Long Doggedly Poems
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my Muse
growled at
me and sent
photos frothing
rabitity frequently
showing signs doggedly
foggally
i faintly saw
what i thought
i'd seen unbelieving
that she could be such
so much more then a pure
Muse
always to
be lovingly to
me wanting nothing
but to give willingly to
me and i excepting what
she
had always
purposely served
with more then words
but meaning among the
feeling and so feeling my i
allowed
for her only
for her to bite
me and rapidly i
became more then
just what she said and
told
but held
what what
means to be
a Muse's poet
for ever and ever to be
Form:
Entangled in reality,
you feel trapped in depression's web.
And you're easily overwhelmed,
as your emotions flow and ebb.
Buried within myths and clichés,
the pathway to happiness lies.
And the tides of hope rise each day,
only to fall within your eyes.
Frustration and disappointment
reduce fantasies to a tease.
And your heart seeks sanctuary,
within a world filled with unease.
Wasted years and corrosive tears,
levy a disparaging toll.
But you steadfastly pursue love,
searching every heart for a soul.
You are leery of all the lies
doggedly disguised as the truth.
And yet, like a breeze rustling leaves,
desire stirs the passions of youth.
After a lifetime
(pronounced like millennium),
where tenacity futilely braced
psyche deeply purpled,
hellishly, and lethally
traced resulting scars -
jackknifed, emasculated
cruelly chaste
sexuality expired, lapsed,
and petered out testosterone
begone to waste,
and how this abased
bereft of eroded optimism,
nee faith no more - erased,
solitary carbon based animal
coalesced into countless
foreborn generations
(glommed *****sapiens
salient survival skills)
mortified, putrefied, and
stagnated toxic brew
quaffing poisonous
score peon - composite gin,
barley distilled, exiled,
and fragmented
human encased
faculties doggedly
catapulted, with haste
squandered genetic inheritance
kamikaze potential
apathetically plundered, akin
how Hindenburg plummeted
like led zeppelin,
(scare way to craven)
his foghorn emitting distinctive
Semitic bulbous
shofar shaped schnozzle traced
analogous to decrepit son -
dialed helpline to late
promising lad once vaunted
lauded, and
deemed hereditarily, -
he busted great expectations
quintessentially, psycho
socially, and opportunistically
lineage noble storied
standing déclassé debased
forced to take stock at aging
non-thrilled man
in the mirror
haggard heavily creased
doughy paste poker face
(born that way)
blankly stare ring back, spaced
out, no longer boyish,
but gray bearly grizzled,
flecked, and etched stubble,
scraggly unkempt whiskers
discombobulated
straggly matted hair
limply drape stupefied noggin
utterly disc graced
countenance eye spy
crows feet laced
blotchy complexion re: placed
once smooth skin
donned dawning senescence
amplification trumped
"NON FAKE" crudely
aping scrim age lost
fight of his life.
I lost my ability to think for myself
As I sat atop the Church of Santa Maria de Idris
Carved into the cliffside while I sat sewn into its ridges
I had spent the former sun’s passage wandering the City of Stones
The hours loosened themselves as I passed beneath canopies of trailing vines
Draped over blanched bricks steeped
In shades of beige-and-brown-and-orange-and-grey
Vestiges of the past worn
Down each wall, each path
Woodwinds whistle and beckon me from the distance
But my anticipation allows no acquittance
I remain doggedly beholden to
The eventual night that promised to keep me alone
I lie in the sky yet remain fastened to the earth
My back chiseled by the jagged rock I chose as my resting place
My head suspended beyond its edge
So that the stars sleep beneath me and the city
Yellowed by the languor of its dim-lit paths
Hangs in the balance of our sweet nothingness
Zig-zagging-every-which-way
Like an I Spy book brought suddenly to life
Can you spot the soul in a world you know possesses none?
I speak of this not with any great anguish
But with a peculiar sense of contentment
One that has itself become the source of my gravest grief
For its mere existence renders mine worthless
I strain to reach into the dimness of memory
I blacken my mind to conjure my darkest fears
I even invite you into my mind
Dressed in every shade of my maladjustment
But none can hold a candle to the sight that lies before me
Along with the sharp ache impressed on my back
For the first time, physicality exceeds my once-thought-bottomless-imagination
And my mind affords me no liberation
Though I have always sought after some chimerical escape
Only here do I realize that such elusion is but another passage through delusion
And not the good kind
The kind that leaves me feeling childish and naive
As though in leaving I had mistaken distance for transcendence
Believing myself to be rising above it all
When all along I had been looking at the whole world upside down
When darkness falls and finds us all alone,
When the heart becomes a small grey stone ...
Bravery is all there is.
When thunder shakes the windowpanes,
When those we love lie wracked with pain ...
Bravery is all there is.
Bravery concedes its fear;
Does not attempt to hide its tears.
Bravery is born of holding calm,
In quietly, doggedly, carrying on.
When reason fails to light the dark,
When the answer is a question mark ...
Bravery is all there is.
When justice seeks to rule in vain,
When sorrow sweeps the roiling brain ...
Bravery is all there is.
Bravery trembles while it stands,
Accepts what it cannot command.
Bravery bears its burdens well,
Looks not to see if others tell.
Be brave then, Mystery asks of us;
Face the unknown with silent trust -
For at the End, there is only this:
Bravery is all there is.
Bravery is all there is.
Autumn teases the last cinnamon leaves
clinging to branches with amber fingers.
Seasonal change awakens Nature's thieves,
a wafting breeze that doggedly lingers,
stripping trees bare; a scene that sadly grieves.
Fall sings in a rhythmic glissando voice
announcing it's time that she takes the helm.
We acquiesce, given no other choice.
She reigns over Indian Summer's realm,
painting meadows and vales as we rejoice.
Acorns are gathered by hoarding squirrels
who scurry to find the tasty jewels,
cherishing them as valuable pearls.
As north winds blow, the temperature cools.
Chimney smoke drifts in white ribbons and curls.
Time for harvesting ripe apples for pies.
Halloween pumpkins are put on display.
Carefully, we watch Autumn's sullen skies
Clouds grow heavy, in shades of nimbus gray.
A gaggle of geese in migration, flies.
Autumn dresses herself in wrinkled gown.
Ruffled skirt in hues of crimson and gold.
Bodice in ochre, trimmed in walnut brown,
a russet cloak worn when a chill takes hold,
woven from wizened leaves that tumbled down.
July 13, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 1 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Originally posted in September 2021
A windy blow
uphill all the way
dog running ahead
we are going somewhere
we are going to the edge
to the edge of a steepness
Climb dog climb
we are both pulling at a leash
mine is long and inelastic
dog has a bone in her soul
she won't let it go
I got a rope for my life
in case that life gets stuck
on a ledge
or in case it doesn't
Blow wind blow
my darling is dead
the howl in my head
keeps me doggedly panting
Dog looks back
deep brown eyes
wide
the dead
see the top of every climb
see beyond
She is a ghost in my mind
dog will go no further
she sees the yonder
her concerned bark
a warning
about the rope
the end of my rope
A windy blow
uphill all the way
dog running ahead
as if we are going somewhere
we are going to the edge
the very edge of a steepness
Climb
dog panting
maybe me breathing
both pulling at a leash
mine is long and inelastic
dog has a bone in his soul
he won't let go of it
I got a rope for my life
in case a life gets stuck
on a ledge
or in case it doesn't
Blow wind blow
my darling is dead
the howl in my head
keeps me doggedly
clambering
bent to the gale
Dog looks back
black eyes wide
she's seen the top of the climb
knows the ghost in my mind
will not go further
her worried bark
a warning
For a long lost summer of fun we're particularly thankful
While fall promises to be doggedly cruel and sorrowful
Behind us lay shattered dreams of innocence and nights enchanted
Reminding us days are numbered not to be taken for granted
Each fall we see life's cycles perpetually regenerate
And facing death is natural allowing to commemorate
Now it's our turn to face music and orchestra as we come forth
Nodding to the maestro and bravely hold our head high to the north
Whilst the shock wears off and we concede to abide by nature's rules
We bite with heart into the last vermillion autumn of our lives
AP: 1st place 2020
Poetry contest- Kaleidoscope of Emotional Suffering
Sponsored by- Sara Jama
Capricious Nature
In three parts
I
The Night
Queen,
retires
slowly-
as if the earth
pauses
on its axis-
ordering
the world
to stay quiet,
until,
it is
good
and ready.
At last,
morning
bursts in,
like a promise
fulfilled,
falling like bright
lemon slices
through horizontal
blinds…
Doves,
perch high
on telephone wires,
COO
coo- cooing.
Dogs,
hunch
over gravel,
New Mexico’s grass-
each consecrating
a new day,
and their territory,
with a devotion
like heat—
bearing down
on the desert.
II
The day star,
rises
to its peak,
then
is consumed,
piecemeal,
by shadow-
as if
on a dimmer switch,
at half mast in mourning—
all
species,
observing
in a shivering
silence—
but for
crickets,
who pulse,
like heart beats
in pale
twilight.
Cloud sheets
respond in tandem,
pulling a tent,
taut
against the sky,
doubling over as if straining,
to hold up
the atmosphere.
Glints
of escaping
sunlight,
doggedly reminding
of what
outlasts.
III
In the lingering
bright hours,
Earth’s
star,
at last
untethered–
from nature’s
whims-
is donned
by my skin,
like a balm,
restoring
faith-
each of us
relishing
the last
of Helios’s
tour,
respiting,
in knowing…
the one
constant–
resides
at the core-
brilliant
and unflinching,
always
persisting.