Long Stark Poems
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Charged with a fiery spirit, full of valour
To protect the nation from rival force
Volunteered to join the armed force
Knowing well all risks, sans remorse
Plucked away from hearth and kin,
Often had to dwell in lands unknown
For daring and diligence, laurels he had won
Ever confronting foes, lived a life forlorn
Lay in ambush in dingy trench
Crossed swords with formidable might
Starved to death in enemy camps
Fought with verve for country’s right
All through service, knew no rest
Ease and comfort, he had none
To drill and discipline, he was wed
Life’s winsome pleasures, he did shun
Bravely bared his manly breast
Before triggered guns and flying bullets
Shed out drops of sweat and blood
To save the nation from rival blasts
Now back home, wounded and hurt
Life is limping without hope
The sky is dark, not a ray of light near
No one around to serve as prop
Winds blow fierce striking fear
He struggles to make both ends meet
Through long and lonely roads he walks
All he sees is the stark grimace of defeat
Even his close family turns a cold face
So painful it is that all seem to ignore
A hollow emptiness now fills his space
Who would care a cripple back from war?
June.28.2022
Tears of a Valiant Soldier’s Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Faraz Ajmal
In Gettysburg, the soldiers fell
In shock, in pain, in death,
As thousands from the North and South
Cried out with their last breath.
Their bodies lay in bloody fields,
A vista grim and stark;
Today, those hills have been restored
Into a hallowed park.
With monuments and obelisks
Commemorating all
Who fought and died when barely grown,
Sucked in to wartime's thrall.
A marker made of stone records
The bodies there interred,
Remembered with a name or else
"Unknown," a lonely word.
The numbers laid out state by state
Count lives the war's undone.
New York sustained the greatest loss -
Eight hundred sixty-one.
That just reflects the ones who died
Those three days in July
And after all these years, no one
Can really answer why.
The battlefields are there to see -
To visit and to tour
But sadly, war is a disease
For which there is no cure.
The number four shows form, pleasurable are their colours
Where normally it takes daylight to glow, to nurture natures flower
Resonating to elation, affirming these coloured bonds
The indifference of, blinded severely in respond
Amidst his darkening dark, sighs abound from two
In preach, clouded sermon is relayed, to run this virgin through
*~*
Such closeness in revel they, tongues asping if desiring more
What shall be the outcome, who addresses life's future door
Fervent zeal remains, against this backdrop of darkened hell
Yet, she demands and delivers he, again his body swells
*~*
Content, now comfort reached, she resides within his grip
Engulfed has the white become on this entering darkening trip
Saliva drenched, his head now bowed, engrossed, achievement said
Enriched by absorbing the white, amidst both, this stead
Her looks of hunger abound, naked like birth, blossomed rife
Do we dare to think of our surface, and what becomes of life
*~*
Like a sweetened girl in love, she looks up and admires the dark
One can only fear our tomorrows, our white dove joins his stark
Her body perky and peached, en-riched, she's now bowled over
Leg raised in content, in his dark there can be called clover
*~*
An aching hunger cries for more, in torrid lustful bites
His talons become their union, this darkened redded night
Taking, she invites him so, to suckle on her charms
Is this the virgin we knew, who once stood all alarmed
Manipulated she now is, her abundance he's now in grace
Shall she bow to her superior, in his darkly grimly place
*~*
Entwined they re-unite, as she absorbs his ogre charms
Invitingly she takes, her lips like a welcoming balm
He's tasted, taken in, in release he's in comfort gain
Her light engrossed with his dark, goes against the grain
*~*
In midnight's gloom, I wander all alone,
Haunted by echoes carved in ancient stone.
A spectral vision drenched in crimson light,
My lover emerges, a phantom of the night.
Her eyes burn deep with a sinister grace,
Reflecting secrets time can never erase.
My Bloody Valentine, born of decay,
Where every heartbeat drifts further astray.
The air is heavy with a scent of dread,
While every whisper mourns the blood we've shed.
Through corridors of ruin, bleak and stark,
I cling to shadows to escape the dark.
In twisted dreams, our souls merge in art,
Where love and horror share a single heart.
Beneath a sky of sorrow and despair,
We waltz with ghosts in a forbidden affair.
I taste the bitter kiss of sin so vile,
As venom creeps, defiling every smile.
Each drop of red proclaims a dream long dead,
A scarlet elegy where torment is bred.
In endless night, our hearts embrace the fire,
Consumed by passion in a funeral pyre.
Let darkness bind our souls into one,
My Bloody Valentine, until life is undone.
My God!My God!
Why have you forsaken us?
Even now the whisper of wheels
On the track
Convulses me with tears.
What more could I have done?
Where did I fail?
You, the least selfish of men,
Dedicated to your students and staff,
Devoted to your family,
Committed the most selfish of acts.
By locking us out,
You locked us
Into a cycle of torment and pain
And we never saw it coming.
Worries you brought home
But you chose not to share them
Shrugging off my pleas
You did not want to worry me,
So you said
You dulled your tortured mind by
Taking solitary refuge in the bottle
And you began slipping away from me.
I tried to batter the door down
With angry words and tears
As my frustration mounted
Did the children notice our bitter rows?
Was it then the seeds were sown?
You fled to your mother's house
For the balm of her love
More forgiving than a wife's
And there I hoped you would find
The peace your troubled heart craved.
With your mother you returned
And she soothingly said,
"It will take time."
I saw a faint tear in her eyes
Though her faith was strong.
That night you said the sofa would be your bed
"Give me time"were the last words I heard
Strangely I slept soundly
But when I awoke
I crept downstairs
To find you
And the car gone.
Frantically I phoned
And your mobile rang
From the depths of the sofa.
Then I saw your letter
On the cleared coffee table
Stark and white.
You begged our forgiveness.
You said this would spare us pain
And you bade me
Look after the children.
Stunned and silent
Your mum and I sat
In dread
Time froze
When the constables came
With their carefully composed compassion
We knew it was just beginning
You had ripped away the veil of the temple
And the tomb was empty.
You had shorn your lambs
Of their innocence
And inserted a sliver of ice
In their hearts
Now I am faced
With the curse of Greek tragedy
Since I must spend my time
Trying to melt that ice
Before it hardens
Irrevocably
Her final days, a mercilessly cold, never-ending night
Her eyes have grown so weary, always averting from the light
That used to burst within her. It has grown tragically dull
The bloomed flowers of her life is wilting as death comes to call
A terminally ill woman accepts her fate; embracing the dark
She's crossing the rubicon of doom; a journey so cold and stark
She lies dying, deeply submerged in depression's murky ocean
Scythe-wielding Grim Reaper lurks about as she lies devoid of motion
Her eyes sadder than a lonely moon, they bare no iota of spark
Moribund; her spirits, somber. Her sunny days; now charcoal dark
She hears the death-knell; a crow, outside, cawing of morbid dread
Her hopes and dreams have drowned in a well, soon she'll be dead
''T'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Submission date: 11/07/2021
Word chosen: Tenebrific
Date originally written: 01/01/2019
Our Better Angels
The polished floor reflects a moonlit gleam,
A silent chapel holding a dark dream.
I etched my plea into a cold white tile,
A fragile hope against a coming wile.
But from the smooth surface, a form takes hold,
A sister to the stories left untold.
Her eyes, like shards of glacial ice, are keen,
Reflecting landscapes desolate and mean.
I banished her, my palms a trembling dish,
To catch the fading grace of a last wish.
I called her "Angel," with a whispered vow,
To prune the thorny branches on my brow,
To starve the hungry tendrils of despair,
That choked the fragile blossoms growing there.
Yet she returns, her beauty sharp and stark,
A sculpted terror, leaving its cold mark.
Within her grasp, a mirror starts to gleam,
And in its depths, I see a shattered scheme.
She murmurs secrets of dominion vast,
To turn my future into shadows cast.
She says, "You shaped me, with a knowing hand,"
And in her tone, I hear a cold command.
She is the flawless self I yearned to be,
Untroubled by soft-hearted misery.
And as she laughs, a crystalline, clear sound,
I know the darkness I had hoped drowned,
Still breathes within, a chilling, feminine grace,
Reflected in the terror of her face.
The traffic was strident, lanes straight
the cars lined the street and froze rigid.
The cop with a glare of pure hate, directed
a line of gate crashers cutting.
The sidewalks segmented in rows, false
lure more tourists into a queue.
Cowed were young folk and old folks all queued
a ménage which was quite far from straight,
all had come for a peck at the Bard, false.
even a librarian or too, who waited with spines rigid,
and scowls on their lined brows like cuts
their critiques would be most direct.
Teens kiss in a clutch most directly
their faces make braces of queues
Scalpers hawk to the latecomers cutoff,
the elite meet and greet heading straight
for the red road with a rigid
line of bull filled with falsities.
Inside the antiquated theatre under false
the foot lights lining the aisles direct
Mayor and matron, gran and child in rigid
alleys to velvet seats also queued.
The stare of critic and patron glared straight
64 toward the author so pinned and cutting.
A bright white light cut
the chill air so false
and focused on drape lined straight
each fell open as artist directed
and orchestra swells filled their queue
and the author he sat stark and rigid.
His fate would he find in lines rigid
on the page of tomorrows review, they’d cut
make or they’d break his heart’s queue
these piranhas with smiles so false.
No fate could be more direct
this tonic he must imbibe straight.
So like dominoes, they fall lines rigidly, piercing cuts
Filleted be he by queues false,
in the end words directly aimed, straight to death cue.
This man tired of seeing everyday
The pink sun rise and the crimson sun set to his dismay
Felt always that time tore away
His life’s green leaves when it crept past him
Decided to capture time
Which he thought flied on wings of butterfly
On its wings of ordained design, motif of enigmatic symmetry
Over the yellow field of swinging mustered plants
Across the blue hills yonder to the timeless hazy horizon distant.
He ran through the blooming field in his twilight hours
Searching the prime petals of the yellow flower
For the butterfly in case it had landed there
So he could catch time, it won’t then fly away
He would decide when the sun should rise, how long it should stay
Before the night emerged from the edge of the day
When he could dream the dreams as long as he wanted.
Out of his sight the butterfly flew
He can’t catch it, he knew
Impatience in him gradually grew
He ran up the hill
With the hope in him still
To start the search anew.
The sunset colors bursting through the horizon haze
Flooded his eyes, he was in a state of daze
Felt the present burning in a blaze
His mind went back to the past
Where he saw integrity disintegrated
Intolerance intensified, falsehood focused
Betrayal bloated, mask manufactured
All melted in his eyes in tears
He saw the butterfly fly away and disappear
Beyond the twilight horizon far.
He started running downhill in pursuit of the present
Slipped on his tears, fell free on stark reality in an instant.
The butterfly flew away coloring his mind
He was captured by time it left behind.
March 11, 2018.
the languid petals of addiction fall in a silent way
drugs to wipe clean the scribbled slate of the mind
adrift and alone on the ocean of the bathroom floor
down on my luck down on my knees
scissored by shadow and scythed by sorrow
ice-knives stab my stinging skin
the stark-sudden cold relief of white
as snow sugar-sifts the street
the outer world recedes pain splinters lodge deep
I know the scream of silent weeks
1. In a Silent Way
2. Confessions of a Baby Snatcher
3. Sea Pearl
4. the night is freezing fast
5. Ramonda
6. we're sinking
7. Black and White
8. Illness Is
9. Out My Window
10. When Silence Speaks