Long Shuddering Poems
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Pulled one perfect day from the heart of summer,
Went with my wife, the kids, a friend
Down to cruise the monuments
To study those menhirs we set for marking passage
Into collective memory.
We ascended the virile spire
Erected in honor of our ponytailed First Elect,
The children pleased to gaze out on a toy city below us.
We descended and walked down the long flat mirror of water
To where Lincoln, strong and sad in bronze
Sits forever troubled by his sundered nation
In his cool, dark, echoing vault.
Then lunch, and a visit to the commemoration of our most recent sorrow;
We cross over and walk the Wall.
Row on row,
Stark white upon shining black
The rollcall of the dead processes by.
It's crowded today, but no one speaks
The silence here is a crashing thing that falls all around us
As we walk and search
Some for names, some for answers,
Some for both, or neither
Ourselves for I know not what.
And in the black
Flowing past the names, and names, and names
This perfect day hangs captured in its light:
Cotton clouds on blinding blue
Grass greener than new money
The faces of children, dogs
And a parade of young couples -
It all hangs there, flowing over the terrible list,
Reminding all how they should be here too,
Those not-so-long-ago lost.
But then, in a sense, they are here
And that's why the silence crashes so.
58,000 empty chairs are here.
58,000 phantoms,
The Bad Conscience of a good nation.
58,000 Not-To-Bes are here:
Not-To-Be husbands, fathers, family, friends
Not-To-Be Victories and Not-To-Be Dreams
58,000 horrors of Loss.
In the midst of these shuddering reveries
My blissfully distracted 7 year-old son
Plucks a small, perfect feather off the lawn,
As black and glossy as the wall itself,
And carries it idly along.
Once out, we stop to talk with one of the Fallen's many advocates,
A great Viking of a man who notices the feather
Who says right away,
"Ah, a raven's feather. Odin's birds, who bring him Wisdom and Rememberance."
I saved the feather, knowing what I do of ravens:
Those sombre, croaking birds,
First on the field after battle
I stroked its silky black and wished
Odin's birds would visit the common folk more often
And croak to us of Remembrance, and Wisdom.
Eerily, I seem to wake
At the droning dusk
To feed my hate
To quench my lust
To salvage the young
And drink them clear of their sweet rum.
Hauntingly, I approach.
As quiet as a rodents burst
Danger sends its shuddering calls
But a new victim still responds
He arrives in all uncertainty
Every step revealing an immaculate beauty.
The steady rhythm of his heart
Soars gloriously as the distance departs
How entranced he seems at the sight
Of this dainty maiden lost on this deep dark night
He smirks finally in victory
As he lifts her head to calm her imploringly
The sound of the wine
She hears within
Her thirst commands her to begin
Summoning the demon to arise again
And in her haste she embraces him
His musky scent mingling with her skin
In control he smirks again
Obliviously sinking closer to her chin
Ah! How perfect it all seems
He moves so enthusiastically
Ah kiss that rests between her breasts
In rapture she moans his sweet success
How naïve my child you have been
To fall for this beauties charms, such a sin.
Her fangs revealed in all luminosity
Kissing his neck she groans pleadingly
Swift as a cat she sinks them in
Drinking this wine, that’s so sweetly divine
In fear he screams, so diligently
Like every other victim, so obediently
Finally submitting to this sweet end
He is charmed much more, and he starts to soar
She holds him closer presuming it best
And devours his existence so full of zest.
As death opens to him her inviting gates
He pleads with this beauty to reconsider his state
“Take me alluring beauty, take me with you
I sell my soul submissively to you
Take me sweet princess, oh princess of death
Make me like you, ever so gently I beg.”
Alarmed yet unfocused
She cries once again
“I shan’t my sweet child, this I must forbid.
For a life till eternity, is something I do not wish
So lonely and vile, an existence it is
So addictive and filthy and sickeningly dismissed.”
“Forgive thee, my child.
I render not this
But, kiss ye goodbye
So thou can attain endless bliss.”
With those words, death claims her mesmerizing win
Once again victorious she returns to her inn.
So still with sorrow, but radiant with her feed
She is swept away by the dawn
As it arrives so steadily
Come sleep my ravenous one, rest your demonic self
Sleep ever so peacefully,
So you may rise to feed once again.
By
Amanda.M.Miller
1
I say I'm a designer of systems, plans
Man's
Parts that stand together, set in place to serve
Trees and planets, too, which are unplanned by us
The observant, wise man
Tries to understand
Name the parts, pistil and stamen
Rocks, eskars
Elements.
Winter is shuddering to an end, mud roads
Cardinal pairs
Robin flocks return that will soon pair off
Buds
Soils swell
Will I live to smell it again, learn the lobelias
Understand and name the parts
It ought to be a great comfort to be so insignificant
Go among weeds, a wind
Thinking to myself
One's never alone
A dichotomous key is needed, a book of twigs and fruits
Accumulated over time and generations
Without it mine would be a blank mind
To be blank but knowledgeable
Without any machinery
In a perfect silence
That is the definition of death for which we have only to wait
But in my panic last night I thought death's inert
Grace requires consciousness
Hold on long to the senses
At least a century, maybe more
A boy hanging upside down from a fence at sunset, counting clouds
2
Now we go to our daily practice
And chosen disciplines
Sustained by the satisfactions of being good men among our fellow men
Women
Choosing to do this and not that
With the finite days allotted us that at first seemed like a lot
They're now few
But the chickadee's life to the chick and the cankerworm moth's to the
worm
Seem as long to them as ours to us
What question am I asking today
By now, past half a century, I should have chosen a discipline
And been satisfied
To be a war president one must have war
May you live in interesting times?wish or curse?
Squirrels, high in oaks,
Fiber, fat and protein in acorns
Strong runners, leapers, climbers
Should stay off the roads which some cannot avoid being where they're
born
Natural selection is occurring
Those that look for machinery in motion
Hesitate or don't as needed before crossing
Live in larger numbers than those whose modus operandi's
Guessing
The ravens eat the fur and guts of bad guesses off the roads
I impose my own small order
Having chosen mountains over plains or shore
Go to my daily discipline
And estimate the motions of the seas and stars
Measuring my satisfactions by my children's satisfactions
Shuddering awake in a plane
32000 feet above home, family,
Commitment
Right
Clown inside me thinks he's cute
The poet sticks to the shadows
"Laugh and the world laughs with you
Cry and you cry alone"
Tired of being alone
Tired of numb laughter
And superficial appeal
I'll be false
To get your attention
I'll be false to drive you away
You think you want
This bag of crumpled dreams
Look away
And fasten your seat belt
Flying over it all
Gets rough sometimes, too
I don't even know why
I talk to you
We're just each other's fantasy
If you were for me
You would have fallen
Right into my lap
Not into my computer
Not who I want to be
Right now, anyway
And you don't feel like a friend
More like a f**k buddy
I'm too desperate
I want something to hold onto
But something real
Not you
Young and beautiful
Looks good on me
Feels good on me
But it won't stay
And, yeah, I know
I feel good to you
Like an old comfortable shoe
'til the laces break, the leather cracks
I don't shine no more
And what's left of me
Isn't worth wearing out
Uh-huh I'll still be "raging
Against the dying of the light."
But still go into that tender night
Just wish you
Felt more like
a friend
We're so high now
I can barely make out a road
Or a roof top
But I can see shadows
Cast down from clouds below
On Colorado mountain tops
And it's smooth sailing
I need someone to be true to
These words would drive you away
Quit playing
Know what's for me
Not settle for whatever I can get
And I'll be lonely
Like out the window, New Mexico
Desert stretches wide empty
What I'm used to
And you're the East Coast
Lush, pretty, temperate, hydrated
I'd devour you
(Like I just did)
And never want to leave
But I'm still the desert
And you're the trees
How much will we drink of
Each other
The clown's rising
Bad timing
But keeps me from
Being lonely
When life hurts
And too free
When it doesn't
Over the Apache White Mountains
Descending enough to see
Lake's drying up
I don't want go home
Poet talking now
Clown
When we touch ground
If not here, where
If not her, who
We're on our way
Give us a spin
I like you, girl
Gentle landing
Phoenix (a cool 103)
Seems like I'm
Almost
Never
Home
written on time’s page
with finite syllables of dust
he spelled my heritage
from earth to sky
along an umbilical line of faith
we fluttered from the lips of fingers
fully form for purpose
written on an invisible calculus
that bring monarchs where birth mark lingers
and salmons somersaulting sluice and streams
turtles, penguins, and herons white wings
netted in design with nested tabula rasa mind
I have an argument
against the beginning begotten from a bang
before atom or element
I have an argument against force and natural laws
at work without mass or embodiment
for embryonic gravity or forces weak or strong
I have an argument
that the singularity could not become more than fragment
of energy again if a single atom explode
its forces flocking away from fusion
for energy fission to explode
a theory
flimsy as spiders web
dethroning my majesty gulped
in primeval slime unlinked history from love
minimizing the particular time of our becoming on ships
that met the stagnant eyes of swampy thoughts … shuddering
in vain
the whip cracks louder than pain -
and on our black blistered backs … crumbling
soils in desertification threw some syllables skywards for mercy
starvation winds with sickle clouds of rain
they lie again ... leaving us without inheritance
for all our labors, lost, and grievance
what bang can buck the strain
and bring us broken souls to glory again?
So deaf, so blind are we-
Our little minds (judgmentally inclined )
base judgments on assumptions,
not on related facts !
So, on and on, the squirrel cage
goes, round and round, And no one listens
to what wise men still propound...
How many centuries has man's myopic eye
failed to envision "time" assigned
the role of symbol ?
Ask whether logic ever pinpoints time,
elusive, all pervasive time ?
A timely symbol circles back,
month after month, each 29 or 30 days,
a messianic symbol seen, in evening skies,
reminding viewers why the sun grew dark,
as Jesus, on Tau-shaped cross,
suffered the crucifixion ?
Although perceptive friends of light
find eyes and ears shut tight
against all vestiges of explanation,
yet shall the Crescent wax ( and wane)
beyond the 40 days wherein the long expected,
long feared time of the Millenium shall reign
The 19th province, in the 19th year
of Earth's moon cycle, in this aging century,
likewise commencing with "19", all coincide!
As year has followed year, now,
"91" becomes the mirror image, " 19-91."
Will Armageddon spark the ushering in
of a New Age ? As when the Hand of Doctrine
reaches down to grasp the Key of Faith,
there in Granada,
there in Alhambra's court of justice
the first reverberations, commencing, shake the mighty mountain rising by its side
There, where the Moors were driven out,
500 years ago, now the initial tide,
first tide, goes shuddering through solid rock,
as seen- and heard-from there,
reducing those impetrable mountain heights to little more than dust
The pile of solid rock,
impentrable for over 700 years
to mortal power or to magic artifice
against the Lord of the enchanted mountain,
at long last shall release the aged magus
and Gothic princess from that vaulted hall
sealed in the mountain's heart,
illusive rock formation- struck long ago
by that old prophet's staff- to open the way
to go, leaving the weather-clock there watching!
Quaking, shaking, crumbling !
To dust return!
Mountain, again return to dust !
End time solutions
alone
alone
to free the long- forgotten princess
and her silver lyre-
whereby our Saviours music
may, once again, be heard,
here, on this planet earth !
My dreams were that of nothing but your kiss.
A lingering essence soothing frayed edges of my heart.
Heaven couldn’t breach the wonder of your touching
hands. They tickle memories invoked by the scent of your breath
against my cheek. This is but the taste I crave every night, every time
I feel days too long since you’ve returned the other half of my soul.
The awe and wonder will never cease, mated souls
Destiny declared to me, that our love and fated kiss
could bring forth in our lives eternities timeless
bliss. I never knew that which seemed to be a heartless
world would provide a love that would become my very breath;
for surely I would die each night if I couldn’t wake and touch
your beautiful lips. For they are but the substance that touches
me to this world. They spew forth the nectar that feeds my soul.
With you I am Queen Nivea, crowned in baby’s breath
about my brow. A midnight summer's eve of magic kissing
the air about our pallet. In sleep I hear our heart
strings shimmering our own melodious melody of half time.
In you arms my slumber is light, every time
you nuzzle my nape, asleep yourself, your touch
stirs my blood from half doze to a stuttered heart
soaring reach. It's the dust of twilight that moves soul
music through our heated blood. Your fluttered kisses
wafts into this hot dream to wake me with a fairies breath
riding my senses like white fire. Though our breathing
may be labored, this is not a frenzied moment, languish in time
and savor the bouquet of miracles brushing your moon kissed
back. Miracle that you are the only one who could soften my touch
from the warrior I tried to be. You alone brought life to a soulless
husk; the balm and solvent that softened my calloused heart.
Now fully aware I reach to find your heart
beat, and find it shuddering to the pace of my breath.
Caress the plane of my face and nape as our souls
unite. Whisper the language of lovers every time.
Just never stop this Shakespearean dream touched
eve, our very reality exist based on this kiss.
Though our hearts beat in all consuming time,
your the force of my breath. You are my grace touched
body of life, my soul, who feeds this void with a kiss.
It seems my heartbeat is still shuddering
my skin is still muttering little flickers of breathing
here, sit down, try to relax
hold a second in hand and let the time tick by
though time exists not and it's the anxiety filling up the air
grabbing me by the collar and whispering every single threat
it can muster at me
What did I do so wrong
Mothra, why did the villains at war decide to clip your wings
and leave me in this fright of a fight for my life on my own
How did this come about
a question to hang, suspended in the pouring rain
as I look up to the sky, my face turned upward in a flash of pain
as the horrid beauty tore through the clouds before my eyes
so I took to the pavement, a gallant steed to get to the nearest place of safety
If only I weren't so afraid of things bigger than me
if only I weren't so timid to tame these metal beasts immune to me
I wouldn't be in this mess
I wouldn't be so afraid I'd lose my head resting upon my neck
but I'm so terrified
It looks like the heavens and angels are locked in a fire fight
as cracks the clouds resemble firecracker fissures upon the ground
though they make little sound
all the more haunting, all the more frightening
It takes all I am not to cower in a room and wait for one more hour to pass before I make my move
Until I deem it safe for me to reside, to keep walking in stride to my destination so I can abide by my rules and perform my duties
I feel so childish
The people around me are all calm
the people around me carry on as usual
the people around me act as nothing is going on like this is normal
No, rain is the normal occupant in this region
no, rain and wind are natural, no sign of disaster
no, rain, wind, these gray clouds are easy to bear
but how can you sit still, relax and sip your coffee
while above you, the clashing of swords in this heavenly war threatens to tear our atmosphere
is what I would say if I wasn't trying to plot and plan my escape
counting seconds before flashes, all in three's is when the clashes begin
I try to unravel my fist full of promises, hoping so heavily to not be wrapped up in bandages from burns from a bolt
Zeus was hurling across the sky
I
Am
Terrified
And then the cold had its story to tell again and emerged overnight
The seasons had not changed but as always kept a sudden surprise
Days sunbathing and skinny dipping on the beach felt like a shiver
As the UV filter congealed in oily tubes and prepared to hibernate
Shells from the shoreline caught the fading light by the window
Sent a message of hope and rebirth with foregone conclusions
That life can be a nauseous circle and hearts can fade without fail
Pebbles watched on still sandy and puzzled for they had lost the sea
Driftwood was stacked near the fireplace and awaited its fate
Would it go up in smoke or be preserved for artwork and fantasy
Knotted and round at the edges the tinder planned its escape
We should warm hearts and memories and refuse to be ashes
Fossilised wisdom cast its message from the core of its surface
Requested to be held in regard and esteem by the collector
Sandalwood fragrance conjoined with salty motion making waves
And reached deep inside sadness and sorrow for ongoing erosion
Jenny had lit candles whose flames danced a ballet with apt feeling
Moving as they held court over coal logs bellow ember and ashes
Their flickering flashes sang a tune of resilience and feeble closure
Blending with shades of rose petals and thorns gathered in summer
While woollen hats blankets and hot water bottles found purpose
In the essence and meaning of heart-warming tender togetherness
Jenny folded summer clothes and gave them a home in the confines
Of her chest of drawers handed down over generations of close kin
She made pumpkin soup with ground cinnamon and nobly ginger
Grated herbs seeds and remembrance then smacked her kind lips
My kisses have survived another year frozen as they may impress
The knowledge that life is impermanent and wanes as it struggles
In the distance a fog horn sounded mist spray darkness and longing
The lighthouse’s beams shone a torch and glowed unperturbed
Whereas Jenny felt a moment of questioning the might of the ocean
Took out a photograph and honoured her husband long missed in a storm
25th October 2019
No earthquake, no thunder, no volcanic eruption
Or even there was no any of natural calamities,
A sudden loud sound broke out all through the bush
With whizzing, shuddering, cracking, tearing, echoing,
Fear, horror, dark, terror, misery and ill spirits spread
Committing destruction, death in a horrible situation,
Dust, dirt, smoke coiled over the whole atmosphere
The harmless animals are quite perplexed, helpless
They began crying, shouting, running, rushing, fainting
Seeing reddish spots and innumerable torn bodies,
They blamed one another for committing the crime,
Brawling, harming, plotting hardened in them
A long conflict complicated and awful tangled,
Loosing the worms of crime, injustice and corruption,
The virtues sunk and the vices rose everywhere
Envious state of barbarism, terrorism inflicted on them
The poor animals lost peace and principles they had
Centuries curse engulfed all what was out of thought,
Ferocious animals are in the neighbouring big forest
They always wait for chances on the helpless ones,
They do not care for hesitating in violating terms
Committing all sorts of hyenas and monstrous harms,
They know how and when to cook poisonous broth
And how to throw an unseen net to catch the rest,
Once some cats were quarrelling nearby the bush
Some wild dogs of the big forest made an instant rush,
For repeated barking mewing was beyond of hearing
Foxes and monkeys also joined within a quick haste
Crows, kites and vultures started crowing for the feast
What more, rats and mice left the bush being frightened
Dreadful tumult, commotion, collision, conflict took place
At the arrival of buffalos, deer, bears, wolfs and hyenas,
But with the unexpected appearance of lions and tigers
All the surroundings became instant silent and isolated
All went away murmuring without a single looking back,
The victorious were excited having got all easy victory
But they found troubles to enjoy the whole empire lonely
So there were roaring, shouting, blustering, threatening
Of occupying empire, power, lordship and over lordship
‘Might is right’ established in the ruleless bestial state.