
He looks of far and in between
White hair with diamonds from the sky
A wood of wiry glow around
Expressive fingers, braiding braids
Forgotten strands of gold-spun hair
His feet swept pebbles in the surf
Small indentations filled with silt
With every look I hoped to see
His eyes on me with how I wished
To will his want to be for me
Be loved without a shred of doubt
To have his golden eyes on me
To magic shameful into proud
***
© Darren White
4 foot iambic blank verse
Find me here
Within graphite words
breathe me deeply
until the lines are blurred
let my smoke fill your lungs
I desperately want to be felt and heard
Ash rises from my bones
from my mind to your heart transferred
my thoughts are paper thin
Yet they levitate upon my imperfections
Two three and four dimensions
The things I can't scream
without fear here I mention
Maybe it's all a cry for attention
is it really me these absurd expressions
I lay it out for the world
Find the holes in my communication
plug in your extension
Maybe the light from your lamp
will illuminate my apprehension
My record silently skips
a soundless sensation
The needle gouges deep
with its intimate groove penetrations
Is this any indication
of my faltering perceptions
or do I have frayed wires
stripped by my preoccupation
So here now and from yesterday
I form words into weird collections
maybe you can find me here
amidst my verbose fascination
I'm here somewhere
in all of these indentations!
As rust falls from the anchor
Where do sandcastles go
when the tide engulfs the view and
lonely shorelines crest in tear drops
beneath white capped dream chasers,
foam laced erasers combing sanded wishes,
taking towers in the water's rage
as moats become minor indentations
on a beach bathed in the moon light,
moving gleams in metronome tickling
as our hearts wash out to sea
drowning in the depths of forbidden love
and with my final breath,
salt water drenched I profess
that forbidden or not, I love you
and the lighthouse shines its orbiting light
as I go under for the last time
happy in my declaration
as rust falls from the anchor
and I wait until we meet again,
on the island of meant to be
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