Long Foothold Poems
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The heavy curtain, refusing to be moved,
is slowly forced aside by those who understand
hidden scenes and private dialog
few audiences have experienced.
Inch by inch the rusty gromets
slide on the rough surface,
where oil has never been,
causing discomfort to tender ears.
She paid no money to sit in her chair
and watch the curtain reveal
what she already knew--
a kinship understood.
The scene was simple--
two daughters standing behind a woman
with a purse hanging from one arm,
while holding two confederate flags
and a sign of hate held over her head,
“ don't you wish you WERE WHITE,”
made her stomach-ache and teeth clench,
as anger of resistance freed itself from flimsy chains.
While the audience responds
with tears of empathy,
she refuses to acknowledge,
will not commiserate,
And immediately posts her feelings on social media,
“Hate comes in All colors,”
revealing a heart incapable of sympathy,
unwilling to give respect or show politeness.
I notice and cannot be silent
with civility dishonored
and pain unaddressed,
by callous and cold remarks
That create new wounds and larger scars.
With new vigor I write to avenge a wrong,
push back to help change gain a foothold
On the slippery slope of bias.
I have words I did not speak
For they serve to make me weak
Yet I see them lettering for me
Spelling a dream to never be
Have I yet what not?
What was sold were bought
Though nearer I move yet further I am
The distant time I came to befriend
Every foothold to see myself depart
Every light fading to be stepping into the dark
Yet a comfort I am to find
Some peace where the light fail to remind
Surrounding me, consuming my presence
Flattering to consider the world at absence
And they be who I’ll aspire
A lonesome self for loneliness to desire
Nonetheless, the more I dwell the more I’m afraid
I fear to have my eyes reawaken to what await
An impending doom perhaps... unavoidable
A countdown for death’s toll... applicable
Yet of humanity be my most feared
For they be ones as selfless as selfishly deared
As simple as a wish as a wish to be simple
Reality be the realm no longer I shall follow
Though they have words spelling for me
They do not letter out for my dreams to be
Summer sun dipped itself gradually
Unclear, pale became the horizon slowly
Making it feel sad, in the fading light, but
Meeting point of the earth and sky
Erupted suddenly, with numerous faint glows when
Replete with their twinkles and cool soft lights, the rising moon and
Stars up there, sprang from nowhere to cheer up the horizon,
Unnerving the spreading darkness, and
Not letting it take a foothold out there,
Soon turning its sad mood to a joyous and celebrative one
Enchanting the meeting point yonder with holy ambience
To make it look as a betrothal of two newlyweds, under star lights.
Contest: Summer Acrostic
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Date write: 19.6.2014
you may not remember
me now by name
or the promises made
on our wedding day
through the thick and the thin
to have and to hold
from the days of our youth
to the foothold of old
whatever is thrown
in our direction my love
it never will be
enough to break us up
even if you
forget who i am
a promise is a promise
and needs to be kept
through good times and bad
till death do us part
though appearances change
love is still where we are
memory may falter
and in time quickly fade
but i remember the alter
and the promises made
I've seen several family members succumb to memory loss over the last several years which is the reason for this and several poems I've written with this subject in mind...
I believe that each of us lives a predestined life, one that has been arranged and organized for continuity. We are oblivious to such effects as we live out our lives accordingly, as ordered by the power that be. Anything beyond the preordained structural perimeter is deemed by its nature as, chaos and mayhem. Why would such an intrusion be thought to bear negative qualities?
Why? The fact of the matter is that it was never part of the planned destiny. Yet, those intrusions -- are a part of the grand scheme of life.
I saw a penny on the ground
Picked it up from whence it was found
It's odd how things happen your way
Be it some sign needs to convey
Like some omen, trolls to condemn
Or a lucky coin that's a gem
Be it my destined mystery
Or truth, my fate, reality
Could there be what-ifs or what-not's
or maybe vague thoughts midst hot spots
Would be my future or my past
or maybe the worst or the best
A tragedy, a comedy
I wonder which would play for me
An unexpected source affects
it plagues the mind my view reflects
A random process, here or there
a sudden surprise from thin air
This is something out of the blue
be it a lie or be it true
Would that penny cause mea culpa
that circumstances we conjure
To fill the gap, that certain void
speaking riddles, answers like Freud
An accidental incident
some sordid act made impotent
The knowledge I possess today
bound my foothold the righteous way
And all of that wealth I had learned
life is won by which we discern
"Look, man in need, a coin be found!"
I lost mine, 'twas a choice ... profound
By chance, the coin's past owner
was a spontaneous donor.
Still, in my pajamas, cold, ‘tis Winter.
Purple and gray wool socks, and still, cold feet.
Yet i’d walk down into the oaks, with sun’s
light be soaked, at the Summer-plumed heartbeat.
Into the glowing moss and down the hill,
like my grand, who’d make glorious foothold
into the street. Still, alone, basking in
happiness, woolen feet waltzing, toes cold,
knuckles chapping, clapping of my steepled
fingers. dry and joyful lips, arising,
Dizzy, I'd survey the amphitheater -
steam of cold-heat, underfoot apprising.
O my soul, the crooning blue signature,
expansive, inexpensive, pensive sky.
Behold God’s goodness directed my way.
Though fibbing from inside, I do not lie.
The arms of my chair, still, caring, hold me
or i’d jetty into my imagination.
There the birds stir up woozy fairyland
with tea and serenity’s coronation.
2/10/2021
Contest: All Yours (Feb 10)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
"Have you ever drowned? Not once. But repeatedly. You drown ...save yourself somehow (includes if you had aid of another person) and then drown yourself again. There is a distinct thrill in even thinking about facing death. Staring at the void ...trying to gauge ...which memories will be showing up like they say... Whose faces will turn up...whose voices you will hear... Will you want to stop getting sucked in? Or will you enjoy the paroxysm of transition?"
Darn. The water is boiling off. The noodles are getting stuck... Hey...but I don't wanna pull my left hand out of my pocket. The view of a pretentious and closed window above the induction, carelessly oozing out a cool breeze which in turn is fighting with the hot steam exhumed from the frying pan always reassures me that they are waiting outside. Friends. Loved ones. Strangers. Casting their shadows behind my beloved closed window. Sucking my cool breeze. Waiting for me to be only left with the searing flame...until I'm forced to pull my left hand out and open the goddarned window... for them. No! Wake up! I don't have time to knit words out of this burning yarn of noodles! But my hand feels so safe in the snuggly pockets of my childhood bottoms. Oh wait! I can just keep the peg on the side, grab a cup, turn on the tap, waste some water, fill the cup, pour it on the burning noodles slowly meanwhile wasting some more water, keep the cup, close the tap, catch hold of the peg again and pretend I'm Darth Vader trapped in a woman's body with my lightsaber efficient only for flipping noodles. Ah yes. Even the re-establishment of my foothold runs a sweet satisfaction down my spine. This air of freedom ... Can I listen to some Nat Cole King please? Of course I can! Its all there in my head sweetheart... Couldn't raid that place yet, could you?
Is the fizz drowning the music? Yes...but that also means I'm nearing the end. A little disturbance to remind you that your time has come? Such wonderful these nuances are! As the smell of vinegar captivates the whole room, I pull my hand out of my pocket to pick up the plate and get out of the kitchen. Only to join the banter of the unwanted.
At dawn still young, a grey throat on the go
Rests on a branch nearby swaying with ease,
And moves from deep inside to edge below,
To please me, or to call the mate of his,
To swing and bend, balance against sharp breeze,
Seek a foothold, await if wind should rest,
And settled down when, sing sweet melodies—
Furioso and forte, full throat and breast,
Moderato when Vaishakhi winds rise,
The climax coming lento, shorn of haste,
Never to vie with winds, opting t’be wise,
Ah, my morning alarm and summer guest,
Who, when I peep out to watch sleepy eyed,
Far away flies in thick foliage to hide.
______________________________________
Sonnet |08.06.2024| Robin, bird
Poet’s note: Vaishakhi winds: pre monsoon winds in the month of Vaishakh, the peak of summer in India.
My relentless reverie reposed
on engrossing edge of halcyon horizon,
where the scarlet sun
unshrouds the demure dawn,
brings me across million miles
of dreaming detour of trance
to the cyan sea that shines
with the shades of fervent allure.
I stand overwhelmed looking
at the periphery of primal vastness,
its boundless joy dancing
on the crests of surging waves,
make clattering cascade of pearls
as they crash on the craggy cliff,
and flowing free return reticent
to the fathomless serenity of silence.
The embrace of the silver sheet
swathes my fragile foothold,
as the waves beat beguiled
in the moonbeam ballet of blue night,
I search for my mesmeric mermaid,
swimming away on the stardust trail,
and I set sail in the serenading wind
to where my heart is beyond the sea.
I feel frozen in place
with a mountain before me
there is no way around,
I must scale it to move forward
Refusing to believe that I CAN”T
I take a step
reaching forward
clasping the impossible
When I have a foothold
and a grip
I continue to move
because moving is winning
Feeling like I will never
conquer the task
will not move me forward
so I advance out of sheer will
Knowing that I will not be free
until I do either succeed
or fail is motivation
to keep moving forward and upward
I have no idea what I am doing
but I am no longer frozen in place
the more that I move forward
peace embraces me