If mortals were more than mortal
If we were not limited to Earth's portals
If the celestial could live and never die
If the first sound of babies was not a cry
If death's doors were locked and never opened
If words of mortals without love were never spoken
If there were no tears of grief, of pain, of horror
If every teardrop was ushered with no taste of sorrow
If there were no fears of darkness nor threat of men
If hopes and dreams could never be dashed or doomed
If lions and lambs, Larry and Sam, could live in peace
If jungled beasts did not kill each other for a feast
If birds of prey could spend more time in flight and play If only Adam and Eve had obeyed The Lord and never sinned
Did you get lost looking for love?
In the madness of the jungled hate?
Did you trip over the seeded promises,
In the tangled vines of the market?
Did you get hurt looking for justice?
In the shopping mall of pretty verbs?
Did you feel stinging, biting bugs,
When you explored the wilds for love?
I know a place where you can go
And find the love you need!
You can find the calm in the crazy,
And you can find warmth indeed.
Did you realize the place I suggest,
Is the safest place to be?
It is not the jungle or the rat race,
It is here in the presence of me.
5-30-2023
This or That
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
If I Am The Illustrated Man
I color the world~~for 'tis a pigment of my imagination
***The Illustrated Man was a short-lived comic character of the '60s who, as a boy, was saved by his parents who died when their boat they were all on, went over a waterfall, hence, when that boat came closest to land during strong river surges, his father had tossed him overboard to safety, but the current made it impossible to maneuver, ergo, their shouting words of love to their son, who already assumed the character known to them all, to be the illustrated boy. The oddity forced the family into a jungled life. In time, he grew into a man when love intervened when he met a girl who openly accepted him to be who he was. So ensues episodes of varied misdeeds where he comes to her aid.
2020 August 27
*2nd Place*
If I Am A Super Heroine-Hero
~~JCB Burl
a highland stream
the stream that runs beside
the hot dusty byway
at the cottage
is clear, tinted brown
from all of the cedar roots
it winds forever through
endlessly seeking a clear path
freedom from the jungled trees.
its banks are lush with sweet grasses
and sunny eyed daisies. a favourite
of cheeky rabbits and shy silent deer
who visit at dusk and dawn for a sip and
a snack on their way to and from
the forever brooding forest
tiny minnows suspended in the rill
hide beneath the overhang
in cool shadowy places.
it always keeps its humour
tickling and chuckling over
stones worn by its passing.
smooth pebbles have been there
since I was born and first discovered
the joy of its song. I stop for a word as
grandpa and I walk by on our way
to the old grocery store across the road.
I love that little stream. If I am quiet
and open my heart It sings to me
across the years. still chuckling
over pebbles from an ice age.
DA NANG, 1968: THE DANCE OF DEATH
That night I watched the muted flashes
Reflected off low somber clouds
And heard the muted rumble
Of distant artillery
As if a storm were approaching.
And I knew that somewhere
In the jungled hills out there
Uniformed figures flailed the air
In grotesque dances of death
Engulfed by flames
Shredded by shrapnel.
While I, weary beyond caring
Thought only of blessed sleep
Perhaps tomorrow or the days after that
I too would dance the dance of death
And then could rest forever.
here, nestled among jungled trees
vines, leaves, ferns
antiquated ceramics and miscellany pottery
the monstrously massive
the grotesquely hilarious
the intriguingly quirky
the familiar and the surprising
dusty congregation in somnolence
indigo, cornflower yellow, bone white
a delight, a mystery
a forgotten anomaly
a skip and a hop from the nearest shopping-insipid-mall
navigate the silent corners
up the creaky stairs
between rows of pots, vases, plates and sculptures
a. veritable. treasure. trove.
whiling away a rainy afternoon
enchanted, entranced
lost, and happily so.
here, nestled among jungled trees
vines, leaves, ferns
antiquated ceramics and miscellany pottery
the monstrously massive
the grotesquely hilarious
the intriguingly quirky
the familiar and the surprising
dusty congregation in somnolence
indigo, cornflower yellow, bone white
a delight, a mystery
a forgotten anomaly
a skip and a hop from the nearest shopping-insipid-mall
navigate the silent corners
up the creaky stairs
between rows of pots, vases, plates and sculptures
a. veritable. treasure. trove.
whiling away a rainy afternoon
enchanted, entranced
lost, and happily so.
Prevelli Ravine ( Crete 1992 )
Ghost song
The ancient priest left in the monastery stone
Long before my encounter
Within the walls repeat their long labour
Monument and missionary linger
Hushing a wind into olive groves
Searching for the nameless Minoan
Outside of human mystery recollections
Beyond my makeshift mask of intelligence
The birds awaken
Tropic songsters jungled forests of palm
Star dusted dark a canopy of sleep
Reflections a fall of endless beauty
Rainbow fish in deep water clarity
Leap into freedom
And the jungle voice a hymn of whispers
Follow them
Follow them
The pools sink to deeper ravines
Rivers of sand and turquoise water
Fluent lighted domains of Knossos
Alter the ponderings of palms and cliff
In network ripples tracing starseed patterns
On a Phalanx of fluted clouds
Leaping to freedom
From the clear water crystal laughter
River to the sea
The beach
My tent
And me
Follow
Follow
Follow them