Long Burgeons Poems
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In life's deep caverns, where shadows dwell,
Adversity looms a weighty spell.
A crushing force, it seeks to restrain,
The heart feels heavy, burdened with pain.
The storm arrives with a furious roar,
Clouds heavy, laden with woes galore.
The mountain stands, an unwavering might,
Adversity's peak, daunting in sight.
Yet, in this tempest, a seed takes root,
Deep in the soul, amid the pursuit.
For in the darkness, roots intertwine,
Strength burgeons forth, a silver line.
Like a tree that stands amidst thunder's crack,
Through trials endured, it fights not to lack.
Branches reaching, defying the gloom,
Resilient spirit, it starts to bloom.
In the crucible, where steel meets flame,
Adversity's forge, no two the same.
Tempered by fire, forged in the blaze,
The spirit ignites, in myriad ways.
As a river flowing through rugged land,
Adversity carves sculpts life's grandstand.
Through valleys deep and the craggy bane,
Wisdom is born, through each trying strain.
Empowerment rises from the fray,
Adversity is a gift in its own way.
A spirit grown, in the crucible's fire,
Resilient, fortified to aspire.
With newfound strength, we face the tides,
Adversity's realm, where growth abides.
For it can crush, yet, in its domain,
Strength is honed, and we shall sustain.
In the right frame, as our minds align,
The adversity test will be refined.
A potent force, yet, we dare to see,
Strength blooms within, and sets us free.
Through storms and trials, in adversity's den,
We rise with strength, time and again.
For it can crush, and yet, we find,
It strengthens souls and fortifies the mind.
Ancestors Of old times
Time their visits to me,
In dreams and visions wake,
Awake me to the spirits I seek,
Seeking to renew life,
Living for tomorrow…
Tomorrow begins new
Newly wishing I’m free
Freely speaking my heart
Heartfully making songs
Sung inside this souls place
Placing it in life’s view…
Viewing the chaos realms
A realm where change blossoms
Blooming with new vigor
Vigorously starting,
The starts growing right up
Upward summer burgeons...
Burgeoning words blowing
Blown by winds directions
Directly unbound air
Airily circulates
To circumnavigate
Cirrus highs and fogs lows.
Form:
Lost in labyrinthine lanes of midnight's embrace,
Where ghostly gas lamps gleam, casting silhouettes of grace,
Their luminescence lingers on cobblestone veins,
Chattering footsteps echo, bound in heavy chains.
Through wet, winding alleys, cloaked in evening’s dight,
Erected edifices enshroud the moon's ethereal light,
The air still, holding a chill, sharp and unkind,
As whisp’ring murmurs echo, dark secrets confined.
In the grim grip of night, 'neath skies of storm,
Haunting laughter lingers, a prophetic pall, ‘till morn,
A black rose blooms in the moons’ glimm’rin glare,
As Love's beauty burgeons, unfurling despair.
I've tasted the bitterness of love's deceit,
The sting of betrayal, in love's sinking retreat,
For amidst the splintering of shattered dreams,
Love's touch may assuage, or so it seems.
In the depths of the soul, where darkness dwells,
Love's icy fingers bind, a chilling knell,
Locked in torment, a heart's melancholic cry,
Love's weight bears down, a mournful sigh.
Though loss may loom, a specter in sight,
I seek solace in memories, ‘neath soothing moonlight,
For in love's ledger, there is beauty unbound,
Even through loss, its scintillating sentiments are found.
I wander this city’s wet, winding maze,
A seeker of love and all her wondrous ways,
With passions ablaze, though my heart's tattered and torn,
In love’s haunting pursuit, forever forlorn.
think …
of the abyss …
unimaginably, unbearably cold
pressure that turns bones (and flesh) to vapor
eight tons - sixteen thousand pounds - per
each … square … inch …
a darkness quite unforgiving -
blacker than black
and yet …
LIFE …
burgeons in multitudes
otherworldly creatures that create their
own light in rhythmic patterns
fantastic organisms that
are so strange and striking they look alien
such an inhospitable world
yet things thrive …
I …
am such an abyss
intensely cold
a darkness beyond black
deep and desolate and bleak
compressed by encumbrance and a disquiet
that can turn bone to vapors …
pain that has no nerve
unbearable wretchedness … without origin
acerbic tears that do not drip -
they burn … and fester
but …
things live
odd creatures exist here -
freakish beasts of indeterminate shape and ire
that feed on joy … and purpose
they crawl and creep
and shiver …
and wait.
Like an avian roosting when his cawing has spilled,
I mourn in grief as this shadowed night grows cold
Crushed and grieving from promises unfulfilled
Sorrow burgeons my heart, in bitterness enfold
like unspun wool on a distaff or a poem not quilled
I am overwhelmed with fear; somberly weeping
beneath my rowan tree. In dour thoughts, I dwell
Wisps of silver moonlight cross the sky, sweeping,
signaling hope in darkness, as if it were a death knell
In my den, I feel protected; sanctuary of safe-keeping
My troubled eyes are in search of benevolence anew
For faith and courage instead of such dismal dread
How I long to take flight, trading grey skies for blue
to locate a paradise where happiness can be spread
sharing a drink of wassail; fruited ale of sweet brew
I shall swiftly soar among shining stars at great height
Fluttering my wings on journeyed path of poetic volition
Never again to be lost and alone on any mawkish night
No shadows holding me in their melancholy perdition
for I've learned how to ignite flames of lambent light
The sun shines in perfect darkness, twirling relentlessly ...
as do a trillion trillion other stars, daubed on the blackest black.
Still, life itself seeds and burgeons in the warmth of its precious light,
its particles, the core of an exquisite balance that brings each heart to thrum,
that breaches hard soil in spring, sings the haunting silence of the wilderness,
and bats lashes like butterflies in the wee hours of the dawning.
Some say, a laugh is just a laugh is just a laugh, thus ... and on,
yet, like Great Sol it can plunge any void, dive the deepest sorrows,
wound the twilight, mortal, and pierce the trembling rib of nightmares.
The shimmering joy it dances upon, is the true essence of ALL ...
nothing else so fills a heart or wakens a soul from mourning,
as crucial as breath and sustenance and affection.
Yes, a laugh is a simple thing, a seemingly trivial and mundane expression,
but it is an arrow sent forth from the bow of joyous reality,
a dart of delight, with the capacity to rend the thickest of shadowy veils.
Yet, like the sun again, it is dependent upon its alter-ego -
It is the shadows and dark realms and agonies and regrets
that make joy so exceptionally precious, and so amazingly sweet ...
you can NOT find one without the other, that is unmitigated, absolute.
Feel your pain - your sorrow, embrace the darkness with all you are,
but do so in the mind that until you HAVE, you won't know true JOY ...
or how splendid, cathartic and giggly wonderful ... it can be.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "The Smile At The Foot Of The Ladder" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
(Sonnet / Lipogram) No letter "A"
Blooming buds dispersing sundry perfumes
Mellifluous tunes of ebullient birds
Butterflies come out of their cosy rooms
Soft verdure on verges nibbled by herds
Burbling brooks run under the bulbous dome
Modest cloud-cover with blowing soft wind
Gentle showers dripping down on the brome
The spring's resurgence delights every mind
Pristine life sprouts from the womb of the turf
Your comforting presence nurtures new life
Soft shoots burgeons out of the tough scurf
The joy of Zion unrolled without strife
Spring, the queen of spells on the wheel of time,
Poets cherished their thoughts in its prime clime.