Long Escapees Poems
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(the overhead railway in Berlin with a stop either side the Wall, one in the East, one the West, to be ridden with caution.)
I never took the S Bahn
you could end up on the other side
if you missed your stop and
unintentionally extended your ride.
There were so many stories
about the treatment you could get
when the train was searched
and you and the comrades met.
Every coach was checked
as they did their security round
with very little chance to sit quietly
and hope you wouldn’t be found.
The Stasi were the bogey men
the true inspirers of fear
always aware of the lure
of the west so enticingly near.
Escapees tried so many ways
lured by the call of democracy
ready to risk everything
for the chance of living free.
They said the beatings were severe
with not least the threatened hell
of unlimited hours confinement
in a dank and cheerless Stasi cell
and then the double jeopardy of
posted absent without leave
with the additions punishments
erring squaddies could receive.
No I never rode the S Bahn
that potential magnet to all
to try and sneak on board and
get to the Western side of the wall.
On a grassy verge above the surging rill
she stood fair haired and proud,
three leaf clover substrate at her toes.
Clutching saline bouquets I had plucked
from my neighbours walk-in green house.
Woman of resplendent peerage cast a
pearlescent glance among the swirl-frond
waves that prey on fractured fjords.
At a distance, in her mind.
But not for long before we fled like butterfly
escapees over marshes, mounds and meads.
Shriek from sun-dried swallow as we stumble
awkwardly upon their woodbine nest.
Noonday train fire iron to the fossil
fuel bled caterpillar plain,
rural muzak for a pinpoint tip toe dash
through barren fodder,
spiny thistle scald on insect bitten arch,
splashes are a symbol on our craft
stitch needle knitwear.
Yet I struggled to keep pace on
raw earth sand stone,
crab apple briar tangles by the dozen
hung like plastic refuse obstacle,
but nothing now could halt this headlong
sprint to who knows where.
Date written; 23rd Of December 2020
Date posted to contest ; First Of October 2022
Contest name ; 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15
Sponsor ; Mark Toney
A 26 line poem
Reliving Upside Down
by Odin Roark
The Jungle Gym geodesic glistened,
Afternoon showers dripped,
Languorous droplets fell,
Saturating sand below,
Just like then.
Bench of parents
Reflected memories old,
Stroller wheels struggling,
Obstinate sand as obstacle,
Giggles and screeches
From canopy covered pram,
Bumpy ride for my brother,
His laughter, sheer joy.
Fathers,
Mothers,
Sitters and nannies,
Attentive to children’s every move.
So many eyes saw me
Atop the dome’s iron lattice,
Hanging by my legs,
Seeing the world upside down,
Shouting, “Look at me, Grandpa!”
He didn’t notice this day,
His sudden slumped body,
Dropped the half eaten sandwich
To the ground.
Part of me wanted not to upright my view,
That safety of abstract vision so foreign then,
So understandable now,
So strangely comforting then,
So painful now.
I now straddle atop the bars,
Thinking thirty-three years haven’t made it easier,
Save the bench now replaced
The sand succeeded by concrete,
The tenders and watchers now often of different purpose,
Staring at me not knowing
I’m anything but a nut case.
Some of us just discover
Life’s remembrances
Sometimes prophesy what is to come.
Some, like me, will realize
Their whole adult life is programmed upside down,
Its sophisticated induction lures escapees
Into free-for all playground-workplaces
Where capture so often comes by way of
Pills,
Powder,
Liquid
Needles.
I smile.
Swing down to the ground,
Throw an embrace to Grandpa’s bench,
Look up and shout…
“Reliving upside down moments of love is okay.
Really…
It’s okay.”
Standing silent,stark and black
Its eyeless sockets staring emptily
Over the London skyline
The fiery tomb of so many
Devastated,distraught and dead
Homes that became Hell
Flames roaring hungrily upwards
To devour figures silhouetted at windows
Their outlines sharply etched
In the minds of helpless onlookers
Their screams to re-echo in their tortured nightmares
While the billowing black smoke choked
Those who heeded the fatal advice
To stay indoors.
Tongues of flame licked greedily at the doors
Seeking whom they would devour
Sirens wailed as did escapees and onlookers
In grief and frustration
Battling against the searing heat
Selflessly entering this torch of a tower
To drag to safety those they could
Putting their own lives on the line
The firemen battled on
Until they could do no more
And now the shell is silent as the tomb
The inferno sated and finally suppressed
Anger now flares up to identify
Those who left the community
Defenceless
Against this avoidable tragedy
It was inevitable that the building's shortcomings
Would claim its quota of victims
To the shame of those who should
Have known better and were forewarned.
The refrigerator opened by itself tonight
Weird because I had closed it good and tight
Ketchup bottle fell out to dance along the floor
We watched, expecting a few escapees more
Maybe mustard and jelly would be along shortly
And that apple butter jar that was a bit portly
But nothing else flipped out or seemed at all wrong
The ketchup bottle began a tomato song
We were tomatoes, all round and red.
Loving our life in the garden bed
But we were taken out and crucified
Now we are ketchup, buried deep inside
Oh woe is us, this was a horrible fate.
You do not care; pouring us on a plate
A little respect for our death, you brute.
I said to my husband “that was kind of cute.”
There's no easy way to say this so I'll just be blunt.
Every evening at 8:30 I venture outdoors and I hunt.
I don't slaughter my prey. I just capture them you see,
and then I bring all my captives home with me.
I don't consume my prey. I place them all in captivity.
Now for the rest of their lives their lives belong to me.
I release them all into my 100 gallon fish tank
I then seal the top with a screen. No escapees from my tank.
I don't believe my prisoners, whom I see as my children, feel as captives necessarily.
What I have given them is a wonderful thing. An Utopian Society,
Their environment is perfectly humid and ideal for them.
Two heating pads grace the bottom of my fish tank prison.
An inch or two of fresh soil also lines my prison fish tank's bottom.
All they really need is fresh water for nourishment
but they also enjoy nectar, so I provide also fresh sugar water for them.
Now once daily like a plant I water them.
Decorative fossils, plants and rocks are also displayed on the bottom
of the moss covered heated soil of this most aesthetically pleasing terrarium..
They all have shelter and tunnels that they all can explore
but most important of all, they're all safe from predators.
They have plenty of space to socialize.
More importantly, they have much needed open space so that they can all fly.
and every now and then they display their gratefulness to me
with some of the greatest natural light shows I've truly been honored to see.
They are My Children. I am their Deity.
No I don't feel they feel as captives necessarily.
I believe that in their way, they'll be grateful til their dying day for My Firefly Utopian Society,
Will they pro create?
Well, we'll just have to see and wait.
Disappointment
I read about made people escape the crazy world.
The civilization we call modern life by hiding in a hidden little town in Laos
A place Where they can be irrational on their terms
Sleep when they want to and drink beers when they feel like it.
Eccentric" rich millionaires," in Norway flee to Swiss of all places
A state is so chemically clean of fun and clutter.
The people in Swiss are not impressed by these rich/ poor escapees
Who bitterly and grouchy talk about the high taxes.
The Norwegian's rich eccentricity is about wearing
a morning suit at breakfast
And learning Portuguese from their maids.
Misfits are in a land where no one points and says: Look, they are rich!
"Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
I hope you dance" ~~ Mark Daniel Sanders / Tia M. Sillers ~~
Superseded thought waves not bothering with romance.
Why should I care now completely free, I am going to dance.
My cares are wild nymphs, escapees from worry no longer slaves.
Not bothering with romance, superseded thought waves
I am going to give my willpower a real fighting chance.
Blow my cares to the wind and be free, I am going to dance.
Whenever it’s my time, I’ll survive all this til my final hour.
A real fighting chance, I am going to give my willpower.
I won’t take a single moment for granted my health to enhance.
Carefree as a bird, you guessed it, I am going to dance.
Don’t tell me I am weak, I am strong, my feet well planted.
My health to enhance, I won’t take a single moment for granted.
Wonders happen I won’t believe the worst, In this enormous expanse,
The world revolves around faith, I have my share and I am going to dance,
As they bring in the verdict, I can’t say it will matter, it’ just the first.
In this enormous expanse, wonders happen, I won’t believe the worst.
I am light on my feet, I won’t sit this one out. I am absorbed in a trance,
Nothing can hurt me, I shall overcome, right now I am going to dance,
My word is survive, cant climb a mountain I will climb a hill, there’s no defeat
I won’t sit this one out I am absorbed in a trance, I am light on my feet.
Gypsies
Across a misty channel
Sensor fingers
Stretch
Through foggy, silent waves
Where two souls embrace
In expeditions of speechless discovery
Two minds stand naked,
Face to face,
With wordless words
Each knowing the inner rhyme
Of another soul –
Intimate outside skin and limbs.
Across the barriers of minutes, hours, months
Two silent gypsies wander,
Through heartbeats
They stand, then gaze,
Connected to each other -
Escapees of the spoken word;
Outside the limits of ticking clocks
Two hearts touch
And see the signature of yet another
Self
At the address of the not yet arrived,
Undelivered.
Across the minutes and the moonlight
Pushing past the stealthy march of mysteries
Two fugitives flee holding hands
Leaving footprints
Escaping lines and spaces
Of a calendar;
Two almost strangers stand
At the mystic gates of the unknown -
Today’s unwanted guests
Intruders in tomorrow’s dwelling -
Thieves of time -
Fate’s despoilers.
Across the walls of midnight’s
Crumbling castles
Two wanderers peer into fleeting glimpses
Briefly understanding
The images and ghosts
Taking shape in the mist undefined;
Two stowaways crouch in secret coves,
Hidden from eyes born into mortality
In the warehouse of the borning
To see and not quite
Understand
Young future’s dance.
Across all barriers of time and space
Two gypsies touch outside galaxies to identify
Vague daylight outlines- dim midnight contours -
Embracing imprints,
Acknowledgment of events to come -
Words still unspoken;
Two souls run past the morning
Then return in recognition
For they now stand
Outside of themselves -
Vagabonds of facts
Nomads escaping demands for proof in black and white.
Great minds get the memo.
Gypsy Kaleidoscope
Mystic, mystical, magic gypsy
Spins a halcyon kaleidoscope on white horizon’s
Calypsos leaping in crystal canticles
Erases darkness of the neon midnight sun.
In polar solstice fireworks of ruby throated flaming vermilion
Solar windstorms paint an artic canvass in sapphire frost -
Electric mischief hums in flashing emerald rose
Like phosphorus disturbed excitement from a garnet star.
A razzle dazzle of cerise surges, bounding through carmine flashes,
In bewitching specks of lemon citrine bursts
Like transparent wings of dragonflies
Charged with joy to release diaphanous rose dust.
Uncatchable glitzy shards crystalline dart -
Icy silver gilded lilac bonfires sizzle
Coloring midwinter far north cobalt dreams
Gathered in fluorescent enchantment of captured opal fire.
Phoenix nomad on fiery wings, that never weary,
Basks in flashing flickers - escapees of the spectrum -
Sends a spiraling cinnabar kiss – dazzling topaz light -
For a magnetic midnight jubilee.
8-21-21
Contest: Kaleidoscope
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke