Long Fractured Poems
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Silent streams swirl silver shadows deep
Where sorrow's sediment settles, secrets keep
Forgotten fragments of a fractured past
Echoes of emotions that will forever last
Fleeting fingers of fate fan out the sand
As fragile fortunes falter, lost in the land
Unspoken undertows of unfulfilled desire
Yearning for a yesterday that's lost in the fire
Gathering gusts of grief, I grasp the grains
As whispers of what could've been remain in vain
Shifting shores of shattered dreams unfold
A tale of time and tears, forever to be told
In hollowed halls of heartache, I reside
Where shadows of shattered hopes abide
The weight of worn-out words, a heavy heart
A melancholy melody, forever to impart
Through the glassy gates of grief, I gaze
At the grains of time, in a haze of daze
A labyrinth of lost love, a maze of pain
A solitary soul, forever to remain
In the hourglass of existence, I'm confined
A prisoner of pain, forever left behind
The sands of solitude, a slow descent
A lonely journey, without a reprieve or consent
Fractured fragments of a forgotten past
Echoes of emotions that will forever last
In the desolate dunes of a dying heart
A solitary soul, forever to depart
Through the veil of vulnerability, I see
A reflection of regret, a legacy to be
A tale of time and tears, forever to unfold
A story of sorrow, forever to be told
In the shifting sands of solitude, I stand
A monument to melancholy, in this desolate land
A cathedral, a petrified forest,
reaching, striving for the celestial.
Arches, skeletal fingers,
grasping at the impossible light.
Sunlight, a fractured diamond,
filtered through stained glass,
painting the stone emerald, sapphire, and ruby.
Shadows, deep, cathedral-black,
sculpting the silent prayers of centuries.
A silent guardian, this stone sentinel,
?watching the world drift by,
listening to whispered prayers,
unfolding like ancient hymns in the air.
The nave, a tunnel of ethereal light,
lost in the echoing grandeur,
a testament to faith,
a timeless whispered prayer.
Time, a phantom, dust motes dancing,
within this cathedral of stone,
forever caught, eternally suspended.
A whispering echo of ages past.
The intricate carvings,
whispering tales of kings and saints,
faith and fortitude,
are woven into the very fabric of stone.
A sacred space, breathing with history,
a symphony of stone and light.
A timeless hymn, carved in stone and glass.
A silent vigil, eternal.
Windowpane
Sitting on the rocker above the street
Chair takes its station with the man, old and weary
Placed there in time to look out side
A broken window holds them both fixated on the day
Cracked in several places caused by storms and age
Five or ten passersby stream past in a flash
They can’t see him due to the tinted fractured glass
Events spirit them away in any case, in any event
One cannot be preoccupied in the mundane or number of the day
They seize the moment and shrink in size, meander down
The wharf is a welcome warm distraction with sun and sea
Out of reach, out of sight, at a distance, beyond the old man’s vision
The window glares complete indifference to these matters
Down to the shore men march against the storm
With nowhere else to go they come and go again
Maniacs cry for such lives as theirs
Someone used to bring reports and papers
To forecast disasters and read about times gone by
But no more; that time has passed, eclipsed by history
Old man gets all his news by looking through the window
Through it life stares back through cracks
Rising past the damaged world into the bungalow
It seems like everything is somewhat fractured
Like humans, window and the pane, will crack more over time
Mediators to the universe, a microcosm of themselves
They see all things unfold although distorted
Real things happen every day out there
Old man catalogues them all in a glancing gaze
On his rocking chair beside the window
His glaring friend in pain is there
To share his ways and gather up the moments
Written: August 17, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Rob Carmack - Placed 2nd in the contest
Quote“Let there be no boundaries. When you lose all sense of self, the bonds of a thousand chains will vanish. Lose yourself completely, return to the root of the root of your own soul” - By Rumi
***********
I sipped from the calyx of core delight,
a dusky elixir steeped in dopamine’s
effervescent whisper—
and the world, erstwhile mundane,
became a chatoyant tapestry
of evanescent truths.
The walls sighed slightly.
Not in the metaphor arena—
They throbbed, aquiver,
With a sapphire auric touch,
each brick is a doppelgänger.
of some long-lost self.
My limbs, once velvety,
turned to lissome vines
waltzing through the horizon
of lush lagoon reverie.
I was hungry for meaning.
but found it a chorus of voices,
amorphous, shapeless,
a palimpsest of pastiche and prophecy.
Time fractured—
a pavonine shimmering
spilled across the sphere of memory.
I beheld my joy,
blithely besieged
by the clamor of disorder,
and still, it twirled.
with emulous passion
in the cottage of my marrow.
Epiphany hard-won
not as a blaring trumpet,
but as an aphonic balm—
a murmurous susurrus
in the riparian streams
of my noetic flesh
I was not ontic, but rather an iconoclast.
I was both an iconoclast and dear.
both amort and zoetic,
a rubicund speck
in the celestial glow
The collective noosphere surrounds it.
The mind—
that winding maze—
offered no panacea,
only a twist of insight
and its evanescent brightness.
I beheld my nemesis.
in the mirror’s moiety:
a charming crone,
disheveled and tenderly smiling,
Her gaze was soft with weariness.
Her voice was gentle and silent.
And I understood—
Awareness is winnowing.
a desultory dalliance
with the unutterable.
To behold is to dissemble.
To feel is to effloresce.
I emerged.
not healed,
but imbued—
a scintilla of the sumptuous,
a fleeting felicity
in the halcyon hush
of the waking world.
I am enslaved, a living hell.
A fractured mind, my prison cell.
I must obey my darker side,
Or end it all by suicide.
This rage becomes nights darkest dreams,
Where fears turn into piercing screams.
With grotesque mask and jet black hood,
Wild frenzy feeds, the taste for blood.
Imagination soon departs,
My dagger rips out beating hearts.
An urban legend, i am back,
To lurk in shadows, then attack.
There's no escape from deaths embrace,
When evil casts the devils face.
For Halloween's compelling me,
I'm guided by insanity.
George Seal. 10/ 3/ 2015. Prompt 2.
He stands by the window,
a glass of whiskey in his hand,
watching the rain pull the city
into little fractured mirrors.
Ten years, he thinks, ten years
since the house fell quiet,
since the brother turned thief,
slicing chunks out of their father,
not with blades but with empty words
and promises that tore at their seams.
Love is a joke some days,
a noose others,
and tonight it’s the weight
pulling down hard
on the bridge of his nose.
He pictures his brother now,
tall, sharp-angled laugh,
skin folded with time
and shamelessness,
the guileless predator
preying on the man who raised them,
left him lighter in the pockets,
heavier in the heart.
And though he loves him
doesn’t he always?
he could snap his neck clean
if the moment called for symmetry.
But Cain and Abel,
he wonders,
were the gods wrong to decide
who bled first?
Some sins stink worse,
and guilt is always tender.
Pale moon lights up the night sea surfaces
To smile wide on the horizon shimmering with the waves
Takes a drink then sinks ten thousand leagues
Down with the giant white whale who becomes minute
Consumed by the world wide oceans blue
Depths that crush the soul of soldiers lost in history
By bygone wars that leave their remains beneath the waves
Spread out like so much ocean matter graves
Pale moon light penetrates that under world
Where colors become deformed, fractured dim
Twisting with the neon squid in a labyrinthine-in swim
Around the sea bed rocks hidden in murky gray
They pray for any kind of light to see the truth
Pale moon comes through
I was destroyed by life's rough edges, ruthless stones,
Shattered pieces lost in silent tones.
But from the cracks, a fierce new flame was born—
A strength that rose through every ache and scorn.
Each fragment became a ground edge,
the story of struggles fought and led.
Steady, resilient and standing tall.
I rise untouched-- stronger after all.
The marks I wear are maps of where I’ve been--
proof of the strength growing from within.
From fractured , I found my spirit whole,
broken but bold, I rise and take my soul.
~ 3rd Place ~
Broken but bold enough to bounce back
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Contest Judged: 11/28/2025 1:01:00 AM
Tears fall gently
Tears fall gently, like the rain
quietly refreshing my soul
relinquishing all of my pain
Tears fall gently, like the dew
rejuvenating my spirit
with lingering memories of you
Tears fall gently, like a watery mist
releasing all of hearts sorrow
your blessed presence will be missed
Tears fall gently, without any warning
cleansing my mind of despair
from a troubled heart in mourning
Tears spurt quickly, like drops of fruit juice
freshly squeezed necter from my eyes
my fractured heart is clearly of no use
Tears pour down, like a raging storm
washing away disillusioned thoughts
while blankets of hope keep me warm
Tears fall blown away, like in a typhoon
my life hangs on by a thread
darkness covers this heart with gloom
Tears no longer fall, as bright daylight suddenly appears
God comforts me with his love, wiping away all of my tears.
John Derek Hamilton
June 30,2016
I suspect many of us,
if not all,
with a mindful of bodhisattva
positive deviant parented and educated exceptions,
grow up feeling like a human win/lose sinner
fighting against a divine win/win messiah within,
Internally conflicted
about being sent from past sacred regenerations
of survivors
and thrivers
to redeem a fractured Earth
in preparation for secular/sacred
dipolar co-arising Rapture Climates,
epic Operas,
small operations,
of and for EarthJustice grace,
love,
win/win compassion,
To raise multicultural economic health
from death's fading door,
to prophecy polycultural nutritional wealth,
To face immanently within
health/wealth bicameral Rapture,
predicting all Earth's cooperative messianic reweaving
of di-hemispheric bilateral ClimateResilience
for sacredly intersectional ZeroZone Earth
And all Gaian-Christian-Taoist-PolyCulturist
humane sinners,
winning behavioral secular interdependent resonance
to regain sacredly resilient EarthTribe's eco-political Trust
In humane sinners
redeemed by hearing divine sainted voices,
nutrients,
natures,
spirits,
NonZeroSum Souls
Becoming secular-
sacred interdependent Being.