Long Bones Poems
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The Strange Parable of Umpti
Good Old Umpti lies now slowly amoldering in his grave
whilst coffin flies and maggots feast merrily on his flesh!
With such a morbid occurrence—the rats now join in too!
Mirabile Dictu! Umpti’s skeleton and teeth remain intact!
An ethereal jig is merrily danced daily in Umpti’s very name.
It’s ever-quite so marvelous to speak of his of “pearly whites.”
What sayeth thou now as we propeth up Umpti’s undying skeleton
in his corner whilst we pondereth the mysteries of God’s universe?
Old Umpti was always a crowd-pleaser and still is as he shows off
his unique, undying smile with his glass-mirror-image pearly whites!
This maketh the circumstances of his immortality very intriguing,
as Old Umpti stares now at Mother Earth from a timeless infinity!
Whether it be in Timbuktu, Casablanca, Rio, New York, LA or on the
Moon, Mars or in the Stars so high above—Old Umpti will be smiling!
As we move from the shadows of our thoughts into the daylight of
our true passions and emotions—Old Umpti shall be with us too!
Yeah! Not a bad gig for someone long dead but not at all forgotten!
When our time comes, we can rattle our bones with Old Umpti too!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, March 22, 2017
(Couplet)
Author's Note: This poem is a special tribute to my old dear friend
Michael McMullan and our mutual friend known as “R-Moose,” who
shall always be forever in our memory. We live in a very small world
with such an infinite universe of hope, wonder, journey, destiny, and
fate. Amen! Amen!
1. Silence Speaks –
The loudest truths hide between words,
in pauses, in breaths held too long.
2. Kindness Echoes –
A small act ripples outward,
touching lives we may never see.
3. Pain is a Teacher –
It carves wisdom into bones,
leaving scars that whisper, grow.
4. Time Waits for No One –
It slips through fingers like sand,
yet lingers in the eyes of the old.
5. Love is Both a Gift and a Test –
It blooms in the cracks of ruin,
but asks for courage to hold on.
6. Borders Are Imaginary –
The sky does not recognize flags,
nor do rivers stop at drawn lines.
7. Hope is a Choice –
Even in darkness,
we can turn our faces toward the light.
They say truth is a tune,
Whose melody is joyful and light.
Which upon discovery,
All undone souls take flight.
But that is wishful thinking,
That one song is all that’s true,
And that search will always come upon
The finding factor of clue.
For only after years of toil,
When you’ve reached the end of time,
And oh, you’ve found one note of truth-
But the next one doesn’t rhyme!
For truth has many versions,
Each note a puzzle piece,
Whose melody matches another
As velvet nights and fleece.
With eyes that whisper of haunt,
And hands so bloody bruised,
With bones that eat off themselves,
And a tongue bitterly misused.
There and then you’ll still be seeking,
For all your life’s worth,
Upon the hills, beyond the sea,
In every hiding spot on earth.
Long before you learn to sing,
You’ll treasure each single note,
And try them out from time to time,
Cause through the storms, they float.
And when the world has almost faded,
And life has withered to a hope,
Perhaps the day will still come
When you will seize to mope.
And there, standing with yourself,
With just your core and a silent moon,
There somehow, you’ll find the note
That starts to form the tune.
Walking Empty
Walking over emptiness as my breath comes crashing in
Choking on the hazards of living life with sin
Spine tingling it scratches me deep into my bones
Exhaling all the catastrophies of being all alone
Periodic practicing of being a good guy as a trait
Hairs of grey reminding me it's probably a little late
Years gone past diminishing all my resolve to even try
Sitting down trapped in me waving my final goodbyes...
bmdavey@04/14/17
I dwell in desolation, damned in a fathomless abyss.
What sin have I committed to live a life such as this?
Without a window I cannot gaze upon stars above.
What hope is there for me to ever find the one I love?
Shall I never again feel the tenderness of his kiss?
Fear is an onerous anchor, dragging me further down.
I am filled with anguish knowing that I shall drown.
I scream aloud, but no wanderers respond to my voice.
For just a tiny glint of sunlight, I would gladly rejoice!
Am I to die here shrouded in this filthy tattered gown?
If loneliness is an ailment, I languish on my deathbed,
clamoring with hope to be heard by someone overhead.
Again, I shout, "What have I done to merit such an end?"
Silence, my answer from these depths I shall not ascend.
My life now tethered to the clemency of a fraying thread.
The pale silhouette of death hovers near me in the deep.
Its frigid fingers chill the marrow in my bones as I weep,
daring the courage to ask; Does my torturer live within?
Is it destiny or fate who strokes the strings of her violin
as a requiem for me in the shadows of this prison keep?
Doubt pervades my brooding senses in this muted space.
I know not why I've been confined in calamitous disgrace.
What price am I to pay, and how many nightmares more
before I am released and depart through freedom's door?
Am I never again to feel the passion of my lover's embrace?
An animal I shall become, a lone wolf howling in the night,
baying at a moon I cannot see, nor the glimmers of starlight.
If I shall not glean sunrise and feel its warmth tomorrow,
then a kneeler I shall be, begging an angel if I may borrow
her wings to liberate me from this dismal dungeon's plight.
October 28, 2022 ~ 2022 Marathon Mile 18 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
December 6, 2021
"A Shout Into The Void" Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
It is all around me
The sickness
In my head
In my body
I just can't control it
How long will it take
To win this battle?
How long will it take?
My head is pounding
I don't know where to go
Who would understand?
That i'm dying all along
Dying so very slow
You can't see my sickness
It's in my body
And all in my bones and head
Is it to late?
When would i be reborn?
When would i be better?
When would life be perfect again?
When would it all end?
I'm waiting for another day
When my body don't hurt anymore
When i'm not alone anymore
When i feel so much better
How is it possible
That i'm still alive?
I just don't understand
It just hurts so much everywhere
I feel like i'm going out of my mind
Please when will i die?
Please kill the pain inside me
Inside my brain, my body
Inside of my heart
When is late, to late?
When will it all end?
PLEASE KILL ME!!!
And take my hand
For the suffering will finally end.
Serenity
Two more decades will have ground ageing bones to a sound mightily creaking
Joints spaces diminished, mobility hampered, once kind flexibility rapidly waned
Air flow restricted in lungs stretched to the limit, vascular flow crushingly strained
Skin flaccid dangling from muscles and bones, calcified kidneys unhappily leaking
Tinnitus looming, high pitch audio impaired, hearing aids on full blast and shrieking
Eyes squinting through cataracts, visual perception blurred, night vision constrained
Mind looking back in nostalgia, synapses malfunctioning, slow flux un-contained
On a slippery slope, I might inhabit a mental wheelchair metaphorically speaking
Yet age holds glorious beauty and may bring wisdom, if I call on the youth they retain
A mind full of memories, contentment and still looking forward in compassionate peace
With eyes never the less sparkling insightfully, ears listening without insanity’s speed
Heart soul spirit and mind gathering un-fragmented wholeness, no need to complain
My wheelchair must have a turbo engine for spinning around in the full flight with ease
I’ll race you my lover companion and soulmate, in twenty years love holds all I need
The province of delayed gratification
Poetry is dead.
There is now no appetite for deep reflection
In this far from limpid pool.
Abhorrent is meditation
To the present lords of all misrule.
Carpe diem once was for the nonce
Its writ now runs for aye.
Omnivorous science depredates
The very bones of our being.
Gradgrindery completely disintegrates
The very heart of our seeing.
Dawkins' dogma aims to destroy the spirit
And we are not the better for it.
Thus shrivels the soul and all that resides there,
Are we but creatures of accident,totally threadbare?
Until economic Armageddon strips us of cultural shame
Our choice is but to shroud the flame.
Depredation must needs be followed by reparation.
And then that rara avis,the phoenix anew
Will rise from the ashes,bright feathers in view.
We will illumine our world once more
When the bright flame of poetry will once again soar.
At the national picket of the unhappy
I see large crooked coins
Hoisted like placards above the irate crowd.
On the first face, I see immigrants & owls embossed,
And on the second, snakes & neighbors.
It's the coin they toss
To divine the wellspring of troubles
That every day beset this broken nation.
It turns at every toss to land first face up
When crime is up and jobs down.
The oracle, I know, holds the second face in reserve
To deploy on that day to come
When the homeland is rid of strange hairs and noses
But crime is still up and about
And jobs still down and out.
Yes, when immigrants are gone it'll be neighbors in the dock
Taking blame for all national ills.
History will stand witness
As the whips and stones that now descend on immigrants
To break their bones and spirit
Give way to tanks and missiles
Sent forth to break bone and spirit
Across the trampled borders
To the east, west, and south
Previously crossed by immigrants
But now crossed by armies.
Wisdom beckons to the clueless right
But her call they will not heed.
With glee they hasten to their likes across the border,
Carrying their precious coins in tow
With which they purchase glib excuses
To explain away all national failure.
How little they know that when their deed is done
And all immigrants gone
We'll be back to war, war, war
As of yore,
When the homeland had not strange hairs and noses
To take away from neighbors the blame for national ills.
THANKS GIVING
Walking backward Ill prepared I face things head on, but not the bitter wind. I turn my
back as I face my goodbyes , walking away I wave to my old problems: With a snarling
bite,the cold wind leaves me pierced and belittle.
Walking backwards I dare not face whats in store for me. Until this wind subsides and
treats me fairly, I will walk backwards slowly less I stumble. After my bones are chilled to
the core. I reach my abode, devastated and delighted, the fireplace lit and flickering. Still
afraid I wonder "what if" and I blame God,discounting the rescues; Then with every melting
bone and every thawing toe, I thank him/her, then realizing how awesome man is and how
far we have come. Annoyed I say begrudgingly "Thank you God " for this fire,and for
bringing us out of the cold wilderness. I say this hoping not to entertain the "What If's" again.
Forces, forcing me to open my eyes and realize that at any moment I could walk
backwards again, backward in the cold with nowhere to run, without relief; I can't think of
anything worse. So how can I or anyone come out of the cold ,and sit by the fire, while the
frost filled Ohio wind rolls off the Erie lake. Passing desperate people I want to collect them to
come and sit by the fire with me. I must love my neighbor,and share the warmth,the
fire ,the food,my home. In the old days we could, I cant live like this,,,,sitting a by the fire
alone, I think to my self "What If".