Long Palisades Poems
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#These_graves
Wait! Am I stepping on someone's grave? no one seems to answer, but the bowing of their head down, gives me the actual answer, that's pain forcing their heads down. Where should I step when everywhere the ground, seems to be covered with graves, not marked but lives were lost there, at some point
I shook my head, my eyes blurred, my heart aches, I'm overwhelmed, wondering why and who are these, which I'm daily stepping on. These are someone's father's, brother's and sisters. No tombs , no engraves, no numbering, all thrown like carcasses, but they are corpses, what about their dignity, the human spirit value?
Apartheid has contaminated the mother Africa soil, with her children's blood, and violence has acersibated the horrendousness, the shooting, the stabbing and suicides on life giving trees, earth is no longer covered with graves but it's now a cemetery, itself, we no longer devided by fences and palisades , we are now one, for the spirits now roams everywhere, we are now covered, permanent mourners
These realities makes me sob, who should account? Who shall fix? what just can't be fixed, me continuing stepping on these graves makes me not innocent, for the no more are and should be respected but I'm without choice, crying and complaining won't redress what has been, the damage is permanent, irreversible, these graves
#Poetic_Ink
Victorious and Just, Thus in thy Sword of Spirit I Trust
by Shield and Helmet, I AM REXIMUS MAXIMUS
forged through the Flames this soul is wrought
Unbought, Uncaged, by the Fire I Rise Up
treading the Valleys towards Higher Ground
In Noble Steeds, Noble Ideals and Noble Crowns
No Fetter Unchecked, the Jives Vibe to Holy Sounds
by Great Infinities, in Great Divinity, to the Solars Unbound
where the Trumpets Rumble through the Gates and Pillars and Palisades
comes the Mountain Lions, Desert Paladins, and New Age Crusades
towards Glory Days and High Ways, in Maximum Faith
first Inburst, second Outburst, finally Upward by the Sacred Flame
where Diadems are claimed for those Chosen, Golden, Sentinels
Comes Nigh, Upright, we Fly High like Generals
turning the Golden Page where the Golden Scrolls Illuminate
and the Great Way comes forth to Scintillate,
to the Stars and Beyond in Philosophic Ways
to claim the Emerald Stone that Forever Coruscates,
and the Heavens Awaken like Ancient Days
to what the Soul has Forgotten, and Thus the Blade Reclaims
Ever-Onward, beyond the Iron and Bronze
like Saint Sae'm towards Gilded Songs,
songs that Touch and Ignite the Fires Within
and Erupt to what No Man Can Touch, to what No Man can Claim
and so, Not By The Lesser, but by The Greater We Must
to reach the Precipice, of the Best Of Us, I AM REXIMUS MAXIMUS
In the shadow of the Palisades, where fire ambers flicker and burn/
cities ignite, nevermore to excite never to return/
neighborhoods wrapped in a storm, memories won't fade/
evacuate, evacuate, fleeing through the storm of smoke/
Children with no schools to embrace, "Mommy, where will we live?"/
innocence lost, crying in the ash/
Santa Ana winds howl, destruction painted in flames, each blaze a beast, ripping apart the heart of L.A/
A symphony of sorrow, where pets wander, cats and dogs, faithful companions, lost in the chaos of an apocalyptic event/
Men and women, firefighters, first responders, heroes draped in resilience, charging into the inferno, with hearts ablaze, fighting for the fragile, for the life that flickers In the depths of despair and rage/
Charging into the flames, Brave souls weaving hope through fire and smoke/
Emboldened metal torso dusts her in pink Himalayan flecks
Her mahogany neck persuaded to turn in his grip
Rendering fragrant dark bite from her deep spice chest
The two infused together perfect a harmonious marriage
Her mahogany neck persuaded to turn in his grip
Seasoning lamb's tendered flesh, in a glistening delight
The two infused together perfect a harmonious marriage
Chef, shaker, and grinder bow in sumptuous applause
Seasoning lamb's tendered flesh, in a glistening delight
Refined palate and palisades of sharpened cutlery adorn
Chef, shaker, and grinder bow in sumptuous applause
The curtains drawn, lights hushed in reverie and sighs
Refined palate and palisades of sharpened cutlery adorn
Rendering fragrant dark bite from her deep spice chest
The curtains drawn, lights hushed in reverie and sighs
Emboldened metal torso dusts her in pink Himalayan flecks
The heavens scent of layers varnish,
upon layers then grow and tarnish,
like a stockade wrapped with palisades.
A battlement inside playing charades;
as the volume gets louder - louder,
won't turn off or fade. Battering
turbulence that goes on for hours.
You can hear the low thrum plucking
then growing. Breeding a buzz
in your inner ears, like hornets
building a nest in your brain.
By the time you reach your limit
you tremble, shivering
like leaves in the wind.
The plucking, poisonous parrot
won't stop spinning and turning;
it hangs tightly like a ram
to smash down the door.
1/22/2019
I cycled across the river to Fort Lee
Then on the park roads under the Palisades
At the time it didn't occur to me
Undercliff Park didn’t come free; a man had paid.
I walked the carriage-road of Pocantico Hills
It was early, I saw cows and said "moo"
I vaguely heard of the man who paid the bills
So I could walk through fields, enjoy the view.
I hiked with my brother in Acadia Park
We pitched a tent on Mount Cadillac
High above the sea, lightning after dark
At sunrise, we high-fived, and put on our packs
I didn't know John’s spirit hovered there
The man who paid for all this land
A man who did more than his share
A believer, he made this his stand
Above Jackson Hole I rode my bike up high
Clouds dispersed, snow-peaks showed
I felt the rush, like an advance guard spy
John spent well, this was what he chose
John’s descendant Marion wanted revolution
So it could take away her money, deal with it better
Peggy Rockefeller joined SDS as a solution
Some rich kids see wealth as an iron fetter.
John Senior and John Junior, would they plea?
Be dismayed at the causes to which their money now goes?
Would John ask the fund’s new trustees
Not to fund radicals, and NGOs?
Maybe its intuition, that makes a man decide
But take a hike in the Smokies, or Yosemite and recall
In this kind of charity John took pride
An Idealist whose legacy still stands tall.
Now in Pocantico I wear a disguise
I’m full of shame, it’s true
Because whenever I come over a rise
Some kid laughs and points and says “Moo”!
Word Trio in D Minor
Who? Me?
Dude, I’m just a confused star-watcher like you.
The movie of life continually plays before us,
Here in the cinematic darkness of another dying day;
Celluloid memories dressed in black parade before us like lost ghosts;
We sad souls, hopeful but hopeless,
Scan the heavens for a distant voice, a silent nod,
Even for a faint whisper of response,
From the Giver and Taker of all.
For the *****, dressed scantily in baleful blue,
Continues to turn and bend like Eden’s snake;
Moist, slippery oozing scenes take place once again in the leafy palisades.
We star-watchers know where to gaze,
We choose which stars to kill with an empty barrel.
The asphalt avenues remind us of the nights ahead,
They veer as a woman veers,
After bitter recognitions in the morning,
After anguished eyes have seen the drooling truth;
They confront us as dust confronts the dead,
They guide us as lanterns in the cold fog.
They know the truth is hidden in plain sight.
Who? Me?
Dude, I’m just another lost soul like you.
Lost as men without contemplation or reconciliation;
Lost as women without gesture or spasm, but
We star-watchers will bring roses for the dead,
We will sing the songs of submission and survival;
We will dance to the music of madness,
And we will continue to scan the skies and the stars
For a distant voice, a silent nod,
Even for a faint whisper of response,
From the Giver and Taker of all.
A lovely walk, a promenade leads the way
Burnt orange succulents stand like bushes serene
Crushed tepid deep, whitewash stirs up behind the scenes
Delightful blends of blue sky in-between
Entwined the seaweed branching out for a reach
Finely tuned trumpet sounds of swoosh on the beach
Glassy prisms beam through dark shades
Horizon blended ocean, sky, behind palisades
Intruders running 'round, sand in face
Jelly fish glow and charm with grace
Krutsinger Island, the sign reads
Lover’s bed and breakfast needs
Men and woman frolicking in the water
Naked babies cry out with laughter
Oceanic mammals creep by
Palm trees, flowing, occupy
Quietly recedes then tosses its sea
Rentals, beachcombers welcome
Surfers ride their boards for fun
Tingling with a cooling breeze
Umbrella of waves, high tides come and go
Verdant colors make for radiant seascape
Whales bellowing blow show
Xanadu paradise plan your escape
Yachting, sailing, tagging and more
Zanzibar coastal getaway tours
lush slopes mirrored
round an islet of pines. . .
verdant bounty
where clear water
reflects the mountains’ splendor. . .
a lovers’ château
at the ridge's feet. . .
sunshine in guise
of daffodils
pure water’s pool
where valleys converge with hills. . .
autumn in bloom
white magic. . .
evergreens sliding
down the mountainside
in ice blue water
the crystalline palisades. . .
our secret treasure
where amber-tinged clouds
embrace lofty white peaks. . .
a sacred cross
among wild flowers
water cascades from green cliffs. . .
an endless spring
Andrea Dietrich/ July 4, 2012
inspired by the pictures in PD's
Haiku mountain (week) Poetry Contest
For PD's: Enter the #1 poems only.... (entry must be from my past contest) please do not submit a #1 win if it's not from one of my past contest :-)Poetry Contest
A bear furtively steps on the stones in the swift river.
Her cubs eagerly wait on the stone clad shores.
A prominent welt lies beneath mother bear’s coat of warmth.
The river has both sides lined with palisades of fir trees.
Mother bear stands silently as a school of salmon swim into her presence.
Misted waters rise to greet a vibrant sky in jubilation.
As the salmon fight to traverse ferocious rapids,
mother bear listens intently and watches with bated breath in continuous silence.
Her cumbersome claw hovers like a weightless mosquito, dancing hitherto
for that oh so perfect catch.
The blue and gray titanium spray of the rapids avoids her touch.
And so, the salmon’s day has come to an end.
Mother bear and her cubs have sustenance for the moment.
I am just helping out a new soup member with her writing. I have taken her submission and converted it into prose form.