Long Flickering Poems
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I wonder what he was thinking, the man
mounted on a stool, with his elbows resting on the bar,
eating a Big Mac and sipping coffee from a McCafe coffee cup.
The outside view he was watching through the glass wall
is the flickering lights over the parking lot and
the sounds of galloping horses on the road.
As usual, among those galloping horses,
some may be carrying today, which is heavier than the day,
on his aching back, while others run with full speed
looking forward to a better tomorrow;
yet, there is a horse, like one of the remnants of a defeated army
who fought the difficult battle where there is no today, no tomorrow,
but struggle after struggle of dogfight and defeat, dragging his feet
with a heavy burden.
Since there is no color or outline of an object in the dark
you are unable to distinguish one horse from the other,
such as the high-spirited grand Shire, the tiny amiable Falabella,
the gracefully elegant Akhal-Teke, or the Mule, born to carry heavy
load till dies.
That’s why the darkness is beautiful,
it doesn’t have a color like the death; yet,
it’s not comparable to the darkness of the grave
because it’s only the flip side of the day. It will drag
you into the light, compel you to see the sun in the morning.
As coffee gets colder, the smell of coffee goes away,
and further, the taste of coffee becomes bitter with elapsing time.
Then, from the empty feeling of missing something, he bites into
the hamburger held in his hand and hears the “moo…” the last cry
of a sorrowful cow dragged into a slaughter house.
Though death is, beautiful if it’s accompanied by a dirge,
the moment of death by force is, although the soul may be
lighter than a feather, a lot heavier than the weight of the world.
She sprinted through a rugged woods
Away from free loading fathers and filthy no-goods,
Away from tear soaked teddy bears and lungs filled with smoke.
She found herself unmoving, crying in the arms of a weeping willow oak.
She is what remains of a fractured household,
A rotten tapestry of liquor stains, bruised bodies, and secrets untold.
She imagined what lied beyond the waterfall of misery that cascaded infinitely over her,
For she was stuck observing the world in a melancholy blur
Her blistered ankles fell weak and she crumpled towards the ground,
Peering up at a glistering light that left her wonderstruck, spellbound
She made out the shape of a body descending from above
They gazed at each other, her eyes as doleful as a mourning dove
He whispered in her ear as softly as the whistling wind,
Leaving her once perpetually dark world seeming only to be dimmed
He held out his hand to her and urged her to run away
To a place called Neverland, a world where all somber thoughts are kept at bay.
Though it seemed of her to be giving in to her broken mentality,
She longed for an escape from pain and poison personality.
As they floated above her home town,
She suddenly couldn't hear bottles shattering or doors breaking down.
She felt the pain lift from her small frame,
And the inferno of sadness that burned interminably was but a flickering flame.
They sailed across the second star to the right and flew straight on ‘till morning
She hadn't prepared for the wondrous sight before her that came with no warning
She broke through clouds that brushed her face with cotton candy kisses,
The world of true happiness and ephemeral sunshine was once real only in her wishes.
It was in the land of everlasting childhood that she was freed of all regrets,
And she held flowers between her fingers instead of cigarettes
Her face was flushed with shades of pink instead of black and blue,
And she decided it was time to write her story anew.
That night she traded her tattered nightgown for rags and a dirty fur coat,
She chose put her past in a bottle and set it afloat.
In that moment she could feel her true identity come unbound,
They called her Lost Girl, but in that moment she never felt more found.
Take The Dagger From My Heart, Please -2- Poetry Contest
N/A- 100 in a ROW contest--15 9/24/16
I beg pardon, I'll try again, to gather
From your verse the voice, to align it with my own song,
May words flow in a magic pulse, under the clear moonlight,
Swaying in metaphor and dream, until I respond to you.
Wreathing my thoughts in the ephemeral flames of stars,
Amongst the equinoxes of soul and solstices of arched heart,
With love still kissing my bare soles,
I will drop into the night's carafe the gently diluted essence of life.
Oh, how I have loved! With longing suffocated in blossoms serene,
Harvesting hopes from dewdrops, upon corollas of dreams,
And I love, with a love that weaves beneath a cloak of clear skies,
Twirled in a dance of leaves, where nature in her secret smiles and whispers to me.
Under the canopy, my waiting builds castles on shifting sands,
With my heart, the flickering lighthouse, yet never it falls,
The umbrella of anticipation open to clouds of soaring flights,
Where happenings congeal in waits, distinct and pure.
I cannot confess whom I wait for, but wait I do,
Glowing with invisible wings, heart of untamed birds,
And still they fly, oh, how they fly, over seas of regret,
Seeking that song, plucked from all corners of souls.
What to do, I wonder, in a labyrinth of light and darkness,
My path is lost in the gilded web that weaves the horizons,
Mountains and forests rend inside me, waiting to unravel,
And seas of dreams retract, into the same mouth of the unreal, longing for breath.
In this realm born from a poetic anticipation,
Where groves bloom with promises to give and to receive,
And love's quiver rises, a delicate cathedral, finely crafted,
Over the soul a mantle of love is laid, in roots planted and at the tips infinite.
When the brief sounds of barking dogs fade
and the loud voices of children echo away
When winds stop shaking apple trees
and leaves settle in the lake
When the sweat of a tangerine sun
sets across shallow waters ,and songbirds flutter far
It is then , when the soft touch of silence falls upon my bed
It is there ,when my thoughts and I lay wide awake . Unstill !
It is then , when I travel places up the rocky hill
My thoughts tread like jasmines once blown on the sand
My eyes seek in distance for a seaman 's return.
Another dawn breaks without vessels and sails
Another night follows without his embrace
Anothet year passes on the edge of the land
These arms still a lighthouse , with a flickering lamp.
Replication, O photon.
Atmosphere. Molecules.
Phase, like seasons. Here, then gone.
Tools, tremors, toadstools.
Occipital ridge, troll, bridge.
Billy goat, thy horn.
Pestilence, thy name is midge.
Freighter, fain, forlorn.
Lightning bolt, fruit of the gods.
Eat one and become.
Mycelial, goldenrod?
Mushroom, just stay mum.
Sign of salvation, sea-bass?
Shark, set eyes on same.
Liquid legend, O my lass?
Sure. I'm glad you came.
Tympani, crush. Firefly, flee.
Knock thrice, then flit, thrush.
O behemoth, swim thy sea?
Death, you've had a brush.
Enormous or gigantic?
Titan, which to choose?
Oil on surface, stiff or slick?
Flickering fate, fast fuse.
Race, a trace of turkey wild.
In the corn, my child.
Charnel house floor, stains a-tiled?
Ululate, red riled.
Racket, informed packet?
Data, grow in trees.
Weather, wail. Jail, jacket.
Pain, poisonous to please.
THE UNEXPECTED VISIT
22/10/2025
THE UNEXPECTED VISIT
On Behalf of Our Mother,
Evangelist Mazaline Murchison, Gelsey
It was an evening, that was like no other;
unforgettable to the core.
when at the close of another day,
there was a knock upon my door.
A beautiful young lady was standing there,
dressed radiantly in bridal attire;
youthful and as lovely as she could be,
joyful and bright as a flame of fire.
It was the woman I had known most all of my life,
if you ever met her, you would never forget,
A life boldly proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ,
with all fervency and fiery grit!
She never seemed to have one fear in the world,
not ever squeamish about one thing,
I had even seen her beat snakes to a pulp,
cast out demons, shout, preach, and sing!
With my own eyes I saw, her lay hands on the sick,
feed strangers, foster children, a hundred or more,
A patriach for Christ, my dear Mom now His bride,
beautifully standing at my door.
I witnessed her walk the straight and narrow,
take the low road with dignity and grace.
If ever fallen, she got right up again fighting,
taking back her rightful place.
Yes, I even witnessed, some of her own life's bruises,
taken in the heat of the battle,
yet upholding, the Lord's victory banner,
fully armored upon horse and saddle!
Alas when now seeing this beautiful lady of fire,
flickering faintly, with an unforgettable smile,
between the threshold of life, and eternity's door,
sweetly kissing us goodbye, for just a while.
A child is somewhere scribbling,
not quite knowing what to say,
a junkie with a habit of empty words.
The smart money’s on failure
and I can’t seem to sleep,
because the moon is leaking sliver fears.
The polar-bear cocktail,
paints a chalk barricade,
that incoherent scolding's cannot climb.
Hope went unnoticed,
until it was lost,
but sudden silence
- came to make me new.
The marks of quiet panic
- those flickering tattoos,
fade - like specters in the sun.
In the company of kindness,
peace glitters just like glass,
and the witch in the mirror slinks away.
You’ll find me at the exit,
heading for a steady sea,
my uninformed perspective’s in my bag.
I navigate like driftwood,
hoping for a return trip,
my plans are coherent in my dreams .
p.s. I write short stories too =]
Moonlit Music
Dusty dusk wearing charcoal mask emerged
to tranquil turquoise canvas of firmament.
On ebon night Full Moon marooned in starless sky
watching own shimmering reflection in aqua flow
on glimmering glow.
Gentle breeze creating whorls on wavy aqueous surface
framing lattice of shadows of foliage alongside.
Muse of lone heart dribbling dripping in rue,
starting prelude of song of long-lost love
as I had to bid you adieu.
Lingering urge and tingling passion
flickering with subdued luminous Moonbeam
penetrating through aqua layers
trying to touch abyss of lamenting emotion.
Fervid fervent fervor of forgotten amour
flowing forlorn in despondent solitude.
Cadence continued through interlude.
Yearnings torn in pieces and wisps
whisper to mourn on creases of waves.
Moonbeams quiver
inside water-mirror
in grim gleam,
melting in melancholy
trying to synchronize with melody
of mystic music in gloomy glissando.
09/30/20
First Place
'Impact and Metaphors' Contest by William Kakaula
If you want to know how I spend my time
RC Cola and a Moon Pie
Chewing on a stem of Bahia grass
Just in case you feel the need to ask
Skipping stones across a glass top pond
Blowing wishes from a dandelion off the lawn
Living the country life all inside my haed
Before I find there ain't nothing left
Chasing Crawdaddy's in a deep wood stream
Playing hide and seek in a pile of leaves
Cane pole fishing for that elusive Bass
All before Summer's put to bed
Catching Fireflies in their flickering light
Counting all the stars in the skys at night
Stolen Watermelon always tastes the best
That's the part that I'll never confess
Skinny dipping for a living in a mountain lake
Jumping out of planes in a barn of hay
Kids being kids being life fed
Just in case you feel the need to ask
"Are they going to take him off life support?"
I heard my middle daughter whisper with burden.
In a silenced gasp of terror,
I knew I was the subject matter.
A doctor's prognosis, in layman's terms:
damage irreparable, vegetative state expected.
I wrestled with my failed act of will to peal
open my eyelids, to motion that I'm still here,
living in mystery of the sight around me,
but still able to hear, still able to sense.
In blurs and slurs, I saw remembrances
of faces and places half fabricated, like in dreams.
Awake or asleep? --- I knew little difference.
I could hear each footstep coming toward me
and shuffling away.
I could sense someone's presence
by a muffled dose of warmth and light.
As I heard my pastor praying,
I embraced each word with the only hug I could give,
one internal, one becoming eternal.
As scripture dripped over my thirsty soul,
I fervently prayed for each precious visitor,
who would lament my impending absence.
Like an infant's babbles trapped within,
with inutterances now incomprehensible
even to myself, I began to fade
into an opening of light-flickering glimpses
piercing through the doom.
As I slipped off into the distance,
a redemptive mystery began seeping through,
ready to free me from my ebony prison.