Long Quondam Poems
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I want to relinquish this stagnant pain.
It has been lurking in my subconsciousness
and perforating my reality for too long.
I try to extricate myself from this servitude
but it sticks to my fingers like resin
whenever I try to discard it. Clinging to my memory
like a limpet to a rock: embedded in my remembrance,
and etched into my history. Niggling, annoying,
irritating, like a loudly-ticking clock.
I want to assuage myself of this recollection.
I have served my penance and paid my dues.
I try to escape this quagmire, but my shoes
capitulate to the quicksand, dragging, dislocating
me from the solid ground of familiarity -plunging me
into the slavery of remembering once more.
Let me relinquish this putrid pain.
It is disabling my forward motion.
I am trapped in the quondam of a past life.
Let me go! Let me let it go!
Stop calling me. I won't answer.
I can't hear you. I won't listen. Go away!.........
Oh blissful silence! Peace from the demolition
of future's construction. I look behind, one last time,
but the ashes of hated memoirs dissipate in my view.
Looking forward now, steps gathering momentum.
Safe from the past, and welcomed by expectation.
Free at last, sure footed in my pursuit of happiness
Erstwhile his skin was beautiful as an obsidian, with great markings alongside his face, as was the likeness of the Benin people; an imagery so poignant and meaningful.
His shoulders were wide, his back strong and his mind resourceful.
In his quondam years, the mystery of the Niger River had captured his inquisitive soul and inspired his longings to ride the smooth waves in a Pirogue.
A tale far from the likes of any mythical apologue.
The spirit of his graceful and modest mother, who lovingly called him Baako, once hunted his dreams.
On his hard days and nights, his body cried out from pain and his cheeks were forced upon by relentless water streams.
His memory of his proud father of great strength and wisdom once pounded against his brain.
In an everlasting refrain.
Once, with recapturing flashbacks his mind was flooded with the taunting sounds of the water drums and sticcado.
Fast and sweeping rhythmic legato.
And his mind automatically reclaimed images of his village, with its thatched roof huts and rows of lifted cultured soils with beans and yams bedded deep, and grass of deeper green.
And the days long, and the sun harsh and the nights with brilliant white stars that convene.
There, he now lay face down on foreign land with its first winters snow.
With his life source seeping deep and wide into soft crystals giving it a crimson glow.
Tattered clothes revealed his back; etched with brutal markings liking that of an old twisted and leafless tree.
His calloused feet a grayish-blue as the Adriatic sea.
His last breath was a moan for his native land.
The Mother Land.
The harmony of his innate love for his country, his people, and his latent genius and powerful will has been dispersed, wasted and erased.
Alabaster streaks of warmth
in its dewy first glow,
tepidly stirring the senses, as
my gaze roams to the
trickle of ebony beads;
in the distance,
chimes of granular dustings,
with fragrances rich in
mahogany earthen grounds,
shaking the last of the
quondam night’s moon specks,
as life’s poignant rays
seep deep into my sights,
coaxing myself out of
hibernation,
longing for the first sip
of sunshine,
basking in the early beams of
balmy dawns and
sepia sunsets,
blessed to
start and end the
sands of time with you—
upon my soul’s sanctuary,
my lucid dream ablaze.
"God within me is the enjoyer of the aroma
As also this dopamine boosting flavour I taste
I surrender all pleasures to the dweller of my heart
Breath by breath thus that my soul presence be chaste"
Written: May 25 for a contest sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
3rd place contest winner
*******************
Line of inquiry:
"This form of dust is by God energised
wherein we are living light housed within
How may this truth be realised
show us, oh monk, how to begin."
*******************
I — Valediction of Authority
This dust is not moribund,
but rumbustious with breath—
skyfoam rising, fogscape shifting,
each speck a spark of sprightliness.
Why wilt your whiter
at a monk’s behest,
Or wade within,
the weight of worship?
Buddha was flesh,
a wanderer of earth,
his catharsis his own,
not a crown for sequacious mouths.
To worship him is a mondegreen,
a nugatory palaver,
a meretricious catchphrase
for those who prowl
in officious dogma.
No viceroy of sanctity,
no ersatz jewel of salvation—
only a human,
finite, quondam,
like you, like me.
Bridge — From Authority to Soul
Yet the skyfoam does not pause—
waves continue unabated,
clouds drift in chiaroscuro,
reminding us: truth is not bestowed,
but discovered within.
II — Realization of the Soul
See the cowslips bending in the swale,
petioles redolent with carotene,
ants dogged in their labor,
wisteria climbing with gregarious grace.
All proclaim: sanctity is not decreed,
It is ubiquitous,
woven into the weave of being.
Oneness is not a god’s decree,
but the soul’s halcyon colloquy,
Atman is identical to Brahman—
a selcouth catharsis,
A veridical ataraxia.
So let us not abase ourselves in acrimony,
nor coddle nugatory hubris,
nor prowl in truculent objurgation.
Instead, let us woolgather in halcyon swales,
pernoctate with skyfoam and cloudscape,
until burden evanesces,
and the soul, amaranthine,
limpid, radiant,
is realized as Brahman.
*Reserata Carcerem XLVI*
Salient Sufi quondam was hexed;
haggard hags hoisted hurls 'n' were vexed,
apt alakazam gin behoved -
ere, he'd betrothed marred mercies thrown.
Pestered paddock anon hurled hymns,
pored panther knocked 'p gaunt 'n' gullible thrill,
apared asp pruned pulpy foils time tossed,
taunted trio 'n clumsy cauldron washed.
Sent they then wanky winds t' bear thence
ere sassy Sufi wh' loathed rec'mpense.
T' transient agora bore they him;
a felon furrow 'n an isle's lips.
Jolting judgement torn trio ñ him leased;
an attendant t' paddock 'n' asp's spree.
'20:07:15:12:03
Note:
a) of jolting judgement.
b) Written apace with Middle English lexis:
i) Sufi - A mystic Muslim
ii) Hexed - to cast spell
iii) quondam - long ago
iv) hags - witches
v) gin (obsolete) - a trick
vi) behove - befit
vii) paddock - toad, frog
viii) Anon - immediately
ix) Apar - armadillo
x) asp - snake
xi) thence - from there
xii) ere - before
xiii) Agora - a place of gathering.
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) 'n' - and
ii) he'd - he had
iii) 'p - up
iv) 'n - in
v) t' - to
vi) wh' - who
vii) ñ - on
THE EYE of I
What is life? What is love?
The eye of I took it in…
The material rolling sweeps highs and lows--valleys cuts, grooves, gullies and gorges eye engorge crevices of porphyry
heat flies from the ravines
places the eye cannot see but the soul can visit-- living matter,
infused with tissue thoughts generated externally electrified internally
the sweat that beaded on the brow drips and spatters, absorbs the entity under
What is the breathing open petal life… radiating respiring
One throttle to quell that respiration, bright lightening beauty gently fusing into glow?
Brightening as I faster
Turbine-whistle I your master
beating, spewing, thrusting, ignition transference… body grue and stifles?… Gone
She stiffens the radiance of the face pale, milky, alabaster, clammy pore-less beams the lips and cheeks rubescent now. Smoothes, and transition into deep hues of blues, violent violets, ebony black. Hardens, stiffens stone then softens? as alabaster
Deterioration, matter, entropy all so naturally
Squall has past--the quondam respiring takes long respite..
The eye of I took it in…The material rolling sweeps highs and lows, valleys, cuts, grooves, gully and gorge I engorge crevices of porphyry
heat flies from the ravines folded as petals from
places the eye cannot see but the soul can visit
of living matter, infused with tissue thoughts generated externally electrified internally
The sweat that beaded on the brow drips and spatters, absorbs the entity under lies the breathing open petal life… radiating, respiring?
The fingers trace and fall in place the Etowah infused with breath
The sweat sinks in, absorption energy transfers electricity thoughts
Cabachon crescendos!
All the while the living, beating, breathing, entity flutters, shutters, smiles.
Animation I grew up with,
Bride of fantasy stories.
Comedy with action I watch,
Death of worries I snatch.
Earth of penitence is
Fist of imagination I sense.
Girdle of suffocation, I sike
Hinterland of minds, I hike.
Insatiable finds take off
Juggernaut of marvels thereof.
Kommandatura with style,
Love of sequels I file.
Mysteries of lifestyle are not farfetched,
Nincompoops play unwretched.
Over and under a replay of streams --
Posthumously acclaimed.
Quondam penners survived,
Reminiscences of sets --
Sets of scenes and takes,
Travesty of the reclaimed.
Up, up and away
Victory not far away.
Wonders of life in a bucket
Xanadu of strife in a socket.
Yabadabadoo!
Zen of life.
*Image of Sun by A Shared Soul.
The Fifth of July
(Pondering A Newness)
A gold sovereign wakes, dimly rises
afar, a relic of sorts once revered the
world round, except occasions when
a quondam ebbs loyalty, ergo, limbo.
Exchanging trenches, a vanguard of
patriots images shrugging dust off
their palls trudging a field of honor,
swapping expressions, ubiquitously.
The vestiges of DC prolix amidst ere
night euphoria, wane. Atonements
for our liberties are owed. A grateful
nation solemnizes.
2021 August 29
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND 1092
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 20
E is what you use in speaking and writing, other than reading
E was created and known as a language
that's why educators taught "E" in schools
E is not for "excuses"
E is for expressions, not exceptions or exploitation
E is what you do everyday to survive
E is what you feel when you're more than just happy
E is where you live in
E is being open when you divulge too much
E can be a movie or food that you eat
E can be scary or hilarious
E should always be good and positive, I wish
E can only be bad by casting spells or doing mean things to others
E can be hated forever when people are disrespected
E should be protective of people's rights, not to tolerate evil
E is praising one's self too much
or forgetting somebody else's existence
E is not "exclusive"... It applies to everybody
E can be an animal or toy
E can be a responsible person, a quondam or former partner
E is everything one does
E is the day when you always smile at yourself in the mirror
E is your power to keep on going
E is the only door open when you're not invited
E is the door to enter when you want to see or buy something
E is the word you see and feel after watching a cartoon or movie
E is a male character in Sesame Street
E is the four letter- first name of a known female writer
E can be your neighbor, best friend or ally
E can be your parent, brother or sister
E is your favorite place when you were young
E is a souvenir or investment
E can be a diary or book
E is a currency that you count everyday
E refers to a group of people who sacrificed and invested so much in saving and preserving good morals
E can mean a lot of different things, people and places
E is for "ewan" when you don't know the answer to a question...
My shadowy quondam
radiated a crimson hue
was alive and moving
now it is a ghost
emotionless
colorless and lethargic
a heart rimmed with marigolds
the sharp color of bloody mulberry
weeps like a crowned raven,
on sealed lips, scarlet wine dews
succulent but stifling
smell of chains is addictive
I am enslaved
guilty of a deadly love
star-stained soul
to succumb to luscious vindictiveness.
the heart sleeps in flinty rain
Lime-scented leaves drip
starfish-shaped leaf drops.
Written: January 27, 2023
You Decide Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand