Long Between Poems
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Life is a bastard son, prodding the fertile horizon
poking into places tender, tearing the expanse of dawn
he taunts, rude and bellicose, so full of himself
spewing into the weakest streams, a wet dream.
With platitudes he prances, son of a fearsome father
promising eternity, singing a lover's song of praise.
Light bearer, holder of the golden scalpel, night cutter
leaving glare where softness once held sway.
May the abyss, the gentle dark, the yin forgive you..son.
From the pear-shaped loins of sister Eve, you have burst
washed in the waters of she, a caul of white adorned,
pray, stay your hand, do not bludgeon your better half.
Existence, endless, fleeting, meld and join this randy pair
for universes swing between this bastard and his dreams.
Dedicated to my muse Brenda Atry
please read her "Black Diamond Night"
To walk the talk over burning hot coal
Tests the mettle of God-bestowed free will
Debate ensues between ego and soul
By hammer and tongs, shaped on the anvil
Hesitation signals we’re not ready
Looking at how to better our morrow
Unable yet to hold love’s flame steady
Self-serving instinct cause of our sorrow
In the playground of life, as we do dance
We begin to look beyond outer form
Every breath we take, offers us a chance
To choose love over strife, in each life storm
It’s high time hermit, that we stand erect
Heeding voice of conscience, our life’s perfect
21-April-2022
In the deep night, the stars are tears on the sky of my dreams,
Our friendship, a thin vine that binds souls in silence,
In the love between friends, sincerity is the key that opens hearts,
But how can I fall in love when I still bear an old vow?
Under the veil of respect, love is a flame that flickers timidly,
In the mirror of time, your face is just a shadow from photographs,
Your life, a book with unwritten pages, a mystery that attracts me,
But how can I accept a romance when my oath still holds me?
Supposing I were free, a thought that stirs my heart,
No matter how in love I might be, I won't plunge into the abyss without knowing,
Like a butterfly seeking the light, fearing the darkness,
Each day is a blank canvas, waiting to be painted by destiny.
To be in love, you must feel the soul beyond words,
To know the truth hidden beneath smiles and glances,
I only know your face from the book's cover, a vague dream in the night,
A thousand common points connect us, but uncertainty dances between us.
I do not know your character, nor your pleasures, nor your hidden habits,
But I hold you dear as a poet, as a person, a sincere friend in this vast world,
And I let time decide everything, for only it knows how to weave the threads of destiny,
In the deep night, the stars are tears on the sky of my dreams.
At the end of NOVEMBER
The hurricane season ends.
NOVEMBER sits between the
Beginning and ending of Autumn.
NOVEMBER is among the four months
With 'Ber' as its fourth syllable.
I am captured by their beloved sound,
And the soothing melody from our lips.
Say them slowly and feel the melodic flow.
No other season has such syllabic harmony
As September, October, NOVEMBER, and DECEMBER.
NOVEMBER causes a pause for gratitude; and DECEMBER
So graciously overwhelms with excitement for giving.
There is simply no greater instrument that releases the
'Spirit of goodness and grace' than NOVEMBER and DECEMBER,
Reminding us to give thanks to God and celebrate The Christ Child.
110722PSCtest, November or December Quatrain. Caren Krutsinger
My beloved
How far will I love you
As far as where moons immerse in deep seas
Beyond the edge of a tide's crimson hue
Where your breath fills my sails with soft zephyr breeze
Lone I embark to our promised land
Across borders of secret pain
Under still stars,above drifting sand
through anchored shadows of rain
Oh foreign eyes,but never distant
Your arms'safe harbour of a long embrace
Two souls entwined,two hearts persistent
Beneath night's sky,my lips outline your face
Water rise, water falls between shores and time
Empty spaces still abhore our love,sweet tender and sublime
As I await another hour
And the watching of the clock
I'm torn between two lovers
Internally, I'm emotionally rocked
I'm wearing different faces
Daily, for months I do
In fear of addressing my fears
I've too much too lose
Living in the lives of hearts
So different they are to me
One I have fallen out of
The others heart I see
My life now needs addressing
For a corner I must turn
I'm wearing different faces
Whose heart shall I earn
As I await another hour
And the watching of the clock
To run from one to another
Internally, I'm emotionally rocked
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-19.php
It was free will that taught me to give
On every hand, with outstretched hands
It was destiny that taught me to feel
Completely alive, like I was dancing inside
It was free will that left me feeling alone
When I couldn’t muster the courage to go on
It was destiny that left me feeling assured
When I knew I’d been given real joy in my heart
It was free will that corrected my many wrongs
The ones that were crucial and those less important
It was destiny that sought me out to give me hope
Leaving me with assurance that I would reach my dreams
It was free will that colored my world in amber and scarlet
Colors of enlightenment, joy and freedom to believe
It was destiny that gave me hues of azure and emerald
Those cool ideas that flow through me with images of insight
It was free will that murmured to me with whispers of delight
Telling me that I’m worthy of all that God has taught me
It was destiny that whispered I could find the answer to my doubts
Reach out to the universe, to God, for all I would need to know
It was free will that gave me my sense of assurance and hope
Left me feeling so alive with the belief that I have the strength to go on
It was destiny that played the music for my dance of delight in life
Saw me through the discouragement and gave me a sense of purpose
It was free will that made me feel I could reach toward my dreams
And find the power to reach through the webs of deceit to peace
It was destiny that gave me the wings I needed to fly to serenity
The courage to believe in all the good that would eventually come to me
Free will has brought me through the best and worst and in between
Destiny has given me all the faith, hope and love I need to keep giving
From the heart, soul and spirit… all that I am or could ever be!
Free will vs. Destiny Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
September 14, 2020
(Unknown Is a Blessing)
Remembering the curse
of those I once thought gone—
gone before they even left.
Now I look in their eyes
and know exactly
what lingered inside.
But there is no closure.
Only unremembering ,
haunting me forever.
The unknown wakes,
stirring a silent revolt.
Whispers edge the sharp silhouettes ,
echoing,
lost in yesterday’s memory.
A clash unfolds in murmurs,
perspiring between
what was reality
and what was memory ,
and everything
that exists
between the unknown .
The echoes of what
was and what is collide,
and the unseen pulls at me
with persistent hands .
Shadows stretch,
memory twists,
and questions whisper
louder than answers .
Step closer again —
into the tremor of emotion,
where the mind resists ,
the heart remembers,
and the unknown
begins to speak.
The spiral continues ,
and you are invited
to follow.
What is this Space.
What is this space, where I am in between
This moment that I use, and then is cast
Twix places I am going, and the many I have been
This moment that is now, and then is passed
What marvels have I missed in an eyes blink
What words ignored whilst dreaming out the day
So many, when, about it all, I think
And now I want, to late, for gone are they
Slipping by aloof, Times unseen wave
He scatters treasures, both in blue and gold
No promises along the way he gave
Was up to me to take them and to hold
So now I wake, the mind, the door, flung wide
Though memories of the past I can’t replace
I welcome blue and gold on rushing tide
And no longer have too ask, what is this space.
Thoughts froth, crest, and merge through ocean’s
indiscriminate wandering, no recognizable
beginning or end like smoke on the wind,
melding, melting, fusing coalescing.
Reality a fragile grasp held on
a two-dimensional canvas once white,
clean, stretching taunt, taunt as the
implausible reality of our existence-
existence standing, stranding, hair, fur, frond's
weaving about crowns of trees in rye fields.
Everything alive, writhing, wanting,
needing, thriving, dying-skin crawling reality
like orange oil on the hollow cheeks of despair.
Pain, defies, belies, confusion's frame stretching
upon illusion's claim-eye to hand, hand to brush
the clean, white, membrane between brain pan and
paint pan. No recognizable beginning or end
melding, melting, fusing, coalescing-gone.
Self-Portrait with Fur Cap, Bandaged Ear & Pipe
Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890 Dutch)
First Published in Five Poetry Magazine 2013