Long End over end Poems
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The old Ford truck was dustin’ the gravel roads that day
I was listening to some pounding seventies hits
My second bottle was about empty by my thirst
Nothing much else to do on a hot dry southern day
But drive, drink, and listen to the AM radio
Cruising the hills, hairpin curves, and old wooden bridges
On this particular day, I was feeling just fine
A pint of vodka, grapefruit juice, and a little weed
Lived so far back in the woods, that was my company
A troubled, poor loner, with an old blue pick-up truck
I had driven those back roads over a hundred times
A stop at a bootlegger and a lovely dream ride
This particular day, the tie rod end just broke loose
The steering wheel spun like a top in my fumbling hands
I dived in the floorboard as we went end over end
My Ford and I landed stuck between two cedar trees
I remember the quit ‘cept for the radio
Doors were stuck, so I kicked out the windshield and crawled out
After climbing about halfway up the embankment
I heard the radio still playing back in the truck
It was a Lynyrd Skynyrd classic, my favorite
“Gimme Back My Bullets”
So, I went back down the hill to where the old Ford sat
I climbed on the hood and reached through the shattered windshield
I shut the ignition off and pocketed the keys
As I started back up the embankment, I just laughed
Didn’t matter if the key was on, the truck was totaled
When I reached the road, I flagged an approaching sedan
It was two girls from school looking real scared when they stopped
Trying to look my best with blood running down my face
I said, “You ladies headed my way, by any chance?”
They looked at each other and one of them said, “Where’s that?”
Brushing the broken glass out of my long raven hair
I dusted off my shirt and the tucked it into my jeans
Looking back down at my old truck pinned between those trees
I bent down and looked in the driver’s window and smiled
“Well it don’t matter babe, as long as it’s not here.”
Ended up walking home that day, laughing all the way
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
Primitive stirrings tinge my sleep.
Dawn’s grey mist welcomes my awakening coherence.
I traverse ice bound fields of summer’s past glory,
in search of winged game from the north.
I search for tundra dwellers that flee winter’s bleak death.
I seek the airborne migrants,
who call upon the brisk sting of morning chill.
Decoys are arranged on the shore of a vast waterway.
A believable trap is set.
I camouflage under the protection of a dormant tree.
Yellow grass, evidence of the forgotten warmth of longer days,
shields me from sharp eyes.
Peering out from the spent vegetation, I wait.
Scanning horizons with eyes and ears for the anticipated geese.
A soul chilling cold seeps beneath my layers.
My fingertips numb beneath stilled gloves.
They clutch the metallic instrument of death in my lap.
I fight urges to flee this hostile and frozen landscape.
Ice islands float about the closing waters of the reservoir,
pushed by stinging winds.
The breeze rustles the decayed plant life of the bottoms.
Finally I hear the call,
a shrill squawk of defiant life.
The gaggle approaches my deliberate display.
I bring the gun to braced shoulder.
The safety comes off.
A gliding bird is singled out as prey.
A fevered rush of frantic energy swelled through my rigid body.
Time condensed before untaken breath.
The metal trigger wrote smoke and flash to the once silent scene.
The acrid smell of gunpowder over fresh snow brought delight.
The bird’s flight was shattered.
End over end and downward the feathered being fell.
Bolting to it’s place of final rest,
I did not hesitate.
The last remnants of life I took with unashamed hands,
Ending the suffering of the magnificent creature.
Blood stained the pure backdrop of crystal waters and fine snow.
We were alone on the frozen shore.
In tribute to the fragile life I had ended,
I would with gratitude and awe,
make feast of the succulent flesh of my kill.
I awoke this morning to find a foot and half of snow all around covering the ground. I
quickly got dressed wearing several layers of clothes. Plus a winter mask to protect my ears
and nose. Snow equals very cold weather. I thought about you, wishing you were here with
me - us together. Yes us together to act silly in this snow so white, and to run from each
other having a snow ball fight. I made sure I grabbed my I-phone and then slipped my
gloves on.
So bright was the pure white snow. I'm just glad the wind didn't blow. I was ready to
begin. I would keep my promise to Charma and build her a snowman.
First you start with a single snowball. The size of a big softball. Not too small. Then
you place it on the ground rolling it around; rolling it end over end. I was determined to
build this snowman for my friend. Round and around on the ground, bigger picking up more
and more snow. Building snowmen you can never out grow. Bigger and bigger it gets until it
is as round and high as a tree. Three giant snowballs for his body you have to admire. I
stacked his giant round snowballs on top of the other which were quite heavy. I managed by
myself which wasn't easy.
Your snowman wasn't complete. I wanted to make him so real like he had a "heart
beat." I went around to my back yard to find a fallen tree limb. I had to have arms for him!
After I put both stick-arms on either side; I returned back inside because there were other
things that must be applied.
Continued in Pt 2
Note: Here's Pt 1 of your snowman poem Charma:)
Where, when, and how will it happen?
If I ask questions, I receive questions
Of adoration. Silence ensues.
In worriment, I catch a look
On my lady's face, and come
To realize her head is spinning.
Mediums between tongues tumble,
Tangled in arms, clinging between rings
As glances unravel social instability.
Affection answers hope valiantly,
Subsiding gracefully as
A raging fire would on a cold, dark night.
My lady follows in smiles and laughs,
Free from the shade, dancing
With no resolve, encasing
The components of a natural beauty.
I graze curves with hungry hands
And drive home, loving insatiably.
Although flames feed the hungry superfluously,
The lovely lairs where guardians wage war
Lie unknown to the conscious. The scrupulous
Droves defend onslaughts against entrances.
True love is angelic, demonic,
Coaxing the levity of everyday life.
End over end, minute over minute,
Medleys stir and absolve while forging
With dormant love pleas. Please
Don't leave me here, tumbling
Alone among questions of silence,
Turbulence, trust and wanton reason.
Everything is solvent
As the moon looms over the horizon,
But words which wander wonderfully
In person parade wistfully
In absence and shed
Tears when no one is looking.
Freedom
The world is spinning upside down
Take your beliefs
And toss them outside the window
Let your hair flow free
Raise your hands and shout
It's another day and we're runnin'
Livin' life on the edge
High on life and high on speed
We're a trailblazing people
Take a breath
Can you feel it?
Everything is going black and white
The lights are flashing
Reality is bouncing before your eyes
Let your muscles tense
Everything is going end over end
Livin' life on the edge
High on life and high on speed
We're a path creating people
Take a breath
Can you smell it?
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Feel the wind in your hair
The caress of the wild side
It's quite beautiful
But not as beautiful
As the freedom we allow ourselves
Take a chance, take a swing
Can't get a grand slam without trying
And take a deep breath
We're going again
The world is spinning upside down
The lights are flashing
So toss them outside the window
Let your muscles tense
Raise your hands and shout
Livin' life on the edge
High on life and high on speed
We're a path creating people
Take a breath
Can you go again?
It is the sound of descending snowflakes
Stumbling end over end, lightly so
It is the rhythm of the air
Breathing softly through sienna coloured hair
If you listen carefully without a breath
You may hear it within the echoes across the waters
Of the haunting melodies of the loons
As they sing of their fragile dreams
If you cup your hands together, you might feel it
In the lightness of air between your fingertips
And soft as the brushing of new-born feathers across your skin
Unbreakable, and yet as supple as teardrops mingled with a kiss
It can be seen in fleeting glimpses
Within the calm reflections over mirrored waters
In the lone brief moment of dawn
When the first rays of light wink to kiss the surface
If you desire it can be tasted
In those foremost kisses of warm summer rains
In the tantalising caresses of mist whispering over you body
As you lie within the sultry breath of moonlight
It is the scent in the air
Of serenity drifting across the leaves of grass
It is the essence that lingers
So long after the first kiss
Form:
Confusion sets in
Along with it the sense of vertigo and spinning wheels
Tumbling end over end and from side to side
Slipping through the cracks in the floor
I’m lost again
Forgotten all over again
Unforgiven one last time
And still the church bells ring out to echo the tale of my soul
With its sweet ballad of woe
And crying eyes and flushed cheeks
Petals flakes falling softly to the ground
Crushed beneath feet and booted heels and crooked canes
But my heavy eyes and slumping shoulders burdened so
By this weight upon them both
Throws down the gauntlet of dreariness deep
“God help me now . . .”
And no there is no answer for one so wicked as I
No answer at all for I deserve none don’t you think?
“Well to hell with you God!”
My head sags to my chest and my eyes close
The lids so heavy
I feel the sense of gravity on my face
And still there is no answer
“Who needs you anyway, you never answer . . .”
No,
No flower petals . . .
. . . . either
I dream into tomorrow….
Because I can not see yesterday
I lie awake ponder forever
I see all that was and will be
If creation decrees
I dream into tomorrow
because I can’t see beyond my tragedies
I stand and watch the car drive away
With it goes tomorrows aspirations
A smile echoes in my aftermath
I turn to watch the photo fall
End over end like stills stuck in a projector
Imagery shatters, tumbling frame and all
I sweep the shards of the broken glass
I have ruined the families memories
I slump to my knees with a sigh
I trace the sharp edges
I feel the need to cut way my decay
With shards, I have found in my yesterday
I dream into tomorrow….
Because I can not see yesterday
I still here pondering, still
I see all that was and will be
as creation decrees
I dream of tomorrow
because I can’t see beyond my tragedies
I dream only of the coming rain
Because the sunshine of yesterday has faded all away.
A cardboard box tumbles
Down the dark and empty street.
Cold gray houses stand watch,
No life within, their voices stilled,
Their wide eyes vacant.
On the porches furniture shrouds
Flap and tear in the bitter wind.
Dry leaves swirl and whisper.
Do these sentinels remember?
Do they see a different time?
Surely they are waiting
For the children’s laughter,
The banging screen door,
The clatter of skateboards,
People calling from the street?
Do they long for summer -
Sweet, salty air blowing
Through their open doors,
The smell of beach roses,
The squeaking of a porch swing?
Do they recall a warmth of sun
Soaking into their brittle,
Cold, arthritic bones?
For now, though, they stand waiting,
Staring down the empty street,
Watching the cardboard box
Tumbling end over end
Along the dusty road,
Watching the dry leaves swirl
And spin into small tornadoes,
Watching for summer.
Drenching louder hunger with an answer to care, you know a senseless prayer.
Tell them to mind it, this, curious as murder with another more vengeful purpose.
How then taken away could I exist?
Never should I know, blindly convinced that an answer without guilt sits guarded.
Drenched and proud, bless this blasphemous pen..until the ink runs end over end.
Tell them to find sin, this, furious and cornered with another for vengeful purpose.
Drenching louder hunger with an answer to care, you know a senseless prayer.
Tell them to mind it, this, curious as murder with another more vengeful purpose.
How then taken away could I exist?
Never should I know, blindly convinced that an answer without guilt sits guarded.
Drenched and proud, bless this blasphemous pen..until the ink runs end over end.
Tell them to find sin, this, furious and cornered with another for vengeful purpose.