Long Avalanche Poems
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Last Wish
Take me back one last time
to that upper bunk beneath
the roof, in that cabin on the
campground by the river.
Let me lie in the dark and hear
the storm approach, and listen
to the distant thunder, knowing
that the wind and rain will come.
The first few drops fall wide apart
upon the metal roof like acorns
in my memory. Straight into my
trembling, youthful heart.
“ Be still! It’s almost here!”
A rush, and then “Crescendo”!
An avalanche of rain up on the roof,
drowning out everything but joy.
And then, when Heaven’s bucket
has emptied, those last few drops
fade until all that remains falls from
the trees. One now, one then, to silence.
Lying there in the darkness, a freshness
in the air, I know. The rain has rinsed
the cabins, the trees, the earth and
washed the doubt from my heart.
MR. PLAYER COMES CALLING
Playful monkeys on trunks of gold.
Banana like branches, like hammocks.
“My friends and family dynamics…
Oh, the fun of the life I pleasantly hold!”
Jealous of a competing tree…so calm.
So busy at her task, sun shines hot.
Pleasantly singing of what life’s brought,
Lai Lai weaving leaves of palm.
Swinging his hairy silhouette he turns up
party music, which relaxes “Mr. Player.”
Pulls his sweetheart close, he turns ever grayer.
Knowing she’s growing older, he must break up.
Lai Lai swings tree to tree selling homemade goods.
Pays for the tree she rents. Smiles at her troubles.
“Who does she think she is? Never offers me her baubles!”
“The player” decides to ditch his girl, present falsehoods
to the girl across the way. He must bring her down
Out of her, oh so humble, ho hum existence.
Cool player expects no real resistance.
As Lai Lai sees him swinging her way, she wears a frown.
His charms come calling, arms are swinging…
Lai Lai not shy on wisdom, pulls back a branch.
Her refusal, shakes the tree, Player in an avalanche.
Wounded head to toe, besides his pride is stinging,
Mr. Player found he was better off with his queen bee.
Finds her sunning herself, banana splits laid out in feast.
She mocks and laughs and cleans up her big hairy beast,
“She’s too goody two shoes for you! What you want is me!”
Lai Lai relaxing after a hard week of pleasant labor.
It’s Sunday, waiting for her hard working man.
She’s time to dress herself in silk, wave the heat away with fan.
You see Lai Lai’s fallen in love with her ambitious neighbor.
Moral: Don’t fall for a charmer.
3/7/2017
Nayda’s Fable Contest
So many ways to say one thing
More than one way to turn pawn to king
Too many turns to the grocery store
Which turn shall I take?
Countless words to choose from
From sunrise to sunset
Too many ends to be met
With no end
So many ways to say one thing
How will I say this?
The paralysis of perfection pours
A whisper at first
Drown out by the delusion of desirability
Preserved in acid proclamations of praise
Beating echoes in snowy peaks
Peaking in phrases veiled in value
Pouring
Heavy
Heavy
Heavy
On the mountaintop
Failure
Failure
Failure
One weakened layer causing seismic shifts
Elephant echoes fragmenting snowy ideals
Triggering avalanches of lost identity
Slabs of fallen promises break loose
Forming a track of forbidden truth
Too much weight bids perilous
Useless words of compliment
Descend to a suffocating
Ignominious demise
Plagued by tiny
Thoughts of
Fading
Perf
ect
io
n
Strong young man, he looked so fine
Before he took the final climb.
With care, he had prepared
To reach the peak this time.
The day he climbed, it was sublime
Yet, he would leave the earth behind.
And what a day it was, and now the sky
At night, so clear and bright.
He spotted an aurora, grand lights
Fantastic rays, were "out of sight"!
Deep inside he felt higher than a kite.
Then, when on the mount, he took a step
Rumbling ground below, he broke a sweat
Fear and panicked, he fell down and wept
An avalanche or'e took him, falling to his death.
Yet even in this tragedy, how he lived and died
He did what he loved, now his spirit's flying high.
Written on 2/7/2015
A fire burned deep within his soul
for her, but she was aloof and cold as ice
As his desire blazed out of control
Her frosty emotions became her purposed role
the flames of warmth could not make her nice
A fire burned deep within his soul
No spark of love could make her whole
the embers of passion were a roll of the dice
As his desire blazed out of control
The fire blazed from his head to his soles
her icy demeanor was her only vice
A fire burned deep within his soul
Her frosty heart like an avalanche rolled
a frigid smile would have to suffice
As his desire blazed out of control
But her heart of ice he could not cajole
With tears and despair she paid the price
A fire burned deep within his soul
As his desire blazed out of control
Joseph May
For Fire and Ice contest
Life is not perfect
It’s every ego’s cross to bear
It’s a big hill to climb and all that
But if you don’t do it,
Well, let’s just say the alternatives
Are worse.
So we soldier on
And take the bad with the good.
We shut up and put up,
And what do you know
Life often gets better
Or at least feels better
When you look on the sunny side.
But then there are those
Who want to tear it all down.
They talk and write articles
Of how oppressed you are
And how your life could
And should be better.
And so discontent worms its way
Through your shiny sunny side armor
And the ego’s inherent victimhood
Is given full reins
And so off it goes.
It feels good to unleash frustration
Let out the hate
As if throwing out a bag of stinking garbage,
Or worse, if the skeleton’s in the closet
Haven’t yet decomposed.
And hate, despair and self pity
So easily grow like an avalanche
Because they are just the falling down
Against all the effort it takes
To hold it all together
Maintain and build,
And even you could say, love
In the face of adversity.
Life is not easy, and never has been
But it is adversity
That makes it strong
Strong enough to resist the hate
Heal the victim, by simply giving it no air
And do the daily work
Of love, kindness, patience, and care
Care of self, but mostly of others,
Because we are in fact all just an other.
So even when it’s dark
And you’re feeling all alone
And that little whiny voice inside says
What about me, I need to get mine,
Remember, attitude is everything
And it’s not Pollyannaish
To keep on the sunny side
Always on the sunny side of life
Although life may well be a piece of sh*t
When you look at it
It’s always better to look out
Where you step
And where you’re going
Out and onto the bright side…
Always on the sunny bright side of Life.
(9/20/26)
Everyone hates my poetry
Because it doesn’t wear makeup.
Because it stares too long,
or not long enough.
Because it mentions the body
like a room that remembers
every man who left his name in dust.
Because it’s too sad,
too loud,
too holy,
too raw—
because it does not ask permission
to bleed
where others would politely weep.
They say I should whisper.
I scream in stanzas instead.
Line breaks like broken bones —
each one healed wrong on purpose.
I rhyme “fxxk” with “forgiveness”
and call it a sacrament.
I flirt with ghosts.
I give grief a seat at the table.
I write what I can’t confess.
And then I press send.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
?
Go your own way, they say.
But I was never theirs to lose.
I won’t be your throat,
your mouth,
your Sunday-quiet muse.
Dance in the avalanche —
I’ll be drinking full-blooded wine.
You butter your toast,
I’ll bleed ink and call it divine.
I’m Dracula,
you’re limpets —
clinging to shores of should.
Sinister mercy monsters
with teeth made of wood.
You won’t take mine.
I’ve bartered them
for metaphor.
For myth.
For the kind of flame
that never asks to be understood.
I sit on a throne
shaped like an electric chair,
burning truth until
only the bones of beauty remain.
You?
You live in living rooms.
You collect pretty things.
I braid your betrayal
into a lei of lunacy —
my madness in bloom.
Say I’m too old.
Too female.
Too much.
There’s something in the water.
Damn right.
I am the water.
I merge with ocean light.
The moon kisses me goodnight.
Why do I need your approval to feel seen?
Must just be a throwback trauma dream.
Your eyes — not galaxies,
but black holes,
sucking the light from my becoming.
I offered constellations,
you brought collapse.
But still—
I orbit my own flame.
Still, I rise in ruin’s dress,
sequined with scars.
I chew the fat
with better men than you,
men who don’t flinch
when a woman burns through.
Men who sip my fury like wine,
and still
ask for another glass.
You?
You watered me down,
then called me “too much”
for the mess you made.
?
And still I write.
Opening of Star Trek . . .
"Space . . . the final frontier . . .
These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise
Its five year mission :
To explore strange new worlds . . .
To seek out new life; new civilizations . . .
To boldly go where no one has gone before!"
Uhura: Captain, can you imagine it was suppose to be five years and we are
celebrating our fifty year anniversary!
Captain Kirk: Where does the time go, Uhura, I am feeling old.
Uhura: Me too, I have white hair. But we have left lasting effects on
culture ! Generations have watched us.
Captain Kirk: Oh yes, and there were many INTERESTING scenes . . .
Uhura: hummmm..... do you remember our kiss?
Captain Kirk: (laughing) How could I forget!!
Uhura: Our lips never touched.
Captain Kirk: That's not how I remember it . . . I recall take after take!
Pretty darn sure our lips touched . . .
Uhura: Yeah, our lips touched! It was the first interracial kiss and
caused quite a storm!
Captain Kirk: I remember . . . the sponsors threatened to pull the ads.
Urhua: Yes, and there was an avalanche of hate mail too. How silly!
Captain Kirk: Fascinating isn't it that a kiss in space could cause that much
reaction, we are lucking they did not self destruct us!
Urhura: . . . . or beam us back to earth . . .lol
Captain Kirk: Oh . . sweet memories, for this old man, we sure did boldly
go to some strange new worlds, it was quite the journey.
Uruha: Well so long Captain and as our friend Spock would say:
"Live long and prosper." Kiss, Kiss
_____________________________
September 3, 2016
Poetry/Narrative/A Five Year Mission
Copyright Protected, ID 16-825-392-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
BI-POLAR BEAR COLLABORATION WITH JAN ALLISON
I love living in the Arctic
The cold I find so cathartic
But you must beware
I'm bi-polar bear
If crossed I can be anarchic
I'm really a huge white bi-polar bear
You can take my photograph, laugh and stare
But if you come too near
You'll have reason to fear
If I'm in Hyde's mood you'd better take care!
I'm usually very docile and quite nice
Relaxing on the shelves of polar ice
For food I am howling
My tummy is growling
I need to catch some tasty fish to slice
I possess great big furry white paws
But at times I can show my sharp claws
So don’t mess with me
Cos I can be nasty
My emotions have no get out clause
I don't really like eating seal blubber
It's tasteless as a tire made of rubber
And I don't like to swim
Unless I have the whim
I should have been born as a land lubber
My smile can turn into a frown
One minute I’m up, next I’m down
I can lash out at you
So whatever you do
Don’t call me a stupid bear clown
When I'm feeling like good Doctor Jekyll
I don't care if you tease me or heckle
I'll toss you my poop
Big scoop after scoop
Til I've covered all your little freckles
On a good day I’ll smile so nice
Enjoying white fish which I’ll dice
See me bask in the sun
Then I’ll go for a run
And play with my friends on the ice
I feel a weird change, a rumbling inside
An avalanche of emotions, a landslide
My claws are extended
Your visit has ended
Red mist all around ~ turning into Hyde!
The truth, it cannot be denied
I’m a bit like Jekyll and Hyde
You'd better leave town
When red mist comes down
Or run to take cover and hide!
For many years I hid behind a MASK of pain.
I was a brilliant actress, but it was a FACADE.
I wore a fake smile on my face. Inside I was
BROKEN and my spirit was TORN. My pain
inside reached a boiling point and my ILLUSION
of happiness came to an abrupt end. And I cried
a tsunami of tears. The mask CRACKED and came
crashing down. Only then did I start to
heal from years of mental and sexual abuse.
I am FLAWED and IMPERFECT, but I love and
accept myself, my flaws and all. When I fell in love
with the broken little girl inside, healing came like
an avalanche in my soul. If one person is moved to
break their silence of abuse, then sharing my story
was worth it. The main thing I want to convey to
anyone reading this, it was not your fault. You were
a victim. Your pain doesn't define you. It is battle scars;
you can rise above a shameful past you're victorious,
my friend. Tell your story to heal and inspire others.
06-14-2021
Contest: Flawed
Sponsor: Constance La France