Long Portentous Poems
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It was the darkest night of the year, and the light was eclipsed but the haunting moon was so near. Lagging
hope faded, and the jading stillness increased my fear. Twas a warm, muggy night with a cool, misty fog drear.
A vixen wind against my jaundiced awning did sheer. All at once, ghostly emanations and visions of black
ravens became so stark so clear. From a nearby church cemetery; gasping, satin-sheathed mummies from their
soiled compartments began to rear. Wispy, veiled goblins in the distant pines started to appear. The nearby
stream gurgled spewing, nauseous vapors that filtered across my warping pier. Gargantuan gargoyles around my
crenelated windows did swerve and veer. White-tipped bats with ebony capes around my porch light did flitter
and fleer. Cringing 'neath my pleated, satin curtians, I heard a knock so *****. Bounding from my cloistered
lair, all my remaining wits did forswear. Flinging open the door, I was confronted by a craggly-clad seer. In a
hurried, modulated rant, he with warnings of pending doom filled each, perched ear. He, then, paused and
glared at me with a bleary-eyed leer. Slamming the door, I began to ponder his doleful, portentous lear, then staggering to my pantry, I grappled for a bottle of cheer. Unbeknownst to me, a pilfering vampire had
spliced a bloody concoction in my satiating beer. Suddenly, the velvet-laced furniture was shrouded with a
crimson verneer. Stumbling along a meandering course to the basement, I located a wooden box that
resembled a bier. Accepting my perilous fate, climbed into my designated tomb, and into my coroded heart
plunged a jagged spear.
Cycles
by Michael R. Burch
I see his eyes caress my daughter's breasts
through her thin cotton dress,
and how an indiscreet strap of her white bra
holds his bald fingers
in fumbling mammalian awe...
And I remember long cycles into the bruised dusk
of a distant park,
hot blushes,
wild, disembodied rushes of blood,
portentous intrusions of lips, tongues and fingers...
and now in him the memory of me lingers
like something thought rancid,
proved rotten.
I see Another again?hard, staring, and silent?
though long-ago forgotten...
And I remember conjectures of panty lines,
brief flashes of white down bleacher stairs,
coarse patches of hair glimpsed in bathroom mirrors,
all the odd, questioning stares...
Yes, I remember it all now,
and I shoo them away,
willing them not to play too long or too hard
in the back yard?
with a long, ineffectual stare
that years from now, he may suddenly remember.
Photographs
by Michael R. Burch
Here are the effects of a life
and they might tell us a tale
(if only we had time to listen)
of how each imperiled tear would glisten,
remembered as brightness in her eyes,
and how each dawn’s dramatic skies
could never match such pale azure.
Like dreams of her, these ghosts endure
and they tell us a tale of impatient glory . . .
till a line appears—a trace of worry?—
or the wayward track of a wandering smile
which even now can charm, beguile?
We might find good cause to wonder
as we see her pause (to frown?, to ponder?):
what vexed her in her loveliness . . .
what weight, what crushing heaviness
turned her auburn hair a frazzled gray,
and stole her youth before her day?
We might ask ourselves: did Time devour
the passion with the ravaged flower?
But here and there a smile will bloom
to light the leaden, shadowed gloom
that always seems to linger near . . .
And here we find a single tear:
it shimmers like translucent dew
and tells us Anguish touched her too,
and did not spare her for her hair's
burnt copper, or her eyes' soft hue.
Published in Tucumcari Literary Review (the first poem in its issue)
Keywords/Tags: youth, puberty, teen, teenage, teenagers, teen love, sex, sexy, lust, desire, date, father, daughter, chastity, virginity, abstinence, hormones, photograph, photographs, effects, ghosts, phantoms, time
Before the blast in April's darkened sky. . .
before the electrifying surge of insurgency -
when trucks and tanks were used to block the roads, and
when men and even boys were sought to aid in one malicious purpose. . .
before the rampant slaughter -
the raining of machetes down on flesh and bones
and the cornucopia of corpses left like butchered carcasses
on highways, nearby houses and in churches. . .
before the plundering, the rapes and mutilations
and the exodus of thousands to death-infested camps,
there were whisperings -
insidious and portentous to the ears of the wisely suspicious -
and a voice on the airwaves spewing hate.
Before it all,
there was a brewing of resentment
of a people with a history of poverty and
of transitory freedom and capricious politics.
And through it all, with such grave consternation,
governments debated. . . waited. . . . . . . and waited,
playing with semantics
while thousands dead became the hundred thousand,
and three long months - unrivaled for its number of atrocities -
came to its completion.
Seemingly, peace has been restored
and punishment stingily doled out.
Time moves on . . .
except for half a million
for whom compassion by the world
was spared.
Autumn approached about a week ago as stealthily as a fox!
The corn has been shucked and the golden fodder stands in shocks.
Luscious apples have been plucked from every supple bough.
Sweet-scented alfalfa for the cattle has been stowed in the mow.
In yon woods the trees wear robes of brilliant yellows and reds.
Excited children have been burnishing the runners on their sleds!
The rasp of crosscut saws resounds from yonder oak tree grove,
As many cords of wood are sawn for the parlor heating stove!
Skeins of majestic geese grace the sky in their southward wing.
We'll miss their haunting cries but they'll return again come spring.
Cellar bins bulge with onions, punkins and sweet pertaters.
Shelves groan 'neath jars of corn, beans and beefsteak termaters!
Tom Turkey is being fattened up completely oblivious of his fate.
Unbeknownst to that strutting dude, he has a portentous dinner date!
Squirrels scurry about collecting nuts with vigorous animation,
Hiding them hither and yon about my lawn for later exhumation!
Wafting leaves weave a carpet of gold and scarlet upon the lawn.
The rising sun tinted the first snow on the mountain's crest at dawn.
Vagabond zephyrs that now gently shove the lifeless leaves around,
Anon, will become shrieking gales piling drifts of snow upon the ground!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Steeple lit by lightning loud
Moon that's full peeks round a cloud
Trudging through the churchyard mud
Unwise shortcut: THUD, THUD, THUD!
The sound is muted ’neath my feet
No one there I wish to meet
Sodden hair and soaked to skin
Contemplate my every sin
Thunder, lightning, crackling air
Time to hightail out of there
Prickling skin: can’t hang around
Portentous skies and groaning ground
Slipping sliding progress thwarted
Planned escape at once aborted
Through the storm the church bells chime
Shadowed figure… asks the time
Where he came from I don’t know
Neither did I see him go
Stood alone in worsened shower
Still his voice enquires the hour
Flight, not fight my first reaction
Once my feet acquired traction
Reached the exit P.D.Q.
Asked the time by who knows who
Homeward through the icy rain
Darkness asks the time again
Local paper on the mat
Front page headline tells us that
Town remembers Howard Peak,
Funeral was held this week
Police have found no weapon nor
The watch that he was murdered for
***An unexpected occurrence or event can ruin anyone's day***
Late Monsoon
She bares an enchanting smile like a crown
Torrential rain drenched her colorful balloon
Enthusiasm ebbed reveals portentous frown
Strode naked in the wake of a late monsoon
Penned: 02/26/2021
Riviera Beach
Florida USA
aswirl within tremendous maelstroms
universal united uninhabitable cauldron
tempered with analogous:
outrageous, portentous
thunderous cacophony in tandem
with thick mucilaginous fog
metaphorically postpartum
nebulous placenta afterbirth
and/or proto planets aborted
per primordial material
slowly (millions of years) coalescence
annealed bubbling primeval soup
engendering (extant
via immeasurably immense stretches of time)
subsequent birth of quasi solar systems
where antediluvian cosmic midwife prepped
quintessential biochemical laboratories
across gamut of space
inexorably incurring, inviting, inuring
pseudo plasmatic phenomenal possibilities
vaguely concatenating, incubating,
nursing inhospitable
wryly, wrought-fully,
write-fully Weltanschauung
respective environmental, geological,
meteorologically rendered seething broth
conglomerations fused inchoate legions
of Ongepatchket protean quixotic
rudimentary shapeless threads
winding up at greased lightening
eventually simmering temperature
thousands of degrees
conducive for indefatigable living organisms
congealing despite galactic Golem
whiplashing microbial unicellular entities
subjecting globular linkedin progenitors
across the countless eons
where hellacious heat gave way to
punks like cool and the gang
drafted heady lagers produced
thickly *** bergs exceptionally humungous ice
hundreds of millions years ago Arctic vortex
preserved intact forebears of this writer
who still retains
one percent genetic Neanderthal Man
stock, lock and barrel.
amid the bleats of lambs
and the moo of cows
in a far away manger
a baby, swaddled in rags was born
though despicable in some eyes,
He was the clone of Clones
the one, though Heaven sent,
was the humblest of the humble,
who halved history!
He walked the hills of Judea
with disciples many
healed the sick
met people
lived one among them
until three decades
and three years
the cloud laden sky
suddenly turned dark
the spirit of evil
invaded inside
and outside
premonitions
of portentous occurrence!!
at Gethsemane
the fatal rendezvous,
He sweated blood
as coins tinkled,
Judas through a kiss
betrayed his master
was sentenced
by the marshals of power
and was convicted
Pontius Pilate, washing hands,
absolved himself of his guilt
He tottered to Calvary,
lay on the cross, not by nails
but pinned by love
He poured down love
on those never deserved
to his love, there is no end...
among the hisses of revulsion
and the screams of a vengeful crowd
the tremulous cadence
of an agonized cry
“why hast Thou forsaken me?”
died down…..
did Golgotha’s cliffs echo that cry?
The Father kept ‘an aggressive silence’
The Sun (Son) set at noon
darkness shrouded the Earth
the curtain fell
but on the 3rd day
walked out of the grave
defeating Death and Sin!
Our Lord has Risen….!
to this day
the world
hails this victory!!
______________________
Easter Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Regina McIntosh
“The further we travel the more truth we can comprehend”—Hypatia
She is amongst the moon flowers glowing
‘neath the skyline she illumes, lilac fragrance
her essence observing as once b'fore as an ancient
the above constellations, predestined
Once more, in early summer thru fall,
at dusk, and for a single night,
she bares the sepal,
a Moon flower blooms
In the evening as the sun sets
her shy soft petals imploding by dawn
For a single night, she'll look upwards,
her visible movement exploding as
Synesius, stems erect alongside,
an admirer of the astronomer,
an extraordinary tryst
Both overarching, seekers,
stargazers empirical, seers linking life and the cosmos
An Ellipse Empress, Hypatia
explores the zodiac feast, a sterling banquet for her eyes,
pensive process and celebration
effusive cornucopia are her sheer delights,
orbits on the locus of the elliptical,
of the planets around the sun
Apollonius astronomy
her fate written in the stars, I believe now
the cold stones thrown,
that crush an unshrouded bourgeois body
nor her exquisite intellect brain,
pleasures a fundamental mind
takes part in, mobs’ mutilation
these the mundane
Her legacy escaped the brutal denial’s
curves (a plane with a cone) her gifts
unlocking cosmic secrets
travel is truth unfolding from beyond,
fateful is an air of unavoidable destiny designed,
baleful, fate unfurls transparently
ere inevitable onyx eyes,
ere eyes castration
The sea-goat navigates as Capricorn
astrologically inauspicious
part fish depths never forlorn
never portentous
The ram’s dramatic energy, Aries
the golden fleece savior of Phrixus and Helle,
So forth never-ending
charted alignments propels
.......It was written in the stars
Fickle
The ebb and flow of life;
Fickle is, fickle does, fickle so
Yet struggle we all to know,
Can we really do this?
Love—yeah, Friendship—yeah,
Character, Smart, Dumb, Fun;
Do we know what we want?
Forever fickle can be that
Forever pickle that we laugh at
With Mankind locked in that
Forever maze ever mercurial.
Frazzle, frizzle, razzle are the now;
Dazzle is the How and When?
One who’s portentous in thought,
Whose mind is open but adrift,
May know this How and When.
Shall it be him or her or both?
Just maybe—it’s no one at all!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(March 28, 2016) (Verse)