Long Battlements Poems
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I dream beyond these battlements
Of islands in the west
Beyond the strings and sacraments
That occupy the rest
My gentle sister, soft and pure
Admires her silken sleeves
A subtle breeze begins to stir
The eucalyptus leaves
And like the leaves that tremble so
My mind will dance toward
A distant archipelago
Or ships that I may board
And though the only ship I meet
Is drawn upon a page,
In books or verses I repeat
These thoughts I can't assuage
I dance in sprays of golden flowers
That sprout along a stream
I walk along the shore for hours
Til night begins to gleam
For I'm too young to marry now
But houses will decree
I ask the wind to try, somehow,
to take me to the sea
-For Isaiah Zerbst's 'Edmund Blair Leighton' contest and inspired by his painting with the same title
I feel it so strongly deep inside the cry of your heart
It but echoes my souls endless fear of being apart
Use your strength to go on with life even though it is hard
Where is life’s joy when treated with such reckless disregard?
I wonder can I ever free you from this endless pain?
My body and soul are laden with such cold heavy chain
Lead me through the maze of your mind, let me break down the wall
The donjon has been built of adamant and shall not fall!
I will rend the dark veil and bright starlight will fill your soul
The battlements long secure crumble, your love makes me whole!
Written by Shane Cooper & A-L Andresen 25.03.2015
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Surly you have put
your word to pen
the winds have carried them
have dispersed them upon the globe
the game pieces are in place
and the populace lives under
dense clouds of darkness
though not awake aware of determinations
a war machine
funded with flesh and gold
as oxen under yoke
who have no say in what their masters plow
They HAVE been forewarned
surly your WORD has come full circle
you have called out the future
and given knowledge of fortresses
battlements and shields
The 1st WAR your minds
The 2nd WAR your hearts
The 3rd WAR your flesh
the full destruction of corruptions
Surly your intentions have
been fully shown for any knowing
the instructions of the King
but they have been led astray
and loved to have it that way
You keep sending your servants
the watchmen who view into distances
to tell what was far off has come close
The Temple and the Bride
are nearly completed
the invitations to all the guests
not one single soul is exempt
of participation
freewill will have a whole new meaning
you can choose the royal law of Life
or be driven off the cliffs
by unruly angels
because the ideology of WAR
and fear driven by rulers
whose behavior is so corrupt
that we liken them to being demonic
Come now where is your reason
that you should choose WAR
over the avenues of peace
everywhere you turn is a sign
and it says beware
wake up wake up wake up
before you sleepwalk
into death
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
("Field of Dreams - Flanders 1917", 2020, original oil)
("Field of Dreams - Flanders 2017", 2020, original oil)
War and Peace
Everyone wants peace,
the irony is it takes war to get it.
In this world of dog eat dog
someone had to be defeated, someone’s life taken,
for you to enjoy yours.
You didn’t have to do it, it didn’t even have to be in your lifetime,
but it had to happen.
And in war everything is fair.
Despite the rules of law and engagement we come up with before and after,
when it comes to the fight anything goes.
In other words, sometimes nothing is sacred.
In times of peace people complain of conflicts involving innocent civilians
but in war no one is innocent, no one not the target.
Troops and armies, warriors and battlements may be the first line of defense
but the civilians that support the armies are always the main target,
always what waits behind the front lines,
and what eventually becomes part of the spoils of conquest.
When an army can’t hold or break through the lines of defense,
it retreats and sues for peace,
but when it can, it does.
At least that’s the way we’ve always fought;
Sherman in Georgia, Allied bombings of Dresden
Tokyo,Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Vietnam and Iraq…
And when the dust settles the victors get their way,
and the vanquished submit, comply, survive,
at least those civilized enough to adapt;
peace after all, being the desired end of war.
But for those who are conquered and refuse to submit,
what is to be done about them?
Whatever it takes.
(12/8/23)
* This poem almost cost a college student his enrollment, as he plagiarized it for his final exam, (the highest form of flattery they say) … I begged them not to expel him, though they made him call me and gave him community service. I was rather flattered by the whole thing, as I’d only been writing a couple of months. *
~
I be a common salty once
no captain's bars, did bear
yet blessed was I to venture
where few a skipper dared
from crow's nest high aloft, I saw
those bright coast beacons wink
thru biting spray's December gale
what shoals and reefs would sink
for countless days I rocked atop
that oaken spar’s good length
as wake and skies conveyed my eyes
Lord Neptune's sullen strength
aye, busy dogs, the mates and jacks
bent hard while tasked below …
as toward the sky, a glass to eye
my post waved to-and-fro
first was I to e'er spot land
my voice, the first to yell -
first to sight a skull and bones
loud-clanged that warning bell
"thar she blows!" was oft' my cry
if spied foamed breach, had I
and "friend or foe?!?" the query barked
when strange sails cleaved the sky
but moments to becalm my soul
as swells tick-tocked the time
were star-filled nights, a bullion moon
and the phosphorescent brine
the darkest times were battlements
when the ship groaned with its might
but never dark, those eventides -
sea and vault - awash with light!
quite rare it was to find this tar
midst the deck or down below
and rarer still would I abdicate
my realm there, high the crow …
well, I'm adrift on shore now
with ol’ brittle bones and gray
yet in this lubber's mind I’ll still
climb masts to watch … and sway
I bounce wee kin on knobby knees
and spin them my swabbie tales -
St Elmo's Fire and scorching skies
fierce battles, storms, and whales
and when sweet angels task me
to that dark and heav'nly crow …
I'll bend gaze to my looking glass
and give a hearty … "tally-ho!"
What is a castle, but a vain attempt
to keep at bay a horror, dark, adverse,
that sniffs its way towards our flesh and bone?
It seeps through portals, leering with contempt
at battlements and barriers. The Curse
can find us, where we sleep, alone.
Rank weeds creep up, malodorous, unkempt:
a moaning wind weaves through them, to disperse
their evil seeds, unstoppable once sown.
Our crude carnality can fool us, tempt
a sense of something “out there”. This perverse
conception causes castles. Walls are thrown
around us. Though we toil on soil and stone,
the menace is internal – and our own.
battlements high of cold gray stone
softly lit by rays of sun
there she walks while gazing out
over the slow rolling waves of the sea
practice field does lie within
covered in grass both soft and green
a worthy knight with sword and shield
looks longingly up at she
long dark curls to slowly wave
with the slow shaking of his head
he returns to the practice drills
endless long hours of training
plain sword and shield of simple steel
no coat of arms nor emblem there
a simple man of arms is he
that ne’er of maiden fair would see
her eyes of blue so clear and bright
the fair features that fill his dreams
the longing passions that burns within
the ache of the heart that knows no relief
again he turn unto his drill
longing that it will empty his mind
free him of his love forlorn
that her love might him embrace
On the morrow he will depart
Traveling hence to the battle where he must be
perhaps somehow his will heart will forget
that perhaps that in his return he might free
Before the great golden gates,
in the long ago,
battle was to be waged on Badicha plain,
Soldiers of the Dark Ones come,
to destroy the lands of light,
upon the mighty silver parapet,
many stood and watched,
an angel stood,
sweet womanhood,
in her wondrous prime.
Her soft brown eyes,
they beheld a black sea,
would this be the end of all dreams?
would darkness come upon this scene?
she watched intently,
this Warrior Queen,
as manhood marched from Alahsar,
through golden gates, they marched,
they were a wondrous dream,
the mighty splendour of Alahsar.
Brave the knights that rode away,
regaled in golden finery,
they did shine with golden light,
kissed by Sol's celestial beam,
followed, they were, by infantry,
they did march so bold and strong,
bedecked in summer's brightest colours,
a glorious sea to behold.
Brave indeed, were these soldiers,
with hearts of steel, they marched away,
glory and honour,
within battle's horror,
Upon the plain of Badicha,
before the gates of the golden city,
a battle for the survival of light,
fighting to whatever end would be sung.
Womanhood did watch this day,
forbidden by the king, to fight,
As Fathers, Brothers, Uncles,
Lovers did march away,
Into the light of glories dawn,
the golden glory shining bright,
which, ever did shine,
on the golden glory that was Alahsar.
Our Warrior Queen stood tall,
she stood with the other women,
they longed to be on the field,
atop those bright battlements of silver,
they could but await the outcome,
a fire blazed in her brown eyes,
she stood on the smallest part of the wall,
above the great golden gates.
Both sides now,
light and dark,
they faced each other,
across the emerald sea,
The Dark forces,
their Spiders and Spider Riders on the flanks,
Arlaghs were in the front lines of the centre,
merciless, murderous beasts,
Behind them the Goblin Wolf Riders,
The light force,
there armoured knights on both flanks,
the infantry,
they stood row on row in the centre,
the archers were mostly ranked behind the infantry,
small groups are on the flanks,
both these armies in expectation,
they waited for the command to strike.
To Be Continued..........
For The Brave
Rush quickly to me my sarcastic wit,
My heart's weak battlements are under siege;
For the world torments me as it sees fit,
Unrelenting to thee my faithful liege.
Bring sharpest of words to aid in my war,
That the loss of so piteous a life
May be reflected in its final score
To say bravery housed within was rife.
O Muses armor, truest pen to hand,
The stage is set and curtain call is nigh;
Before blood spills upon this dying land,
My words on wings must climb into the sky.
Before my words become a faded thought...
I'll shed the tear for which I've bravely fought.
Word Maneuvers in F Sharp Minor
As it goes, so it goes.
Imperceptibly.
As the languorous lizard soaks in the sun,
It’s fat green belly filled with flies,
You and I will do the same, indeed,
We will find utter solace under a moving cloud,
We will wish for an escape from the piercing onslaught,
We will wish for an end to the pain and abject sadness,
Of daily life on this staggering planet;
But instead, as carnivorous time eats its way forward,
We too will be absorbed into the Beast,
Into which all are eventually swallowed whole,
We will be digested by the darkness.
As it goes, so it goes,
Imperceptibly.
As the languorous lizard soaks in the sun,
You and I will do the same.
We will spend our lives hunting,
And being hunted,
By the masticating microbes of infinite space;
We will all be an ingredient, at last,
In something else’s soup.
And what is our end, honey?
What factors are there in our ultimate demise?
Here, take my hand and let me hold it.
We will soon enter into the room of pillows.
It’s down the dark meandering hallway,
Past the statue of a kneeling Artemis,
Inside, you will find fiery explosions;
That of instant death upon the battlements.
We will be vacant from the universe,
For a second….
As the blooming centrix flower bends,
And waits for pulsing Time to ejaculate,
We will watch its wondrous presentations,
We will lie askew, and count our moles
With trembling erect appendages.
As it goes, so it goes,
Imperceptibly.