Long Riveted Poems
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startled to sudden wakefulness
by the sudden lurch of the ship,
fear rose in my soul
cold, damp hull next to my berth,
I'd give 10 years of my life
to have my feet on solid earth
dark, quiet inboard
only the low pitched groans of metal
pounded by an angry, restless sea
was it the fear, or the sound, that had woken me?
Eyes open half way, not quite sure where I am-
What I did, and why, or who I really am-
was I drunk? was I mad? or am I just dead?
pounding waves roll into my ears, and echo in my head...
riveted steel plates before my eyes,
drops of sea dew condense inside,
sudden terror, as my mind awakes-
no sound aboard- but the
rhythmatic pounding of heavy seas
engines dead! no motor sound-
have we once too often-
dared the fates?
what's going on? what and why?
and where, oh God, are my mates?
I jerked out of bed,
as the deck dances beneath my feet-
what's happening? is this real?
will death, I once more, defeat?
to the hall I stagger...
as my world shudders about me...
no lights, no sound, and fading hope...
but the sound of ever maddening waves...
eager to crush this insolent ship,
so insolent as to invade its realm
so foolish to taunt nature
with no one now at its helm
each cabin, in rising panic,
I searched in rising gloom,
to find nothing to comfort me,
each but an empty room...
fear increasing with-
each crushed hope,
each screaming smash of wave
am I alone, am I dreaming?
or against me, the sea is scheming?
fought my way up to the rolling deck,
pain swelling in my now sprained neck-
alone?
the sea grew ever more threatening and awesome,
I felt left alone to face my fate
my outcome no longer doubtful,
I wouldn't have long to wait...
at a topside cabin,
I peeked outside,
saw mighty wind and wave-
an angry earth it was tonight
no way for me to save...
dark night and
no one about-
I cursed, I cried,
I screamed, I did shout...
abandoned? left to die?
or in a murderous dream-
did I make 32 die?
toss their bodies overboard?
feed the sea,
its requested hoard?
panic is panic,
and panic this was-
demon or victim?
which was I,
did I kill? will I die?
I retreated downdeck,
a broken man,
either way I lose-
the comfort of strong steel-
no more- it would'a been
something that I could use
Written: May 13, 2023
3rd contest winner
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lichen lilies lavishness,
outwardly shine as canorous core,
an idyllic sight of buds bursting
a ballet of aromas filled the sky,
as dulcet spring hues dump down.
Butterflies seduce
with trellised wings
amid ethereal sapphire
mist of Elysium,
I tossed my amorous nexus gloss,
countless metaphors emerge
an abyssal-rooted niche of insight,
a sporadic charm is startling
and delightful.
At sunrise, red orioles flutter
garden spring on my balcony,
ushering with cheerful chirps.
Emerald lime stains all that,
wild geese honk loudly,
ebbing from tropic migration
a cluster of violet fern flowers
zestful azure azaleas
vibrant daffodils are in bloom
fluffy tulips in all their glory
buoyant spring hues aurify the clay.
Beyond that, there is no bounds
amid hypnotic Eve and pinnacle
from a charmed sight
my gaze is wide and riveted,
through this impressive display,
an exuberant plethora of shades
glistening on rain-washed skin,
sky-smitten, diaphanous blithe
melting into mesmerizing shapes
strange sights subdue my mind,
as my heart beats with delight,
emerging from its hushed cocoon.
a vision of ageless grace.
Initiating sensory stimulation.
witness the marvelous artwork.
carefully crafted by a skilled hand
to bequeath a masterpiece
beaming with the spirit of love
a mesmerizing charm
a live sculpture in motion
& a pure symphonic melody
embrace a cosmic radiance
amidst a celestial daydream,
dazzling in a blaze of sequins
my heart is yearning,
an enthralling rhythm echoes within
optimism surrounds splendor
this exquisite ruffle relic,
a morphing metaphor draws on forever
clarifying the layout of magnificence.
Beads of lilac amethyst
observe a lunar synodic cycle
debunking twilight
desultory musings
an auric haze wrapping
jubilant jewels are in motion
I am an awe-struck artist
weaving a quilt of love,
a dazzling aura of shining words
playing a whispering debate
under dulcet moon glow
In unique words,
stars are willing to shine for us
our love outshines all else
even most dazzling clusters,
an equally bright radiance
all over, a billion red diamonds
under oriental lily skies.
in the bright light of day you appeared...
a gilded angel with falcon wings,
you rose up out of the desert sands
and your gentle beauty struck me dumb -
sending a tremor through my soul...
marvelling, pretending an air of studied uncaring
i watched you through a veil of wind-blown hair
and tried to ignore the yearning sighs of the
blood in my veins,
and the keening of a heart that was broken -
that, seeing you, healed briefly -
only to fracture again every time you turned away
you were fatal...
i knew this in my marrow, even as i stared,
riveted, at your cherub's innocence,
suffocating, slowly - sweetly -
in the decadent gold-striated hazel of your
hawk's eyes
you were a killing blow out of the blue,
and once again i was lost...
"angel" i wanted to cry, "angel, ask my name..."
but, naive as Adam, you lost yourself in the bustle
and sand-blasted clamor of your clawed companions...
bereft i hovered, a lonely kestrel riding the chill wind
of your ignorance...
a single tear slid down my cheek;
oh i would have impaled myself on a thousand spears,
if it would only make you run to my side
and scoop me into your bronze embrace
but time slid by and planets shifted -
the day's end drew near...
desert dunes dissolved into the hazy purple of night,
and i was forced to say goodbye;
to pretend love at first sight was just a giddy adolescent joke,
and that your image wasn't tattooed on my heart
in blood and fire...
only then, as my soul swelled with the bitter bile of
disappointment, did you turn and behold
the torment of your beauty written on my face...
boyish, innocent, your eyes clashed with mine -
and melted my core to lava -
and gave my battered heart wings;
clipped wings perhaps, but wings nonetheless...
you smiled, a saccharine-coated admission of acknowledgement,
even as your eyes stabbed cruelly, violated my bruised soul,
and the sun set at your back -
gilding you in demonic flame...
and in a blazing flash, that was it, the die was cast,
reeling, bleeding, i broke our searing gaze;
'angel you may be, my oblivious love,'
i thought as i walked away
'but devil you are for wounding me this way -
and never even knowing my name'
Another sleepless night, reading a book by lamplight
I never thought I would witness a terrible deadly fight
Annoyed at no sleep, and trying to concentrate
Then it all happened and two did meet and sealed their deathly fate
I caught a glimpse of the start out of the corner of my eye
It made me jump I was not sure, it was really up quite high
I watched them circle, testing, I didn’t know what to do...
I thought that I would watch a while, I nearly regretted it too.
The one on the right jabbed forth and caught the other unawares
I wondered if there were more about or was it just the pair.
The second one seemed to dance away but then lunged back quite quick
I’m sure I heard the contact noise, it was beginning to make me sick
They grabbed each other and fought and jabbed and then they both fell over
I was pulling bed clothes high up now my book had dropped and turned over
The noise they made when they hit the floor was really something loud
I nearly screamed what should I do, but I didn’t want a crowd
I lost sight of them and then I thought the fight was done
But after a while one reappeared but it was the only one.
The second was wrapped up tight, being dragged along by the first
It looked like one had killed the other with a bloody thirst
What to do I, must move, I am riveted to the spot
What if there are more of them, I might cop for the lot...
Sanity prevailed, as the first one now falls over too
I know I must do something; I know now what to do
Hubby is asleep in the bedroom next to mine
That way he can get some sleep I won’t disturb him all the time
I call him in, “I need you here please" I open his door wider
Come quick and bring the vacuum you need to suck up a dead spider
It's not one really but over there they have had a terrible fight
Don’t worry he said being the man, everything will be alright
He gallantly stood on a chair the vacuum pipe in his hand
Good grief they have killed each other they are off to dead spider land.
Are you sure they are gone and they won’t crawl back out
Don’t worry if they do just come in and give a shout.
Needless to say I left the room I could not sleep there now
So until my spider sense stop tingling, I will not go in no how.
©~GG~4/09/2012
L.A ‘62. English professor George (Colin Firth) is mourning the loss of his gay partner. He's
spent the day reliving memories, but that night meets his student Kenny (Nicholas Hoult),
who secretly admires him, in a bar. The two end up at George’s house after a spontaneous
ocean swim. Kenny has just emerged from the shower,wrapped in a towel. George is making
a fire. When Kenny goes to get a beer, he discovers a nude photo of George’s dead lover in
a drawer. His suspicions about his teacher are confirmed. A beautiful score of stringed
music, nostalgic and tender draws me in to every nuance of Colin's performance.
George, feeling foolish and seeming a bit flushed with anticipation (yet restraining himself
from improper conduct), sits on a chair across from the young man when the boy returns to
the living room. A conversation ensues in which George asks Kenny questions, trying to
discern the young man’s reasons for being there that night. The boy, too, is trying to learn
things about George, but keeps hedging with his responses to George‘s questions, and
nothing completely “telling” is ever said. Meanwhile, their eyes linger on each other. The
young man’s eyes are an enchanting almost gleaming blue; I find it hard myself to look away
from his sweet face. My eyes are also riveted every second to George’s face and to its many
subtle changes of expression.. Finally, the boy asks George something and at that moment,
George’s face blurs. My curiosity is very aroused when suddenly the scene has switched to
George awaking at about 3 a.m. from his bed.. The young man, however, is not in the bed
(as I had hoped he would not be). He is asleep on the sofa, and he clutches in his hands the
gun which George had planned to shoot himself with. Had George revealed his plan to end
his life that day to his student? Was that what happened in those missing hours? Had the
boyish Kenny (while George was sleeping off his drunkenness) found the gun in the same
way he had discovered the picture of George’s partner and now was holding it to prevent
George from carrying out his suicide? I know I am soon going to learn George’s fate. . .
He heard the car and came running,
Jumped and whirled in the air,
Barking his happiness!
Dad lifted her down in her yellow-flowered
Camisole and high heeled shoes.
The dog dropped,
His hind quarters hunched down,
Body sprung parallel to the ground,
Ears laid back, hackles raised.
He'll get used to you, Dad said,
Tapping him with his foot.
But he didn't. She was afraid.
Big black shepherd, watching stalking.
The dog lay there with the chain
Stretched out, eyes riveted
On the back door of the house.
She didn't like it. What if he gets loose
When you're not here?
I can't even go to the garden
Without his eyes on my back!
Dad put a piece of meat in her hand.
The black nose ever so slightly withdrew.
-Eat it, growled Dad, and he did
With a long slow tongue,
Looking up from under reproachful brows.
But it was spoiled.
Dad couldn't stand it that
The dog wouldn't mind.
He kicked it and it trailed after him,
But still froze when the woman came outside.
He just couldn't give it up.
They had to shoot the dog.
The yellow and brown and red leaves
Were falling and sticking together
On the path into the woods.
A light drizzle added to the metallic shine.
They walked along the slippery surface,
The two of them,
With the rifle and the spade.
The dog jogged on ahead,
Looking back over his shoulder,
Smiling at the routine he is familiar with.
It only takes a minute
Once you reach the back fence.
You have to do it fast if you're going to.
You can talk out-loud afterward,
Explaining while you dig him in.
That way he doesn't have to see it.
The ground is not yet frozen.
Dad smooths it over and already
Leaves begin to drift across the bare soil.
Deliberately, one by one,
He places his feet on the returning path,
Looking up through the sketches
Of black tree limbs against the sky.
He feels stiff and sore.
Leaning the gun against the grain bin,
He pulls down a bottle
From the low rafter overhead.
A couple of swigs before he goes inside.
This is not the story they told me.
The dog's name was Rex.
Dad pointed to an old photograph
In the box of old photographs.
-Good ol' Rex, he said.
A toddlers Crayola masterpiece marks the box
Where the story of our days now tarry
Passages tilting the axis of a bittersweet equinox
As photographs eclipse yesterday and today unvaried
The plans we made for a life
After years of work and worry
Useless installments when your partner dies
The crumbling of everything you once held firmly
Riveted, uprooted with every slide
Scenes of "our time" bring you back to life
I step from earth, you from the sun, for yet another goodbye
And the dam finally collapses behind brave hazel eyes
But not the brokenness your death left behind
Still, though no more than ashes it resides
Like faded photographs etched in the mind
Fanning the embers... one picture at a time
Rage rises, for you left me alone
Without refuge for all life's trials
And our sons fatherless before they were grown
Every step feeling more like a mile
I've grieved so long
And tried to move on
Like river water never looking back
But it's motion sings the the words to our song
Leaving me afraid I'll never belong
Or live out the plan we devised
For all my days my efforts give way
Blundering, burdened and blind
How does one truly recover
When the mate of their soul is no more
Or pass from one realm to yet another
When the walls of your heart no longer have a door?
Frustration builds like Lego towers
toppling to the floor under the weight of the world
Is it grief or something disguised by cowards
When a heart gets stuck from the pain that it's learned?
This ode to a man
Who in covenant took my hand
The marriage equator engraved a permanent mark...
For his death left a total eclipse of my heart
Crazy as a loon
But my God... how I loved you
My eyes fixed upon our favored moon
And I wonder... Do you miss me too?
Anniversaries used to be a joyous accomplishment
Marking years of selfless love made
Now it serves only an acknowledgement
Of a life interrupted by a cruel twist of fate
Of ill trusted hopes
And a future unmade
For us left behind to cope
With memories and photographs fading away
On this the 2nd anniversary...
Of your passing away
In memory of my husband of 25 years
Charley Romani
(My Beloved)
We peep through grated beams in the dark confines,
Kept in chains by the tyranny of audacious jailers,
unending cynosure of profligates and imposters:
ruining the destinies of million wearied sufferers.
criminals fit for the gallows,
morons from the days of the colony.
dictators in military attires.
and simpletons kept in power for temporary ease.
our heirloom forced from us by old monsters.
cabals of criminals, greedy goons, men untutored in reputation.
Felons and rapscallion from the military barracks,
too old for modern ideas.
we are burdened along by colonial tyranny,
in a country where destinies are suspended in the gale,
and youths are forced into their own crimes of stealing.
we could not speak our sentiment freely.
we are fettered and riveted by their guns.
The sword above us, tyranny of archaic mind.
dreamy theorist acting as lords over multitudes of docile lots.
men made to cringe and fawn bowing and stooping to the
threatening of their guns.
They armed assassins and sufferers alike,
paid a trifling sum from the proceeds of corruption,
to keep the masses away from them as old baron loot the treasury,
this open prison of fancied freedom,
where marauders employed by the states with a gun to kill,
trans versing the south with AK47/.
terrorist renamed bandits by religious sympathizers.
from the porous borders of North,
comradely of Fanatics and bigots of the sword sect.
Clandestinely overrunning the land.
Freedom is a crime to fools.
those who dares becomes enemy of states.
assaulted by “operation python” dance.
or raided by Lawless DSS.
This is but a Jihad disguised as government.
The road is a trap of death,
we sleep as watchers waiting for the sword.
we starve amidst multitudinous resources,
they Lend to keep us in Bondage.
The crude in the south.
and all the resources are carted away to the North
to pay terrorist.
A state crimes condoned.
we groan,
we dare not speak as their armed assassin are
ready to silence the Voice of Truth.
one more Truth for the Jailer from the North.
Written: July 24, 2024 For Canstance La France Contest
Quote: "the drums of time have ceased
and my fragile soul is a sea of tears" By Constance la France
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Along a scarcely hidden wooded trail
the sun is going to set in the north
with hawks and ancient oaks as companions
wandering in silence, I pursue my quest
the world shines brightest in ivory twilight
lush mossy sticks
to the soothing granite
winged sparrow rushes toward its perch
yet, amid the stillness,
I feel utterly lonesome...
these woodlands contain historic forest
their stems provide a comfortable resting place...
they wrap around me, with such loving fingertips...
when my brain gets flooded
with pessimistic pondering...pondering...
while roaming in quietness, I chase my quest
passion for life is beating in my chest.
yet, I am solely lonesome in this stillness
I meditate quietly in that spot
behold meticulously groomed crawl
among hues and patterns,
calmly lounging...
I am riveted by their charm and ferocity
they opt not to challenge their rights...
neither sigh nor sorrow
under meaningless weights
I acknowledge the blessings upon their humble beings.
still, I am utterly isolated
in this quietness...quietness...
thus, when the tide of negativity
doubts and concerns have crested...
and profound dread
has penetrated me to the bone
following that path
I fulfill my soul's wish.
I am completely alone in this darkness.
hi I'm Baxter Belknap Mandible IV
the Ninth Earl of Burneydick
I'll be heading your inner assault team
would you like the wine list
we have a nice Retaliation 666
somewhere over the rainbow
where every two-bit overheard whisper is an omen
and other vile statistical deceptions
where the big wheel spins like a drawbridge ratchet
but it never stops too many numbers
and the future continues to remain hypothetical
in degrees depending on the reading
an experiment in capitulation and submission
it was the War of the Parasites
but when has it been otherwise
this is a mathematical demonstration
bold as a distillery padlock
that insanity is the flip side
of merely more insanity
that would be Mandible IV driving
his dream hearse down memory lane
smoke from burning bodies
badly needing a wick adjustment
apparently fogged his lens
the horrors of the world are entertainment
weather permitting we'll visit the ruins
and insist upon representation
in the government Pilgrim Travel Advisory
you see the difficulty
serenity having been proven
a monstrous violation of reality
pause
every idea is a unit of measure
another pause
the pixels swirled and another
unholy vision drifted past in the tide
riveted to my screen
and it's trauma etched engrams
picked up on my middle finger antenna
in the last act you find out why
good bad and maybe mostly maybe
just trying to be more numerological
be certain of your conclusions
or call them something else
sure people's faces can be read
most are possessed by a mad hunger
or acts of cosmetic genius
proving it's more than brain chemistry
they told me that self-creation has its dangers
lots of mockery out there in hammer land
but there's no mocking your best efforts
kept them off my back for a while
set free for the propaganda value
and still always curious
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/