Long Ruin Poems
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1/13/16
Waking up bright and early, and allready using the percolator
Figure out what is and isn't worth the labor
Learn what's greater
Before a possible outcome is determined later
Don't ever try to put people, animals or the Earth in danger
Otherwise I'll take you out faster than the terminators
Above the dirt and craters
Always loved to work in nature
And to earn that paper
With no intentions to ever curse a neighbor
Because I'll handle it myself, an will not be the first to waiver
Never be an impersonator
Or try to excuse mistakes on having the worst behavior
Put the pieces together, instead of trying to ruin major amounts of ferns and acres
On both sides of the equator a fire burned several layers
Some of the ash and leftover residue turned into vapors
Lost and got back some bulk
As a kid and adult
Ran into many cults
Doing things that harmed innocent folks
So the result was a revolt and me turning into the hulk
Before beginning to catapult above a gulch full of mulch
By: Dalton Ogletree
And so I write…
not for the clamor of being known,
but to keep vigil with what will not be spoken—
those hushed and hollowed spaces
where sorrow gathers like dusk,
unannounced,
unwilling to depart.
I write
to lay gentle witness upon the wound,
to trace its sacred fracture
without flinching from its remembering,
to press my spirit against its quiet architecture
and learn the shape of what endured me.
I write
to consecrate both the breaking and the becoming—
to name the wisdom buried in ruin,
the strange and steadfast grace
that lingers in the aftermath of undoing.
And if truth be told—
I write to recall myself
from the far edges of forgetting.
To gather the scattered fragments of breath and being
and speak them, softly, back into form.
For even here—
in the most forsaken hollows of the soul,
where light feels like a long-abandoned language—
something remains.
Not loud, nor luminous at first glance,
but patient…
and unextinguished.
A quiet and unyielding ember,
veiled beneath the ash of all that was lost,
waiting not for rescue,
but for recognition.
Something that, against all undoing,
still inclines itself skyward—
still remembers the sun
as if it had never been forgotten.
And so I write—
to bear witness to that remembering,
to call it gently by its true name,
to follow its faint and faithful rise
until it becomes light again.
Under the winter sky, the sun is a dream lost among shadows,
I wonder if you too feel the sadness that penetrates the soul.
When the fog settles and the city becomes a mystery,
The rain seeps into my heart, shattering it into ruin.
My window is adorned with frost flowers, lost angels,
The bitter cold of the night is a song of silent dreams.
The moon is a cold eye, the wind cuts like a knife,
Tearing the silence into pieces of endless thoughts.
May God watch over those without shelter,
The beggars seeking their path among shadows of meaning,
The poor, who tread the snow under burdensome steps,
In the night that freezes them with dreams lost outside.
My room is a fragment of summer, with curtains drawn,
Layers of warmth and peace, of untouched longings,
But somewhere, like a child without home and dreams,
My heart weeps in the cold of unspoken yearning.
In the flow of thoughts, I lose myself between dream and reality,
Between the desire to embrace infinity and fragility,
For each heartbeat carries an echo,
An ephemeral dance between heavy light and darkness.
The old ruin sat near the brow of the hill
it had been there for centuries forgotten
none now knew for what purpose it had been used
not even the elders who had many suggestions
A not unattractive looking building of stone
and that in it's self only added to the mystery
for these stones were not locally quarried
the nearest place being over 170 miles away
Yet here they had been dragged, then hewed
wrestling them into place quite some task
an imposing building nestled in the hillside
and the views surrounding it post card perfect
Inside was airy and light with most of the roof gone
a strange hearth in the corner of the main hall
large enough for a man to walk into upright
Bread ovens built into the walls and a sitting niche
This was all that was left apart from one roofed room
in here it was dry and warm even a single trundle bed
admittedly very rockety but still it was usable
I decided to camp out the following night, it would be fun
The following evening I climbed the hill as the sun set
tonight it would be a full moon, already the air chilling
I settled in with my few belongings and lit the fire
soon it was roaring, with crackles, hissing and spitting
It was a fine clear night and the heat wonderful
so I made up a bracken bed in front of the fire
I laid back enjoying the stars and a comet shooting past
lazily I slipped not realising into a strange sleep
I found the building restored though it's use still not clear
only a long table and chairs in here, beds in the rooms leading off
then a man came into view, he did not seem to notice me as he passed
he stirred the pot cooking on the fire and set the table
Soon more men came in and sat down to enjoy a hearty meal
I realised from their armour that these were soldiers
so the ram-shackled ruin had once been a lookout post
I woke in the morning well rested remembering my dream
As I walked back down the hill I looked back at it
drenched in sunshine it seemed to gleam a wisp of smoke
curling up from the chimney it looked as if once more alive
not an old forgotten ruin moulding slowly into the landscape
I used the word ram-shackled recently and it struck me as a good theme
for a poem so I wrote this.
Gifted with a tender heart, so pious
Life turned it into an iron core, so capricious!
The Age may be Dark, as said in the Holy Books
Does that make it legitimate to ruin all nooks and crooks!
The Gods can never be jealous of this prowess
Dejected, rather, they try to calm the mess
The evil hanging on the atmosphere
Must be cleared with love, so sincere!
Such ordered the great Seer
With urgency to his most devoted peer
Herculean, a task meant for the pure soul
Breathing with faith, he shall be on that call
Selfish, Egoistic, Materialist, Envy
All cling to my tender heart like poison ivy
Blissful may the world of ignorance
Sinful are its acts shining with radiance!
May the crow bring good news
May the storm gets loose
So that everywhere is cleansed and gleams
With the pure desire of the fairies’ whims!
Does Nox hold sway where you sit or lay,
or stand blanketed in deep fog's clime?
Where perfectly proportioned physical deformity holds
in substantive and coddled awe' sublime.
Shrouded in shot from fusil's beautiful dark pall,
far from heredity's nameless and shameless hall.
We walked as friends, along a stoney ledge
talking of women and lofty soul's reprisal'd pledge.
Wore separate clothes, to separate mothers
we cling'd,
free of our father's shadow at last.
Yet in time..
if your beliefs differ from mine
will you still call me brother?
We are so few since wreck and ruin,
should hate ever.,
take us away one another.
I'd never turn against, you have my word,
no matter the seizur'd absence of mind.
For it held strong our promised bond,
and for it,
prefer neck to the sword.
No crowning achievement in sorrows my truth,
faithful friendship strong as any belief,
more than life it's a simple us I hold to.,
for w'out us there'd be no more we.
The defiant dusk descended slowly on the beach.
We walked apart, slowly on the sand, but with no speech.
We left our footsteps imprinted clearly on the sand
She walked with her head lowered; I never touched her hand.
I looked at our footsteps on the sand, one light, one deep,
Small waves rolled on our feet, erasing feelings we keep,
Still, we walked, hiding secrets we did not wish to share.
Blast her, she was lovely as the breeze ruffled her hair.
The footsteps stopped and faced each other with a sweet smile
Gleaming eyes were mesmerized but without any guile.
We kissed tenderly and so our footprints did not run
Hold me closely, I whispered, never let go, dear sun.
Each sweet whisper of love could ruin our lasting life.
We were meant to live happily as husband and wife.
As a law-abiding senior citizen of Hawai
I was living a pretty decent life
Until my absence alerted my neighbours
And the paramedics broke the front door of my house
To find me lying unconscious inside
Now I am recuperating in a hospital bed.
But I place my charges against medical malpractices
That has handicapped me physically, mentally and financially
My doctors evaluated my medical condition via my revised medical insurance
That affected many changes in the medical care and conditions of my payments
These Health Care Systems are a major faux
All they care for are their own monetary gains
Irrespective of the health and rights of the patients and claimants.
I pledge to a fair trial uncovering their irregularities
That has wrecked my life on the road to ruin
Bringing a change through the rapids is like a river carving a new path
Exposing their misdeeds will generate faith in our hearts
For us ordinary civilians who want to see the light of hope
At the end of this dark tunnel by reinforcing faith in the legal system
A society devoid of corruption is what I seek
Without strong watchdog institutions,
Impunity becomes the very foundation
Upon which systems of corruption are built
Like water, we are consistently in portability.
We've generally been headed for our fate to fulfill
Achieving understanding, information, and empathy
At the point when we recover our habit of life-thrill. ?
After a phony gloat, air and water rose to claim.
Garbled, yet with the tone, It's trivial chatter.
"I'm focusing on all," the water said I'm fame.
I'm here for living creatures, and I assist them to foster.
I douse the flames that had injured a lot of people.
I supply goods across seas as if I were land and sky.
As a result, the air surged up and said, "I am the air."
Each species was created as a result of my supply.
Yearning makes hearts alive, so there is stillness.
I pushed the slag of the wind blew, ebbing the way.
All water offers benefits that may yield our bliss.
There is no air apart from god will; for him, we pray.
I can envision the tangle of a sluggish ocean.
The water fiercely snaps and swerves.
The same as ideas were bouncing around in my brain.
I'm pulled back by the wind, unable to alter steps.
The waves are hostile as they lash toward the cove.
Blowing a fog aped a heave of cold air breathed out.
Our identity is gone; our life is a wizardry rove.
The brain is utterly throwing around with wave shout.
Times consistent ascent and fall, unending drops of sorrow.
Many intend the need to show a wish paddler profundity.
Significantly nearly ruin, a caring touch made all the bestow.
The water has the sparkle of soul and God's trustability.
Written: June 15, 2021
All Yours (Jun 27) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
How brittle can the ruin of this heart slay
Like furrowed weeds burned into cinder ,
When church's flowers turn ebon and droop
As winds do not return... nothing moves
Not even air- chimes in their hazy curves:
*
I watch my own body... it becomes a stranger Melting like an anonymous outline
That enters the dark through crushed wails...
He is nowhere , not even a shadow flapping
While a eulogy of abandonment goes unsung, *
*
My fingers quiver in front of an altar…
pain grating the most benevolent
of prayers , chafed by slices of eve
that have no syllables for me…
For on this day, a deserted betrothal
leaves me hanging , hanging on a choir's loft.
And night breezes wash over me vanishing,
That I gaze at my bridal bouquet slowly astir...
A shattered vow, a runaway groom
Cry I must, in solo of dreaded season,
Waiting for hushabye to put me to sleep.