Long Axe to grind Poems
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*Image of Walks Warns by Wage.com.
Blues In White
Dressed in white, she looked so refined,
Then I got a text, from who, was undefined,
Message opened eyes, and was well timed,
As I searched the vacuums of my mind,
An emptied cranium is all I would find,
'Tis words to spew as I have an axe to grind,
Of a sordid brief affair where love was blind,
As lies beget lies, for she was one of a kind,
For she had a lover, though she declined,
Says she loved me in soft repeats, to remind,
But at that point, I was far too resigned,
My vagrant mouth said words that maligned,
Every name in the book, for I was unkind,
Then I took a breath, so that I would unwind,
Laid my ring on a book, that was left unsigned,
As she stood by the altar, leaving her behind,
For 'twas our wedding day, I have just outlined.
2019 May 20
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND 1091
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 18
Choice Suspended
There is no winning
just an upper hand
The scoreboard fluid
as change commands
The odds on fire
to win or lose
With choice suspended
— the moment skewed
**
Flows A River
Why in the world
would you care
And if you did
would it matter
Our differences
vast
And incongruence
shatters
Diametrically
opposed
With a canyon
between us
Where truth
flows a river
Never filled
— by consensus
**
No Quarter
The arrogance of
importance
Plato
staking his claim
As thought
gives no quarter
Where truth
— is proclaimed
**
Death Sentence
Meandering
through life
Our consciousness
bought
A capital
sin
Forgiveness
— is naught
**
Lip Service
I approve the better
but follow the worse
Entitlements hostage
— alone in the hearse
**
The Magic Within
Music has no borders
and no axe to grind
Love has no labels
but seekers must find ...
The magic within
both the sound and the heart
To change what an army
— must yield in their rout
**
Fair Winds
The #1 indicator of good health
— nothing happens
**
Bestowed
When diffidence
takes precedence
over enlightenment and fact
All confidence
in abeyance
every gift is abstract
To believe is
confirmation
of what the spirit will know
Giving credence to a memory
more than gifted
— bestowed
**
The Moment Upon Us
Resetting
your watch
the end coming soon
Ignoring
the ticking
whose bomb will bring doom
The sands
running thinner
the hourglass clear
The moment
upon us
— when doubt turns to fear
**
Nerve Endings
The one thing
I know better
than anything else
Is myself
plain and simple
— viscerally felt
**
Ballast
The more you learn
the less you need
Your burden lifting
— as lessons free
**
Written 2 August 2023
Submitted to No. 1233 New Poem only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
A Blessed Soul
Blessed is a soul who at his health can care,
At the beauty of nature stands and stares.
Blessed is a soul who can reign his own mind
And the virtuous path with ease ever finds.
Blessed is a soul who down himself can peer
And access his inner self without fear.
Blessed is a soul who still can steer his life
And can reach the peak of peace without strife.
Blessed is a soul without an axe to grind,
Who truly aims to raise the human kind.
Blessed is a soul who down himself can peer
And whose goal is to reach the divine sphere.
Before the Big Bang brought star dust
To the interstellar scene
It must have been something like
An unfathomably immeasurable self-inducing
Divinely driven dream machine.
Mind forming matter as imagination
Up the ladder
Rungs of time;
Step by step and star by star
Unfolding Love sublime.
Reaching out, emanating
From the center of All meaning;
Building blocks of trees and rocks
More beautiful than being. Born again
Out of ashes
When fire filled the air
And all we knew was something drew
Us to life somewhere.
Out of clay or the primordial egg
So the ancient stories subscribe
Old Adam and Eve and the snake in the tree
And history's first truth or dare or lie.
What then, is life and why?
Could it be the unquenchable thirst for knowledge
Hidden or forgotten throughout time?
Our inner connections to the Cosmic
Creation, that set in motion every ocean
And notion left to find?
Life is a living, dying, loving, lying
Uplifting, lowdown axe to grind.
With every minute of every breath
We suck in deep to breath
All the space, ideas and feelings,
Hopes, wants, cares and needs.
And the long armed quest for nobleness
And the chance to reach deep realms,
As Jason and the Argonauts were seeking
Secrets in themselves.
Down in the waves and dark filled caves
Where memories are never devoured;
Life is a terribly wonder-filled trip
Filled with heroes,
Monsters
And the beautiful
Wild flowers.
Vehicles of verse serve to prove
how passions and purposes move
from mind to mind.
Our choice letters turn into words;
missives sung by persuasive birds
no axe to grind.
Optimal words will brake at lines
to drive the stanzas home by signs
a nest to find.
While I prefer form as my gauge
some free range bards refuse that cage
the wing-it kind.
Vehicles of verse are the arm
empowering content to charm
when wined and dined.
August 19, 2020
contest Second Chances NA poems of 2020 Part III
hostess: Chantelle Anne Cooke
received NA in Emile Pinet's contest: Tail Rhyme Stanza Poetry Contest judged 8/26/2020
In a house of cards
in torrential rain
social media overload
floods my brain.
Wave after wave
you feel the pain.
Heading down the hallway
into the dark,
the imminent
and dissonant
hellhounds bark.
From the penthouse of hypocrisy
I jumped onto a train
Heading nowhere and arriving too soon
I watch as a little girl forever reaches
for her red balloon.
The Queen of hearts has her axe to grind
Her targets locked.
She rears back
Lowers her blade
As another head drops
We’re well away from this blood lust fray
It’s just a matter of time
til the skeletal banshees and their vigilantes
wave red flags
for their divergent paths
Driving away
ALL that is meek
ALL that is good
Running in circles
forever misunderstood
In a black glass
Chipped and cracked
You can see them still
Never approaching
Never fulfilled
In a timeless dance
They writhe and flay
This storys’ musical refrain
Frozen silent
Their world will ever remain.
Free Verse Old or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor Joseph May
Defined By Idioms
Naked truth, bent nails
dead men tell no tales
bad Apple, broken mirrors
burnt out light bulbs, crocodile tears
spilt milk, goose chase
two cents worth, rat race
rotten egg, bad to the bone
eagle eye, no place like home.
bat from hell,
pulled punch
big cheese,
no free lunch
can of worms, bleeding heart
knock on wood,
till death do us part
bite the bullet, checkered past
good as gold,
last laugh
burning bridges,
ball of wax
hold your horses start from scratch
wooden nickels ace up your sleeve
hair of the dog
all Greek to me
axe to grind
behind the eight ball
bigger they are
the harder they fall
jack of all trades cat's got your tongue
fair weathered friend
like father like son
small world
on thin ice
speak of the Devil roll of the dice
blood's thicker than water
lie like a rug
dime a dozen
when push comes to shove
dog eared pages
eye for an eye
bury the hatchet how time flies clean as a whistle C
chew the fat
crime doesn't pay. cover my ass
throw me under the bus gentle as a lamb
cold shoulder
hit the fan
buyer beware
woman's work never done
never say never
takes one to know one
come Hell or high water
pissing in the wind
pretty as a picture through thick and thin
beat a dead horse pass the buck
whole nine yards down on my luck
life’s a
don't rock boat
needless to say
go for broke
My life is the sum of trite cliches
Jaded expressions
so worthless so worn
I couldn't give it away
She’s into sushi and sapiosexuals,
Yogis with crystals, and vain intellectuals.
Just a flutter-by wisp with a thin portmanteau,
Who doesn’t believe what she’d rather not know.
Her porcelain features come straight off the shelf.
She plans for the future by suiting herself.
She teases the barmaid with talk about milk,
While flashing embroidered hosiery silk.
Her custom transmission is always in gear.
Neutral doesn’t stroke her RPM.
You never need to peel her grapes,
Just be sure to pluck them off the stem.
Mars is impassive. Venus is hot.
Their orbits eccentric, as likely as not.
He’s got a terribly large axe to grind,
And doesn’t ever kindly suffer fools.
To him, she’s just another barroom filly,
And he’s not the sort to follow by the rules.
He didn’t need the laurel of another top ten hit.
He’d written that song many times before.
But her magnetic eyes and tell-tale mouth
Put his better judgment on a slow train headed south.
If not for the liquor, he might have ignored her,
Instead, he laid his papers on the line.
And offered up a wary introduction,
Inviting her to share a glass of wine.
Mars is unyielding. Venus is not.
Their orbits are star-crossed, most likely to knot.
Dam you bastards with water; I think you all are coots
While I watch the weather everyday and plead for rain filled fronts
I’m not some greedy bastard, which wants to grow more grass
I need my stock to have a drink, and save their thirsty ****
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some greenie, with an axe to grind
In many areas our futures, are unbelievably intertwined
But for god sake, sit back and think, just how lucky that you are
Because all that water that you waste, well some comes from my jar.
I can’t but help, smile a wry grin, when the irrigation stops
As the whinging starts, about the loss in cash, as profit production drops
Your stock still have water, to pour straight down their throats
Water troughs filled to the brim, not erectile dysfunction floats
I see your places from the hill, circles of dark green crops and grass
Metal robots, pissing water, creatures born of greed; I have to sigh alas
There’s more to farming than factory farms and copious quantities of water
Deciding on paper, which animals must go, on the truck to slaughter.
So please forgive me when I wish on you, pestilence and misery
May your cereals wilt, stock get the shits, and your profits become history
I’m not some greedy bastard, of extra dry matter I have no need
If my stock just had clean water to drink, from my anxiety I’d be freed
'It takes one to know one', so they do state,
but that won't take you far,
as we're never told exactly who these 'they' are.
'It's not what you know, it's who you know',
so the saying goes,
but the devil is in the details,
and I say, 'It's what you know about whom you know,'
which really goes to show,
whomsoever holds the power prevails.
'You have to give them what they want', so it is said,
but that only adds to my pique,
as I know not those 'them' of whom they speak.
Some may say 'I have an axe to grind',
but that's neither here nor there,
as I take issue with; 'they', 'who' and 'them' unknown,
yes it's my cross to bear.