Long Greyed Poems
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“Oh that ship has sailed..”
Shaking his head, following her voice as it trailed
He smiles to himself, ’give it time’, he knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
It was love at first sight, the surround greyed and paled
Spotting this electric eccentric, dancing in the rain
“Oh that ship has sailed..”
As time flowed by, he knew how they’d not failed
He is her best friend through all; hysterical laughter to anguish and pain
He smiles to himself, ‘give it time’, he knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
She loves him wholehearted, though never been veiled
On the news of their daughter, he’d tried proposing, in vain
“Oh that ship has sailed..”
Now soo much older, their matured rich love haled
She is both bubbly and light, and a grumpy old pain
He smiles to himself, “give it time’, hew knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
She turns to face him, happy laughter regaled
He takes her hand, “So about that sword cane…”
“Oh that ship has sailed..”
He smiles to himself, ‘give it time’, he knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
Contest: Third-Person Villanelle Poetry Contest
Hosted by: L.Milton Hankins
Date: 23.11.2022
how many times i saw him slumbered
but his eyes now departed of life
a mist of off white milk
now covered the sea blue
where smiles danced
and sunlight frolicked
The rise of breast
which echoed every breath
now gone
That reddish murmur
that washed his chiselled cheeks
now a greyed out blue
of meat turning tarnished
His hand i held
a cold popsicle lick
hoping for a returned grip
his lips that spoke with eager softness
now held the shape of you
i love lost in final words
but burned in memories pain
and tears that dropped
on pillow slip
just traces of before
and gone was all there was
he paused
pushing himself on the soft leather
shaped by his years
-Happy
his eyes beaming
below the arced trellises of his greyed out eyebrows
Dion rested at his grandfathers feet
His face in a contortion of bewilderment
-No, I mean as a job
The old man grasped a freshly iced can of
some sugar filled gloop
and poured it between them both
He gave a chuckle
disguising it as a cough
as the child held the glasses together to better measure the gloop
before placing one in his grandfathers hand
The giant princes and 7 people doesn’t have the same ring
-Okay what about Grumpy
pulling a fake gurn to his face
the tickle of his beard causing him to sneeze to easily
Dion yawned his grandfather wiping the sleep peadrops from his eye
Bashfully I must leave
but my grate NESS
Is documented
By 11, I thought I'd have it down by 15,
But by 16 and a sour sunday morn,
And daisy chains foiled into the moor,
And hands that tighten but ne'er lighten,
Hands that strangle, stitch, and liven.
Of ties that wrangle, withhold, hang o'er the handle,
And toe-tipp'd kisses of kids with scissors,
Incisions of misses by razors and flesh fissions.
And slaps of fathers that formed tender swine,
borne a brat, t'tender the bar o'wine,
And quaint affections that form'd none conscience. Greyed,
spurned eyes grown affray, blotting boils and sores, and
Loaned love t'be lost along the way.
And all ails of child, trebled the gall of blackened bile, tendrils of
Denial t'caress the carcass, and withdraw.
E'er unsupervised in sullied superstition, bled to th'core of frailing admonition,
And hitched a hind of loops and bunnies,
Ne'er t'tie and stead, but t'tumble into the rabbit.
O curs'd the cocoon in biblical serpentine,
O'riddles and remedies, and stewards in cemeteries,
Led to call and sit and stew,
Waiting, waiting, and awaiting
Sunday grace anew.
And sixteen drawls in th'stench of wine,
And sixteen sings the sickly hymm and diagnostic chime,
Of the flatline.
And sixteen awaits the mellow Monday morn.
And sixteen waits 'till there is none left t'mourn.
30//4//2025
Three-Kolored Ku (Now 10)
1. bluebird’s ear’s to ground –
pink collared worm (casts below)
now won’t grace black hook
2. blue days can have clouds,
yellow sun bursts pierce grey clouds -
rainbow’s arc mocks smile?
3. girls pink with envy,
boys made blue by sexist roles -
‘his story’ just black
4. greyed out politics –
blue and red (views, poop) both suspect
in the fog of war
5. red sunsets portend
dawn’s blue skies to those caring –
black thoughts rarely float
6. pumpkin’s orange loves
tomato’s ripened redness – light’s
short, black cat nights stretch
7. fall topples most green,
revealing vibrant colors -
reds, yellows – drab wins
8. poetry’s greenest
when planted fields change color -
red blood fades to black
9. green planet’s seasons,
the ocean’s blue expanses,
the earth’s spine - beached white
10. time’s future’s more dark
man’s ‘black’ and ‘white’ aren’t colors (1)
Grace – red, blood-cured wood?
Krakatoa Kritic #007
October 29, 2022
Poet's Notes:
(1) Black is the absence of light, hence no color at all.
White is a combination of all colors, so no color also.
Some parts of life are permanent,
alas, some aspects not:
The morning temperature feels chill;
by midday it grows hot.
The money spent on cell phones'
long-term value which I sought,
Too soon is gone, as more is spent
on upgrades I've since bought.
The sun in its celestial course
yields light, black night, or shade.
Old years tossed out with calendars
as fire's embers fade.
Some friendships evanesce,
forgetting promises we'd made
Our children grow and move away,
as hair grows thinned and greyed.
Staunch boughs of trees are shaken by
harsh winds, enduring long.
'That time of year thou mayest in me
behold'; thy love's more strong.
You've been my life's sweet constant
as we harmonize our song -
One truth is undeniable:
in your arms I belong.
// Dedicated to Janet, my loving bride of 35 years //
Greyed cloudscape:
Even the leaves
have, true to their name,
left the Sky.
Readying work is
done.
Flowers, matings, done.
Repairs and preparations,
all made.
The only work remaining
is excuses.
Exculpations of a worn Self.
Rationalizations
follow realizations
which have long
followed idealizations.
Winter is coming
like a 30 ton steaming
locomotive (crazy motive)
let loose, downhill, and
feeling late to station.
I remember, though,
that surely as the cowcatcher
comes, threateningly
racing towards my Now,
it carries with it
an end of itself
a caboose, a Spring.
And so, though Winter
comes, so too does
it's End.
Lowered shades
on searching eyes
blue sky greyed
by clouded mind
reliving segment
uncurved by life
fleeting joy
of passerby smile
immersing self
in pool of regrets
tears undried
words unsaid
waves of mind
resurfacing rancor
memory fragments
not circled by time
grace blown ashes
uncovering fire
wiping tears dry
warming heart's ice
igniting soul
to reflect God's light
pulling ego reins
from past to now
on saddle of present
Spirit guided
chiming joy
of unfolding life
rainbow of flowers
birds' new arrival
heart overflowing
sweetness of pardon
obsession with past
like dew in the sky
soul and body
in unison
magnetized
spinning around
truth
of cycling life
with hope of ice tears
sparkling to smiles
Ninth Place Winner- Brian Stand: Premiere Contest 1475-5/26/26
Those greyed pink strands
That trickle with a crackle
As neurons motor there their weigh
That Brian that named itself
I gave the voices in my head their own costumes
Some synapses may have snap
…………………………..………p
…………………………………..e
…………………………………..d
Some people don’t have an inner voice
I think I got their share
Some just grunt
Not the day to ask how I am
Some whisper tirades of alarms
Some plot within
while chances of escape are slim
They all came from planets
No earthlings
Scarred Wars
Things Han could have responded….
Me and Luke are a thing
Once you go Chewie…
Get your stuff outta of the falcon
You snogged your brother
I am doing this to get away from you, you nutter
My name is Indiana
Something something
this comes way.
Am I not you?
A reflection
of your colors
in my water
as you dance
in a garden
veiled by night
where the flowers
have no odor
and are bright
fireflies
of neon
lights
and you say it’s me
that stain
left by blood
you have shed
greyed by tears
of the innocents
you misled
as you sparkle
in your stolen
golden wealth
I the hypocrite
the murderer
and the thief
the mirage
water colored
of your desert
left unwashed
by God's grace
mercy unasked
because
you're perfect
I the villain
shadow
unwanted
of your mind
projected
by a sun
that today sets
and tomorrow
may not rise.