Long Bays Poems
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With looks of celestial damsel
On mission of mystery unravel
A fairy flies from foreign land
Fabulously to discover dreamland
With colourful feathers silky
Plumage so soft as cream milky
With a huge brain and physique
Seemingly bereft of travel unique
Marches with her wings vibrant
Only to devote herself on front 1
Space being her intriguing place
With supersonic speed that’s ace
Surmounting all hurdles many
The angel gathers speed gluttony
Hovering over planetoids tiny
Cosmic powers she has bonny
Revolving around many orbits
Surpassing all heavenly bits
Eventually lands on planet afar
Near the superb system of star 2
The landing leaves no stone unturned
For she knows her vision churned
Deep insight and attitude awesome
Make her an alien winsome
Tidy looks and trendy gait
Extremely stunning to catch and get
Her device offers a beverage strange
That has unique aura and rage
Pinkish perfect pure porridge
The cosmic food it seems from fridge 3
Tailor-made for her specific physique
Is the space suit with electro-magnetic
Induction full speed and winsome
Mere touch causes sparkle wowsome
A protective shield made of an alloy
Thus making her a space decoy
Satellites she whirls like a key chain
Space capsules she twirls on her mane
An enormous angel from an alien abode
Now at my solar system crossroad 4
What could be her mission possible!
Has been my subject of marvel
Is it to bring apocalypse fatal
Or just to revamp my earth petal
Before her I am like a neo natal
What to do to know her mettle
Time passes and she starts
To peruse my earth full of arts
Wonders at the seas and bays
Astonishes at mountains and rays 5
I am now beside myself
As she drills the earth deep herself
Oh soon there comes an mystery man
With torso made of crystal brand
The drilling continues till the dusk
There is a mist and her voice husk
I know it’s their language mutual
Based on the heavenly acts factual
Perhaps the mission is to find gems
In the earth stomach that overwhelms 6
Thus I’m sure she is down for mining
And exploiting the earth for farming
The drill lasts for hours twenty
Finally come out jewels aplenty
Like that of ocean-churn by Gods
Here going on planet-pumping by rods
The purpose is to adjust the axle
Though imaginary-full of miracle
Eventually gathered all gems
Putting axle in firm place 7
I am writing to you because I know you have a wish.
I have been thinking diligently about your wish. It is not
going to be easy but I think it can be done. First I am going
to break down your overall wish into many smaller wishes.
I want you to get that electric car you always wanted. That huge
backyard protected from unwanted visitors. I know you have a love
for life...do you remember when you told me - You should never eat
anything that once had a heart. I miss all those organic vegetables,
fruits, growing foods you use to treat me to.
I want you to be able to see the stars at night not hidden by the
crud in the air. Enjoy a sunset free of gaseous neon colors. Rid
the world of killing machines. Did you know there are weapons now
can kill hundreds in a few minutes, I know it would break your heart
to watch.
Than I want you to fill your lungs in the cleanest of air plumped up
with an abundance of oxygen. Drink from the oceans, lakes, rivers,
bays fresh thirst quenching water. Can you imagine all water life
free of cancerous tumors, fishies free of disease but I am off on
a tangent. I want you to play in the rain without fear. Have you
heard of acid rain?
I want you to get each and every single wish that I mention.
Delivered to you by the most gentle of breezes. In the frozen
fingers of the icebergs. Some in the whirlwind motion of the
smallest of tornadoes. Others through the hairline cracks of
the best behaved of all earthquakes.
I love you with all my heart. I know so many have changed
without remorse. They are so busy looking for the pot of
gold at the end of the rainbow they no longer notice the rainbow.
So many wishes you yearn.
I wish for you mother, at the very least your children would
stop raping you, sodomising you. Mother Earth we your children,
us the humans live here by your grace...well my wish for you
mother is that your children would stop all the denial, all the
arguments, the rationalizations...we have all the excuses for
what we do to you. I wish what you wish mother. I wish your
children would show you the respect you deserve. Just that
no more, no less.
Love, Always
Maurice
20~12~2014
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest Name: My Wish For You
WHEELCHAIR BOUND
Dots appeared and disappeared
a single sunray flashed onto
wheelspokes, canvas seat
comfortably frayed
bought secondhand
her unexercised legs flabby
window bars rusted, panes cracked
nobody cared
there she sat thinking about
cooking porridge with cinnamon
tricky to wheel in
two meter wide kitchen
lighting gas stove sitting no easy feat
this was charnel ground
no cash oozing pockets or
colour disappearing into op-art
no bra-strap laughter
or fruit bowl decorations
no one visited
thought wheelchair bound infectious
what if they too had to
sit for a narrow cold shower
or pop-a-wheely to see
a bird swallow a caterpillar ?
here trees were being chopped
their screaming pain slicing her nerves
cockroaches, ego-deaths
not knowing about this phase
of unpalatable life
she wheeled to a sunny patch
her relegated cement square
stared at Sun questioningly
He smiled at her pain
saying it was not in vain
she grimaced, then smiled in return
remembering cinema days
mall ice-cream, walks on beaches
vague memories round and round
with wheel tires, like neglected hamsters
nobody wanted to hoist wheelchair into air
then car booth, all too much trouble
had too much to do
shattered human perceptions falling
to be buried
chair had tatty armrests for lifting body
she could not buttocks rise up
to call street boy for corner shop loaf
hunger had to wait
till neighbour knocked
Buddha said all bodies merge
with charnel ground
sooner or later heads, arms, ears
are broken down
images across a sieve screen
Plato saw this too as shadows
still they feared coming near
locked into an eye flap timeline which said
what if I too ?
when wheels become legs
and humans less, sight clears
what was once flotsam and jetsam
floats away into goodbye bays
enjoyment of senses merely a persistent
layer of life
wheelchair bound is part of Plan
so sound, a mechanism for peeling
two wheels become friends
grinding ignorance, flattens what serves not
unfolding a Mode of Goodness
every spoked circle has a
tacit teaching agenda
No experience in virtue vain
You're a tiger in the jungle, elusive, strong and free;
I'd wondered how I'd meet you, for I live in the sea.
And though I'd dreamt that one day soon I'd be no more alone,
That it is you my heart awaits I never could have known.
I've seen the waters far and wide, the shallow and the deep,
I've swam with fishes just like me but none could my heart keep.
I've met the sharks, the dolphins too, the turtles and the rays,
I've been to every inlet, every cove and all the bays.
I've even met the gulls who soar, who freely roam the skies,
They tell me nothing's there for me amidst their woeful cries.
And so I travel aimlessly, evading many threats,
From predators and jealous kin to massive human nets.
I find myself quite lost once more, no longer in the sea,
I'm swimming now in waters fresh, I think, where could I be?
But not much time permits to pass, I must keep self aware,
I've narrowly escaped the grasp, the claws of great brown bear.
This bear it seems will not give up, he swipes and swipes again,
I tire now and lose my strength, I fear I've met my end.
Then all at once, it seems to me, the danger is no more,
I'm rescued now and safe again thanks to a mighty roar.
This roar it bellowed loud and deep, and it had kept me safe.
I wondered who could be the one who'd rescued me, a waif.
As I look up I see above two golden eyes like fire,
A steadfast creature watching me, in orange striped attire.
This beast he has the largest fangs and claws - sharp like a blade,
And yet, as I look into his eyes I just am not afraid.
A moment froze, we both are still, our spirits now connect,
His weapons borne are meant for me, for I he must protect.
The sun it sets, we've spent the eve our hearts entwined in song,
And yet we know the truth draws near, it mustn't be prolonged.
For you, my dear, you dwell on land and I swim in the sea,
And how could you or I change lives? It simply cannot be.
As I depart to swim away I feel I cannot cope,
But then a thought has dawned on me, and now I feel some hope.
For how we met was not by chance, and we are all we need,
The land it meets the sea year-round; only once was my heart freed.
WORDS ON THE SAND (Part 3)
Not distant a young girl watching silent
On her wheelchair. No writing from a limited body
The sand waiting from her what in life is more salient
After she saw the old man, the woman and the boy
Holding in her hands a bunch of ginger flowers
An Atlas Moth Butterfly flew on her bush.
"Don't you ask anything for yourself? Your words are diamond ores".
She whispered like her mother when cuddling her blush
"Nothing I ask for myself. I want to give
My word for the old man, woman and young boy
Only for them my heart can live. I can't them forget.
They deserve more than my limited body.
"What is then that you want more?
That you want to write on the leaf of a Sycamore?
That will be chanted for ever by Homer?
That will be casted in the seas as golden ore?
"I want to write it for them all
On the sands and on waves
On the wings of the sea awls
On the tides hold by alabaster vases"
"The word I want to cast to all humans
Is "Hope". No more I want on this humid sand"
"Hope" she wrote striving with her weak hands
No force of nature could hold that brand
A silence wrapped the whole shore
The sky turned into a deep blue and dark brown
No tide, no wind, not even a glimpse of bodily sore
Nothing she asked to keep for her own
And all in a sudden a thunder broke the immense bay
On the two sides of the Ocean water falls as ascending alabasters
Leaving the abysses open to winds and to sky
Roman vessels appearing with replenished golden caskets
From the horizon four thousand white stallions
Galloping over the sea beds from the centre to the bays
From the right, sea lions directing waves' rebellions
From the left two legions of mermaids riding blue Wales
From Greece Eolous blowing his trumpets for winds to bend
From Crete Minerva came to heal the girl's legs
From Rome Hermes to write poetries about her strength
Finally the Almighty Atlas to lift her from her binding beds
Then silence, peace and a marine scent from the sea
No tide, no bird, no foam, no wind, as it has never been
Only a small bush of ginger flowers under the sycamore tree
Caressing an empty wheelchair cherished by dropping leaves
pioneer esprit de corps front tier brisk.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Open arms and clenched raised fists raise
masquerade diametrically opposed to rodomontade sways
spewing threatening sacred constitution
expounding vaunted values déclassé 1968 degreed phase
Wharton alumni now on warpath to raze
via his bull dozing wreaks havoc on coven daze
ruining complex edifice
usurped storied super power craze
thru humiliation, liquidation of dredging bays
* * * * * * * * * * * *
and justification (viewed thru his warped vision)
scotching inalienable rights reducing to rubble bedrock division
with remainder of flinty stones,
and unlovely bones a wasteland fission
absent without a trace any evidence of Halcyon days,
which abomination, decimation, and gangrenous lesion
joie de vivre, when martial law decree deep incision
heil come rolled up (frightfully with egregious decision.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
the venomous, tenebrous, and rancorous white house
Head honcho viz prez) inside checkered hookahs lighting
one end per slow burn as hoary smoke emanates
in shape of Taj Mahal, then harmless as Mickey mouse
he iz well singed, seared, and scalded like a cook grouse
(yet of course still alive) sent to further douse
him into initiation righting tis basic human coup laid louse.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Acid test whereby he will be sold to Vladimir Putin for bunk
her hilled feather bedding rubles on the dollar, where clunk
key interim held up by cadre of well comb pence dunk
key Kong sated marionettes, which will carry fleshy lunk
dirty deeds done dirt cheap of this unmentionable monk
key villainous uber trumpeter, scabrous, recalcitrant querulous punk!
* * * * * * * * * * * *
keep your finger and toes crossed for the next four years
aware that such laughable ruse and superstitious scares
not one impish bot of fate, but more so gives false cheers.
Form:
Impatient floodwaters at dams
Waiting for shutters to open,
A hodgepodge of puppets
Excited to perform: at deep slumber,
Waiting for my eyes to close,
The naughty byproducts of my brain!
I fly, glide: liberating!
I sing with a celebrity: enthralling!
I reach a different galaxy: wondering!
I flow with a river: murmering!
I see the illusory Utopia: interesting!
I meet a hero of a great epic: marvelling!
I chat with my childhood friend: giggling!
Also I get to see and feel
The serenity and purity of Heaven: glorifying!
I find myself lost in a maze: panicking!
I reach late to office: frustrating!
I see hideous monsters: quivering!
I get my opinions rejected: estranging!
I get chased by a stranger: panting!
I feel frozen and unable to move: benumbing!
Also I see vortex of smoke spiralling
At the centre of time and space: terrifying!
A mishmash of baffling events,
A drama with no sequence,
Trains take turns unexpected
At the criss-cross tracks; characters arrive:
Some much awaited; some not so,
To enact - breaking all logic.
Sometimes in the middle of sleep
I romance the vivid archipelagoes,
The stunning reefs, turquoise lagoons,
And the distant palm-fringed bays;
I wake up with a start and see darkness
Engulfing pitch black dark: despairing,
As opposed to splendid landscape: hitherto
Soothed my senses unbeknownst to me!
Striking contrast - seize my joy!
My eyelids droop and my eyes again
Succumb to slumber gracefully.
As sleep flows once more,
smoothly, gently and rapidly,
My fav sceneries reappear nimbly:
The archipelagoes, reefs, and lagoons,
Back from where they left me;
Broken threads fixed, my spirit revives!
A lost child finding his way
Reaching his mother's arms overjoyed!
Desires and wishes unconscious,
Experiences frightening and disturbing,
Pop up as dreams: the craftwork of brain.
Amidst mixed emotions I float, drown,
And as alarm bell rouses me
To meet the new dawn, I wake up:
Refreshed, peaceful, and content,
A sound sleep I did get.
Also reminding myself that
Its time to enact now:
The Drama of Life!
The drama with sequences, of course!
>This must be my last poem today, as I must away. Plus I might get told off for posting too many. I have a Blue Badge, because I have difficulty walking distances, even short ones, sometimes. The novelty if that’s the correct word in having a Blue Badge, is you are allowed to park in special disabled bays, provided you are there at the right time, of course. These times can be found on notices, if you look hard enough, sometimes they are quite high on a pole sometimes on a brick wall. Others low down , but there’s always one around somewhere.
This happened on the 7th July 2016 to me
I have a Blue Badge
It is dull and damp outside.
Summer at last is here.
Kids had their school sport's day yesterday.
I know some were near.
Could I park anywhere,
by my local shops, want to know?
There is a brief answer,
and that is no.
I thought, well that is okay.
As I have Blue Badge, you see.
First there was a white van parked.
The wrong way, crossing two parking lanes,
right where I could be.
I did return later to see a black car parking there.
But of a Blue Badge, I saw nought.
And then I began to despair.
Just as well my hair was short.
Or I would have pulled it out just there.
I did find it empty space.
Not too far away.
Saw the owner of that black car in that disabled bay.
Fly along the path, I say.
I did not approach that high flyer.
I mean, why should I?
She was moving so quickly.
Might have been an angel spy.
You see I have some angel friends.
Who keep watch over me.
Sent two recently to a relation.
As she needed them you see.
So, just in case that fast woman.
In that black car yesterday.
Was an angel spy, or someone else’s angel,
I kept quiet the other day.
And that ladies and gentlemen.
Is all I’ve got to say.
It goes without saying if someone can float along the pavement as fast as that lady did. She must have been an angel. And with mine you must not kid. As they fly above me. And like them birds you see. High up in the sky, you never know what they might drop, on me. Best be safe than sorry. Now, where has that sun gone? (the mad Author.)<
She was taken, dragged from the holy fathers
House of holy purity, against the free wills spirit!
The maiden weeps in the lunar night, a lone predator
Howling for redemption's reclamation, unable to slow
The pace of her running, for the hunter of daylight
Steps within her cursed foot path.
Sleek mistress of the disdain, fleeing from
Thy own kindred pack, without salvation's mercy,
The she-wolf bays at the elliptical moon,
Defying the wolfen curse, its lightning thunder
Flash, rebelling against her inner desire
For hungers blood satisfaction to feed!
A sizzling fire burns within the belly of the beast,
An unquenchable flame eating at its own kindling
Fuel, the vowed promised unto God himself,
Yet bitten by the hound of Hell, she’s the
Righteous satanic offering, to a darker lords
Altar of demonic evil!
A white sister of the blessed cross, kneeling
Within the fur coat of a she-werewolf’s redden cloak,
Behold a creature tortured between the forces
Of light and dark, crying unto her invisible god,
Yet hearing the voice of seduction from beneath!
Tender the rose of innocence, trampled underneath the
Crimson red paw, let the tears of the angels sustaining
In faith’s mighty shield, but she already enveloped
Within the blackened embrace of the emperor of
Darkness and is unable to tare herself free!
In the echoing of the children of the night,
The wild hearted call unto she, this creature
Of a holier light, come run beside us, thy kindred
Of the blood!
Those untamed beckon, but she heeds them not,
At the temple of the faith’s religion does she so climb?
This she-wolf of the fallen, seeking deliverance step,
By step, praying in the barking demonic tongue, of her
Kind, she pleads for the divine to set her free!
But the lord God see his child, wrapped within wolves
The furs huskin trappings, and blesses
As if a snake shedding its outer skins of shame,
The she-wolf discards the furry garments of the
Beast layer by layer, reveling the white angel of mercy,
Hidden beneath, and praising the heavenly father,
In rapturous gratitude!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Does This Make Sense?
Some will find they’re at odds with opinions expressed
here, call me to account, but I color all friends
who remain in the room! When your feelings are hurt -
if your heart’s to forgive, will’s to clear each impasse,
joy’s to act in a way that shows warmth to some rhymes
(till the end of life’s breath), that expand who I am
(though blood slips bounds of banks), I aspire to that rock
as I climb from life’s beach, clear my vision of clouds,
and join aspect of stars that are light-years away.
Is perfection a reason that love gets confessed
or observed? Who dreams pearls (fools sign worth - fashion trends)
all command such an arc (this sad question’s too curt?)
when their fossilized curves serve to compost morass
at bays’ bottoms with oysters whose housing sublimes
to time’s sandstone? Is fruit from a poisoned exam
(that one cheats on) all ‘Love’ is? You need to take stock
if you think you’re not fool to believe you best crowds
of those wiser than you, aren’t Cro Magnon cliché.
Are genetics we own plus or stain on (God’s?) path?
Ours a toehold, a second (from life’s first veneer
through the moment we’re in) if earth’s hour is one day,
our whole galaxy’s fatuous footnote, a tag
in the grand scheme of things! And we’re plum in God’s eye?
Did the dinosaurs sin to imagine God’s Grace
was theirs too in the millions of years they held reign?
God! One day all got stoned! Did they brag they were clay
formed, a likeness of God that He kissed with life’s breath?
Some may claim that “The one thing I’m sure of is death,”
but they’re kidding themselves. Our acts can’t earn their way!
“Souls are real!” “Death is real!” Both aspire to less pain,
but ‘Lights Out’ is a window our fingers can’t trace.
It’s in ‘faith’ all approach to greet exit and try.
Does the Atheist go to his fate smoking f*g?
Do Believers who die win gold rings in some way?
Do Agnostics escape faith who think truth’s most dear?
May God’s Justice get served, steeped in Grace, not earned wrath!
Brian Johnston
7th of March in 2021