Long Sentry Poems
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On a high branch,
a squirrel in a green felt fedora
lifts a pair of binoculars,
surveying the yard
with the solemn focus
of someone guarding
a very small kingdom.
He is today’s sentry~
the latest in a long line
of creatures appointed
to verify what passes
beneath his tree.
He watches the mail carrier,
the jogger,
the neighbor’s dog,
each subjected
to his silent scrutiny.
No one escapes
the authentication ritual.
He tightens his grip
on the binoculars,
as though the world
has become a place
where trust requires
magnification.
Even the wind
must prove itself,
rustling the leaves
in a pattern he recognizes
before he allows it
to pass.
And I stand below,
waiting for permission
to enter my own yard~
passwords memorized,
codes confirmed,
identity authenticated
in triplicate.
The squirrel nods once,
a gesture of clearance
or perhaps indifference.
It’s hard to tell
with squirrels.
The squirrel resumes his watch,
fedora tipped,
binoculars raised.
And in the small precision
of his woodland audit,
I see a reflection of myself~
another creature
trying to navigate a world
where every door
asks for proof,
every gesture
requires verification,
and even the simplest trust
must pass inspection
He scans the yard again,
not for danger,
but for certainty~
a thing neither of us
has managed to keep.
And in his quiet vigilance,
I recognize the strange truth
of our age:
that we have become
guardians of our own fear,
checking the locks
not because they are broken,
but because we are.
In this charming retreat,
the silence of nature and hills talk to me,
whispers of forgotten tales in the breeze,
of hidden secrets of times bygone,
an era of luxury and grandeur,
where every stone holds a story untold.
In the marble statues and king-size portraits,
etched in elegance, they gaze through time,
their faces frozen in an eternal grace,
gripping the pulse of a golden age.
Laid in every nook and corner of the mansion,
they speak of grandeur
of feasts and whispers in the halls,
of laughter echoing beneath crystal chandeliers.
The velvet curtains, the blinds drawn in quiet reverence,
softly filter the light, casting shadows of tranquility and peace,
the swimming pool in the front yard
girdled by palm trees standing tall and erect like silent sentry
the mango tree laden with fruits drooping over the pool
a visual treat for hungry eyes sore with city life.
and outside, the hills stand,
ancient and proud, keeping their vigil.
on the idyllic retreat
where wealth and wisdom reign in peace.
and time slows, and memories breathe.
A wandering canal, mirroring serenity, the face of an emerging season,
Lush, sprawling, verdant, frolicking hills;
A pastoral sight, wandering through an idyllic region.
Journeying on paths of free will,
Surrounded by fields of hopeful golden seed,
Lush, sprawling, verdant, frolicking hills.
Boughs of blossoms burst, and freed,
Mossy carpeted paths, moseying around each bend,
Surrounded by fields of hopeful golden seed.
Through a misty morning and the bursting of the sun; searching rainbows end,
Where under the arms of trees, cows muse, in lowly grace,
Mossy carpeted paths, moseying around each bend.
A palladium of trees ward off ominous strangers,
And a union of manicured hedgerows, a sentry of fences;
A place where life is in harmony, without dangers.
Where the vision of peace observed through clear lenses,
A wandering canal, mirroring serenity, beauty, the face of an emerging season,
And a union of manicured hedgerows of natural fences;
A pastoral sight, wandering through an idyllic region.
Date: April 10, 2022
For: An Original Terzanelle Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L. Milton Hankins
There's still light down this glistening black road,
a path to travel with the moon shining by my side.
Much like my own way, for some time greatly shadowed -
and yet something shows the way for this quiet ride.
The steadfast celestial guardian ever watches me,
even when its face is hidden by time's flow.
'Twould be the only light by which I could see,
if not for the headlights' soft glow.
Pensiveness seems to be the rule of the drive -
sound is muffled, like it's not allowed entry
on these heavy thoughts through which I strive;
that silver disc, as ever, a silent sentry.
That sound tires make on a road that's just seen rain,
the tiny taps of the drizzle dampening the way.
The red lights in the distance, now moving to a new lane,
the dawn coming far off, yet heralding another day.
The weight of the past in the passenger seat,
showing different faces from my history.
I wonder as I see one in particular on repeat -
when you're alone, do you think of me?
This way comes the inexorable march of that dawn,
and still night's orb watches as I'm vexed by she.
A grey sky overlooks, as one query I yet dwell upon -
when you're alone, do you think of me?
I shake my head as if to dislodge these thoughts,
eager to continue this drive's long quest.
If that's to outrun, or untie, these kind of knots,
I still as of yet cannot truly attest.
Cupid wrote their love story
With a quill from an angel’s wing
In an Astral realm, to traverse
through celestial skies.
An Enterprise that belonged to Angel’s
with anger now, she exercised a most
pernicious influence over him
and locked him up in a cloud
as she stood sentry
with a blemish of a missing quill.
An elegant angular visage of an Angel
Who mocked Cupid’s very vision
Till his arrow struck with a flash of light
To Dampen the Angels resolve
And allow love to be blessed
With showers from open skies.
22.10.2020
‘Eight word Challenge 11’
Words: Dampen, Blemish, Pernicious, Traverse, Visage, Sentry, Astral, Enterprise.
In my plan to traverse among wondrous astral vistas
there is only one blemish that could create a calamity
to endanger my exploration; my voyaging enterprise.
My fate awaits, for the celestial stars have a protector...
A sentry, luminescent at night, veiled by light of day.
A lovely lady whose glowing face is a visage to behold.
To you, supernal ruler of heavenly skies and sea tides,
I offer this plea. Do not banish me from your domain,
but if you offer this gift, I will be humbled and grateful,
remembering that I once flew across the galaxy with you.
Please be kind, haloed moon, do not dampen my hopes
with pernicious thoughts that I would ever harm the stars.
You guard the stellar bodies, and I mean them no harm
for they supply the stardust that nurtures my dreams.
Shine your silver glimmers along the path I should take.
I will gather their falling glitter and then be on my way.
10/23/20 ~ Eight Word Challenge 11 Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Words appearing in order: traverse, astral, blemish,
enterprise, sentry, visage, dampen, and pernicious
DROPBOX
brushing off dust and dirt
the dirge of one
the scourge of silent face
courage?
...she wailed
as many had done
wrapped in an old towel
...back to work
after her deposit,
in the cradle of a wall
sealed envelope of fate
hands retrieve
the unwanted matter
shushing the orphaned child,
adopted by systematic embrace
without a paper trail
heaven’s sentry guards the forgotten
saved by the dropbox.
1/8/2018
http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/parenting/babies/unwanted-hundreds-of-babies-abandoned-in-drop-box-amid-wealthy-countrys-adoption-woes/news-story/38ce38698bdf89025b7a192c1b356d84
He left me at the gates of Hell
Saying he had confidence I could rescue at least five souls
I tried to enter but was thrown backwards and out
A hot-blooded horned sentry glared at me
You cannot enter he said in a mean voice
I was determined, and I am tenacious
So his discouragement worked not.
I kept pushing day and night for two weeks.
Insisting on the sentry’s cooperation.
Made no headway at all
until I offered him a way to get to heaven.
He had many relatives here
If I could save five, he wanted me to save his children
Three sons and two daughters
He brought them to me and cried happy tears
as we made our ascent out of the bowels of hell
into the ether of heaven
These tears were felt by God
who allowed the sentry to join us
So I ended up saving six souls
My mission complete
1. They said the meeting point
between your traits and swagger
has dislocated
and your newly acquired awful image
is beyond reversal.
But hey! I do not fall for obscurantism
on your honor, my senses are on sentry duty
even when peers run amok cos of you.
loving you has become my leisure vade mecum
so mister, wherever you are broken
I’d love to be your plaster.
Chorus
A huge joke you are,
yet a major in my mind
a decay rejected by the vultures
yet I love you still
even when you throw me down,
I’ll understand it’s who you are
I’ll fall with my hands intact
to shield you from probably falling with me.
2. It is true that your identity
is so bloated to the point those who envy you
are suitable targets to miserable mockers.
Your score hits no one’s pass mark
and your partial current's charm
is a shibboleth of attraction.
it’s not a lie that your deeds
flummoxes matured eyes
downplaying the hope of their acceptance
and a repellant to their minds,
yet I billow in this madness to long for your touch.
Chorus
A huge joke you are,
yet a major in my mind
a decay rejected by the vultures
yet I love you still
even when you throw me down,
I’ll understand it’s who you are
I’ll fall with my hands intact
to shield you from probably falling with me.
3. Not a slacker, just a being
who correctly, no one recommends
yet acts arrogant and foolish
despite been in a one-man’s domain
one rare good encounter
and you expect me to amortize with my own bed.
I am very wrong to be dismayed
b’cos you’re a well known jerk.
Stop this folly I self acclaimed
but you’re already a peppery paste
and a locust I leave my cotton unprotected to.
Chorus x 3
A huge joke you are,
yet a major in my mind
a decay rejected by the vultures
yet I love you still
even when you throw me down,
I’ll understand it’s who you are
I’ll fall with my hands intact
to shield you from probably falling with me.
"NEMESIS"
“Where do Angels go in their dreams?
They go where wolves go to catch foxes,
venturing forth out of small caged boxes
to the Between-Hours of Lost Love Woods”
NEMESIS
is watching her
from his dreams
prowling soft Silver fur
hear his soft-wolf tread,
Nemesis has left his comfortable bed
he is onto her, he is tracking her Heavenly scent
She is Light Angel
spreading luminous wings
shining it all around,
she thinks of escaping
barefoot from this sullied ground;
her skin is cold to the touch,
no longer standing sentry
she's lost in the murky
Between-Hours of Lost Love Woods,
Black Tulips abound
Wolf is stalking her,
her scent makes him wild;
lurking, nearer, ever nearer
invading her dreams of better
neighbourhoods and childish things
simple and clearer, she is
spreading brand new wings to freedom,
away from Black Dogs in their prisons
those kicked out of Heaven,
barking their ignored plea bargains
of rushed stolen innocence, begging -
all of their pardons are lost, 'tis a given,
her hot angel tears turn to frost
Nemesis soft-footed paw,
back arching, he snarls, bares his fangs
then he grins, he's closer much closer
he can feel her in the skin under his fur,
he’s hunting Her down,
breathes his turgid breath
all over "The Lost",
the hidden creatures running quietly wild,
in the Between-Hours of Lost Love Woods;
beckoning her, his low growl ever nearer,
ever never, his hot breath on the prowl
reaching out for her
he’s raging to roar -
in her sees his mirror
There are stories, she hears,
of a Wolf on the loose from his cage in
the Between-Hours of Lost Love Woods -
she forgets the real reason she came,
calmly brings her wings down by her side,
she continues to shine her light all around,
she can feel him
Burning hot breath on her neck,
he growls ever so softly, so clear in her ear,
“Don’t Run Sweet Thing, Don’t Run,
You are found, I am here.”
Black Tulips abound
(Lovejoy-Burton/Jan 2018)
For those absent.
1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKiI4RvEyDk