Long East wind Poems
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New Years Day
You say she's the one for you
And who am I to deny that's true?
You live with the promise of her forever
And certainly seem to forget our endeavor.
Now my pen is quiet
with gentle brush strokes
no more of the fury
no more of the fire,
It's gone with the wind
And no longer has desire.
To write of the love that we had before
To write the story of the slammed poisoned door.
Slammed shut on our chances,
slammed shut on our glances
Across the room with a fiery stinr
Like out love was crossed on some
invisible string.
So now we move on.
We pretend that we're golden.
Because now our hearts
Have been shattered and chosen
To move with the times,
And settle in with our rhymes.
On paper and in hell,
We tell each other
we wish you well.
But none of those lies
are ever really true.
And each of the lines
Are trapped in the blue.
And so, we read
in between our minds
And we both know
that we aren't really fine.
Because love drips from each stroke
and every other line.
So we write and we give up
A silent cry to the sky
We try to reach and we try
so damn hard to die.
With each passing moment.
For if we even for a second
Did show it,
I'd run back to you
Without hesitation.
And you know that's true,
So you block your own mind
The trains have now left all of the routes
and diverted all the stations.
Back to your mind
And back to your love.
I silently look
to the heavens above.
And wonder if you'll
Treat her better than me.
As heartbreak takes over
my own sad
reality.
As I play back our times
And craft them in rhymes.
Because she is now me,
I know without a thought
That I'll be on your mind
In all the answers you sought.
So think of me while her hands trace your cheeks
And think of me when I'm no longer in reach.
Think of me when my touch
lies like a ghost
Forgotten
On the wind
Of your love
And think of me when your mind
traces her and her thighs.
And when you have a spare moment
now and then, let my thought in.
Because this love we have chosen
Is now quite our burden.
And now the east wind
Joins our hands
as we scatter and cry
At least we are looking
up at the same grey sky.
We lived in a crooked house.
Built on a muddy mound of hope with the corpse of yesterday half buried beneath
Sad eyes and smiley faces. A gilded countenance to pair the four walled fiction – Painted thin; only just enough to cover our cracks.
Widening like morning eyes; a mirrored reflection.
Dancing in a zigzag to the tune of the tremors. An ugly soundtrack coaxing ugly art.
Those damp walls. The cracks swallowing torrents from eyes in the sky
Wide eyed boys watching sliding droplets crashing into droplets. Swallowed like pride.
Doors jammed in water seeped jambes. Knotted and gnarled. A need for a greave
Trees weeping at what they witness from the outside looking in. Shedding leaves for tears.
Oft trampled floor boards creaking and crying in solidarity with those that walk its back
Whisper and scurry light-footed like mice in a hurry so easily scared by the wall breaching wind
Trying hard not to wake the monster sleeping downstairs - Breath held like tongues, voices low
Like the swing in the garden tied to the tired branch of the hunched tree. Seat sunk in mud. Ashamed.
A tip toe down the slippery stairs; in fear of drowning in the basement swimming pool. A watery hell
Festering in the bowels of this building ever since the burgeoning moat breached the ramparts of this faux castle.
Lopsided family photo frames hanging by a thread. Nailed to crumbling walls. A slipping semblance of home.
The rising cigarette smoke staining the walls like those words from the same pursed lips from the mind so hard to rid
A cloudy plume with no silver lining; an excuse for eyes to water; blurring those family portraits.
That poisoned smog escaping through the chimney. Blown out over spluttering trees aghast at what this house concealed.
The wind once blew from the west. The house had many faces then but when the east wind struck its walls, the face it pulled it stuck. Doubled over, bent and crooked.
The trees perished like dreams and time brought change
But this crooked house remained the same.
Through the whispering pines, down the valley's deep
And wide, do they call unto one another, the brother's
Of the winds.
North chases east to west, as south's warming breath,
Begs to play also, once around the world, over land,
Sea, and mountain tops vast divides.
Tag your it, not I says, the three, as they roll, and duck,
Shifting thus for cover's airy currents, above, below one another.
The east wind is the trickster, mischievous fellow, seeking
Up behind his brethren, than laughing with sheer delights
Gleeful pleasure, until his companion’s kindred, catch up with
Him and pick on him later.
Latitudes unto longitudes, these spiritual pirates,
Of freedoms quest, to remain as liberation's
Outcasts, to conventional reality.
Mother nature's wild children of the untamed,
Swirling divinities whom never rest or settle in
One space, air spirits tasting the everlasting flavor
Of abandonment's desire, beneath their wings of flight.
Soar with destiny's favorite sons, brethren beyond
Human reproach, except unto one another calling,
Come excel with exhilaration's, mischief makers
Extraordinaire.
Ariel acrobats ascending, descending at wills whim,
Concurring the heights currents as invisible eagles,
Than free falling towards the earth beneath.
Gliding dare devils challenging the open air,
Testing the fates of destiny's sails, to imagination’s
Boundaries without fail.
At night fall a whispering voice, she calls unto
Them, mother nature, come my sons, it is time
To finally rest.
Yawning with their blustery breath, these tempestuous
Mischievous lads, float a loaf towards the cave
Of the winds, and dream of the chase to come,
On the marrow's sunrise.
Illusion's dreaming realm tosses aside, it's veiled
Currant unto these ideal God's, whom play with
Raw power's force, using it's strength as if a game at play,
These brother's of the four winds, set adrift within
This realm of imagery.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Blond girl on a wheelchair
Eleanor. Motor Neurone her destiny
Purple eyes looking up to the hill terrain
From the shade of her preferred tree
Immobile limbs, travelling dreams
Silent thoughts flowing with the east wind
Up to the peaks scented of amber beams
Pine trees’ branches caressing her forefront rim
Silver rivers from the hill cuddling
Her naked feet into watery whirls
Perfumed petals from sycamores enfolding
A pale and dreaming face of brave dreams
Eleanor. The storyteller, the princess of visions
Impossible to grasp the wind with aching hands
Mind flying to a remote story of Fairy Zinc and Elf Arians
Fiddlers playing with the branches of the Sycamores’ band
Notes dropping as roses on Eleanor’s knees
Now singing to the sparrows her torment
Of inelastic limbs and the joy of her free spirits
Finally galloping on the veil of Fairy Zinc fervent
While Elf Arians was inebriating her senses with spices
Fairy Zinc brought her to a castle of dances and songs and doves
Eleanor’s melody was heard by the trees and sparrows and dragonflies
And by her mother from behind with tearful and silent love
Finally, the last sunbeam, and her flight, higher and higher
Reaching clouds, joining birds, galloping hills, swimming rivers
Walking proudly into woods, mountain peaks, cuckoo birds,
The fairy, and the elf, and the vanishing sun
And then… the deep sleep… her deep sleeps
A pinecone dropping into her basket of crayons
For her friends, a case of drawings and heartily rhymes
Mom pushing the wheelchair of the princess of dreams
“Good night my dear. Sleep well for mom Zinc.
Dad Arians will cuddle your legs and stretch your arms
As the doc said, I have a warm soup for your pain.
Don’t be sad, all your beloved are here”
Eleanor. The princess of dreams
Storyteller, with a basket of poetries and birds
Immobile limbs, mobile spirit and wits
Joy of mom Zinc and dad Arians
She sunk toes into the soft unsettled sand of the blue waves ashore
Moment by moment was all she could grapple
She took one step forward, as the sand bit each nerve with coolness of the ocean
Moment by moment did she staple
She stapled each sentence with purity racing through her mind
Word after word, sentence after sentence
She could not quite describe this sensation in a syllable or east wind
Word after word, the ink flowed through her veins with transcendence
There was no stopping the wave of contemplation
Running straight through her nerves, feeling each tingle
There was no stopping the craze of words and of quotations
Running away from any knowticable broken shingle
The constant need or feel to flow through the tips of her fingers
But once the page begun, how to leave the page undone
The constant flush of acronyms and rhymes through triggers
But once the thought began, how to bleed the page like a machine gun
Ready to aim, ready to fire, the war begins
But what seemed to be just the wind whipping through her hair, was clouds whispering in her ear drum
Saying its never to late to write the stories of woes far begun
Swaying through the sand covered dooms
Cradling the one who used to be you, the one whose still a who?
Swaying through wind shattered air
Cradling the one who is near, but who is that if not a who?
She takes another step forward, and falls
Knees bloody, arms cutting
She dips down her bow, and crawls
Hands scraping, tongue constricting
If not who? Then what?
If not what? Then why?
If not how? Then Try?
Trial and error led her here
On a sand doom far far away from anywhere called home
She found a place to let her mind explode
On a sand doom far far away from anywhere called home
She found a place to hide her sky dome.
When winter became a Spring day.....
The Spring Queen came ,with out delay
She approached through the Whispering Trees
Everything she touched, turned to green
Fresh shoots,budding leaves.....
Flowers to be seen
The Eastern Wind,
bringer of life and green
Followed the Spring Queen
The awakening...........
The greening..........
The Castle gates opened wide
The Spring Queen walked inside..............
The walled garden grown
Welcomed into Castle Heartstone
Her fingers touched the wall........
Instantly the flowers grew..........
In places not before seen
Such is the power of the Spring Queen
The air filled with the sound of birds............
Birdsong, too beautiful for words
For, there was life everywhere
The Spring days,so fair
The mood of the Castle lifted
The life,the colour
The Spring Queen, gifted
The bare trees filled out,
the welcoming shade
The walled garden transformed............
Colour spilling everywhere............
Spring is in the air
Such joy and happiness..........
Bursting through
The Whispering Trees
The East Wind breeze
The meadow flowers, so blue
Fresh flowers filled the Castle...........
Most of all in the Great Hall.........
Where the Heartstone lay,
on the north wall
The hum of bees,
buzzing on the breeze
Spring honey,so sweet...........
A real treat!
The Spring Queen.........
Giving birth...........
To a new and beautiful earth
The land lay green.....
The flowers, to be seen
These flowers,sublime
The emerging springtime............
All too soon the days grew hot.........
The days grew long.........
The days had new meaning............
Soon it would be Summer Queens' time
the intense greening
The Sandpipers Call
Sandpipers Call amongst the garbage
along the shore,
Tumbleweeds dance from dusk till dawn
Tumbleweeds roll as time goes by,
And time should stand still for love?
But:
Only Tumbleweeds roll roll back and fro making love to the wind.
Flying lost, in a blue sky,
never knowing why,
Doves fly when curtains Call
Crying doves. Scatter, as curtains fall,
Peregrine falcon,, hits and death calls,,
And a spray of bloody feathers,,
In a garden of angels,, watch them fall,,
As a cold east wind blows from the west
Marking the spot where Sandpipers Call.
And Tumbleweeds yawn at break of dawn
And race each other down empty streets,
only stopping to keep each other warm,
Lost again where broken hearts meet
Dust storms. Whistle a warning,
Broken windmills answer with creaking rusting calls that last forever.
For time is the enemy of broken hearts,
Leaving you breathless as,
Strangers walk hand in hand among the garbage along the shore,
where, Sandpipers Call.
Tumbleweeds play hide and seek,
.....until dawn, in the cemetery on the hill where old cowboys lie,
waiting for Jesus lost in the garbage along the shore.
And Sandpipers mourn for dying doves.
As Tumbleweeds the traveling kind
Remind us that love is blind as they March through broken windows
and open doors, a spray of bloody feathers fall.
Tumbleweeds play hide and seek until dawn
Dust devil's whistle a warning, broken windmills answer with
squeaking rusting calls and they'll sing that way for broken hearts.
Lost forever.
At last the Tumbleweeds, call to the dying Sandpipers, dying in
the rotting garbage and seaweeds strewn along the shore..
Home..
On a walk companioned by my Muse along the sylvan meadows
We wandered away to delightful realms in unclouded ambience
Don’t know how long I rambled warming my fancies in sunset fires
Must be for long, all lights were out, the quiet hamlet lay bathed in sleep
Above me, stood the starry firmament and the half hidden moon
Could see the vast plains stretching before me in moonlight, bare
My heart was flooded with joy, my fancies took to wings
Got drowned in Nature’s serene calm, my spirit lost in drunken ecstasy
In the gentle blowing breeze, the leaves twittered and murmured
All else was quiet and nothing disturbed the serenity of the night
But soon I knew the East wind strengthening around into a gale
And across the moon I could see stragglers of clouds moving past
I sat on a rock, lost, so lost staring into the clear night sky
Wondering how the celestial joy, made manifest by the twinkling stars
My thoughts began floating like a ship over the briny waters
And my temporal settings faded away like a cloud in the horizon
From the nearby woods, I heard the song of a lone night bird
In rising cadence, alone and aloud it fell on my rapturous ears
Was it a nightingale that poured forth that dewy delight?
Was it the same song, Keats heard long ago cascading from the woods?
With my Muse in this unearthly hour let me sit awhile in this solitary bower
To my paper, let my fancies in unbroken crystal streams flow
Wonder if I can rightly recreate the image that my thoughts enfold
How I wish, I could like Coleridge, build a pleasure dome in mid air!
First posted on Nov.28. 2021
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile.6.Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Mark Toney
A little snow and a little rain
Oops
Heavy snow and heavy shower
Ouch
Strong wind with thunder and lightening
Boom
The moon has almost completed its journey
around the world and is still searching for a
comfortable spot to radiate its beaming light.
It searches dark secret places
untie deceptive knots and withdraw secret plugs.
It burst chains and shackles with its powerful light
and smiles at us as it ripples through thick dark clouds
clearing rough spots unveiling secret patches,
repairing painful damages and ironing out crooked paths.
The bold moon is pregnant with rain it’s weeping for the
Mothers, wailing for the children and lamenting over the youths.
Animals are getting jittery they jump and prance in the middle
Of the night as the moon tries to complete its full circle.
Cows are on heat
radiation increases causing mankind to lose their sleep.
They become disagreeable and socially unreliable.
Farmers are anxious too they do not know which beam
The moon will disburse
If it rains moderately the crop will flourish
If it rains heavily the crops will perish
If the north wind blows it will overturn everything in its path
If the east wind blow we will be saved from its terrible wrath.
Prepare the land for the moon’s circle
Gather all the grains in the barns
If you sow corn you will reap corn
If you sow love you will reap love
If you sow peas you will reap peas
If you sow kindness you will reap kindness
If you sow compassion you will reap compassion.
Be prepared the full moon is about to complete its full circle.
©2014 Christine Phillips
2007
*
the country stile
hedged the wild flower meadow
where I sit awhile
*
shadows in the sky-
fluttering across my eye
a brown butterfly
*
on the wind,a bell-
muffled from across the square
raindrops fill the air
*
on the lawn
lily petals timeworn-
summer draws to its close
*
the tiles dusted with snow-
trickle down fills the
rain butt
*
kissing-gate swings-
eternally hitched to you
my heartfelt love
*
in the paddy field
waters of Spring-
green shoots in my heart
*
2008
*
shadows lengthen
chestnuts roast-
winter bides
*
2009
*
Summer peepshow-
snowberries sunbathing -
autumn preview-
*
2010
*
frozen into epigrams
tripping off a brush-
haiga images
*
azalea perfume hints-
yellows the lawn
this summer morn
*
a long parting kiss-
imprinted upon my lips
her lingering heat
*
shades of shadowing fall
highlights the pampas grass-
rose hips ripening
*
2011
*
words left unsaid
drift upon the east wind-
freeze in my heart
*
breeze in trees
tiny moths flutter -
cherry blossoms me
*
no breeze tonight
the trees pose statuesque-
thoughts holds on pause
*
the email opens-
through a veil of tears
a rainbow appears
*
a sunset backlit
sculptures the aboretum-
I ,on 'morrow gaze
*
Indian summer-
out of depression's shadow-
Autumn leaves my heart
*
in my old calendar
her yesterdays-
in tears I reminesce
*
neath the chestnut tree
conkers* abound,all around-
a none-er strikes me
*
*conkers=horse chestnut seeds-provide a schoolyard
autumn pastime-wiki or google for more info