Long Blows Poems
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With the end of days upon them
Nears the time of final battle
In the halls of high Valhalla
Asgard senses its death rattle
In the forest crows the rooster
In the sky the sun does darken
In the cave the hound is howling
To these signs the Aesir harken
Heimdall blows the Gjallarhorn
Dark the rainbow bridge is turning
Vivid lightning cleaves Yggdrasil
Then the central tree is burning
Aesir watch in fascination
See volcanoes spew like fountains
See the heavens splitting open
See the oceans climb the mountains
See the continents convulsing
See the forests burn to ashes
See the sons of Mim awaken
In the fatal lightning flashes
As the winds consume the wasteland
From the south Surtr advances
With his minions tearing corpses
Bright his sword and sharp his lances
Aesir then prepare their weapons
Eyes are clear and arms are steady
The Midgard serpent Jörmungandr
Upon the battle plain is ready
With his heavy hammer Mjolnir
Strides the mighty god of thunder
To do battle with the serpent
And to rend the world asunder
June 30, 2014
N.B. This poem is an Epyllion, a brief narrative poem with a romantic or mythological theme. It is written in trochaic tetrameter, like some of the ancient Eddas.
Glossary:
Ragnarök - Final battle and death of the Aesir
Aesir - The Norse gods
Asgard - one of the Nine Worlds and home of the Aesir
Valhalla - a majestic, enormous hall located in Asgard, ruled over by the chief Norse god Odin
Heimdall - A Norse god who blows his horn to signal the beginning of Ragnarök
Gjallarhorn - Heimdall's horn
Midgard- Middle Earth, or the world of humans
Bifröst - the burning rainbow bridge between Midgard and Asgard
Yggdrasil - The sacred Norse central tree that holds the Nine Worlds
Mim - an Asian renowned for his knowledge and wisdom who has been beheaded. Odin carries around Mím's preserved head and it recites secret knowledge and counsel to him.
Surtr- a fire troll with a flaming sword who sets the world on fire.
Jörmungandr- The world serpent or ouroboros that surrounds the earth and grasps his own tail. When he lets go, the world will end. Jörmungandr's arch-enemy is the god Thor.
Thor - The Norse god of thunder
Mjolnir - Thor's hammer and principal weapon
Pretty like the crystalline canyon rocks -
Fair like a deer wandering in the morn' -
With the Great Spirit as a faithful witness
A baby girl named Red Feather was born
And for her onyx eyes and ruddy cheeks
An angel was sent with kisses to adorn.
Her misery began with John Martin -
A white trader of uncouth demeanor
Who took one day a Navajo woman
As payment for whiskey and gunpowder
And soon his bride realized an inheritance
But in so doing died young in labor.
Red Feather lived - lived with a cruel father
Who cursed her and of her did not boast -
Withholding not his friends who laughed at her
And was ignored by passersby the most -
Irretrievably lost between two worlds
That scorned red highlights and native clothes
Until one day when grief overwhelmed her -
She ran away - against the blinding tears -
Where else but to the village of her mother
But discovered that they too made jeers
At the sight of her and there enslaved her
And instead of love - realized her worst fears.
But solace found Red Feather at moments
When she'd steal away to Spirit Canyon
To gaze upon the weathered petroglyphs.
Silence touched her heart every now and then
As she'd sit among the lonely rifts
And consider the Earth with the heavens.
There among them was one where an artist
Told of the wish of an ancient warrior
To jump the cliff and join the gentle spirits
That captured Red Feather's awe in particular
And since the life ahead held not her interest
She soon desired him and her mother
So it happened during one nice spring day:
The wildflowers breezed as she took the path -
Eagles circled above her at midday
And Red Feather stood on the edge with wrath -
Embraced the sky and Sun and leapt away -
Seeking what the next world might have.
Since that time many a wayward Navajo
And traveler alike claim to have seen
Red Feather come to them - white with glow -
And swear wholly it was not of a dream
But that she lives - she lives as a ghost
Wandering along the cliffs and beneath.
So should you come to Navajo Country
Look sharp - Red Feather's spirit takes flight.
She may run silently with a clan of coyotes
Or dance in the shadows of your firelight.
She may be the breeze that blows softly
Or the silver mist that rises at night.
Wife's job vanished
Bank account diminishing
Future uncertain
Wolves are nosing at the door again.
My children smile at me,
Dance for joy when I come home;
Suddenly, no more fear, no worries for awhile
Funny how it takes all my concentration,
Such an effort of will,
To acheive, now and again,
The state of mind they take for granted.
The background noise of the big world is so high
One can barely think.
So I strive to rise above it,
To lift up and out of my little self
Climbing higher and higher
'Til the horizon's edges
Fall Away
And everything is Present:
No Future No Past
No Necessities
Only the one Conscious Moment
Shining here unbounded.
I see once more that I shall suffer for awhile,
But can this really touch my joys, my freedom?
- Only by my own permission.
No Joy without Pain
No Light without Dark
No Life without Death
Where are the sufferings of yesterday, of the years before?
Memories now, fading into the distance.
Troubles roll in, break over our lives
Then go, then come again
Sliding forwards and back on the tides of tomorrows.
I feel my pain, and close behind it
The world's far greater pain screaming
From its thousand daily wounds
Yet every day we go on, regardless
Fight the strain and it strengthens,
Let it break, then it recedes.
Do something, or nothing
The Wheel turns just the same.
Easily said, yet hard to do;
Nothing's more difficult
Than doing nothing.
My love runs deep, my senses alive and vibrant with her,
Countless small delights lay near to hand.
I've two children more beautiful than the stars
To gaze on as they sleep; drunken with love of them
- What matters some struggle, next to this?
Yesterday is lost to time, and tomorrow yet to be;
All I can hold is this One Moment - I must not let it fall!
I look within the Moment
Horizons Fall Away.
Reach for It - It slides away
Listen for It - no sound will come
- But glance away, be still awhile and wait
- It steals up in the wind and blows right though you, Singing.
It is like deep water.
On the surface everything changes, flows
But down below abides a Great Stillness.
Horizons Fall Away.
One night, I heard a creaking sound,
Opened my eyes- nothing was found.
But I felt dizzy the next day;
Something had been taken away.
I got up, sat to have some toast,
Daydream about all I love most;
I tried to dream with all my might
But realized something wasn't right.
No dreams would come into my head,
My dream ability was DEAD.
I told my friend about my plight,
And the strange creaking in the night.
He shook his head with great dismay,
'The Dream-Snatcher's been round your way.'
'The Dream-Snatcher? Not heard of him!'
'Prepare for a story most grim.
He has no shape, cannot be seen
And does something so very mean,
Creeps in at night, and through your ear,
Sucks out your dreams, and blows in FEAR!
You then can't dream when you've awaken,
With no clue of what's been taken.
Instead of dreams, you're left with DOUBT,
Once that's in, it's hard to get out!'
'What do I do?' I cried in shock,
'How do I stop this dreaming block?'
My friend replied 'We must begin
By not allowing doubt to WIN.
In order to keep him at bay,
You must shout "DOUBT! Please go away!
I want to dream! I want to hope!
I believe there is an endless scope
To what I can do and achieve,
All I have to do is BELIEVE!"'.
I copied this, with one last shout:
'NO ROOM FOR YOU IN MY LIFE, DOUBT!'
'Good' said my friend, 'now tell me WHY
You can now bid this doubt goodbye.'
'Because I'm ambitious and smart,
Because I have an honest heart,
There's nothing standing in my way,
I have one life- let's seize the day!'
I felt a tingle in my brain
And in my heart- was I insane?
My friend said 'By your flushed red cheek
I see DOUBT's started to feel weak!'
'But,' I said, 'what if I fail?'
'FAIL's a word you EXHALE
Out of your head, out of your life,
Believing that word ends in strife.
Passion and the will to succeed
Are the two things in life you need.'
My heart began to tingle more
In a way it hadn't before,
'Wow!' said my friend, 'look at your face!
It's red! It's smiling! Now there's space
Where doubt once was, for DREAMS instead!
Dream away, pretty, fill your head!'
If a Dream-Snatcher comes tonight
To snatch your hopes right out of sight,
There's a friend who sometimes seems shy
But when you need him, is close-by,
called CONFIDENCE- Conny for short,
I'll leave you with this final thought-
Dream BIG, dream with limitless height-
Meet that Dream-Snatcher with a fight
When he comes for your dreams tonight.
I lay in my bed.
Thoughts come in waves.
When will it end?
The Dragon slain.
No amount of time.
No person, no thing.
Can change the fate,
That the needle brings.
Sights of Orange,
Delight my eyes.
I pick up a crystal,
And to no surprise.
I crush it down.
In that damn orange cup.
I’m so overwhelmed.
The sinking feeling abrupt.
I carefully decide,
The amount to pour.
Then mix it with water.
And dissolve once more.
I take off the cap,
To reveal the shine.
Of that needle so enticing.
That it blows my mind.
I feel so small.
As I stare at that point.
My body quivers.
I can’t disappoint.
Thoughts of guilt.
Invade my brain.
But my body keeps saying,
This will soon end the pain.
So I draw the solution,
Into the stem.
Then flick it twice.
Let the bubbles settle in.
I slowly push the air out.
That’s collected on top.
And wonder to myself,
If I will ever stop.
But I shrug it away.
And again think of pain.
Then tie on my tourniquet.
And say “ it” again.
The veins start to pop.
And spread on my skin.
They bulge and prod,
And trickle within.
Sometimes this takes hours.
Sometimes days of my life.
I get so frustrated.
But search on with strife.
I stab myself over and over again.
Until the blood flows red into my syringe.
Seeing the blood,
Makes my whole body weak.
But I surrender with ease.
No more words can I speak.
I push the plunger forward,
Till she entires my veins.
Down to the last drop.
Empty and insane.
I wait just a second.
Pull the needle out.
My body turns to fire.
This is what it’s all about.
From my toes to my head,
Her venom spreads.
Ecstasy at last.
No more feelings of dread.
Then the fire fades,
Just as quickly as it came.
And then there’s just calm.
A final break from the shame.
I’ve given my life to this process,
So many times.
The bigger the shot.
The bigger the crimes.
When I’m in this state,
The dragon has one.
My mind and my heart,
Become unspun.
I do terrible things,
To all of my friends.
My family, my children.
But she always wins.
I always think I can only do one.
But that’s never the case.
The cycles just begun.
“The devils tool” I’ve heard it said.
Takes every ounce of life.
And leaves you for dead.
But you rise up and start
The process once more.
A zombie. Tortured chaos.
I don’t know anymore.
If you've lived in outback Queensland just as I have,
you must've faced at times the scourge of drought.
You'd have watched the senseless dying of your livestock
and felt completely drained and numb no doubt.
Did you ponder on why life can bring such sorrow,
when other times you’re dealt a joyful hand?
Though the bitterest of blows is when the children
express, "Dear Daddy, we don't understand."
How I hate to see the hurt upon their faces,
but more so when they give your hand a squeeze.
And the question that forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
Then one balmy morn way back there in September,
my children settled down upon the floor,
as they planned to watch Play School on television,
but little did we know what was in store.
How they sat perplexed at seeing the explosions
of buildings there upon the tele screen
and the aftermath then left the children reeling -
left wond'ring at the images they'd seen.
Though I sensed the children's minds took on the notion,
that things they viewed were happening overseas,
how that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
Hosts of men, who searched the mountainous piles of rubble,
live vividly within each young child's mind,
plus the endless walls of pictures of lost loved ones,
placed there by anxious folk now left behind.
In their classrooms children talk about the horror
and can man stop the threat of war somehow?
Though our home is miles away from New York City,
our children know that life is altered now.
As my children leave the light on in their bedrooms,
lock windows which exclude a nightly breeze,
yes, that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
We had planned to fly the children to their grandma’s,
who lives just north of Brisbane on the coast,
but the thought of going on a 'plane is not on,
as flying is the thing they fear the most.
So as parents we have organised this summer,
a camping trip with some of their close friends,
but I fear the world will never be the same place,
though live in hope the terrorism ends.
All I wish is for my children to be happy,
that innocent young minds can be at ease.
Though that question still forever haunts my thinking,
"What do I tell my children? Tell me, please!"
I try to fight them, those cruel clawing cold hands
that drag me from the pit, clawing, twisting, crushing me.
I must find you! I need to hold you, to be held by you!
So I fight, desperately, to break free, to find you.
I try to fight them, even as the feel of the ropes upon my arms
burning ever deeper, into my skin
. I fight desperately, as the leather collar bites into my throat,
and my breath leaves me. I try to fight, savagely, desperately, to break free.
Knowing I can never escape, that I will fail,
and knowing full well, what fate awaits us both.
I know not where they have taken you, but I can still feel you,
can still hear your voice, as it softly speaks of love.
, It is how I know you are still alive,
and that knowledge gives me strength to fight on desperately.
My body is ravaged, torn, the horrors those cruel hands have dealt, have broken my very soul,
yet I try, desperately to fight. I long for release into the void,
yet I can still feel you, still hear your voice, still know your love.
I know not, where they will take me, until the wagon comes to a stop.
Then, for the first time in almost 16 days, your eyes are the first thing I see.
You are alive, and when your eyes finally find mine, you look with such love, at me.
So again, I fight! I fight so desperately, but those, horrible cruel hands,
tighten their vicious grip, once more.
I reach for you, needing your touch, sobbing your name.
The pain, almost forgotten, gone, almost instantly. I struggle, oh, how I fight!
And so, I didn’t see. I didn’t see the first of the blows, that spilled crimson onto the snow,
at my feet. I screamed for you. I screamed your name desperately
as I watched blow after blow rip your body to pieces, in front of me. Your blood turning the snow to slush, scarlet staining my feet. I watched your soul flee as I screamed for you,
as the fight poured out of me. I watched, as they defiled you.
I watched as they ripped your body apart. I felt your soul leave mine.
I watched, as the light of the sunrise left your eyes.
My soul broken, my body savaged, I crumbled to ashes, there in the snow, at your side.
The numbness that overtook me, did nothing to save me, that day. I can still taste your blood.
Goddess above, I still taste your blood! No, More!
No longer, will I bear this well of horror, and tears!
Goddess, help me! I am drowning in it!
The teachers and staff at the special school, Graysmill,
Did what they could to give the severes a life afterwards,
And they presumed I would be accepted to work,
At the CALL Centre of Edinburgh University, for a long time to lurk.
It’s now CALL Scotland, and researches special tech,
Develops assistive software, devices, and communication aids;
It digitalise written exams energetically and with voice,
For disabled kids who need to have their own writing choice.
But I went to Daniel Stewarts nursery, was well accepted, superior,
As I came top of the class for both words and numbers,
And as it is a top private school near Edinburgh’s city centre,
I found the sympathy hard at Graysmill ‘cos I was not inferior.
In the 70s and 80s they thought the special pupils couldn’t interact,
In mainstream schools where the able-bodied were understood;
Most of my friends had a dislike of normal, ordinary kids,
And didn’t understand my perceptions of relationality and brotherhood.
So as it was sometimes an effort for me to be part of the school,
And I just wanted to walk away from all things disabled or impaired,
The moment I started university where opportunity beckoned,
Where my intentions and abilities could be so aired.
I wanted to maybe be a software engineer for organisations,
But knew I couldn’t type all day every day with my foot,
So after uni got a part-time job at the CALL Centre, but felt self-defeated,
‘Cos I'd had blows with my parents about my own mechanism of input.
I did home computing growing up using my hands on the keyboard,
But did my school and homework with my foot, not good,
And since they wanted me to go to university, no big deal,
They forced me to keep using the faster mechanism, the switch for my foot.
So I resented the CALL Centre right throughout my young years,
For not believing or ingratiating me when I told them of my hand dexterity,
And as a graduate able to deliberate upon my case of disrespect,
I can say that my parents should have certainly been certified for neglect.
I did not renew my contract with the Call, was only for four months,
As I didn’t want to put myself through that close contact and innocence assumption,
But think that they do an note-worthy job for severely disabled kids,
And that my case was an exception to their loving, kind gumption.
Matters not how much I may want to rescue you
That closed steel door I cannot walk through
Outside the door feet planted firmly on the ground
Knocking every so gently trying not to pound
But everytime my knuckles on the door they tap
Stinging fire flies out and my face is slapped
Through the pain I can hear your plaintiff calling
For something to save you from further falling
So to my purpose I try bravely to stay true
Attempting to find a path to get through
To figure out a way in which my spirit can fly
Over walls of brick so tall they touch the sky
A prisoner within chained by ego, pain and guilt
There I can see the Fortress you've built
Out of the windows fire of anger consumes
Any real healing touch you continue to refuse
Because the rescue does not come totally free
Only you have the power to open the door and choose to believe
"Can't and won't take the risk you say
Of the sorrow you'd feel when it all blows away
Denying that you must search deep down inside
Beyond your walls and utterly foolish pride
You can keep decorating the walls as long as you like
And continue convincing yourself it's your lot in life
And when the spirits that be send you a sign
Crush it with cruelty and continue to resign
To the anger that keeps reaching out with a fire that burns
Against a true spirit whose soul only yearns
For nothing more than to grant your wish
Of inner peace and true love sealed with a kiss
But all the angry fire steals my strength
Taking my sensitive spirit to it's very length
My failure then scars my heart truly bad
That after the pain I become so very sad
Once able to see through my heartfelt tears
I know it so well and can feel all your fears
If only my love spirit I wish for you to see
How I offer all I have to you so humbly
Because even after the faeries come carry me away
The gift I give to you is to ease your dismay
No intent to cause pain or wreak havoc in your heart
Just only for you to escape the lonely part
Simple and free with no evil involved
"First" you say. "So many issues to resolve"
The walls of brick you've built over time
Seems like an eternity they would take to climb
When all along if you so choose
With a blink of an eye and not a moment to lose
It's been a matter of your choice to reach beyond
Those walls of protection to which you've grown so fond
........Cont'd in Part II
The Forest
The forest never
asks where it is
it always knows the way
be like the forest
You'll find me in the forest
Beneath the silver birch tree
With ribs in weaves of primrose
And stomach in knots of heather
What beauty today
In a land such as this,
Spinning blue skies
Dizzy from twirling leaves,
Stars in the water
Shining like sunken treasure,
Loose trees shifting
And dripping warm sun down their backs,
And everything, everything alive.
What beauty today,
In this land
Like a steady stream
That trickles through the forest,
I will persevere.
Though my journey is unknown,
I know I’ll reach the ocean.
Magnificent leaves
Beautiful tall pines and oaks
Mysterious, Dark
In this wild resplendent place
ferns unfurl softly green
below bearded mossy trees
rain falls, birds call, echoing
sound of deep forest
breathing
Its wild in here
yet so peaceful
your love has made a forest out of me
You are the forest
that I'm willing to explore even at the most dangerous and darkest area.
Just to discover
your beauteous mysteries.
As the wind blows
through the desolate trees
of a forbidden forest
and the falling of the leaves
is all that can be heard
everything stands, still
there is no time
only peace
Adventure has started
you have to capture my heart,
i will be running ,
so begin the hunt.
Be careful to choose the right path,
my forest is enchanted,
you might fall into a trap.
pick a weapon for this fight,
you must be cautios,
don't let me out of your sight.
i'll be hiding somewhere far,
watch your moves,its dangerous,
i could leave you a scar.
i think you have a chance to win,
just let your mind run wild
and keep your heart clean.
Love,is like a forest,
so big, mystifying, and enchanting,
yet,so evil, dark, and dangerous.
Life,is like a tree in a forest,
one out of many but individually beautiful, with
amazing aspects,yet,ordinary, overpowering, or underwhelming.
Friendship,like a branch on the tree.
a part that makes something, different,
and wonderful,yet,differing, imperfect, and vast.
We are a part of the forest.
In the forest of hope,
One will find tranquility, prosper, and love,
In the forest of hope,
One is all and all is one.
In the forest of doubt,
One will find hostility, failure, and evil,
In the forest of doubt,
One is none and none is one.
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran