A soul's time on earth is fleeting -
sometimes parting, sometimes greeting
other souls who sometimes touch us,
sometimes less, sometimes as much as
a universe within a single heart,
before these souls must then depart,
making room for other souls.
It's written in creation's scrolls,
but what if souls then turn to stones,
along the seashore instead of bones,
lapped by waves that caress and soothe
till some are beautiful and smooth?
Then might one rock, especially fair,
lie by a gnarled one, a wave set there?
On the occasion of Shakespeare's birth
Three words from the Bard illuminate more brightly than the sun
And standing in his shadow one is most likely there to fade
As a flickering candle placed beside the light of that bright one
And measuring one's own image thus will leave most all unmade
One wonders whence the ink was drawn that this Alchemist turned to gold
The moment that his sharpened quill touched down upon the page
As genius in sequential thought upon the parchment there unscrolled
Which lapped upon the shore of love where seas of passion rage
And yet the spark still licks the wick encompassed now in tallow
Not giving thought to where it might land one in history
Unlit 'twould render darkness cursed and all to wade there shallow
Should all stand cowed and trembling bowed without posterity
Surely mortals mere as me serve but to burnish what surrounds
The gilded steps up to the treasure, measuring there what still astounds
Sunken ships, drowning sorrows.
I wonder about the stories the sea has swallowed.
With her wide, ravenous mouth,
How many sailors has she lapped up?
Her salty, gritted teeth chewing them whole.
Ones with dreams of treasure and mermaids below.
Fathers and mothers, journeying home…
Lost to the sea, never returned.
The comfort of their beds they'll miss.
Now they only know the belly of the beast, and her starved wet kiss.
I once agreed at the arrival of woke.'
I was relieved ( it had caught me up )
I was out in front for so long and had almost
Had lost hope.' But this conscious only
Lasted for a while.' Two decades passed
And i found all there had gone wild.! The
Idea-ology was morphing, yet had no growth.? There were calls to free cabbages
From soil druggery.' thats just my joke.)
Yet the greens.? Were now rampant we
see.' To think i
Advised? someone to become one of
them'
He achieved couincil status..I don't wish
to think! Look at this pile..Nothing it
seems can balance at all.' Humans being humans and
Power the thrall..It draws them; awes
them, and chews them up.'
To spit out a
Parody..Yet its still lapped up.? The joke is
Now flowing like sour milk, Clowns
just love it and there are many of that ilk.' The
Joke is upon us. All owerblown.' Dark and
Dismal upon such a plastic throne.)
Find my hand dreaming in this blaze of consolidation
Lighten your lift from out our tell-tale indentation
Brush off the beach in trickles that echoes still our play
above where my knees have offered themselves to pray
Under swaying shadows rustle out breezes cast from azure pools
Where white peaks slip into sprays spilling seas mirrored in jewels
Find sun drenched lips longing to be lapped free of the saline mist
Press them gently, offer what's left to us, be my Girl Friday kissed
Feel the naked surf pound, then tempt, crash back into zestful shove
Rush with me to join in being swept out, carried away, leapt above
Glow in emulation for this day that throws you around as your guide
Dive to where sand dollars hide their riches to find me deep inside
The summer breeze lapped at my hair
Firmly yet gently lifting each strand
The warm caress of the sun
Brought happiness to my weeping skin
My lips parted as laughter
Freely trickled down my chin
My eyes lit a beaming path for my feet
As I began my evening walk
Abruptly I tripped and fell
Soberly I looked around
For the object of my humility
And found myself gazing into my own eyes
I had tripped and fallen over myself
Fighting to regain a composure
That proved to be elusive
I stood and faced myself
As I continued my evening walk
Coddle my wounds as you once had done
So unearthly spirit, do your lips quiver the names of all you had pained hither
The wicker of my wallowing moon, do you see, so speak
If one had been held from whence my end had discovered,
From whence none shall recover,
Had you seen, so spoke, every bludgeoned apology struck parched upon your fallaced lips,
Yet none to touch, none to see,
Ever poignant word that had struck e'er so deep within me,
So see my tears, so weep upon these fears,
Had lapped upon the sand, drenched and disfigured with every clear blear of word
Had you seen, so had you spoke
Would you then succumb to every fear
Bleating upon the cognitive recognition of childhood
So hold me now
Here, as you had once done.
(without fear)
The two stared at one another
both knew something that the other
didn’t; that was the game; the rules
by which they play, and played, the fools.
The putrid stench beneath their feet,
that those who went before excrete,
impregnates their skin to slow taint
their rotting ankles, in restraint;
for there is no escape, save one;
one word divides those lost or won.
They chose to play this game, these two,
paid their dues, later joined the queue.
The fun soon turned to anger, hate
vile intercourse, spitting raw debate
the scratching of old wounds, new scars
what's old, what's new, what's mine, what's ours!
Blood slowly seeps from bites by rat
lapped greedily by purring cat,
two squawking rooks, and buzzing flies
that crawl around their staring eyes
hatched from their own fetid waste;
two lovers, gamers, now debased
They thought they'd easy win this game;
but neither ever named the name.
And so the two they sit and stare
at their flaking skin, falling hair
disintegration of each face
ever locked in death's embrace.
He watches with an evil smirk;
this couple in their deathly cirque;
both rotting from without, within;
both guilty of a deadly sin!
Tears stained her good skirt.
Lapped child, he’s fair hurt.
Kissed knee with first aid.
Soft wiped the laud dirt.
The rain fogged my window and thoughts
It triggered the grief of losing you
It cried for me when I couldn't
What I would give just to see you one more time
I just want to see you from afar and smile knowing I ran into forever without her even knowing
Some of the best moments are untitled like poems that refuse to end
Our love will never end, even after you left the life we lived gave me enough joy for two lifetimes
So in the midst of missing you I still smile
Because the rain reminds me of my tear stained shoulders
We soldiered through the war of earth and lapped time
She made the impossible possible
I'm not much for rainy days but they quickly became my favorite
Because after the tears you would leave me blankets of comfort within a message that would appear when I needed it most
On your corner of the window
p.s. I love you...
EMBOLDENED
Limerick
An amorous dog name of Rover
Tried to win a lady dog over.
She agreed to a date
And although she was late,
Our Rover was truly in clover
Haiku
he bought her champagne
a strange drink to give a dog
but she lapped it up
Triolet
Emboldened by sipping the wine,
He asked her if she’d be his wife.
On his knees he said, “Please be mine.”
Emboldened by sipping the wine,
She thought that the idea was fine
And agreed to share their whole life.
Emboldened by sipping the wine,
He asked her if she’d be his wife.
Hot summer afternoons
and the call
of glistening water lapped
a child's mind with a want.
Just home from work
we would pester our father
until he relinquished
and took us to the beach.
At low tide,
feet had to splash through
what seemed like a mile
of ridged and rippled shallows
before the water was deep
enough to swim
and wheeling arms
could be swung
without touching the bottom.
Heated all day
by a January sun,
the water was as warm
as pee. Long tentacles
of dead, brown seaweed
clung to arms
as if trying to snare
a soul in revenge
for some storm torn horror
that had ripped it out its bed.
But all too often
it ended the same.
Tramping back to shore
across the endless shallows,
feeling hotter than when
you first went in. Flies clouding
sweaty faces and then
there was the hot vinyl
back seat of the car
to burn bums
on the way home.
All washed micraclessly
from memory when, next day,
the mercury nudged 100
and a want
beckoned us to the beach again,
still no wiser
than the day before.
Memory still anoints them,
glowing in the ashes
of childhood. The cypress trees
in the parkland at the end
of the street. Tall, knotted
ladders to the heavens
where a child’s outstretched hand
could almost scratch the underbelly
of passing clouds.
You could swing
on the uppermost branches
as if riding a clippers mast
bending in the wind,
sailing imaginary swells
to places whose golden domes
shone through the darkest
days.
And in the cool shadows,
the old stable, its doorway
an entrance to worlds
not known to other mortals.
The dark interior lipped
on the edge of a cave
to the very interior of earth,
holding hells and lava
lapped islands populated
by exotic beasts.
Such things as trees
and tumbled down stables
were not weighted
with the burdens of this world
but were bridges, magical
doorways to an elsewhere
that existed in between,
a special place
with its contours bending
to shapes made in the mind.
I write
to do the same thing.
Of feet crinkles crispy snaps with your mate,
as the ebbing tides that breaths winter's fate.
Echoes summons a dusty field in white,
closets freed skis and sleds still not quite right.
Few sunflowers escort its mentored sun,
facing their eastward repose position.
Brisk breeze tails a crafted shawl snuggly wrapped,
home, hot cider, lit fire, read book is lapped.
A forested cabin that's well-engaged
coast reservedly entertained assuage
A prominence forestalls in burgundy,
copper, and blonde. Snowflakes smooch tenderly
the fallen perianths. Forgivingly
melts to a smooth touch that norms Autumn's eve.
"Foggy mists engulfed the bright
When raindrops fell throughout the night
The lampposts glowed at midnights dark
When sweethearts kissed at Lover's Park"
Waves gently lapped the shore nearby
as we embraced, my love and I.
My fingers touched my sweetheart’s hair.
It felt like silk, so soft and fair.
Stanza 1 by Charles Messina
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