Long Shuddering Poems
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Densest fog hovers over the mountains,
Blue ridges reformed, now steely,
Gray as the moment just before dawn,
When silence bleeds her dreams
Through the still, cool light
Graceful as the sigh,
Wistful as the music’s rhythm
Sustenance for fires,
Breathed from trembling oaks, birthed by hearts,
Grieving as the December storms,
Shattering the moments, stricken by burning
Promises, echoed on the shadows,
Filling the moments,
Erasing the naked branches
With mists in hues of muddled misery.
Rain sprinkles, showers - nervous,
Shuddering and shaking,
Breaking through the reticence,
Rhythms in puddles,
Muzzled by the rocky moments,
When hope explains her dreams,
Hushing the wind,
Refusing to let the rain’s gentling,
Stir the mystery,
Anonymous liquids, melting the feelings,
Blown carefully into piles,
Across the deep woods, heavy with wet,
Aching to be dried by the fires of the sunlight,
Reflecting all the poetry
Growing its wonder from stark naked limbs,
Shattered by the past,
Who still listens amid the smoky grief,
Melting away the peaks…
Quiet mountains, cerulean hills –
Tempted by drizzling streams,
Hesitating, torrents
Flowing over the nights, blessed with dreams.
Rain, wistful and full of peace …
Stirs the shining emerald stones,
Muffled by the soft cadence,
Rain, measured – pulsing, a melody,
Lifting the hymns from the hills,
Agile as melancholy breaks
Through the dreams,
Dignified and lissome, willowy
As the edges of a forest
Where dejected stumps and decaying leaves,
Breathe out a dismal affection,
For the layers of lasting peace, serenity
Poured out over the blue ridge mountains,
Who grieve quietly for November’s thirsty tedium,
October’s gasping glory and September’s
Soothing psalms, promising
Wonder that will last all year long,
All year long – as the rain pelts the thoughts…
In breathless tears poured out
From bleeding clouds, milked by December’s doubts.
The Fairie Beast
He was smaller than most
but larger than some
and only last week
he’d been sucking his thumb
when he spied in the bushes
the curious sight
pixie gold creatures
near the edge of the night.
He covered his face
and rubbed his stunned eyes
then looked again
and to his surprise
found them still there
even more than before
arriving it seemed
through a garden floor door.
He edged his nose closer
as if drawn by the scent
of these miniature Fairies
as they came and they went.
T’was then that he saw
the Gnome marble eyes
peering at him
from his gnomic disguise
grumbling now with wrinkly nose
he spoke, this old Gnome,
in an unfriendly tone
“Hey kid, go on home.”
Then suddenly all
were trembling and scared,
as a horrible growl
deepened and neared.
They froze as if caught
in the ice breath of frost
for they had come early
not knowing the cost.
There was no escape’
no exit by cape
for someone had closed
the garden floor door.
Then the beast of the growl
let out a foul howl
a shuddering yelp
as if calling for help
for in his haste
he had stuck in his snout
now he was caught
and couldn’t get out.
The Fairies all whispered
the Gnome only sneered
they wanted to help him
it did sound quite weird
to free the “grand beastie”
to just set him free
and hope that he wouldn’t
eat both them and me.
And so they agreed
to do this good deed
to hope for the best
after he had been freed.
With the help of such kindness
and the Fairie’s dust wand
that night in the garden
they formed a strange bond
of human and Fairie
and great hairy beast,
sat and enjoyed
a Gnome/Fairie feast.
Now in the garden
near the edge of the night
hear the great beastie snoring
see the Fairies in flight.
John G. Lawless/7/9/2014
I was climbing up a ladder on a day
with a cool breeze purring through the roof gutters.
The wind would dip and run inside the open metal
canister then shoot up with the unforgiving wall
at roof’s end…
That upthrust would meet my rising hair
with a foosh reminding me of ungifted rewards,
like spinning windmills our air is happy and free
while I climb the satoric rungs for a vision clearer
than the ground below…
Space between the thoughts is what we are trained to see
And as those continents tread away from each other
The mass of men’s woes storm along breathless air
Like a cannonball bringing to smoke and cinder
All my grasping mills, shuddering in the wind—let go!
I put the ladder away and walk back into the garage.
I listen attentively to my breathing as I open the
screen door that leads to my kitchen that leads
to my living room carpet where I will lay down
and count all my blessings…
…until I fall asleep.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ unwilling step ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Shuddering to the mirror.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
This morning she is thirty.
Shining ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ star,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ twilight shining,
Haunted ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Miranda is a-pining.
Silly ¦¦¦¦¦ silver girl,
Draw ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ toward you;
Time ¦¦¦ makes the years to whirl
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ he adored you.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ timelessness for you;
Calendars ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦ a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?
¦¦¦ Night will not see thirty again,
¦¦¦ soft ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ Miranda;
Pick up your glass ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
How old is Spring, Miranda?
(Blackout of A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty by Ogden Nash)
“The silent song of the sighing breeze,”
In leafless demeanor of shuddering trees,
Whispered cries of a dismantled dream
Augmenting dissonance of broken theme,
A theme composed in the promise of yore
Avowing endearing passions evermore,
Of love eternal, enamoring core of soul,
Till its amorous glory, fate savagely stole.
Though zephyrs forlorn, still cruelly blow,
Wailing lovelorn woe of forgotten throe,
Despair is vanquished from song of sorrow,
For hymns of bliss sing of hopeful morro.
Pledges of today, foretell future of ardour,
Vying dreamscapes, musings-ecstatic adore,
Buoying tides of love to tomorrow’s shore,
Abandoning yesteryears memories abhor;
Of pensive sighs, spent-emotions decry,
Of dejection lamenting love gone awry,
Of nightmares trembling sleepless night,
Of allegories wistful, destiny’s hands write.
“The silent song of the sighing breeze,”
Now sings of love, from flowering trees,
Whispering melodies to a dulcet dream
Augmenting allure of lovesome theme.
Line #1
Come Out With Me
Come out with me in the shadowtime,
Where we'll dance together in rhythms slow,
Sensuality crawling slow, delightful across our flesh
Feeding on one another
On the rich fare of warm dreams
Dredged up from the dark
Consuming ourselves in strong caresses
Touches afire with tenderness.
Make love with me
While the splintered light of the stars
Drifts down to Earth untroubled
By its crossing of the infinite black void
Make love with me
While the bright cold light
Falling off the ragged face of the moon
Illumines our side of the world,
Calling forth the beings of the night
To attend to their silent affairs.
Not without some shade of former glory
Fell the angels who stood with Lucifer,
As the brightest stars, giving up their existences
In flaming cataclysms, vast and soundless,
So did they pass Below,
From Light Eternal to Darkness Supreme.
Even so it stands with mortal men,
Creatures at once Divine and Diabolic
Strange accidents of Fate,
Beauteous monstrosities,
Mysteries to ourselves.
Glories ring even in the midst of our disgraces,
Dishonors too, within our victories.
We are the terror of Creation,
We save or destroy
With power undirected
Minds undisciplined.
So come out into the shadowtime with me,
To mingle formless passions
Filling in the hungry spaces in our hearts;
Reveling in our young humanity
Devouring our desires, mating
Bodies and minds
Sewing together the shuddering fabric of dreams,
That fragile, tenuous light crawling close,
So close to ground at the burning edge of the day.
Winds blowing
Hard against the house
Buffeted
Shuddering
Hunkering down for the worst
As the front rolls in
Rain pounding
On the metal roof
Voices raised
Just to hear
Rivers running through the yard
Creating trenches
Light flashes
A two-count and boom
Puppy dog
Snuggles close
Hills outlined by strobed flashes
Petitions raised up
Calm returns
Distant flashes now
Long count booms
Rain subsides
Runoff racing downhill fast
The world is fresh, clean
----------
SECOND PLACE WINNER
For the "Give Me A Shadorma" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
Written on 02/17/2022
"Teach me your mood, O patient stars. Who climb each night, the ancient sky. leaving on space no shade, no scars, no trace of age, no fear to die." – Ralph Waldo Emerson
~~~
Like a summer song, inspiring twilight
When silent hopes, thoughts so sentimental
Thirsty winds stir the promise to unite
Winter’s breathe, a caress soft and gentle
When silent hopes, thoughts so sentimental
Echo on the heart with tempting desires
Winter’s breathe, a caress soft and gentle
With a quiver of grace the soul requires
Echo on the heart with tempting desires
Shuddering seas quench the spirit’s yearnings
With a quiver of grace the soul requires
Erasing darkness with stardust’s earnings
Shuddering seas quench the spirit’s yearnings
Wonders beyond words are trapped in the soul
Erasing darkness with stardust’s earnings
Reflections of kindness always console
Wonders beyond words are trapped in the soul
God’s splendor glows through the altruistic
Reflections of kindness always console
Love and peace are perfectly simplistic
God’s splendor glows through the altruistic
Amazing souls who know Him as true friend
Love and peace are perfectly simplistic
He is the One on whom life does depend
Amazing souls who know Him as true friend
Thirsty winds stir the promise to unite
He is the One on whom life does depend
Like a summer song, inspiring twilight
EYE DISCONNECT
i’ve always been drawn
to eyes — a smorgasbord of colors
but that’s not what i see
i drift beyond what most can tap into
the shroud of evidence
the red rivers
a canal lock
bulging, ready to burst
the big bang
the upsurge of rage
shocking severance
the world in ethereal mist
the feel of goosebumps —
a spirit throws a sodden blanket,
arctic cold around shoulders
shuddering teeth like ice picks
wincing of pinched nerve ending
but she’s like a statue of Mother Teresa
They whisper...whissss…
“She’s so calm.”
“So strong.”
“A saint in her circumstance.”
But the Spirit tells me, “See… Feel...her.”
Through her eyelids, I wander, not for myself
but for the gift of God,
I touch her arm, I ask
with godly inflection
“How are you?”
and her heart stirs…
...the high and low pressure mixes
...quite like a cold engine whirring to start
elephantine tears, wrinkled and gray,
splatter...her trunk collapses
and God collects the sudden stream into a cloud
for no bottle can hold this torrent of weeping
others walk away, afraid, embarrassed, imposters
a dove turns into pure comfort
a solid hand of flesh
a form strong enough to hold her up
she rests in the Spirit of the love of God
i see a smorgasbord of colors
she smiles
12/28/2018
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree—
A belle crooning nature’s glee,
Splendorous as seasons’ glory.
A ballad of resplendent spring
In stanzas cherry-blossom pink
Uplifting moods of lovers
Lost in heart-shaped leaves
Fluttering soft lavender breeze
Arousing romantic appeal
In fuchsia hues of redbud trees.
A verse of feisty summer winds
Swaying beats of majestic oak
Rustling big-leaf maple trees
Hosting dance of perky sparrows
Choreographing mating tempo--
Magnolia’s white blooms evoke.
A lyric of autumn’s aspirations
Scripting chorus in blazing colors,
Red, orange, purple, yellow,
On maple, hickory, birch, sycamore,
Strumming strings of alluring refrains--
Rhythms waltzing fervid meadows.
A cadent song of winter’s chill
Shuddering vibes of barren trees
Yet, charmingly pretty as can be
When snowflakes gently falling
Invoke tunes of season’s greetings
Crowning tips of ornamental twigs
As hearts’ melodies merrily sing.
February 7, 2020
Placed 1st: Famous poetic lines 2 poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree” by Joyce Kilmer
HM: Strand select H contest by Brian Strand