Long Glacier Poems
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Homeward Path 11/08 Roger M. Landry
Wise men say, stay out of the fray,
And perhaps that is logical, and even soundly psychological.
They advise, do not go my son into the dark wood; you will only come to no good.
And I ask, if the road is less traveled, it will leave me baffled?
The trail in the forest tall could it leave me feeling forever small?
Alone, will I not even hear the sound of the stately tree’s fall?
In my craven travels, shall I perhaps see the pellucid pillars of heaven seven,
Or experience the depraved depths of perdition?
But, what if there is no one there to tell?
No singing angels, or laughing demons from hell.
Shall I be weary of my iconoclastic dreams?
Because, in my youth, I had magic visions of being the princely toad,
Of crossing elegantly the paved road to fame.
However, carrion birds now read, feed on my bloody entrails strewn along the lane.
Now, I only wake up in the fevered night, no princess to soothe my stifled screams.
Beaten and torn, shall I become the salacious stripper of old?
That, with nagging words, expresses my vulnerable, and sagging soul.
Like a lost muse, shall the tiger burning bright, in the forest of the night,
Become my one and only frightful and guiding light?
I can see quite far from the gritty solitude of a lofty mountain.
But, would rather sit with my smiling children by a bubbling fountain,
Have someone park my expensive car,
Or sip beer, with friends, in a quaint neighborhood bar.
Going on a shopping spree and wearing designer clothes,
I think, is superior than to society loathe.
To have opulent gold is better than writing poetry in poverty, wouldn’t you agree?
Or, would it be better if I contemplate my fate, eternally alone, under a frigid night star,
While I pluck loose strings on an out of tune guitar?
They say that if you favor the glacier-blue, the flavor will get inside of you.
Now that I have made enough bad choices, because of those niggling internal voices,
I am eternally lost, my mind unloosing in a wilderness of my own choosing.
Like a pharaoh, I know there is a divine treasure in my head,
But, I work and work, feel dead, and just can’t get out of bed.
The road has its own agenda, to which I know my heart must surrender,
Therefore, I shall curb my shameful wrath,
And trust that my soul knows its homeward path.
Form:
Studying history
tries to be objectively subjective,
at its best
when also a comparative study of Sacred Plantings and Harvests.
Not a coincidence,
unfortunately,
that when I studied Christian Church history,
we discovered a not-so-very-catholic co-arising GreatMen picture story
of historic and theological harvest,
but not necessarily ecological
because more anthropocentric objectives of Earth's history.
Yet studying historic development of SkyWoman-resourced Turtle Island
is still largely confined to specialists
in EcoFeminist EcoPolitical Ancient History Compartments
of WhoCares Sacred Plantings and Harvests,
still RightBrain Yin-nurture oppression,
suppression,
within this objective-subjective
How to best deep learn ecopolitical history
of Earth's sciences
and cultural GreatMen and SacredGoddess religions
and all things patriarchal-matriarchal enculturing
Left with Right
Yang with Yin, and not so much Yang v poor little dualdark Yin,
counter-balancing in-between
Tipping Points of Sacred Plantings and Harvest Networks,
CoOperative Investments and EarthTribe's ReInvestments
in (0)-Sum/Soul Sacred Seven ReGenerations
of MatriarchalEarth
historically studying objective-subjective
CoOperative BiCameral Tao-Networks.
In this alternative Left with Right ecofeminist universe,
it is immediately transparent
to all five co-empathic senses
why Donald Trump
would be much more GreatMen entertaining,
rather than PathologicalMan alarming,
as a Public CrossDresser,
trying to walk in his wife's stilettos,
right behind her,
neither too left nor right,
where he belongs
if he knows what's best for him
tonight.
And,
while I totally get it about not drinking alcohol,
I really do think Medical Marijuana
should be deeply and widely prescribed
within the District of Columbia
in response to our current epidemic
of Yang v Yin Oppositional Disorder.
Maybe we could at least cooperatively agree
on a health and climate care budget for
Balancing Sacred EgoPlantings with EcoHarvests.
And maybe think about
how our melting icecap and glacier harvesting issues
may be both related and unrelated to
planting 12 foot reptiles
hunting vulnerable prey on MainStreet Texas and Florida,
which seems not so good for national health care
or defense
or security,
or even anything resembling GreatMen global rationality.
… On The Gist of Where A Gather Melts Hate’s Glacier
On The Nexus of Need & Knowing True Love’s Nature
On The Passage of Innocence To Please Forgive Us Prayers
On The Way To Meet Wide Open Arms of Our Maker
On Edge of Evening and Eden’s Promised Favors …
stretched The Trail of Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
There Lay A Storm-Tossed Loch Between The Rifts
A Charcoal Sky That Seemed Heavy & Propped By Stilts
She Was At The Limits of Her ‘All That She Could Do Lists’
She Was On The Verge of Vanishing Into Vanity’s Myths
While Searching Between Urgency and An Internal Eclipse
… ventured the Interim of Soft Footfalls Towards Forever
She Took One Last Stiff ‘Uisge Beatha’ Spirit-Sip To Lips
She Heard The Last, Lone Note of A Bagpipe’s-Signal, Lilt
Envisioned The Strong Stance & Clan Colors of His Kilt
and The Rich-Hued-Tow Head, Which Shone Like Gilt …
as He Strode The Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
(Her Eyes Closed But Her Course Kept At Canter)
Eyes Closed … Tho’ That’s Not Why It Had Gone Black
She Can Nay See How To Finish Thru To Their Trek-Pact
She Must Rest On A Narrow, Not-Well-Beaten Path
Will He Cover The Distance From What Her Last Legs Lack?
… Even If She Has Stopped & Dropped Dead In Her Tracks
Will He Come To Find and Bring Her Unfalteringly Back? …
from Earth-Packed, Soft Footfalls Towards Forever?
Her Eyes Closed, But True Love’s In-Sight, Closes Never
He Found Her, Eyes Closed … Swollen, Squeezed Into Slits
He Saw The Puffed Flesh Where The Poison Had Been Spit
He Saw Her and Traced The Tears She’d Held Back Then Spilt
Saw Her Lovely Face Framed By Curly Dark-Red, Wet-Wisps
& Finger-Nail Marks Where Her Hands Clenched Into Wee Fists …
Formed & Fashioned Her Soft Footfalls Towards Forever …
(His Bonny Lass, Woven In His Tartan & Tam’s Token Feather)
He Saw The Emerald Heirloom Wrapped Around Her Wrists
But He’d Not See In This World, Her Twin Sparkles, Again A–Glist’
His Own Eyes Became Mirrors of A Flooded Dam That Split
He Took On The Burden That She Had Endured This Tryst
Yet He Could Not Bear The Thought of Her Feeling A–Jilt
As He Carried Her Where Clouds Covered Them Like Quilts
Each Sorrowed Step & Stone & Step Spanned Breach & Breath & Built …
the Bridge That Balances & Blankets: Footfalls Towards Forever …
(to be continued on Part 3 of 3)
Written & ©: 1/ 3-6 /2013
by: MoonBee Canady
"The Winter's Lullaby"
Choking noble light held by the hands of Fate
As deceived Persephone enters Hades gate
The burning suns falling through the universe.
Despairing and alone not a coppers worth
A bitter cold blankets Gaia's tears in a frozen sea of glass
While the stupefied intoxicated serpent drowned with a laugh.
Undulating sands barricades into immovable glacier,
Infectious prison walls destroyed the strength of redeeming savior.
Chariot of the flame plunges into the water’s bed
Fate’s tepid scarlet scissor hands sever the music thread
Astaea’s darkened soaked mural melts with eternal dread
Seeing red, alluring sirens sang as the music bled
Unfathomable lamented shrieks surged as the music tore
Obsidian tributaries erodes the forbidden door
Eros scorned wound feeds the ravished horde of succubi
Remote hollow temple bell wailed the closing cry
Captured in the dance of loves and hates tempest cyclone
Drums of madness orchestrates into the perfect tone
The infernal flame explodes from the mouth of Tartarus
Driven oblivion crescendos for the pending chorus
The stentorian cracks of nefarious shots being fired
Frantically gasping for the final breath of faith hope and desire
Tragic petrified tears from soundless screams of the choir
Condemned whisper of the drum crucified on barbed wire
Cold candle rests under the gaze of the vastness
No kiss or love to awake the entombed princess
Crimson emaciated curtains descend upon the floor
Fathomless, eviscerated, veiled; the music is no more
Form:
Triumph
Frank Halliwell
In silence, in the velvet night,
lit by pinpoints of vivid light,
I wander blindly to the south,
immersed in frigid seas.
My age is lost in time's shadows,
..in aeons of primeval snows,
Borne from the Greenland glacier fields,
far from the warm land breeze.
My drift; by currents is maintained;
my course; by fate is preordained,
Before midnight I drift inside..
the busy shipping tracks.
A lookout spots me in the dark,
a radio transmits the spark.
I am reported to the world
and cautious souls react.
But from the east this winter night,
a black colossus steams in sight,
Racing to the west despite
the danger waiting there!
Her goal is shipping dominance,
her high speed fueled by arrogance,
Before the night is over,
the result will be despair.
I wait, and I feel no remorse,
in spite of the collision course,
For I am just a passive player
in this deadly play.
They've seen me now, but much too late,
and there is no escaping fate,
A glancing blow is struck and leaves
her plates in disarray!
My mass absorbs the mighty shock;
my body solid as bedrock.
I shatter not, nor tremble
as the ship glances away.
The icy water rushes in,
filling compartments to the brim.
Fifteen hundred doomed to die
seek refuge in dismay!
But there is none; nowhere to go,
the frigid water is the foe!
The ship is listing badly now;
the end is near at hand!
Lifeboats are lowered with all speed,
but are too few to fill the need.
'Nearer my God to Thee' is heard,
played by the doomed ship's band..
The stern rises above the waves,
then plunges to her watery grave,
A plume of air and flotsam mark
the place of her long dive.
Water too cold to sustain life,
kills them as surely as a knife,
And in a mere ten minutes
none of them are left alive!
The cries and shouts and prayers have ceased,
the sea returns to lonely peace.
The engineering triumph rests
among the crabs and snails.
The news is spread around the world
and flags at half-mast are unfurled,
Fifteen hundred families
are left to weep and wail.
In silence, in the velvet night,
lit by pinpoints of vivid light
I wander blindly to the south
immersed in frigid seas.
My age is lost in time's shadows,
..in aeons of primeval snows,
Borne from the Greenland glacier fields,
far from the warm land breeze.
>>> Titanic is gone.
***
Ah Frontiera, here we are at your last, you've thrown a rod, your life lies black
on oily ground - all this snow and you're a mobile no longer; so I must walk.
It's cold, and now I think of it, that cold that exists in enormous reservoirs
at the poles of our world, seemingly to pass back and forth between,
as if through a secret conduit as the seasons are unfurled.
I will relax, I tell myself, "become one with the cold" as if it can't hurt me,
because sometimes you have to tell yourself things in order to survive.
My soliloquy proceeds as I gather thin paper birch branches and fashion them
into snowshoes with rawhide strings from my pack, a woefully empty pack
considering where I must go - the Brooks Range, even in October, is no joke -
and I can make it to a trapper's cabin, south south-west near Lake Chandalar.
Like the Inupiat Eskimos, I will sing my song, make up my tale, and live on.
Garlock, lord of this valley, seven feet of branch-breaking, tree-scarring,
log-rolling, stump-pulling black bear might, looks up, for the wind was behind me
and his nose is ever aware; my prayer - "You've eaten well, for your
winter sleep comes soon, you are not hungry enough for me" - I repeat it with
calm confidence; Praise God - noble king Garlock, this time, gives me a pass.
Two hundred miles, "Can I make it in three weeks, can I stay alive for four,"
I wonder as I walk, as I fish - pike, char; hard-fought with my hook, still the grayling
cooks on my fire - with a few remaining blueberries I find for spice; over mountain pass,
near the gorge's bottom, a rocky ledge, a rare stumbled caribou with broken legs,
my knife finishes it, oh how warm and rich the liver.
Over the blue cold of a nameless glacier - half the planet's glaciers are in Alaska,
that blue in summer melting is half of all water flowing into all the seas; I exist
with the cold, I'm only a part-day's travel from the trapper's cabin now.
Click-thunk! I hear it before my leg is alive with pain; I've stepped on a trap.
The evening's grim descent doubles and redoubles - I laugh or cry.
Will I bleed, will I freeze, or will my life just vanish into shock,
tucked into the ever-colder onset of night.
Trapper, when will you next check your traps?
December 21, 2016
For Shadow Hamilton's contest - 'Epic'
If time travel were possible,
the period I would want to visit most of all
would be that time long ago,
when Europe was covered with snow.
When we walked Among the Neanderthal.
Two different species of human,
but still very much the same.
Our common ancestor evolved differently
due to climate and terrain.
*****Heidelbergensis emerged out of Africa
into Europe and Western Asia,
but then the ice age came and the species became segregated
due to vast deserts, seas and glacier.
The ice age gripped Northern Europe.
Polar conditions were most of the continent.
*****Heidelbergensis then evolved into the cold adapted Neanderthal
and became Europe's only human resident.
The Neanderthals were territorial and they lived in small family clans.
Limestone caves provided most with shelter,
it was a limited resource upon this frozen land.
The caves the Neanderthals lived in were the center of the Neanderthal’s universe.
Within the cave walls, the Neanderthals would bury their dead and give birth.
Within the cave walls they would eat, they would sleep.
Within the cave walls they would butcher their meat.
Within the cave walls they would groom, they would mate.
Within the cave walls they would even defecate.
Within the cave walls was the safest place to be.
Outside was the harshest climate known to humanity,
in an unforgiving terrain filled with wild animals stalking them,
as well as Neanderthal males stalking other clan’s women.
Neanderthal clans did not interact with each other at all
and this was perhaps their biggest and greatest downfall.
Limited contact meant limited viewpoints and limited exchanges of ideas,
and so the Neanderthal's limited survival techniques
remained the same throughout their years,
But meanwhile,
back in sub tropical Africa, somewhat simultaneously,
*****Heidelbergensis evolved into a warm adapted human.
*****sapiens, Us, You and Me,
As the climate grew warmer we too migrated up north
into the Neanderthal’s stronghold.
Neanderthal extinction was about to come forth.
Within a few thousand years, the Neanderthal ceased to exist.
The small size of their clans made them vulnerable.
They couldn't confront or protect or resist.
To continue click NEXT for Among The Neanderthal Part 2
Time To Shower...When Pervasive Odor Of Ureic Acid
Doth strongly waft, sting,
and nauseate about me
olfactory nose flying zone
bombarding cilia of
nasal passageway analogous
to displeasure wrought by
crashing, deafening, exploding,
ear splitting xylophone,
also synonymous isolated like
barenaked lady within
remote location of Lake Woebegone,
voluntarily forced to bathe
in brutally cold
mountain waters oxbow lake
vaguely resembling out
size topographical wishbone
rescue unlikely since
bajillion miles from radio tower,
thus state of the art
electronically sophisticated videophone
good as worthless resignation,
sans fate linkedin tubby
mother nature's cryogenic specimen
more'n murmuring undertone,
where huge Arctic glacier overshadows
infinitesimally microscopic human,
one speck kin zee ditched
*****sapien subsumed
under superfluous tombstone
as frozen fountain head,
where Atlas shrugged,
nonetheless incongruous yen
to purge mine offensive odor,
where civilization footprint
sole lee mine alone in wilderness
thus farcical reason (without rhyme),
atypical, farcical, and poetical title,
yours truly didst stirrup and spur
inexplicable search for soapstone,
yet prospect to don measly frame
without gay apparel
(beastie boy bit figurative bullet,
and buttressed body in buff)
immediately augmented primal scream
to trumpet heebeegeebees
(teeth chattering yodeling
rendition re: stayin alive)
from this Rhinestone
survivalist cowboy wannabe,
began feeling comfortably numb,
and immediately prone
to become human popsicle,
especially when sub zero temperature
immediately froze water splashed skin
(like glassy sheet of ice)
glancing viz albedo effect
as blindingly white
snow capped mountains outshone
albino crags, offering
absolute zero, yes none
reassurance with insulated moonstone
sleeping bag useful
as yolked with lodestone
around neck - slow death by
freezing this knucklebone,
who sought cleanliness,
(and panacea to immortality)
joining exclusive polar bear club
(Ursus Maritimus very selective,
and only chose me) even
at expense of more'n
just frozen jawbone
plus Jack frost bitten cockles turned
deep purple as inkstone
used to write re: scrawl epitaph
on icicle glommed headstone.
Over...and over...and over...and over
Why do you keep doing this
why must you insist to interfere
why won't you disappear
Why? ! WHY? ! ! ! ANSWER ME! ! ! !
Oh so now when I demand answers you're sound asleep
put your head upon a glacier
a head so heavy you've created a snowstorm over me
I feel the bitter coldness you place upon me
Fine! HERE!
Eat these rocks for dinner, eat all of it, even the dirt underneath
hopefully you can feast upon that instead of my sorrows, my misery
YOU'RE NOT HELPING ME! ! !
You only bother to enter my world to give me pleasantries
so sweet oh but for a day
for an hour, a small moment
before you'll move back the screen, a full screen arena
like curtains in a play
and show how much my world is burning, crumbling
how my rage and regrets
my sorrow and sickness encompasses me
and you sit idly by saying nothing
watching, waiting for the screams to stop
for me to sit quietly and let someone else scream in my defense
while you do nothing to console me
Why won't you do something
interfere when necessary since you know I've been asking
no, pleading with urgency for better days
this despair, this rage is eating me alive
a ghost devouring on a human's soul
I've been pleading for a better way to earn my way to a new life
full of peace and happiness I don't have to cease being alive to fulfill
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Bah! what hasn't killed me has made me indifferent
while my nightly dreams continue to concoct different formulas to remove me from this world
to have me suffocate in agony as the world turns gray amidst the popping of my final breath of air in a form of a giant bubble
How dare I shout my frustrations at you
my growing frustrations lining the insides of my stomach as for years I've held my tongue
ask the sibling you dared to take from me
ask the sibling I'll never lay eyes upon again
AHHHHHHHHHH! ! !
Why do you do these things to me
Why is it me...
don't smite me, just hear me out
hear out my complaints of the world I once wish to revolutionize
now I just see revolutions as a joke
empty inside
here me vent, maybe I'll start to mend
this, my one grudge against you
someone I don't even know...
The wonders of the world,
The clouds barrel into the pools of blue, crashing into golden sunlight streaks piercing through the sky,
A canvas of colour full of shades you cannot clarify,
As it floats by just above the likes of you and I,
Perched on a grand oak tree the birds soulfully sing,
Chirping a conversation, to us its a tweeting tune and the flapping of a wing,
The squirrels soon notice me,
As they scurry away up the Acorn tree, Watching and waiting from a bountiful beautiful branch,
Until it's safe to come thundering down the tree trunk,
To continue filling up their cheeks and arms,
The bunnies bashful and shy bolt for the bushes in the blink of an eye,
Unlike the bold butterflies that flutter brazenly through the skies,
Despite being delicate delights, full of vivid colours brightening up the sky, Just like fire flies burning bright in the nights eye,
The Lakes shimmer glistening in the rays of sunlight,
With a solid stillness that's glass like, Until a single ripples ride causes the surface and dark depths to collide,
We will never behold the secrets the dark depths haven't told,
Up above the geese are gathering getting ready for a good gaggling or perhaps they're giggling,
One things for sure they are certainly chitter chattering
The swans slide in silence paired with pure panache,
They are the Royalty of the water praised, poised and posh,
Ruling with regality and gracility and conduct,
Often looking down their elegant elongated necks,
At the peasant quarrelsome quacking ducks,
With utter distaste and disgust,
Flashes of yellow from Spring daffs sway away,
Dancing in the Whispers of the winds, a beautiful array
Petals from the Violets and bluebells amongst the lavender fields enhance what the emblazon earth's birthed,
The bees buzz in between the Floral display,
The nectar is their nicotine a bouquet buffet,
What wonders our world has to behold from for us to nurture,
The Creator blessed us not only with nature,
But every Acre each creature from the Grand Canyon a magnificent crater, to the Icelandics glistening glacier, everything is a fantastic feature,
We are blessed, to walk amongst the wonders of this world.