Long Dichotomy Poems
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~~~A little Bit Of Sin~~~~
Where do I begin because it could be the wrong thing to do?
But who says it is? Not me, so it must be you…
A little bit of what you fancy is supposed to do you good
But whose to say what you fancy is either bad or good
For some it’s chocolate for some- other things are the curse
But who’s to say which is which, it’s a dichotomy at worse
Sugar and spice and all things nice, some are led astray
Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails which is worse who can say?
A change is as good as a rest and that’s not an old wives tale
But what do we change to get the rest, is it something that’s for sale?
Something a bit naughty, is often nicest of all
But that’s something that is naughty could really be our downfall
So I am now back where I started asking - Where do I begin?
I think the thing to indulge in…is a little bit of sin.
Written: March 04, 2024 For Tom Woody Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If there was one thing I could rearrange,
In this vast and mysterious range.
I would heal the scars of rivalry and distress,
And shine a light on progress and its success.
If there was something I could do,
To modify our view of the world anew.
We judge, detest, and fear things too fast,
And failure to grasp a benediction seems shaft.
We're quite conscious of our dichotomy,
And fail to realize that we desire autonomy.
We must collocate to avoid extinction,
And strive for a world free of any affliction.
I wish we could suggest a single word,
I'd identify "kindness" as syntax is blurred.
As humans, we all share similar dreams,
Welded world without walls, warm streams.
A simple act, a smile, a hand extended,
A world where judgment is suspended.
We will handle any situation with care,
We might have had enhanced prayer.
We'd gaze upon life with each other's eyes,
And we would recognize our shared advice.
One nation would reunite across one Monde,
We ought to live in peace and love, under God.
I'd sing of oneness in all voices at every age,
A song pledged to shatter every stage.
No further strife, no longer hate,
Just a symphony of love, sealing our fate.
If there was just one dream to come true,
I'd dream of a world where dreams renew.
Where every child can laugh and play,
And hope shines brighter every day.
It was the point of a meaningless moon,
That being dealt life, its absolute gloom,
Vague stars shone hope to reposed past of Earth,
Dusk hath casts a crazed eve, pure hueless girth,
Joint lives of suave views have spread neath vain space,
Twain hearts of faint aims bent at an odd place,
Hath time rose, it was at a library,
Heartbeats are intact, waft of rare moon, free,
Scene set single swift shift that sways said lives,
When immortal kiss filled, hatched modern drives,
Flash of bliss, sum less than a week, pithy,
Souls warp sovereign time a dichotomy,
Ageless Sun o'er timeless Earth, midst readers,
Pave periods, us, episode writers,
Two; songbooks split, both sung; books wrote, both said,
A book close, ashes to ashes, rites read,
Ode paid, poet refrains, anew begun,
...Chapter One.
No regrets, separate lives lived since my first kiss experience, though death came at mid-life, both of us had a fulfilled life, and for that, I am content.
...she was ensnared within her prized gardens
There among a tempest of roses.
Entangled in the mournful whispers
of…
Weeping willows
From noon till night.
Within her bustling haven,
the envy of neighbors.
A source of joy and delight.
But her constant aching heart
desired so much more.
Her poor lonely husband
Once he was robust and
brimming and strong
with vitality...
Now his soul has withered
in the desolation
of his ongoing prison of solitude.
Like a leafless tree...
stripped bare by winter's icy grip…
His heart was shattered.
For upon the porch's creaking rocker /
...his soul dwindling...
...its motion faltering...
Stops...
She suddenly grasped the vastness...
of her loss?
Such an ache colossal.
Crying out to God!!
her tears flowing like a raging
roaring river:
"Restore my free!!!"
A glimmering thought emerged in her
a forbidden whisper:
"Conjure a deal, the deal, with nature...
and it will be granted."
An Epiphany as a glimmering thought
emerged:
His thumb... a sharp knife...
a cursed gift...
a grower’s unholy art...
A malevolent pact with nature /
rending her life asunder.
Then new life stirred within the
shadow's cryptic realm //
From fresh tilled dirt and top soil ground //
A sinister transformation...
...a harbinger,
sprout of chilling qualms.
On All Hallows Eve /
stirred by the relentless creaking...
of...
the...
chair.....
She rushed and she stumbled
for she was caught
in despair's whirlwind.
Her heart pulsated
rhythmically in tune.
The moon...
a spectral lantern /
Drenching the desolate landscape /
in silver light...
Casting ominous and writhing shadows...
that echoed with...
The dread of Walpurgisnacht.
A nightmare,
a beautiful grotesque masterpiece:
His form, hideous contorted,
agrarian exhorted,
A thumb oozing... with /
red and green blood...
Nature itself warping and ravenous.
"My Groom," as she spoke to this agrarian figure.
Now Love is ensnared in a sinister compact...
never to relinquish its grip.
Her Fervent devotion /
embodied in the...
Mandrake Sprout's insidious clasp.
Slowly rocking, miraculously...
...a dichotomy,
back and forth as the moon departed...
Entwined for eternity...
Bound in a loving unholy pact.
Three weeks into the academic year,
my dorm room wait list number had come up.
I found my room, hesitated and knocked.
The door swung open swiftly to reveal
a well-built youth who stood at five foot six.
"I will be your new roommate", I then said.
He looked at me and loudly exclaimed, "f*ck".
He paused, and slowly realized again
his dreams of a swinging bachelor pad
had disappeared before his dismayed eyes,
and then he blasted that familiar word.
While he was iterating pause and "f*ck",
I smiled, amused, as I commenced to wait
for this young man to, by and by, wind down.
While doing so, my eyes wandered behind,
to see hard liquor bottles on a fridge,
and knew this would be an eventful year,
and then his tone changed on a shiny dime.
"Welcome," said the boy who would be my friend.
I chose to write about this moment because it makes me feel good in two ways. It is funny, and I have fond recollections of my sophomore year roommate. Also, I'm fascinated by the dichotomy between his initial hostile response and then his welcome. I feel a truth is contained therein. He wore his emotion on his sleeve. We were the odd couple but got along great. I can remember the two of us singing, "I love you baby and if it's quite alright, I need you baby...". I lost touch with him, but by a strange coincidence met his nephew many years later and found he had passed away at age 49. The hardest line may have been "for this young man, by and by, wind down". I always revise my poems as I write them. So, as usual, this is the first draft. Maybe, I should rethink that!
As if pushing against that one girl who bumped into me on the sidewalk.
And never said sorry, and never looked back…
It gives me strength.
To close me into the car.
Against the fall wind.
The wind that tries to tip my car over, but never succeeds!
I shake off the chill.
The cold never wins.
Against me and this machine!
The modern technology, that keeps me warm and safe.
The heat is on.
Tilting my seat back slightly and closing my eyes.
But now…
I sense a new discomfort.
With the sun still out.
The interior of this machine,
Is starting to make me warmer and warmer.
Until I give in and take off my scarf and coat.
Turning off the heat so it’s silent except for the wind outside.
There’s never comfort.
Even in my own car, that I love and paid for.
Hot and cold.
Angry and still angry.
The dichotomy.
Is not lost on me.
Or, always a quandary the perpetual choices
the delight of suggestion pales with the anxiety necessary
Or, often a dichotomy, balanced like the scales of justice
matched with //either// this mere two letter word makes quite a stir.
Or. what? Some ask in tones ripe, rancid, with belligerence
brimming with the vitriol evident in slicked-back hair.
The fate of the world can balance on an OR
the continued existence of a proposed reality can fall OR...
I would not want the pivotal pressure or continued strain
of being an OR for I would stretch and choose never to let go.
Contest: Do Due or Dew
"Choose one of the above words and write a poem." I chose OR
outside lies the snow
each flake its own uniqueness
beginning descending moisture, bifurcation
eructing tendrils, forming, unpredictable
as is the dichotomy of life
the triumph against entropy
limbs lie empty, skeletons
leaves of feathered frost
birds are few
lost in the hemispheres, patterns
and for all the answers
more questions await in chaos
the quest for God's hand
wondering thru the majesty
this white coat of winter
where beneath the monotony
lies the uniqueness of creation
the snowflake and i share something
the ubiquitousness that is God
it is struggle enough
to understand this hand
some things in my life
were meant to be accepted
winter
God
Fergus Fall 96
The value of a hand to hold
When the skies are dark and the air is cold
When the wind whips shelters with pushes and pulls
Is worth far more than my weight in gold
You stood 4 feet and fearless the day we met
A fierce firecracker with a gentle, caring touch You've been my loyal warrior for each day since
My built-in best friend with unconditional love
You cheered me up and kept me calm
While that same old storm outside raged on
And when the lightning stopped and clouds were gone
You were still my hero—standing tall, tough, and strong
You wrapped me in warmth and picked me up when I fell
You showed me the light that lives in my eyes
You unveiled gifts I didn't know that I held
Until I saw them in you personified
Even when I stood with arms crossed and scoffed
You steered me from the destruction I sought
Even when we bickered, hurled insults, and fought You held onto me tight till the nightmares stopped
Even though you yourself were a child
A true dichotomy of grit and compassion
You turned my moments of dread to soft smiles
Brightening my days in an effortless fashion
Even when the distance grew
It never changed and I always knew
Miles meant nothing for me and you
It's just one more nothing to make it through
But my sister is only human
And she needs love too
So when that old storm starts brewing
Here lies my promise to you:
I will always hold your hand, under bright skies and dark
I will always think of you anytime we're apart
I'll stand guard at your side should any trouble start
And I will always love you—with all of my heart
NOTIONS OF ART
of authenticity
discovered
&replicated
in measures
of the
cognitive
&
authentic
a dichotomy
of liberty
&doubt
aestheticity
of concepts
in
imagination
&
an aura
of style
in an
advent
of
enigmatic
reflections
thought chimes
made real
in random
details
the minute
& absolute
in images
of the
illusory world
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand