Long Comfortless Poems
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Part 2 - The Great Fire of London, 1666
Just think of a town, put up with no plan,
where people build houses wherever they can.
The streets twist and dip, hugging ditches and streams,
and safety's a thing of which nobody dreams.
There aren't any rules, or best practices, codes,
regulations, fire stations, no hydrants or nodes.
The street where you live has no concrete, just clay,
and it's narrow, foul-smelling, and no light of day
can squeeze in. Your ground floor is brick-built and stout,
but your upstairs is flimsy and jetties right out,
almost touching your neighbour's. You thus form a tunnel
through which rats, cats and faeces can constantly funnel.
Well, come with me now to meet Thomas and Jane,
who live, work and worry in just such a lane:
it's always called "Pudding", which gives us a clue -
for baking is what all the people here do.
September the second, the year sixty-six,
and Old Mother Nature's been up to her tricks:
we haven't seen rain since the start of the war,
and timbers are shrinking, and drier than straw.
Tom's oven malfunctions. The house catches fire.
Our instinct, in peril? To try to get higher.
Tom, Jane, the children, and Sukie, the maid
(Sukie is thirteen, and very afraid)
climb out on the roof. Oh, the smoke and the heat!
The roof tiles are baking, and hurting our feet!
We've all got to jump to the roof to our left:
but don't glance below as you're leaping the cleft!
But Sukie can't do it. It's asking too much.
She'll be the first to be killed by the Dutch.
The signals aren't vaulting across her synapses.
She's lost from our sight when the storey collapses.
Four days blazed this greatest of all conflagrations,
engulfing some thousands of poor habitations
and scores of old churches, whether timber or stone.
The tally of people will never be known.
A square mile of ruin. A city destroyed.
A blackened and acrid and comfortless void.
Saint Paul's is a shell, its rubble still smoking.
But who is that gentleman, measuring, poking?
Pinballs
Flashing lights cacophonous torment
silent blindness screams of nothing
Plunger lost in apathy comfortless striking void
pistons firing on empty
Flippers halted in stagnant mid flight
motionless surreal delusion
Sensors tilted upside down and further
making no sense of no meaning
Bumpers like icy mountain’s thin air
pick axe forgotten on the descent
Sink holes covered in quick sand
vacuous craters enveloped madness
A ‘level’ play field and yet where are those balls
of courage to tell them how I really felt?
09th August 2018-08-08
Written for the contest: ‘I wish I had the balls to tell them how I really felt’.
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
the random residue of sunken shadows
retrieves an image of the light gone by
an effigy ashen faced and smouldering
glows tenderly upon the silhouette of time
yet another curve ball of molten assertion
distorts impressions on the transient mold
pinnacles opine to differ from ground zero
tapestries’ memories fragment figments
of imagination attempt to reassemble
the waning half-moon of false composure
serrated edges compress to bursting point
the vigil at closed gates of no return
defended by cross bows skulls targets
missed opportunities and flightless arrows
in anticipation of another haunted day
when sleep refrains from comfort
night stallions call for spurs and whip
a rodeo of mental injuries displays
with comfortless numbed precipitation
the viscous sweat of solutions out of reign
yet she gathers remnants of an outline
a contour of sanity clothed in disguise
puts another log on her ice-cold fire
sheds a frozen tear on course to exposition
grasps a tinder olive branch of feeble hope
decides to die at last and wishes to forget
01st August 2021
Homeless...
Useless...
Shameless...
Nameless...
These are few names by which I'm known,
Though I would rather like to be called as Lazarus...
Regardless, let me tell you the truth --
I care less and fear less,
Far less than you, who make those nasty faces at me,
As if I would eat you...
Yet, I ain't heartless,
Sure homeless, but harmless.
Life has been harsh to me, but I ain't hopeless,
I fear God, who has not left me comfortless.
This faithful dog is by my side, all the time,
As are my fellow brothers,
who share with me my roof, the sky,
And my bed that keeps changing,
Nonetheless, I'm satisfied with what I have --
Nothing to lose and nothing to gain.
When I see you all walking about so worried,
I can't but smile,
And my fearless smile is sure to render you...
speechless...
Vegas be Damned!
Vegas took him off the board at 80.
As the cards were dealt each day, passersby
would swear the deck was stacked –
against him. Fate had, for some reason,
chosen him to constantly be in the line
that closed for lunch, watching the bus
he just missed - leave. Youth, street kid,
pin setter in a bowling alley, living at the
kindness of friends parents, eating as the
opportunity presented. 17, enlisted,
good duty, three hots and a cot. Re-enlisted,
war, Korea, PTSD (before it was PTSD).
Discharged, returned to the streets of
his youth – no longer a youth. The drink,
elixir of the damned, damnation of the
scarred, comforter of the comfortless.
Arrests and jail time, flop houses, back
to the streets. Early in his forties, fate’s
dealer broke open a new deck. A chance
meeting, a choice, an unsteady walk,
a door, into a new life. Get well jobs,
dishwasher, grave digger, volunteer.
A 75 dollar car, an apartment of his
own, friends, and fellowship. Another
better job, 30 years later, retirement
at age 75. A birthday party shared with
friends - many half his age of 84. He
still walks the streets of his youth
proudly, thinks of those who, unlike him,
were not as fortunate. Those who succumbed
to the rigors of life, and death, the unseen
wounds that never healed, the hopelessness
of a stacked deck. He laughs a lot, has a
bit of a skip in his step, a wry smile on his
face, an MBTA Charlie Card in his wallet,
and a plan to be a part of this day.
Vegas be damned!
John G. Lawless
10/18/2014
for Gautami Phookan – Sketch a Character – Poetry Contest
some friends come into our life
and some friends go
but Jesus is the best friend that I ever did know
some friends hurt us and lead us to wear a frown
but Jesus is the friend who never lets us down
he's the one who stays with us from dawn till dusk and from dusk till dawn
he's the one who comforts us when we mourn
Jesus is the one who listens to us any time of day
Jesus is the one who is loyal and true in every single way
he is in heart of everything that you do
all for his Love for you
Jesus is the one who makes our life far more worthwhile
he is the one who always makes us smile
Jesus chose to be our friend from the begining of time untill the end
Jesus is and always will be our true friend.
there are friends who pretend to be friends, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a
brother Proverbs 18 : 24
when my mother and father forsake me then the Lord will take me up pslam 27 : 10
I will not leave you comfortless I will come to you, John 14 :18
right from the begining the Lord chose us, You did not choose me, but I chose you and
appointed you to go and bear fruit--fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever
you ask in my name. he will never leave us of forsake us Amen.
Let not my heart become in my old age
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
But an open sunny porch, a welcome sage
A loving heart to those in distress
Let not my pain sabotage my soft heart
Let me remain a gentle, kind spirit
Writing a course of good 'pon my sea chart
Let love from heart's depths to God submit
Enjoining to You oh Holy Spirit
Flow through me like a circuit open ended
This vessel delights in your benefits
Let the love seed grow with fastest speed
Let my heart not be controlled by body's pain
Fill my heart with Thy love 'til it can't contain
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
Direct quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay
It was in more than one of her works..
I will not leave you comfortless says the Lord of LOVE
I will come to you child, like the soaring doves above
no stone shall brush your tender feet
no winds shall crush your finest wheat
I will not leave you faithless says the Lord of joy
I will come to you wearing the armor of LOVE
I will be your hero your noble one
I will be your one and only Son
I will not leave your mourning alone says the Lord of ease
I will come to you, like a bending tree on a summer breeze
no prayer shall go untold
no sheep shall leave its fold
I will not leave you comfortless says the Lord of LOVE
I will come to you, like the soaring doves above...
I dream of you from that world far from here;
to not be there, it cuts like broken glass.
I'd end this pain, my love, had I the brass
to quench my need for you to be so near.
Without you here, I wilt in this austere,
comfortless zone of un-creative mass,
stifled, crushed by the unyielding impasse
of knowing I may never enter your sphere.
Were I a wind--a breeze! a zephyr!--I'd
ride the heavens till I light on your lap
and then with you there forever abide
as if betwixt us there were ne'er a gap.
I swear--for you--that I'd move heaven and God
as sure as men do plod...do plod...do plod!
Although I had no one particular
in my mind wanted to see
I waited anyway,
I yearned and wandered to see one unreal
like a shadow in the cloud of sundown darkness.
I didn’t have one who I really wanted to see
or one I must see with delight
I waited with a burning heart on one actually not there,
today as usual, all too soon passed away.
I hadn’t anger or remorse more than bearable
or reason to bang my breast and cry out loudly in the air
I wreaked my wrath not to others but to myself again and again,
while I was doing so I became red myself under eve’s sunset glow.
I am losing my body temperature because I am lonely and comfortless
and that’s why my bone chills from solitude. Although I didn’t consider running out and embracing anyone I meet on the road
and rub cheek to cheek to receive other’s body temperature,
I was raising my eyes to the air and called nameless name but when the name returned as an echo and fell to shatter on the ground, I was gathering the pieces for all night through without sleep.