Long Bewailing Poems
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A couple nights ago
(today being August 4th, 2021)
while walking around the parking lot after dark
over yonder shrieking catcall heard - hark
at first methought, a baby experienced distress,
I immediately scratched that notion
far fetched as sound out the beak of bewailing lark
but Highland Manor apartments
generally quiet as cemetery park.
Truth be told yours truly an overgrown fraidy cat
who naturally sought to turn sharp
on his heels and beat path
for domicile entrance within seconds flat.
Hypothesization generated imagination
to conjure fate worse than death
predicated after huffing and puffing
(pertaining to above mentioned activity)
gasping for my last breath
praying to dog to escape
versus being figurative cooked goose
cowardliness quickly dismissed lame excuse
to avoid become laughingstock
with addled pate stuck within noose.
Maybe ferocious feral rabid animal on the loose
oh if only seen courtesy Doctor Seuss
what with me with hair raised straight up
and/or the wild beast
charging faster than lightning greased
impossible mission to call a truce
where creature waggled her/his tail
analogous to derailed caboose
prompting joker within me
to splutter what the deuce,
not wanting to discover vis a vis
common denominator most least
cuz mortal kombat witnessed bloody bloke
pronouncing one lapsed (Aloe there)
spidery legged wandering Jew deceased.
Forsooth
aforementioned scenario fabrication of truth
insipid since contents (reasonably rhyming materiel)
devoid remotely labeled uncouth
fiction employed to entice reading poem
tastefully accomplished akin to wine
knowingly spiked with brandy
infused with herbs and spices
such sweetened drink constitutes
one of two varieties regarding
never drinking teetotaler vermouth;
red (sweet), which originally
hails from Italy, and white (dry)
which first appeared in France.
I did not know how brave
she was, ninety-two,
and I, seventy less...
so young that old age
was textbook stuff:
a fact of life, but not mine.
I was alive and free
to stride the world,
a colossus of youth--
whereas she had ate
almost a century:
and all her friends
and all her family
lay dead somewhere,
except in her mind,
still crisp, poignant
in its memories...
of a wealthy husband,
a daughter dead young,
her own youth and her
beauty remaining lonely
in a silver-framed photo.
She never complained,
this old lady--never once
did I hear lamentations,
a bewailing for the lost
richness of life:
that ripe fullness
she must have once felt
as a wife, a mother,
a woman of grace and beauty,
a living queen in her time.
Now she lived alone in a cold
basement flat, standing barely
five feet tall--yet I've never known
any being braver. But it is only now,
when I am become old myself,
that I envy such courage.
[rec'd n/a in Brian Strand's #2 contest, judged 6/29/20]
His eyes were like eagle's, telescopic and sharp
reflexes came easy, time seemed to warp
a warrior in battle, his bullets caused pain
life left them swiftly those that were slain
war was his master he felt no guilt
he laughed with his buddies, all the "beer" they had spilt
but now peace was his master, the nightmares began
the war had been over, so why doesn't it end?
the mind is a mystery, it stored all the horrors
now he's strung out on dope bewailing the sorrows
he suffered no injury during the war
but drugs were more deadly, deadly by far
its hard to believe, just a short time ago
this warrior in battle, a hero you know
then I heard "taps," playing softly, a final salute
a warrior a soldier just died in his youth
carried by the wind, where have you been the lonely soul
who returned to the riverside; and now, why are you asking
the way to Erebus to the swaying reeds over and over again
with the sighs deeper than the bottom of the water
with the sighs more than the countless stars in the sky
for growing tired from seeking the way too far,
the lonely soul stayed for a while in the valley
where the flowers bloom in the early evening’s soft sunlight;
however, the touch of cold starlight at dawn makes the flowers
withered in the chilling dew drops before sunrise; the valley where
the lonely soul dwelt may be the way to Erebus where he once roamed
after all, as if pushed by the high wind,
the sorrowful soul left hurriedly
in the way of no need for haste,
and crossed over the river that carries no promise,
counting the days without tomorrow
now is the time to let your eyes close to rest the lonely soul
let, therefore, the tormenting soul, the pointless eyes
that always seek something but aimlessly
to put an end their wandering
although once you cross the river named no-pathos
nothing can be seen even if you turn your face back
or return to the world where your footprints may still remain
or to restore what you have left in the opposite shore,
why don’t you, therefore, close the eyes
even though no one follows with bewailing your departure
or holds your trembling hand with tearful eyes
even though it’s a lonely journey
the miserable funeral to the nether world
why don’t you close your eyes while crying with the drifting water
while listening to the dirge
the murmuring water chants in a sorrowful tone
I comb the banshee’s long hair
until she is calm and silent.
She is older
than the lowest barren hills.
Then,
a young girls voice
issues from her open mouth.
“Daddy.”
I’m not her daddy,
No one knows her father,
unless it be the ever-wailing winds.
“Daddy” her voice is getting louder,
ceiling light-fixtures begin to tremble,
a picture jumps to its death
from a cringing wall.
“Stop it! No one knows anything!”
The banshee dissolves into tears
and silence.
Moments come and go,
the locked house door, swings open
with a shattering crack.
A little girl is at my front step –
the screeching from her mouth
is mind-shattering. terrible.
Seagulls drop like stones from the sky.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An Irish myth. Some interpretations say that combing the Banshee’s hair
is the only way to stop her life-threatening bewailing.
She is said to foretell of death, but who or what is unclear.
This post might lead the reader to think of child abuse, at least I hope so.
Underwater where sound
carries much farther
the bustling of fish feeding
awakens the whales
tis morning above
frigates are moving
their noise like fright rising
all the sea's creatures
suffer it's passage
from shore into deep water
filling the oceans and seas
noise pollution is deafening
the whales by nature
swim towards the quietus
mass strandings before them
dolphins lead the way
facing an unheard of escape
frigates grow larger
and the new are born to it
the bewailing
that ear splitting deprivation
our cloud of disquiet
at sea level up on it
above the drone of ships
onboard under Cetus
no hue or cry is made of it
the devastating consequences
of 1087 feet per second
beating soundly to extinction
all that lives below
while humans draw power from it.
“But woe is me, oh lament!” ~ Roger Whittaker.
Since you’ve been gone, my love,
Lo, my mournful heart…
how it pines for you!
This melancholy dusk
this smothering loneliness
this bewailing wind
and this foreboding mists,
As the shadows deepen
my longing grows deeper.
Since you have been gone
in the quiet, I lament.
O my love, I pray
do come back
to soothe my hurting heart
to console my sorrowful soul?
If not to appease my yearning heart,
At least come
to lull this moaning moon
for the teary stars of the night skies
Oh, do come back
to enliven this mournful milieu.
When a wayward gust of wind sweeps by
the rustling of the leaves
startles me and in a fit of sullenness
I begin to wonder…
Did you just pass me by?
~03/14/23
~Contest: Writing Challenge "L" words
~Sponsor: Constance La France
bloated girth deceased,
not surprisingly packed orotund
size appetite conveniently weighted
gravity helped fell
giant gourmand chowhound
demise linkedin automatically tightened
neckerchief doubled as noose clothbound
neck, the luckless bard dead -
poets society he didst cofound
oh captain my captain compound
suffering no more, departure doth not confound
those familiar with ravages of pennilessness
although glum spouse doggone bewailing
analogous to melancholy coonhound
inescapable woebegone travails decompound
constituted complex challenges
doom also depressed petsmart deerhound
four footed friend invisibly yoked, where
writings witnessed scrivener
daily voluntarily deskbound
unsuccessful chicken scratch disbound
dispersed newpages feted
German, Oriental and American cockroaches
courtesy proffered grubhub,
wet precipitation courted mildew,
and mold beheld fancy feast dumbfound
ding maggoty parasites riddled
treasure trove discovered earthbound
corpse hungry flocking carrion
heralded all points of compass - eastbound
most popular, hence route crow did house,
cutthroat beasty boys
aided, devoured, gorged...,
among which canine corps elkhound
leader of pack tacking course enwound
roundabout path barking commands
ruff lee didst expound
slinked sly as foxes -
shushed kindred brothers
up ahead wolf gang,
thence took faux minute paws
aware fresh meat fairground
survival of fittest edict woof lee decreed,
when sudden thick terrain fogbound
not impossible mission, though
totally opaque foreground
keen sense of smell and hearing aid found
dead reckoning, i.e. ground zero.
The way she talks....
as if a sweet bird sadly singing.
as if she's so sorry for the troubles
that we are having,
her face goes red like an apple,
not her fault,
but like a prayer in a chapel,
she seems to be apologizing.
not her burden,
but to carry it for calmness,
she's so abiding.
the tone of her voice tears your heart
and your hands wants to reach for her
in the deepest of adoring.
she tries so hard
to hold back her tensions
and accepts on her shoulder
all the blaming.
not guilty, but in the mistakes,
in embarrassment, her sweet smiling,
wants you to rescue her like a little bird
from all our schemes of
trapping and caging.
in quiet and scared feet
she will come and stand in front of you,
as if she does not want to disturb
even a leaf of a tree.
being fallen in great thunder and lightning
but she will state her prayer
so submissive and surrendering.
in sympathy an ocean inside you
will start bewailing...
and right at that moment
you would want to make her,
a spoiled and pampered princess
of a kingdom eternally shining.
but you can't
and you helplessly hear your heart
breaking....
as you see her pretty meek shape,
unresolved, so softly returning,
hiding like a cross, her hurting....
(25.09.2023)