The bastioned confidence of quarried pride
Conceived no ingress save by iron decree;
Yet vesper-dew, where noiseless graces bide,
Tutored the adamant to clemency,
Till lichened liturgies, by increments unseen,
Unthroned the obdurate from its sovereign mien.
The littoral catechised the granite's bone,
Not with assault, but sacramental wear;
Each undeciphered ripple, one by one,
Absolved the precipice of all its air,
As though the meekest ordinance of tide
Could loose what catapults had never tried.
Thereafter—vision trespassed into sense:
A child, ungarlanded by name or throne,
Inclined his silence with such innocence
That altitudes remembered they were sown;
The mountain, recollecting elder birth,
Relinquished all pre-eminence to earth.
Then every fortress, founded upon weight,
Began to expatriate its ancient claim;
The stars themselves postponed their sovereign state,
As though eternity had altered name;
And what no conflagration could dissever,
One feather of the Infinite undid for ever.
On spewing wave, our departing ride
Crazed currents crack, an azure slide
Freedom mingles in sea foam seethe
Cobra throat coast gulps river relieve
Estuary entry rests, rushing ruthless
Canoe oar dip downtempo soothe us
Convulsing closing, seen from stern
To mayhem mouth we shan’t return
Silver silt filters salt, lake lap littoral
Ranges ahead etch graduating blues
Drift beside reeds, bird pews hymnal
Harp strum seraphim strike chords
Nacreous nematodes writhe towards
Tiny sun centre lace tutus feverfew
Pirouette pirogue wet on dawn dew
Papery apron snapdragon bonnets
Bloom ten a stem syllable sonnets
Cut log capsule covets its heritage
Forested foothills fix ship wreckage
Fir hands welcome hung hammock
Cosy ocean recoil, mountains titanic
Sixth of November
- upstream -
Divin' Deep down there's guttural
gurgles and burbles
Jivin' in the respirator.
I dive deeper, still deeper
than I've ever been before.
The seabed is littered
with littoral lie-there's
just layin' about,
praying to be picked up
by some swim-on-buy kid like me.
It's a jalopy junk yard down there.
Old shells long discarded by hermit crabs
looking for joyrides in new digs
and sporty convertible squats in RV's.
Shells discarded are great do-uppers
for crabs putting on weight.
No one is homeless down here,
for all shells discarded,
are reborn to after-lives
decreed indeed by need
in Davy Jones' Locker.
He was weary of prostitutes.
The young ones were vacuous,
their bodies unleavened bread.
The mature models scored
by the violence of disappointment.
Both the naive and the bitter
were dull molds.
He had dissected women, both old and girlish.
On moonless nights carried their corpses,
on muffled barrows to his garret.
By the light of a hundred candles
he had eased flesh apart,
nose swathed in verbena drenched rags,
hands tweaking tissue, tracing
sensuous shapes under dead curves.
He hired women of every class.
The rich were flattered, vain,
the poor always eager to earn.
None made the stone blossom.
It was a matter of timing,
catching her as she emerged
from her littoral crest.
It seemed his models
were always coming to, or moving away
from that conjunction.
yet he kept opening shells
until death took him.
At his funeral
his straight-backed widow,
adorned in darkest weeds,
hid her anger well.
Despising those cold hands
that never knew
how to reveal her.
i struggle
within
operose breath
winded
as it moans
on distant sands
i feel
the mist
of tears
yet cried
as it caresses
the edges
of my face
i feel the touch
of waves
as they seduce
the sand
erasing
my footsteps
along the span
i am grounded
alone
in this littoral frame
made of time
i stir
within the lash
of memories
in current mind
as i watch
the horizon
flush
its tones
of death
as day fades
through night
Dredged me from squalid littoral
Brushed me up; saw the first light
Eschewed from things personal
Gleaming new being; future delight
Stepping on high table of moral
I'm now the well-heeled protégé of a rosy sight
O but it ain't free! T'has dismissal:
Obey without permit
Keep mouth shut, but be loyal
Respond with no slight
Shan't be heard; not even vocal
Still on duty like a freight
For their legacy's balance 'am focal
Because they showed me light
This, than my home, is abysmal
Thought 'twas free will-alright!
My place was freedom, though lousy local
Get me out of here. Take me back to my dirt
The sequestered plots of green
the rice shoots sway in the wind
overcast sky remains strangely still
ominous signs of a heavy downpour
that may flood the crop field
washing away the green shoots
watery grave stretching to the horizon.
The rain falling off and on
bringing relief to the dry season
filling the rivers, ponds and lakes
the woolen winter, spring and summer
coming back again to soothe
the fray tempers and parched lands.
A flooded street keeps you indoors
chocking sewerage pipes and gutters
drinking water sources are full of germs
floating carcasses everywhere
rooftops waiting to go under
multi-storied buddings holding out
a little more till they fall sideways
or front faced one on top of another.
Rains can raise the food stocks
the unceasing downpours trail
flooding the countryside and littoral cities
synchronizing with hotter summers
rising sea levels and melting iceberg
Noting new in this but there is no action.
Those days are gone, set
afloat upon waves of air-
that in which we dreamed, for we
were dreamers...adrift in the water
that took us to wherever
the currents flowed-
into weedy patches-
weedy and twining like our minds,
like ivy vines on cobblestone walls,
always reaching and climbing
further into the clouds, swirling like
the streams we floated down.
But our youth is lost, as are the
summer days which grew cool,
stolen by the autumn breeze.
Oh,we still have those scenes,
leave-takings into yesteryear,
drifting along on those lazy, black tubes-
sunning upon the dam 'til
our skin baked a golden brown.
Those staticky transistors were never
fine-tuned, but the songs we knew
word for word, and the notes flew
high, swallowed by the blackbirds
gliding in the warm summer sky.
We walked a sash of dusty road,
with Duke dashing ahead, sniffing
grass and daffodils, on point for squirrels
and such, as he was the littoral keeper.
Now the pup has aged, and he hurts
as he circles his spot to lie, but nothing
has changed, really- except our bodies...
for our eyes still see ourselves as youth
reaching toward that summer sky.
Littoral
lullaby as
wave washed pebbles
babble back along the
beach
With the manes of wild orphaned horses,
They nuzzle their sand-children, silted-in
The worrisome surf, spitting out their cries
For moon-lit mothers tit
Then, too long on the belly of the livid beach,
They quick disperse, to reef and littoral
Lava shelf: all this seen from wooden chair
By author’s pen, which… left to rise and roll
And rise and fall… describes the scene
(then leaves his period on the page).
The wind faces us down, a bitter housemaster
seeing our tricks, he raises his willowy cane,
jealous of our freedom and wings
Then pitiless comes the mighty blow,rips the
boys hand from the sea/a thousand lines
I must drive my cutter to the wind
I must drive my cutter to the wind
And planets hidden by the clouds, jostle
for place so that a man might see, and
take to their contrary taste, while
The briny rope on brass lugs and
staysail winch and flapping watery
forehatch, scream for solace in the
Brassy ferment; and in the heavens, a
widow’s veil contains the sludge-black
clouds above, where seagulls and pitiless
puffins, with filled-bills, carry their fishy
death to nest.
And on the shore perfidious, dread-filled
processions of daughters and wiry sons,
keep the vigil by the hearth; where wild
wive's wombs, upset by thunder’s booms,
wade their watery tombs.
As the sky shed tears of joy,
the ground hurriedly swallows these tear drops,
making tillage easier,
dormant seeds sprout out to show that they are still living,
dry ponds come alive,
As cat fish,mud fish and others dance with joy,
I`m not left out,for this is the period
of fishing and nature watch,
I love the cozy atmosphere and spreading umbrellas,
Walking under the moving canopy with my lover,
listening to natural orchestra led by the toad and crickets.
Humidity is high,but one thing is feared....Flood!,
Flood! Sweeping away shanties and littoral zones,
Making many homeless and hopeless,
Babies weep,mothers confused,fathers sad and
government sends relieve aids.
Date: 4-4-2013
CONTEST:"Spring Showers" sponsored by Russel Sivey.
Luke Laker locks lengthy lovely letters and lollypops in a
locker lying at lonesome lounge in learning field, linking
lake Lawson to the left of Larry`s law school.Lady Latoya a
Latina licks Luke Laker`s lollypops , looks into and reads his lovely
letters with levity.Luke Laker loses his cool,lashes and lunges
for Latoya and their lips locked in... a long lasting kiss of life,
just like licking lollypops and lemonade.
Later Luke weds Latoya legitimately in a large littoral land zone.
The day goes dark but not black,
With undefined twilight blinking through the night
the beacons of hope,ambience of peace
Gloomy hope with cyan coloured mind
walking on brown sandy beach
as ripples of love cover the dark blue sea
Magenta thrush sings beautiful lyrics
which makes the violet herons
to hover round the littoral zone
As I settle on an amber camp bed
beside my Orange skinned lover
She was lost in thought
as the breeze whistles along
Which makes my affection so strong
I look at her and her scarlet cap
and feel like giving her a tap
She makes my world go round and round
In her,plenty pleasures abound
With these feelings I fell into a trance
Even if I am not full of exuberance
I `ve seen my world surrounded by green fields with purple hibiscus
The white sun shines with great intensity
Which makes the red rose to bloom in the yellow garden of bliss
This world I float in is...
more precious and golden to me than pink diamond.
CONTEST:'Paint the World' sponsored by Tracie~indigo Dreamweaver
Analyzing satires celeste images defined?!
Archtypes born side by side; carmine halos....
Transcending tangibles collective bell jar host
Internal objectives journey through the superlatives
Austere tides; juxtapositions museful nirvana eyes!?
Gazing upon celebral traces marking barefoot sands....
Latitudes showers from variables littoral clouds anew
Raining verticals truths aligned beyound, imaginations shores
Lissome dynamics peering into the nows mirrored mind?!
Monolithic hues; retracing tangibles celeste analyzed....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."Majestic Mandamus" *
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