Long Beating Poems
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Beating drums always murmur inside my heart it seems,
and I write of my aboriginal ancestors found in dreams;
oh, the reality of dream and reality in life are thin seams.
And though my life has been a ravaged garden of weeping,
of grief and loss that never seems to stop creeping;
it is into my poetry always and forever be seeping.
The love of nature is where I find my tranquil peace,
among green beauty my utter pain I release;
even with a winter blanket my roaming does not cease.
And I have found a group of people exactly the same,
like me, within their souls there is a wild flickering flame;
and we care not if our words ever bring us fame.
____________________________
February 19, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/The Flickering Flame
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1116-268-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, February Wk 4, Standard
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
If She Would Permit Me
If her hazel eyes would permit me to look at her without any fear,
I would place my longing in my palms and offer it to her like a coat of arms sincere,
I have told no one... I have carried it like a secret buried deep in bone,
So as not to cause her pain... and to leave her beautiful... and left alone.
If she would permit me to love her, I would do it madly and complete,
I would burn everything I was and be reborn from love and from defeat,
But how could I dare with silver hair and temples touched by winter's frost,
God forbid... I tell myself... and the longing stays inside me... aching... and never lost.
If she would permit me a kiss, I would break away from reality and thought,
I would melt into her lips like wax beside the gentlest fire ever caught,
But I had better tend to my health and to my deaf and hollow peace,
And I love her in silence... the way one loves the moon... from an edge where feelings cease.
If she would permit us to live temple to temple in the very same time,
It would be a gift from God descended from the heavens into this climb,
But this does not happen... and I know... and still my heart refuses to believe,
And it keeps beating... for her... even though there is no one left to perceive.
If she would permit me to give her my heart and my entire life as one,
The words would gather powers of prayer rising toward the sun,
I would whisper an I love you with a voice dimmed like the morning ember's glow,
And perhaps... in another life... we would wake up... face to face... in the snow.
If she would permit me to permit myself to be reborn from all that remains,
I would want to love her without lies and live together through the pains,
But her hazel eyes do not know... and I stay silent... and my longing lingers on,
A love never spoken... carried in the bones... until tomorrow... and beyond.
The sun shines bright,
brilliant glowing white
and the last flowers of the day,
catch the last of summer rays.
Morning glories wake
white, purple, pink along the gate
and the climbing roses wither and rebloom
as the bees and butterflies hover and loom.
The end of August is on parade
come the varied monarchs in ballroom masquerade;
a black swallowtail, inked and transfigured
and Milbert's tortoiseshell beautiful and bigger,
the red admiral and the Queen Alexandra Birdwing,
the Julia and Morning Cloak amidst the birds that sing,
the Peacock and southern dogface
float in and out the garden graced,
another beauty Ulysses and Adonis Blue
a silouetted dance with the Duke of Burgundy for you
and Montezuma's Cattleheart
to entice the beating of your heart;
nature's waltz and discotheque
in beauty revealed and well dressed.
outside my window
there is no mercy left for you and me,
just the sound of traffic coughing
and a siren arguing with the night.
a child is crying because she’s hungry,
not in a poem,
not in a metaphor—
hungry like an empty cupboard
that keeps opening itself
out of habit.
I only go out for cigarettes and coffee,
the two small lies
that keep the heart beating
without asking why.
the clerk doesn’t look up,
he’s seen this movie
too many times
and knows how it ends.
we are doomed, hopelessly lost,
heroes of nothing,
braving the cold apartment
where the walls listen
and don’t care.
the heat clicks off like a bad joke.
the floor remembers better days
than we do.
there’s only enough to pay the landlord,
always the landlord—
the god who never answers prayers
but always cashes checks.
food can wait.
hope can wait.
everything waits except the rent.
outside my window
the world keeps going
without permission,
and inside
we sit with our paper cups,
our shaking hands,
our stubborn pulse,
still breathing—
which is either a miracle
or a bad habit
I haven’t managed to quit yet.
On an autumn morning, leaves dance in the wind,
Wandering thoughts embrace my lost and sacred soul,
A stranger in my own skin, an actor without a script,
I search in the mirror for a face, only shadows of an ephemeral dream.
It's strange how consciousness weaves meaning with need,
Like a river seeking its source, deep in the valley of existence,
Ever further, never finding its finish line,
I wonder if being human means living in questions,
Answers that do not ask to arise, just melancholic smiles,
Hidden among silent tears and stars without constellations.
It's a never-ending story, a journey through the soul's labyrinth,
Echoes of thoughts tell the tale, without beginning, without end,
Just a play of shadows and lights, in which I lose and find myself,
Like a wind whispering through branches, carrying a scent of nostalgia,
The desire to know the essence of what I am, a dream that never fades.
Perhaps in the endless search lies the essence of humanity,
A mystery revealed when you accept that answers,
Are just deeper questions, the beauty of life,
In the continuous search, hearts beating in unison with the universe,
In that secret and sweet melancholy that makes us feel alive.
When the day is done
And you are at ease
Just recharge your mind
Do as you please
Just relax
Your heart is pounding
From a fast paced track
Slow the pace down
Just relax
From the helter skelter living
To the treadmill pounding
There is no sense at all
If you cannot rest for a while
Take some time out and discern
So vigour is reborn
Sit down, lie down, float around
But always try, to just relax
Just relax from the strains that rides us
From the tedium of life which irks us
From the sorcerers who torment us
From The Strawman who represent us
Don't worry at all
Things will change
Keep your countenance
Let it shine
Feel the joy, that's inside
Do good, so it may comfort your soul
Sing praises, let your blessings unfold
Your heart is pounding
Beating your chest
You are under constant scrutiny
You are under constant duress
Recharge your aura
Be blessed
Put aside your burden
And just relax
Live your life
With no regrets
Ignite your passions
Seek a redress
So what was hidden from your sight
Becomes the new dawning
Becomes the new Light
Look upon the clouds
Watch the trees
Watch their growth
Watch the animals as they frolic
Over the glens and down the crevice
Watch the trees planted tall
Watch the plants, clinging to the wall
And with purpose, they survive
When I think of the wonders
I then realize
Take some time out to be amazed
Take some time out to laze
For of all the things that keeps us on the track
Never forget your blessing
When you just relax
He glares at me
And the scene glares right back at us
A pool of oozing red surrounds us
The bed of roses shimmering
The black silk with stains of velvet
The shiny golden candles painted with a dark ruby
Everything is Crimson, Everything is Blood
Everything is Beautiful.
As he sees the ache as I struggle to hold him, the helplessness of enduring
He grabs me easily and flattens me on the pool of red
As I start to close my eyes
And bits of life depart me
He stands up, begins to abandon this magical place
My vision begins to blur, my hearing diminishing
As I no longer hear the leaving footsteps
My heart beating. Still beating; its rhythms distant.
It Screams The Shout! The Final Plead, Calling, Whispering..
Upon the shallow silence
And he turns back
He glances at me, at my all
And runs to hold me
To Kiss me
Forever…
I can see the seasons changing
In her eyes
I feel my heart bleeding
In her hand
When our hearts aren’t close
I can’t feel my own beating
I wonder why I say
The things I say
You wonder why
Shrugging your shoulders you cry
I’m back and forth
I know I don’t deserve us
I know you’re wondering
If love is this
Give me a chance
I’ll seal it with a kiss
Love is this
A fight ends with items thrown
And I know
Your wondering
If love is this
But I’ve got something to say
You don’t want to hear
Your heart is soaked in fear
I’m standing here
Holding you close
Love is this
I will always have ready for you a kiss
And I will always say I love you
If you go away you would be missed
Because I know you’re wondering
But I want you to know
Love is this
Feel
Just feel, feel life
Feel, feel
Only feel, feel life
Feel, feel
Gate, closed, locked
Way, way
Open it, oh my loved
Path, yours
Remember a mind
Hoped you
You. The only rainbow
A water flow
Hmm. Step through the gate
Hmm. My life. Heart. A love
Feel. A lost
Living
Deleted love
Drop
Just drop me
Delete my love
Hmm
Hmm
Open
Close
The
Gate
I loved
You
You
You
Just
You
Step
The gate
Field
Meadow
Life
Die
Gate
Locked
Where is love?
Where?
I need you
Hmm
Hmm
I understand
Understand now
You aren’t a real soul
Liar
Hmm
Hmm
I hope
Hoped you
Gate. You, meadow, gate
Far, far, from my life
Far from my love
Can you walk there?
Beating
Field
Ghost
Walk
Feel
Alone
I dreamed a dream in which my wish came true-
something I thought perhaps may never be,
since one can never know what time brings you;
I dreamed a dream of something I might see.
I woke and thought about my first grandchild-
a boy, grown up and married with sweet charms;
and I recalled a memory long-filed-
when I first saw him- held him in my arms.
I wrote a poem on that memory*
and sent it to him a few days ago.
He answered with a call- cheered happily,
"dear Gram, you'll have that gift again, you know-
a great-grandma in August you will be!"
I dreamed a dream- that wish, now true for me.
August 17, 2022
~5th Place~
Contest: 2019 Best Sonnet
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Judged: 01/01/2020
~2nd Place~
Contest: I Dreamed A Dream
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 02/20/2019
*The poem referenced in this poem which I had sent to my grandson who
is now the father of my great-granddaughter).
Anticipation
I flew from East to West in eagerness...
heart beating fast with expectation's charge.
Inside my chest, anticipation grew
aware my promised joy would soon explode.
And then it did...the vision at that door...
placed in my arms...my first grandchild, a boy! February 10, 2019
(My great-granddaughter was born on August 28, 2019)