Long Excavated Poems
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Suddenly everybody was awaken by the strong tremors
of the early April's earthquake...walls falling all around them,
dust suffocating them as they ran out to the debris-covered streets;
with no slippers and shoes on their cold feet;
people of all ages with their robes and pajamas on...screaming,
running scared with horror-stricken faces, not wanting
to be buried alive and actually die in the rubble!
L'aquila, the mighty, has crumbled into the dust,
and by the dauntless spirit of its people, it must be rebuilt:
as it arose from destruction and returned to dazzle;
the earthquakes that preceded were unpredictable,
but this one was announced by a concerned scientist,
who warned of the disaster, but authorities ridiculed him and didn't heed
the warning, but rather called him an imbecile!
O L'aquila, unless your bells hadn't rung, not everyone could have been told!
This medieval town of L'Aquila was besieged by armies,
but they never conquered it and its invincibility angered its enemies;
now, it is crumbling, shaken by the fury of the inclement Nature;
devastation is seen everywhere: churches with a toppled bell tower
or cupola...castles and historic buildings heavily damaged;
corpses strewn along the dusty streets...people searching for survivors:
digging with their bare hands to save lives, and some are found alive!
O L'Aquila, highest eagle on this devastated hill, see all the tears shed!
A dog, limping and bleeding, seems lost among dusty stones and faces not so recognizable,
is he looking for his owner; and over two-hundred fifty bodies not yet excavated...
how can he find him? By Heaven's mercy, someone lead him to the piles of rubble,
to let him sniff in the spot where he is buried...hoping he'll be alive, not dead!
And why should everyone despair?...Isn't life worthier than those lost art treasures?
L'Aquila, the mighty, has crumbled into the dust and light is erased from the taciturn sky;
I weep like others, and my lamentation echoes in the doomed valley when peace was audible!
O L'aquila, more glory awaits you: arise from the ruins and your greatness won't fade away!
This poem is dedicated to the unfortunate people of L'aquila and those of the surrounding
villages that were devastated by the earthquake of early April.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
A young tourist went into an old castle for site seen,
he became fascinated by the antique structure, the Gothic sculptures and the beautiful renaissance paintings hanging on the stone walls, artistically.
Some people moved in groups around tour guides, while others sat in the entrance hall majestically.
he took memorable pictures along the way, but got carried away by the multitude of people he had seen on his way in,
Interactively,
As he ventured deeper in curiosity, the lights became dimmer in visibility then the tranquillity of his mind grew shallow in inquisitiveness, gradually.
So he decided to abort his mission and return back to a common room, he turned around confidently but found himself still facing the same direction surprisingly.
It was at that moment, he realised he was now missing both in his dreams and also in reality as well, certainly.
Afterwards he tried to retrace his step from myths back to legend but his road map had become outdated hence the company of voices he once relied on while coming in, now sounded like mere rumours, on his way out, practically.
He scrolled through the pictures he had captured, although they all looked different initially but had now broken out through the thick walls, because all the stones looked the same in preview and his uncertainty had set them free in review, unfortunately.
He called out for help but his voice echoed reflectively around the concave mirrors of his mind in frequencies, repeatedly.
He began living a past life suddenly, trying to recall events because even the present time, had escaped his consciousness, relatively,
the only way forward for him presently, was to head backwards futuristically.
Since he did not have the plan 2 the castle, he made a plan out of the castle, by using two old stones, to start a fire, like a cave man, evolutionarily.
Thereafter he was crowned the king of the castle assumably because the tour guides began tracing the smoke immediately,
for they feared that the throne was about to be set on fire accidentally,
Finally the tourist was excavated out of the past into a present time frame, for "the stone that the builders rejected, had become the chief corner stone of the building" comprehensively...
The End...
I can’t afford for this one to fail
She was just a stranger
And somehow we ended up in the same
Space and time
Now, mother nature is taking over once more
And I am admiring your attributes
The strands of your hair
The hazel circle around her eyes
Creates a hypnotic state of mind
Telling her all my secrets
And sharing all my treasures
Hoping this was not a deceptive choice
As your hips are parallel to the skyline
A path that started in 1900 has finally converged
Which was first the thought or the path?
Is she the one of my dreams or not?
As a lovely smile warms its direction to me from that beautiful face
The chance meeting was an ingenious plan
To heal the battered dreams caused by the one before her
Glimpses on the pain, just a blur now
A professional hunter
She shot down all the competition
Without a quiver or arrow
You are
The difference between a soul and a soul mate
Alone and love
One to the other the moment we met
Scatter the roses around this bedroom
Let’s save the beauty of this moment
My words fail to capture,
Her tender beautiful feature,
I’d rather wait as a mute spectator
As beauty beg to be define by her
It is her signature
The owner of the promissory note for my heart
Is that the reason why my heart has been aching all this time
I excavated my town
And finally I had good luck in an unexpected and fortunate discovery in you
Swirling burgundy around the crystal
Dinner by candlelight
Taken aback by the glow
Nothing remains but the fiery flame around us
Eternal beauty and grace there she is vulnerable as a tear drop
Tears of joy because she gave me a shot
I used to wonder where love lives
Would I hear drum patterns if I got nearer
For sure Lady Loneliness is no longer here
It is been more than difficult trying to find you
A symphony created as our hands rip through layers to acquire nakedness
More than unique
We stood there so close together
Holding onto a dream realized
We knew the choice wasn’t whether we loved;
Rather, to what extremes
Are you the one that I can depend on when I’m at my weakest moment?
Form:
THE CRADLE OF MANKIND.
The archaeologists of this era
Were about to excitedly find
The Cradle of Mankind
Where the origins of humankind
Had been found, the news was about
To be revealed to the whole world
And so the ears of our globe were glued
To their radios in 1947, they heard,
About this mammoth remarkable finding
Painstakingly excavated , it’s evidence binding.
Mrs Ples’s skull was found,
And with carbon dating,
Archaeologists were rewarded
Most certainly worth waiting!
Estimated to be 2.3 million years’ old.
Mrs Ples (as the archaeologists named her)
All this time had been hidden
For many a year
But there is still more to hear!
It is said that she is the missing link,
We may each think what we want to think!
Archaeologists were about to discover
Other unbelievable phenomena,
Which supported the belief of evolution,
And steered many into total confusion!
God is omnipresent, and
The Alpha and Omega, He has been
Looking down on earth for millenniums
From the beginning of time,
He is omniscient, He believes in me,
And I in Him, He is the Divine!
The Sterkfontein caves are now famous,
Planet Earth was listening, this story was big!
In 1998 archaeologists discover
Yet another important find,
This boggled the mind!
They laboriously dug in this one excavation
Over twenty years, Layer upon layer of ground
And thus Little Foot was found!
He, some say it’s a she, was gently assembled,
And lies in a Pretoria museum,
Together with Mrs Ples,
Archaeologists still dig,
They insist, that there are still hidden treasures
And take great measures,
To work carefully and diligently
Excitedly say there is much more to find
Underneath and beyond the Sterkfontein caves,
Patiently, waiting to uncover
Yet another, one of a kind!
I believe with soul, heart and being
In The Almighty, maybe He even lent the
Archaeologists a helping hand, we cannot
Ignore these finds, they are not fantasy but real
Furthermore we were given the gift of logic,
And ultimately the archaeologists will kneel,
And praise and thank God Almighty!
I implored myself with money and okay,
thought that feasting at the time was no crime,
and as the chyme soothingly rolled in my head's threads,
then in pretense covered that craving with a palm,
that craving very agile and corporeal.
upon my lulling, the asking defied;
i gave it money and honey,
filled up with joy and future employ;
i promised burgers served with kandara,
njugu karanga and bits of cars
yet the desire waxed insatiable!
i gave a good girl to woo,
it looked out the more.
and i got another maid of the style princely;
her bosom decorated with flatness and uniformity,
reaching up to the moonlight in height,
digging deep beneath the heels of fashion,
she walked gracefully like a drunken monk,
the music of buckles and golden rings begged much;
and that's what i added to this creature of ghostly beauty.
then this calling wants a third one!
it wandered to the ages of history
and excavated childhood dreams,
dripping with rottenness and obsession,
in the life of civilisation i was tormented,
degrees but tormenting,
good jobs but tormenting!
sooner i resolved to quench the question of "enough?"
and made myself a vocation
to drench the injustice of childhood poverty
with the justice of excellence.
a redeemer of sorts,
the light in the way of a night walker.
many looking from my reverse
see hope under my feet-stool.
i am become the man of going,
and going i do.
behind is troop of people unseen,
jerking forwards, themselves a foothold to obtain.
soon they'll play this game my style,
and it's a vast quiz.
tell me,
how vast is it?
the sea of desire,
all opportunities begging a piece?
shall i be satiated getting a graduate degree?
or a postgraduate?
first-class or distinction?
will adorable mistresses and pageants
announce your destination,
oh desire?
i sought, and i'm seeking,
behold nothing satiates.
it's insatiable this life.
Memorial Day 2025
Soon Memorial day will be upon us once more,
And unhappy memories of the past will be excavated again.
My younger Brother was a highly decorated soldier
rising to the rank of Master Sergeant in his twenty-three years.
He did four tours in Vietnam and each time he came home
I could see a change. After he retired he just drove away
from the house one evening and never returned. For thirty
years family searched the internet, contacted the Army and once
after a family death we had to send our letters to them
and they in turn forwarded them to him for his signature.
We had no family problems or ill will at all. He abandoned
his family and his four children also. He just chose to
live alone for whatever reason. Only God knows why.
Another brother who had cancer couldn’t sleep one night
and thought he’d search one last time. He found his name
in the obits where he had died that week and was in a
mortuary in Texas. I contacted them and was told
he had a power of attorney and would give her my number.
She did call and I assured her that we wanted nothing that he had,
Just his ashes to bring home to the family plot. She first
said it was a go. We made plans to leave the next morning
but she called back and said after talking to her man he said
no and ditched his phone. She said his wishes were to be cremated
and ashes scattered on another soldiers grave.
I had shadowboxes made for his children as well as self.
But I tell myself there are tens of thousands of cases like this
or worse. I don’t know why things were like they were. War is
about self preservation. A soldier can’t undo, or unsee, or forget
the stench of war. They do the things they’re told to do in
defense of this great country. This Memorial day I will be
mindful, That “all gave some, Some gave all.”
Tom
The most awful things happened on a dark and stormy evening,
foreshadowing the battle between good and bad-darkness and light.
Opaque clouds concealed the light as it escaped from the moon.
We were on our way to the Native American History Museum
to see its latest treasure; an amazing monolith of some sort,
excavated from an old Indian burial ground. That creeped me out!
I admit I was frightened, but it was a matter of pride to win a bet.
There was sure to be some vindictive consequences if we refused.
The whole idea seemed to be rather grim and gruesome,
and I could think of more delightful ways to spend an evening.
After opening a window, we climbed in, but finding the right room
took some doing. One guy made annoying Indian chanting sounds
so I asked him to stop. He said "Ok, whatever you say, boss."
"Don't patronize me," I shot back in a vicious undertone.
The monolith was encased behind an oval of glass, but as we approached
it started to give off a bright golden glow. Flashlights were dropped,
we all back away, but no one could speak. There was an eerie humming noise coming from within the case and suddenly the glass shattered,
sending pieces flying in our direction. I wasn't first to fly out the window,
but I made sure I wasn't going to be the last.
We ran until we couldn't catch our breath, but no one talked about it.
I held up my camera, as if to say... I got a picture.
We were fortunate to escape without being caught.
Victorious in accomplishing our task, but we're not taking any more bets.
7/19/2016
Make a Poem *2-Shadow Hamilton
Required words: Awful, amazing, annoying, grim, gruesome, delightful.
frightened, fortunate, finding, monolith, moon, museum, oval, opaque,
opening, patronize, pride, prelude, vicious, vindictive, victorious.
Charcoal art with phoenix ash sculpt with medusa eyes
My art runs kicking
My art beats alive
Pluck loose quills up out my heart and engraft my skin with metaphors,
Mold my debris upon cemented floors,
Into living imagery, vividly un-simmered! Un-timidly bewildering things livid, you got to live it,
It is art entranced in dis-seamed meaning -no strands
Like unstrung puppets klopse marched or zulu danced -no hands
God singing through the Sistine chapel ceiling
Art is alive I heard art weeping on walls -Mona Lisa cries
You see you may have tried,
but you can never kill art, Art never dies
for art takes the dab on the jaw and is immortalized
Hung merrily smiles swinging on nooses like Tarzan on great vines
un-buried alive
excavated, repeated and perpetually illustrated from your basement to the frames and the walls of exhibition stages ink off the pen on the pages to the corners of a pavement that were once vacant and inescapable escape vent for things felt unseen and ignored from heartbreak to beauty and awe
Art kicks out the coffin door and kisses you on the forehead
throwing dirt and roses at your face
sheds a tear recites creeds & eulogies for ceremonies then shape shifts and trades place
for art will never be dead
Art defies both time and space
And
you don't know art
Art is not a concept
Art is not a chord a text a sketch or a complex
You will find "art" within the composition of a heart literally figuratively grammatically reality
you may try to see art
truth is you have to be art
you just have to be true
art is when you are free to express being the real you
art is alive
art
art is a life
I excavated honest heaven for its lens of stars
And found only bright bags of burning air
I caressed the rose and got only scars
From swift thorns more pointed than my tears
And still in the vanity of beauty I looked to find
The joy in me forever illusive to my mind
Soemething draws me to her again, moonlit silence
Throbbing: is she the one, is she the final evidence?
Tell me that beauty is still the child of truth
And seas are reservoirs of all our blood, sweat and tears
Tell me that time is the figment of our youth
And she is the one that Raleigh sought in all his misty years
The sweeter than El Dorado dream at last
The gold of morning founting bright beyond my clasp
Until I bid the horizon come to my heart
Is she the one from which I shall never part
We are poor promise keepers until love make us need
More than desire for the moon's sibilant touch
Longing to scatters flowers like sand among the weed
Is she the one ... fragrance from future's clutch
While I in the bins of history had searched in vain
And for every dew drop kiss felt the sun's disdain
She was before me magnificient like a morning tree
Waiting on me, to believe, to kneel in time's sacred vestry
Love is amazing like the moon, so long before us, so long
After us coming and singing the horizons of our joy
And full of pull tides, that cuddles hope so ever strong
Love is a church that binds us against sun's decoy
Love is the one, the eternal harmony, that made Adam proclaim
She bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh the same
She is the one eternal church, the hope of blighted days
She is the one, the channel, the womb of all my praise.
Within her heart
Within her heart she holds four chambers pushing and sucking
like tides in an ocean of ~ love kindness compassion and peace ~
~ Love ~ is my sunshine in the heat of the moment when darkness
unfolds for it turns into caring and sharing one small step at a time
~ Kindness ~ never evaporates it swishes and swashes and washes
sorrowed sadness into the crest of perspective lightening the load
~ Compassion ~ has endless supplies where madness envelops and
cradles insanity’s bedlam converts into lessons excavated from past
~ Peace ~ holds the keyring a true triad of love kindness compassion
the biggest chamber of togetherness union freedom and pleasure
My ~ sunshine ~ plays ~ moonlight ~ feeds on her ~ stars’ ~ milky ways
propels impermanent ~ comets ~ reminds me of what is and goes on
Sun grows radiance moon spoons soul-mates stars lighten our unique
~ Universe ~ with comets the ends to a meaningful time frame of life
Within her heart she holds four chambers namely a loving sun dancing
with the kindest moon compassionate stars and the comet of peace
Whose harmonious repose relies on handing the torch of composed
and serene non-aggression over from one shooting star to the next
Within her heart she holds all that and much more and
without her heart I am lost and not found
Heartfelt on 07th October 2016
Too long for the contest ‘Within Her Heart’ but her heart is so big….