Long Entwined Poems

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Premium Member 'before My Pen Is Hushed'

Before my flowing, poetic pen is hushed in Quietus,
And I have reached my journey's end with folded hands;
            Departed into my dreamless sleep beneath violets,
Let me write one everlasting, eternal, immortal verse;
                  Of the ravaged garden of my life.

      I want to hear a bird song when I quietly glide away,
With a sigh, I will lay my pale form down peacefully;
            I have willed my Keepsakes and my musing poems,
The Angel of death, will take my hand into another realm;
                  And the drums of time will cease.

      Oh, it has been a life full of happiness entwined with sad,
I have travelled many different roads to get to Tranquillity;
           The chapters of my life are full of the dead and undead,
Memories of childhood, family, friends and pets I loved;
                  The scars of life stab my soul.

      I do not fear death and I am ready to go through the gate,
But I will miss nature, the woods and the waters moving;
            And as I walk the silent passage alone to my eternal night,
Think of me as being set free and soaring high up above;
                  I lived a life weather-stained with tears.

      Leaving life is something we all must do; it is written,
I was held by a thread in this earthly realm until that last gasp;
            Now, all I know is the peacefulness of a leafy tree above,
Drifting blue clouds and rain falling gently on my resting place;
                  I was a shadow on the wall of time.

      Do not weep over my eternal grave heartbroken my dears,
I have followed the beautiful Angels footsteps to heaven;
           My poetry is timeless, ageless, and will always remain,
I have shed this earth bound life and I am a butterfly set free;
                  I drank from the deep blue cup of life.

      So come, dear hearts and plant some pretty flowers in Spring,
I am at last united with all my beloved who have gone before;
             Touch my name and remember me for my beauty,
And although my life was but a whisper, I loved every moment;
                  Now, I exist in another realm.

____________________
August 26, 2015


Poetry/Epic/'Before My Pen is Hushed'
Copyright Protected, ID 15-1216-704-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

Submitted into FGI  Blog Special - Epic
Brian Strand

Podium Place 1
Form: Epic


Burn Victim

What happened?

I bolt awake, the heat of the fire 
Still burning in my brain.

Oh, it was just a dream.

Or was it?  I look at my skin, 
Realize it’s black and bloody all at once
Cracked, peeling.

I sniff, 
The whisper of smoke still in my nose,
My hair.

A tear rolls down my pitted cheek
As I remember, like I always do,
After I wake up.
Reliving that night.

The last thing I remember,
I was
Home, entwined in your arms
(your fingers were entwined, too, in the hair I’m stroking now).

The heat between our bodies
So strong, that I pushed you away;
I regret it now.
(I just wanted a little space.)

Because the heat then became suffocating, consuming,
As you rolled over and said
this wasn’t the same anymore.
I couldn’t breathe.

Soon, I was sweating, 
100 degrees and climbing,
as you got up and packed your things
then left the room.

The slam of the front door
Was the catalyst.

My heart was the match,
And I the fuel....
 I exploded from the inside out-
The flame ripped me open,
My skin started to blacken and smoulder.

Stop drop and roll?
They never taught us what to do
In a human inferno.

In desperation, I laid there on the bed
You and I shared
My tears nothing 
but puffs of smoke 
as they fell uselessly upon my skin.

The tears I’m crying now
In the hospital bed
Remembering
Are no more productive...

But my dear friend sitting next to me
Who pulled me out of the flames
Is there to dry them
And to console me

Telling me I still look beautiful
the wounds will heal
And that you aren’t worth them anyway.

I now know what I have to do 
once I can leave this place.

Months later,
My burns have closed, now only scars remain.
I walk up the street to the house you and I once shared,
Now only a pile of rubble.

Picking my way through the charred remains of our bedroom,
A curtain scrap there, a chunk of headboard there,
A stray blackened sock,
I stop, and kneel down in the ashes.

I begin to sift through the ashes, the memories, with my finger,
Both erasing the past,
And bringing it to life all at once,
Until I have found it.

A blade of grass.
One.
Standing tall, strong,
And unapologetically green.

In the middle of the ashes,
With the ruins of our life together all around me,
I delicately clean the area around the blade of  grass 
with my finger, and

I smile.

The Askance Chapter 5 Part 3c

And we shall not love, or have affection be grown from within
Simply solace to embrace into, in my world and in your dreams”

{And my heart goes to her… my every self is in willingness
Closing my eyes for a second, I can no longer see the darkness
From time whence the last to even remember myself as whole
I realised had since, tranquility was lost to me a long time ago
Every one image in my head came and simply vanishes along
Almost as though with everything happening hasn’t once belong
And I relish this moment of heavy lightness in broken reasons
Not until, the lingering curse to remember the last were to snap my eyes open
Sylvius’s words now stains like blood upon silk in my mind
The magical moments we owed to ourselves is never to be time
I turn away from her, with my silence buried in deep remorse
My every reason for love, I must never allow for the cause
And I hear her breathing, respiring closer yet closer from behind
With her hands embracing me, love is only more pain to remind
I have to break apart, yet wanted so much this moment as well
For I know, cheating time will time be unforgivable to dwell
With newfound strength, I return to face her inattentively
Forming confusing words, I will myself to speak voice-fully
And just as I parted my lips , she encloses mine into her own
Kissing me so deeply with a passion so intense, were unknown
Lost for a second time, I surrender myself to this given while
Returning her kiss without so much as a thought somehow
With every sense becoming more to be enigmatic in every way
I surrender myself to my darkest desire I’m once to keep at bay
And I melted into her subtle kiss… her vulnerability so close
To be entwined with her, of moments upon fire to still be froze
Her hands were thus removing my armour, baring open my chest
Of mine as well, feeling her lean body before finally resting upon her breast
So filled of intensity were us exhausted from everything else
Did we even remember if there ever is love just as well?
And this one conviction is simply the notion to jolt me awake
A one reality in our path, which never must happen before too late
And I broke us apart, fearing more for her then I do myself
Had there been a way to trade lives, my soul I would sell?
And I emerged from the waterfall, not once returning around
Of waters upon skin… were in fact of tears to be found}
© Joel Lee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Music In the Dark -- Puccini

To tell the truth,
I was no fan of opera, in my youth...

When did it come...?   That turning point....?
I do not know, ........
            perhaps I grew, to understand...
            a wrenching tale his stories told
                                    can grab the heart... ...grip fast ...and hold!
Puccini came, from out of nowhere
It finally made more sense to me...in spite of those who scoff, and shake their heads
Alive once more....this man long dead
          has stirred my soul, ........and I was lead, into the clouds, where heaven lives!

I became a fan, ...and realized, such music lives within the blood
It rushes in, and floods my veins, just as it did to those so long ago
An aria... then a divine duet....Rodolpho and his sweet coquette
  connects me to a vine entwined, 
                           with those who listenend, long before my time.

Sitting in the dark tonight, I pause to think
 who would have dreamed
           how tears in the eyes, have formed a thousand rivers?
                 Long through the ages, still coiling with emotion
                   devotional artists, sing of such rapture
                          into the rafter's to countless reception...
A lover's kiss, the singing with prose
Skins turning cold....from the chill beauty holds
Tears to unfold,  hypnotic poses
A bliss such as this
    has left generations.... breathless 


As the curtain is closed........ I must compose myself


Old music that echoes, as it has for centuries
   bouncing off these walls....as I'm torn into two....
                 mingling with my heart, the old with the new

The rafter's of time, have absorbed one more time
Two tragic lovers, declaring in song
Throngs have been sung to.....hearts have been wrung
                       
I listen, I watch, as lovers fade from the light
                in poignant beauty,  drifting away...
                      ...........dying in the distance, ........
                             as will Mimi, 
                                 leaving her love behind....alone with a shattered heart
                                                  as death tears them apart
                                                               leaving my eyes brimming over
                                                                     with tears in the dark


_________________________________
 "Music By Puccini"
Form: Narrative

Chowder Horn For My Dad

Our roots run deep into the Philadelphia bells of acoustical waves of your musical melodies, sound in my distant ear, the sailors storm on the wooden ferry I ride, into the depths, of a swamps crossing, saved by the mind, we traveled together with a song in a line, oceans wake we travel across to a hay ride wedding and chowder horns of blessings we dine.
    
Rings true to the bells of a flashing red nose of St. Nicholas flight we sit and fight occupied by the Christmas Night.  Songs we would sing from an Old English Story carried on by our families from generations ago.  A musical history of wooden winds along with an Indian Pipe we remember from back then, the long journey of the stalagmites of millions of years you shown to me.  Nature we live to see, what's right in front of me, horses we gallop to the lake filled with trout, and into the rivers of the Chattanooga with a stripped root beer of truth in its colors are bound into a saltwater taffy candy entwined.  

Built from the foundation, a brick and a pebble, we rise through the years of lessons we learned, the barrel of two guns and logs of fire on a cold night.
A loss so great grief long and hard two people so young and so soon they were gone.  Torn apart into a new life and it begins with the truth that lies beneath.  From the strength above we pulled through.  

Snowy rooftops and a seasons leaf, roaring rapids and a bridge line of cobble, a Water Wheel and Indian Tales in a Grey Stone Prayer of a white candle lit.  We move along through it all filled with adventure and love carrying the music within to find ourselves back to the oceans again deep in our hearts.  The Tropics we know.  

Constructing the intelligence broad waters rise and a house from the 20's you kept alive, hard as it was a paradise you built, home you always were where ever you went.  

My heart sank when the news came, I never have thought of a day without you.  Brave I was with all that you survived, I made it through, darkness came and they attacked with secrets people never knew, I almost died, but came through because of you.

As years went by then at last comes a son I thought who lives in the memory of you.  Lessons we learned will carry on to him too.  Bless our lives with many more of you.  As I sit here today missing you, all I can do is carry on...and hope to make you proud as I am of you.


Leather Piecemeal

As mortal veils dissolved, our bodies merged in the ossuary's somber symphonies, two mistress awakened by the velvet-wrapped cadavers, our disinvested hands tracing syllabic patterns across the olive verdure of our skin, as maelstroms of lipstick tormented our intimate geometry. Kissing amidst ribcages and scavenged lullabies, our filial ***** tingled with an unresolved finitude, lost choruses awaking from armature wounds as compatibilities laid bare.

The azure gemstones of our sweat-drenched pores harmonized with the relics scattered about us, a Kolossus of Korova consumed by the clingy threads of our detachment. Quivering heartbeats elevated the ambiance, suspending the predisposition of neglect, while scratches on the cryptic monument inscribed our entwined destiny. I sulfured lips, poised at the sorceress-close mic.

A snarl-like grin spread like a firebrand, smoldering with provocative ferocity as I ravished the venue with tongue-flicked promises, conjuring the haunted echoes of our ecstatic love. Ghosts of our abandoning, whispers of our surrendered reveries, and shadowy allusions to lost frenzies began to undulate, like an eerie tide, through every crevice and cavity of the place, leaving only the acrid tang of our desire and the spectral whisper of "evermore".

Laughter and teardrops entwined like conspirators, as our kidnapped captives, vacant-eyed and warily bound, cringed within their gilded cages, their suffocated pleas dissolving into silken suppliance, amidst this twilight tableaux pyxis o madness, we beheld each other, our psuches conflated in a whirlwind of circumstance and whimsy, our gazes piercing the veil of regalities, and our breasts, beating in tandem, like a tempo of tender complicity.

Fore in that golden instant, innocence and abomination, zero and infinity, coalesced, and we knew, without equivocation, that ours was an amour born of estrangement, grotesquery, and co-creativity. In the subterranean realm of our laughter, a spangled whirlpool stirred, drawing all else, including reason, into its poisoned vortex, as we whispered, like doomed refugees, into the bitter wind, "pour l'amour de tous les diables".

Fervently the serrated teeth on the saw rang the death knell, twisting countenance rictus, then close casket, we heard wedding bells, as we crafted a hellhole requiem of faceless visages.


Boom.

Stand Up For Our Freedom

I got drunk by my self last night
There was just nothing else to do
I told myself that itll be alright
If I could just get that memory out of sight

My eyes are half closed
From staring down the sun
I’ve been down in the dumps
I’ve had a lot of intoxicating fun

And I’m here to tell you
That life goes on
No matter what happens
No matter how much you hurt come dawn

Remember that hangovers are only temporary
No matter how much they hurt
Sometimes you won’t be able
To have memories of which you revert

The fun is what
Drinking is all about
Remember that yourself
You should never doubt

Instead of drinking in sorrow
And self pity
Get drunk with some girls
Who are kind of pretty

If the good looking ones won’t accompany
In your quest for intoxication
There are always the desperate
In this great nation

Sex is a symbol
Which has made America fine
Naked bodies
So sensually entwined

We are a country 
Now based on rules
Created by the greed
Of those political fools

Our rights shall be taken
With the swiftness of the wind
We will not even know
For our perception has thinned

We no longer appreciate
Our gift to be free
And our forefathers
Would most likely agree

We need to stop and rewind
What has our country came to
I think alteration 
Is far overdue

We need to remember
What the armed forces died for
Now 
More and more

Disgracefully we are becoming
More concerned about police force
What has our country came to?
Shouldn’t we feel at least some remorse?

Pay attention to the news
And you shall see
That this proud country
Is not what it used to be

What have we done?
Is there any way to defend our rights?
There is
You’ve just got to fight

For you must make a stand
This is our home land
We mustn’t have empathy
About this subject at hand

Those who have the power to take action
Have the responsibility to do so
Meaning the tyranny on the horizon
We must overthrow

If we wait too long
We shall face monarchy
Yet rules must be made
For we need not anarchy

Remember what life
Is all about
Freedom is something
We must now bail out

So stand up 
Be proud
And in unity 
Say aloud

We will not fade into the night
We will not
Be taken without a fight

We’ve done it before
We must do it again
Once more our freedom
Calls for our duty to defend
Form: Concrete

-an Ode To Jesus From Simon of Cyrene- 1

(Part One) The first few hours.
I was just a ordinary man
caught up in the unruly throng,
The mob jeering and ranting
insults on the road along,
I pushed and shoved my way
through all the furore
to see what all the fuss and melee
was all about at the fore.

My heart shrunk as I eyed
in total dismay that ghastly sight,
From what befell my eyes, that Friday morn
befouling that dawning day with blight,
Was a Man sparsely clad, and bloodied soiled,
And about fifteen and a half hands tall,
His nut brown shoulder length hair
now caked and matted in disarray.

The way His hair and beard
was parted in the middle down
i knew that Man then
was belonging to the Nazarene Sect,
And brutally entwined upon His head
was a brambled thorny crown,
What more torturous and bestial
torment can a naked body be subject,
His body oozed and dripped sweat
all mixed with blood and grime,
And even more the gruesome
was the criss-cross lashes mark,
So visible, as He staggered along
on that arduous path that morning time, 
Dragging a fifteen cubit long sycamore
torture-stake on His shoulder, bared stark.

His back bent and racked in obvious pain
bearing that one and a half hand in diameter log,
Then when, He stumbled in His stride
and before the Roman Centurion Him wanted to flog,
For that Man's wretched agony
and pain, I no longer could bear to stand, 
Then in haste that Man to help
I shed my outer garments and tossed it to another man,

I stayed the Centurion's hand
and hoisted that stake upon my own broad back,
For I was Simon an Grecian man from Cyrene
and favoured arduous labourous toil, 
When that frail worn-out Man turned
with blue-grey eyes and looked at me,
I saw in that look, relief and gratitude
then I knew, I did just right,

He sadly smiled as He said these words to me,
"Do you too now drink from this bitter cup?",
And added, "You shall indeed sip
its rim with Me to the end of time",
I knew Him then no ordinary, man could be
His voice so gentle and mild,
And I truly then wandered who this Man could be?
to suffer so cruelly, in the hands of man,

When He lightly placed His hand
upon my shoulder, I felt the load lightened,
as if I walked with a feather
on my back, and not His gruesome burden no more,
As we together trudged, on that path
that road, to Calvaria, that place of death, 
I then knew that Man at my side
Was a Holy-man by His touch alone.

How to Catch a Witch

In the heart of the forest, where shadows creep, 
Where whispers of darkness bind all in sleep, 
A tale unfolds, of a much-feared witch, 
With eyes like the void and a malevolent twitch.

By the edge of the village, where children dare not play,
The elders recall what the old tomes say: 
"To catch a witch, you must be brave, 
And venture where the lost souls wave."

Gather 'round, young hearts of night, 
With flickering candles that hold back the fright, 
Listen closely to the words that bind, 
For the witch, dear friends, is not far behind.

First, find a mirror, cracked and worn, 
Reflects all your fears, where shadows are born. 
At midnight's stroke, let your courage ignite, 
For it's said she appears, in the pale silver light.

Mix salt with the ashes from last summer's fire, 
Sprinkle it gently, let courage inspire. 
For witches are drawn by the scent of despair, 
But salt binds the spirits, keeps evil aware.

Next, weave a wreath of thorny vines, 
Crimson and tangled, with signs of the times. 
Place it upon your door with care, 
For only the foolish would dare to compare.

Gather some friends, with hearts full of thrill, 
For the witch feasts on fear, on dread, and on chill. 
Hold hands in a circle, chant low and slow, 
"Come forth from the darkness, oh spirit of woe."

If the air turns thick, if the shadows conspire, 
If the howl of the wind begins to grow higher, 
Know that she's coming, you'll sense her near, 
With a laugh that could chill even the bravest of deer.

But do not be frightened, stand firm, stand tall, 
For you’ve called her forth, now heed to the call. 
With courage entwined and a dappled fright,
Face the dark force with all of your might.

And if you should glimpse her, with warts and with claws, 
With a grin sharp as knives and a rancid breath’s jaws, 
Do not look away, hold your gaze steady and true, 
For witches can vanish, if they see fear in you.

As dawn paints the sky with a whisper of gold, 
Wrap her in silver, let her secrets unfold. 
In shadows she lingers, but power you'll find, 
For wits and the brave can leave her behind.

So, heed this advice, young hearts of the night, 
For the witch is a puzzle wrapped tight in your fright. 
With a mixture of courage and wisdom so bright, 
You'll catch her but remember: never leave out the light.
Form: Rhyme

For God's Sake

FOR GOD’S SAKE

When living "...of the world" despair unfurled.
I lost sight of heaven’s glorious pearl.
Truths shouted out from the depths of my mind.
God’s loving whispers to me stayed entwined.

Higher education became my goal.
Scientific teachings soon took its toll.
My mind strung out on various theories. 
My soul, in doubt, became very weary.

But faith persevered and earned the prize.
My trust in God was more realized.
Despite what seemed to be a worldly life,
The soul of me soon felt less strife.

A professor asked my Evolution class,
How can creationism truly be?  Alas.
Scriptures say God created…in seven days. 
Right?  Who shall rule in this duel of ways?

The Bible contradicts itself, He said.
His words from there, down doubts highway sped.
Evolutionary theory is certainly logical.
Creationism seems to be mythological.

Then came the clincher, clarity disparity.
The Bible says God created in seven days.
After the seven days, confusion starts to blaze.
First it says it’s finished; then, it starts to haze.

During that lecture, I was compelled to know.
Believing God created; what did the Bible show?
I prayed to grasp truths as man’s theories grew.
I did not choose to tell faith in God adieu.

At that moment, nothing else mattered.
I refused to let my faith be shattered.
That professor, on that day, changed my life.
My golden goal grew to be God’s true light.

Creation pondering absorbed my essence.
A lifetime flew without great wealth’s presence.
I was blessed with children; around them joy revolved.
But there was no rest until those questions were solved.

Strongly stayed upon life’s different path.
Even, when disrespect judged me with wrath.
I loved my children and bore the wait.
Seeking, the answers congealed…my fate.

My life was spent pondering this topic.
When finished, at last, truth embraced God…logic.
Then, my soul found rest from its weary state.
Thus, in the world…not of the world, I wait.


© Dane Smith-Johnsen
March 10, 2010
Poetic form:  Free Verse

The results of the pondering are posted on Redbubble.com  =>
http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3355478-genesis-decoded

For complete discussions, go to =>
http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3479742-bridging-the-gap-between-
science-and-religion-the-hypothesis
Form: Couplet

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