Long Ledge Poems
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The Mermaid's Rescue
A lost and lone survivor of a sunken warship
back into conciousness the sailor finally did slip
All alone in the vast, vast empty water prairie
fleeting thoughts of home and his sweet Marie!
Hazy, crazy thoughts swirled in his aching head
had he not drowned , O' why was he not dead
Memories of being saved by an unseen guiding force
O' but what a song , what a beautiful angelic voice!
Visions soon appeared for his mind's eye to see
of a beautiful creature rising to his rescue pleas
Hair of radiant gold lying lovingly upon breasts bare
a swimming angel appeared ever so swiftly there!
Now waking upon this small and desolate rock
feverish and deep in the throes of a tragic shock
Suddenly hearing voice began to softly, sweetly sing
his spirit , soul healed so quickly that voice did bring!
Searching eagerly across the shining ocean's waves
for a mysterious hero that did desperate lives save
A wished for vision soon appeared at the water's edge
a mere dozen feet from the jutting rock's lower ledge!
The same beautiful face he saw in his vision's haze
the magical creature he now knew his life had saved
One even prettier than his cherished, loving wife Marie
now it's entire form he could astonishingly see!
A Mermaid ! Heavens how could such vision truly be
strange tales, fictional legends of very magical seas
Could this have been answer to his desperate pleas
a vision so tempting that his faithful heart it did tease!
Singing stopped and that voice began to clearly speak
telling he had been fast asleep for an entire week
A rescue ship would be arriving there that very day
as it appears I must say goodbye and swim away!
Final hours his Mermaid and he did pleasantly share
he in awe of her glory, her sexy body and golden hair
So many amazing stories of many a daring rescue feat
telling of rescues where sister Mermaids even compete!
Suddenly that promised ship raced coming in so fast
sailor knew this was his only chance, his very last
Please, he asked, will you give me a good-bye Mermaid kiss
wished granted , Mermaid vanished into the deep, blue abyss!
Rescued and now safely aboard his miracle life-saving ship
his story told and nary a miraculous part did he dare to skip
His tale he told to all that sat amazed at his strange ordeal
so mythical and strange, even he wondered was it truly real!
Robert L. 05-29-2014
My mom raised me
She fed me
She cared for me
My mom is a saint
Raising five boys…
How can you say she ain’t?
My wife is nuts!
She is worried she may get laid off,
Yet she is hoping she will :\
She worries too much
But takes it all in stride
She is so strong and so weak at the same time
Dealing with all the stress
Yet the dog farting is too much!
My daughter is mine
She is too much like me,
Only more so
She doesn’t worry enough
Life brings what comes along
Her heart is full of song
But it’s mostly metal and punk and rap
And I just don’t get that crap
My daughter is also an addict you see…
Which is hard for us to understand, you see.
Addicts can’t “just stop”.
They let the drug-of-choice rule their life
They don’t care about the strife
There are triggers you know
That make the addict so
Stress, anxiety, depression, loneliness and boredom
They all push the addict towards the ledge
And their low self-esteem is the finale step
Over
The
Edge.
She is in recovery now…
She is doing well
She will always be
An addict you see
We love her the best we can
We will stick to the plan
And take each day
As it comes in to play.
My granddaughter is great!
She’s not yet two
She is nuts too.
She knows nothing of how
She came to my house.
(refer to the stanza on “My Daughter”)
She loves unconditionally
She loves Grandpa you see.
She doesn’t yet speak
So she cries her fears
And I dry her tears
And just like with her grandma and her mother
I try to read her mind
To see if I can tell
What it is that makes her yell
But she is sweet and kind and beautiful
And grandpa spoils her so…
Bet he can’t help it, you know.
It may be politically incorrect
But I don’t care;
Sometimes there is too much estrogen in the air
So grandpa gets out of the house
And meets his buds
And drinks some suds
And tells dirty jokes
About the kind of women
My mother and wife never were,
and I hope my daughter and granddaughter never will be.
So point your finger at me
And yell Hypocrisy!
I don’t care
Because you wouldn’t dare
Live my life for me.
But I would not trade all of this
To be rid of the drama (and the bliss)
It’s four against one
the ladies and me
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you will see
It takes great strength to do what I do
Four-to-One, and two dogs too.
What’s left of Octavia glides down the hall
Past the portraits she painted in life,
Now framed in mahogany, rosewood, and oak,
And they’re hers for the haunting tonight.
She looks for the canvas she started the day
Her desire became indiscrete;
A nude on a balcony under the moon.
It was one she would never complete.
What’s left of Octavia passes the wall
Where her art is the featured display,
Recalling advances she made in the past
That went far beyond being risqué.
She goes to the window and conjures the scene
As it happened those long years before,
And thinks of the model who posed for her then;
A temptation too ripe to ignore.
What’s left of Octavia mourns what she’s lost
Like a dreamer deprived of her dream.
Her husband threw open the studio door
To discover her subject and theme.
He looked at the model, he looked at his wife,
And he saw what a fool he had been
To blindly indulge her artistic pursuits,
Which she took as occasion to sin.
A new moon at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
And she’s out on a haunting tonight.
What’s left of Octavia longs for the time
She felt anything other than numb.
The smell of the paint and the feel of the brush
Being foreign to what she’s become.
A specter deprived of the flavor of life.
An obsession that won’t fade away.
A monochrome canvas, a faintly drawn sketch
From a palette with ten shades of gray.
What’s left of Octavia stands on the ledge,
And considers the landscape below.
The moment of impact still fresh in her mind,
Because time has not softened the blow.
Her family gathered to lay her to rest,
And the ring was removed from her hand.
Though people would gossip, and ponder her fate,
There are none who in truth understand.
What’s left of Octavia comes to him now,
Late at night when he puts on her ring.
A family heirloom entrusted to him
When he married his lover last spring.
He stands in the dark as she enters the room,
And the séance is set to begin.
She watches him pose, while he takes off his clothes,
With her brushstrokes caressing his skin.
Confessions at midnight. She whispers a name.
Her face in the shadows, a study in pain.
Still searching for what she can never regain,
But he's hers for the haunting tonight.
when I gaze upon you,
I see not the skin,
I see not the shape,
I see not the size.
I see your light.
Radient from your chest,
the warm tint fits you best.
Placing a smile on my face
as trust begins to encase.
Pin-pointing the light.
Glowing so bright,
Your silly smile can add,
even when you are hurting and sad.
Then I see it.
On you they spit.
your light fades.
you crave for blades.
My hands shake,
how dare they make
your light dim.
My rage begins to brim.
I know that look,
your joy they took.
Their words engrave themselves upon your skin
Beating you down, they want to win.
Wiping their hurt upon your delicate heart.
fading light, my panic rises, the tears start.
Feet moving with out my permission
Their words churning my ignition.
I step between them and you.
Their anger flew.
Arms strait out,
I'll take their blowout.
for they can't see
how beautiful you can be.
They cant hurt my light.
Not when this is my fight.
My eyes hold strong,
because their words are wrong.
I remeber their words to me
How I didn't even disagree.
the long nights alone,
making my skin atone.
Remembering the rope necklaces,
all of the fake faces.
The tears cried in pain,
wanting for life to abstain.
I stand,
nothing they say can land.
for I fight for a cause
to make your pain pause.
When no reaction will come,
The leave saying 'no fun',
I turn to you
and tell you its not true.
I hold you tight
Strengthening your light
Those words are but a blight
This is our fight.
I will pull you off every ledge you stand on,
No matter how dark, there will still be a dawn,
So let that light shine bright,
Let your soul take flight.
You are stronger than you know,
this is a temparary woe,
So dont let your light go.
This is your life,
so lay down the knife
You'll make it through this strife.
And when you do
No one will shine as bright.
there won't be another loney night.
For you won your fight.
Stay strong,
stay brave.
Don't let them take your light
This is all of our fight.
You can win.
"Never let them take the light behind your eyes"
(My Chemical Romance)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Listen to the songs:
Light behind your eyes - My Chemical Romance
Optional:
Sunrise - Our last night
Stand in the Rain - Superchick
Fight - All Good Things
You Rode Into My Town
Gunned all The Lonely Deputies Down
Blew-Up The Bank Of Trust, In Our Face …
Where, There Was Hope … Is Now Empty Space …
… Now, I Gotta Chase You ! …
Outlaw !
Armed and Dangerous
Outlaw !
Jesse James, Would Be Jealous
… of You – Outlaw !
You’re Outrageous …
… and You’re An Outlaw ! …
Stealing Hearts, Like They Was Gold
… Silver Bullets, Are The Lies, You Told
Just A Masked-Man, Running Away …
No Longing-Arms, Can Make You Stay
… This Is Where You Pay (Now) ! …
Outlaw !
# 1 On Our Wanted List …
Outlaw !
They Told Me You Never Miss ! …
Outlaw !
… In A Duel, or A Quick Kiss …
… You’re An Outlaw !
Rustlin’ Cows and Cheating at Cards
Done Knocked Down, Many A Weak and Off-Guard
I Will Chase You Long and Hard
To Show You, How It Feels To Be Scarred …
… My Personal Reward ! …
Outlaw !
$ 10,000.00 Reward
Outlaw !
A Dollar, For Each Broken Heart
Outlaw !
… Better Get A Head-Start …
Outlaw !
Chorus:
Oh, I didn’t do Anything / That’s What All Outlaws Sing!
Oh, I didn’t do Anything / Then, This is Just A Real Bad Dream!
Oh, I didn’t do Anything / Stop! … Then, Where’s Her Dadgum Ring? …
Outlaw …
You Avoid Honor, Like A Hangman’s Noose
Out There, Wild and Still Running Loose
Wanted Posters, Up On Every Wall
When They Look At It … Tears Just Fall …
… You’re A Real Quick-Draw ! …
Outlaw !
Look At That Brim …
Outlaw !
Cocked-Low, Like A Trigger-Rim …
Outlaw !
… Yeah, That’s Him ! …
… It’s The Outlaw ! …
This is Showdown For Nerves-On-Edge
No More Hide-Outs; Not Another Hedge
No More Ladies, Lying On A Ledge
No More Lies, Or A Broken Pledge …
… See This Badge !!! …
Outlaw !
I Shoot Straight From A Curve-Hip …
Outlaw !
You Won’t Get To Give Me The Slip …
Outlaw !
You’re Gonna Get Wild-Whipped …
Outlaw !
Chorus:
Girl, I Know You’re Hurtin’ / But He Was Only Flirtin’
Luv, Stop Your Crying / Break Free From His Lying
Hon, I’m Doing You A Favor / He Ain’t Never Gonna Put No Ring On Your Finger …
He’s An Outlaw !
(Part One of Two)
the waning moonlight thinly enveloped
the dusky canvas obscurely sprawling
across the way from the window I looked,
I knew a park was there with slides and swing
but for the moment dark revealed nothing,
for the moment I didn’t care, either
because in darkness I felt even darker;
I was lying in bed embraced by regret
of decisions of love and time wasted,
spooning the layered sheets of doubt and fret
all thawed out from my heart into my head;
The memories of hurtful comments said
by and to me were chastising voices
of ghostly choices purposed to depress;
As dusk became the night I became lost
in whimsically strewn wishes and pleas
to gods and stars and genies alike, crossed
as eyes crying for mother drowned in seas,
I spoke to nobody but begged for keys
to unlock another time, another place
to start all over again with new space,
To unseen gods I had long since quit on
I prayed, bargained even, another chance
and I’d do everything right this season
- A jobless man needing a pay advance,
But for thirty three years nary a glance
had alpha or omega set on me
and this night I expected no divine decree;
several hours elapsed as I collapsed
in smoldering thoughts of suicide fanned,
- I had outlasted night’s concealing grasp,
and as the morning sun began its planned
ascent, I gave into Hades’ command
through my tenth floor window whispered to me
of hellish suggestions to jump and flee;
on ledge I stood and looked across the way
for one last glimpse of earth and pastel sky,
- a small souvenir of my final day,
My eyes settled on last night’s park from high
above, and that’s when I saw God’s reply,
- an unspoken answer for eyes turned blind,
His deafening promise to all mankind;
by his heavenly brushes came colors
where none had been, transforming lonely space
into one of vibrance and life renewed,
- and it was a different space,
I watched as birds celebrated morning
with songs of praise and thankfulness,
- and I felt a quick waning emptiness,
I heard the children below lining up
for the school bus all on time and ready
to live and learn in this new day granted,
- and I felt like I knew nothing at all;
but then I knew everything all at once,
and I stepped off the ledge ready to live,
ready to embrace
ready to seize life found…
in another time.
Estranged to a lonely room
Littered with trash and splattered gloom
Fettered and sentenced to early doom
Distressed and distraught to a sordid mood
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
To make sure the windows latched
To make sure the door to match
Hope to God to soon to catch
Before settling to an unworldly nap
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Late night battered darkness broken
Metallic taste in my mouth beholden
Bathroom rush with my mouth open
Rinse the mouth and nose thus salted
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
I never see the imp come or go
Only disturbance in light or dark shadow
Low to the floor slither and flow
Dash under the bed, I don’t really know
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Maybe it is up on the ledge
Or under the bed or behind the case
Or cowering in a corner or place
Peeking out from a closet embrace
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
In my dreams I see a sordid face
Withered and shriveled and contorted with hate
Laronian imp with purpose of fate
In my mouth it squirts the paste
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Again I wake and bolt for the sink
From the corner of my eye I see the imp
He disappears in wink or a blink
Invisible to the man with a limp
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Pint sized demon un happily born
Raised to hurt and kill with poison
Never seen in a man with reason
Punished in a life of torture and scorn
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
In the darkness I see a leap
Up to the ledge an amazing feat
For a tiny thing at most two feet
Hiding until I fall asleep
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Needles inserted into my feet
Slow painful sore legs they do retreat
Hope to lord my soul to keep
Late at night in darkness deep
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
In the blackness I hear a click
Grab a sword and after it
Under the bed in a squealing fit
Damaged with a warbling tweet
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Should I slowly pass away
Hopefully my children remember me
Horrible taste with it at bay
Awakening to a brand new day
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Should I survive to tell a story
Of terror, pain and faith and glory
Unbelievable unreasonable stodgy and gory
Peering in as I swoon with sedated foray
Creeps and crawls and stalks at night
Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse:
The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were
killed.
The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860.
To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!”
The Ill-Fated Lighthouse
The towering light that threw
Its friendly beams afar
Over the foaming waves,
The sailor’s guiding star,
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms
Where late it bless’d his sight,
As homeward bound he came
In the dark hour of night.
The thundering surges swept
Over the rocky bed,
From which the lighthouse rear’d
Aloft its flaming head.
And lo! They bore away
In that mad fearful hour,
The work that man had made –
The tempest’s rightful dower
And yet a richer freight
The heaving billows bore,
Than wreck of perished Light!
For tossing to the shore
The drench’d and lifeless forms
Of youthful dead there were,
Two brave and manly hearts
That sadly perish’d there!
Farewell ye faithful ones!
Your memory shall live,
While feeling hearts remain,
Pity’s sweet drops to give,
Or any to recount
The terrors of that night,
When the drear sea engulf’d
The hapless beacon light.
And you, ye rushing waves!
Sweep – foaming, sweep along,
And ever as ye go,
Lift high your noisy song;
For thou, remorseless sea!
Maketh all things thine own!
Then send aloft your tune,
And madly thunder on.
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'
Dawn Forever Rising
It starts
Street lights fade
their tiny soft-winged tenants flee
checkerboard facades change
last night's illumined squares now dark
become but yesterday's portals
some polished
some weather streaked
all reaching to reflect first breath
Steam ascends from the city's vacuum
gratings rattle with subterranean yawning
people-movers wind their way
through mazes of starts
stops
Topside tracks
like fixed contrails
glisten with frost
not yet enjoined by speeding transit
their skeletal tributaries
readying the trickle of humanity
into a mass ocean of glass and steel survival
Uptown
Downtown
A street sweeper's tire rubber and swirling brushes
beneath the overalled believer in Lottos
holding firm the wheel and gears of faith
of trust
gathering gutter-lodged disposal
glass and plastic
paper and cardboard
spinning into the vortex
lifting yesterday's careless cast-offs
inviting today's Starbuck anew
reflections of another kind
Leashes strain from anxious sniffing
bladders hold
ready to burst
seeking just the right tree
the right hydrant
the "ah, yes" that only a canine can know
Rays of sun begin spilling down alleyways
the long-tail rodents scamper for cover
their bellies full
seeking safety after a long night of ancient ritual
food of anything
digestion of history
all in a night's work
Suddenly
Full light cascades down avenues and streets
itinerant pigeons and seagulls spread habitual wings
ready to adore the steadies
the loners
park walkers
window ledge dependables
homeless with dance cards of crumbs
envying the moneyed insomniacs throwing chunks
baguettes gone stale
fit for few
a feast for many
senses loving the coos and warbles
the bobbing thank you
the reciprocal bonding
few but the lonely can appreciate
Finally
The steel and glass imitation of nature
comes fully alive
a sun's illumination without reserve
energy's provision for another day
Rich mix with the poor
money exchanges hands
the hotdog vendor
the hedge fund taker
the cookie jar provider
Most become tomorrow's yesterday
knowing little of the other light
requiring no rising or setting
illumination that never grows dim
something as nothing
forever light
never of darkness
Such for some
awakens from a New York sunrise
this dichotomy like no other
forever reminding
our eyes of dawn
one's inner light
is forever rising