Long Strewn Poems
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Cinque Terre
by Edmund Siejka
We were in the Italian Rivera
A once in a lifetime trip
Hiking along the remote cliffs of Cinque Terre
Along narrow rock strewn paths
Barely wide enough
For goats.
We continued
Clinging to the cliffs of the coastline
Crossing over flimsy wooden bridges
Past vineyards
Olive groves
And lemon orchards.
Falls were common
I remembered
Simple rules of the trail
Look downward
Not up
Know where you are going
Make sure you can get back safely
Carefully we continued
Weighing every slippery rock
And stone
Before taking the next step.
When our guide stopped
I rested
In front of me
Splashed across
A deep blue horizon
Was the Mediterranean
Ancient as Homer’s Helen
And now a scene of tranquil emptiness.
We started again
Shifting our weight
Walking on our heels
Following the steep
Downward slope
Ending hours later
I was exhausted
Glad that it was over.
My sides ached
Every breath
A struggle
Forcing me to wonder
If I would ever cross this way again.
Life is like a highway with many a perilous twist and turn!
Alas, not all roads are straight and narrow, of that for which we yearn.
Many are the detours we must take traveling life's fleeting bourne.
Though the road be strewn with potholes, these are hazards to be borne!
When nearing a "Y" in the road, it might be well to gently tap the brake,
Or even stop to contemplate the fateful decision you're about to make.
"If I take the left, will it lead to a life of misery - such a terrible blunder,
Or if I take the right, might that enhance my ultimate fate, I wonder?"
Many are the warning signs along life's highway that must be heeded!
A miserable and unproductive life will surely ensue, if they go unheeded.
Perhaps a few U-turns will be needed to make corrections along the way,
But a well-planned route will ease the stress to keep from going astray!
A compass calibrated on things above will guide you to your destination.
It will keep you focused on life's itinerary through trial and tribulation.
Life's treacherous highway will be rife with blind spots, curves and bends.
Clear judgment is needed to cruise life's highway and the risks it portends!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 in Kim Merryman's "Life Is..." Contest - September 2012
“Never spend your time in anticipation of a future, procrastinating and thinking that we have so much of time ahead and many more opportunities on our way. But nothing is certain, only the present time and chances. They are in our hold and are ours. Make the best use of them.” ~ By Poet
With the night quickly passing by,
My soul breaks into blossoms of joy.
When the sun begins his solemn race,
In my ears fall the birds’ hymns of praise.
As the wind passes tousling my hair,
With soft whisperings in my ear,
I catch the strains of a Heavenly band,
And feel the presence of a loving friend.
Glancing on the gorgeous buds of May,
Swaying in breeze that make me gay,
I lose myself in the glory of creation,
And fold my hands in deep veneration.
When I hear the cuckoo pouring in shower,
Her songs from far flung forest glade or bower,
A delightful rhythm fills my space,
And its fleeting cadence brightens up my face.
But suddenly I sense a creeping pain,
As I see a cripple staggering in strain,
At a distance, I see a weeping child,
Abandoned by its mother behind a thicket wild.
Around me I see the homeless and the frail,
Wandering aimless, tossed by life’s violent gale.
Thus I see life with grim challenges of trials and strife,
Where misfortune, distress and betrayal, so very rife.
At times I feel my heart missing a beat,
And fear the sweep of sand under my feet.
This Earth often turns a blistering desert,
But sure with shady oases, strewn apart.
This is the irrefutable truth, for sure,
That life can at once be sweet and sour.
So, enjoy life when it is within our scope and scheme.
Squeeze every happy moment. Carpe Diem!
Corn stalks glistening
Row on row.
A killing frost,
So heavy,
It appeared as snow.
Frost covered pumpkins
Beyond the corn was seen.
Left in the field,
Unpicked,
From Halloween.
I saw morning glories,
Vines askew.
But not for a drop in Celsius,
This could have been,
Just dew.
A single Rose
Left unprotected I found.
Its blackened petals,
Strewn beneath,
On the ground.
But fleeting moments,
Past rising of the sun.
I stood in awe,
Surveying damage,
The frost had done.
My immediate attention,
Was not on things i'd lost.
But the warm morning sun,
Doing its thing,
To old Jack Frost.
Eerie presence, oft spotted near midnight
Whistling a death tune, inducing deep fright
Gliding over the lake with nonchalance
On full-moon nights, performing a break dance
Well before dawn, disappearing from sight
The ghost, it is said, nocturnal birds bites
Their remains strewn in blood at treetop heights
Candles lit, in both prayer and penance
Eerie presence
It’s silhouette darkens, shadows of night
For our neighbourhood here, it is a blight
Ghost from the house of the dead, in seance
Only once had revealed, its countenance
Medusa too would pale, before its might
Eerie presence
11-February-2021
The disgruntled mess of a boy slumped over his diary
——————experiment 4—————————
If you are reading this I might be dead
So as far as I can see
I seem to aging at a normal
It seems to degrade at dusk or dawn
Time seems to catch up on itself
Don’t use time lord as a description too who’y
I can stop time
It’s weird I seem to have free motion in it
Stopper I guess we could put that in the maybe pile
On experiment 2 we did have Weird Position day
So get serious
My movements seem to cause ripples
The emirate from initial stop but then cease why
I reenter usual time
We could call it unusual time
I seemed to have stopped dreaming
but feeling refreshed
Vitals seem good
Height and weight unchanged
Reflexes within normal ranges
The scar on my legs seems to continue to disappear
Might be some kind of countdown
Need to ration with experiment usage….
He slid his hand across his book strewn desk
His fingers grasping a cold can
-I can stop time he laughed at the empty room
The drip on its side no longer drops….
Long ago, I built for myself a citadel.
A fortress of stone and shining marble,
deep within the confines of my heart's depths.
I retreated there in my darkest hours,
seeking solace in the vast halls
that swallowed the noise, the screaming and pain,
and left only my thoughts;
a true bastion of peace.
Then one day, not so long ago,
an angel walked into it,
strolled in and so seamlessly became my life.
Every moment stretched into hours of
ecstasy and elation,
four months of happiness became forever.
She filled this abode with splendor and light,
chased away its shadows and held me close.
Then something terrible befell me.
The passion, the spark in her, died;
her interest waned and I was abandoned.
She left with scarcely a word,
and yet it meant so much.
With this whisper, off-hand and mere courtesy,
she caved in these once-mighty walls,
tore my castle down.
Now I roam here, amid the scars and debris,
a ghost at play with the remnants of its past;
yet here I am haunted by ghosts of my own,
echoes of her strewn among the wreckage.
My worn and battered frame hangs
off my drooping shoulders as I stumble around,
staring at the surrounding devastation;
this castle of mine turned monument to my past.
I wonder at the cause,
at the reasons why,
and wail at a fate so swiftly undone;
I know not why I
was left so low and alone.
Tears stain the ravaged cobblestones as
I wander these tormented paths,
the broken stone mirroring the broken man.
I cannot escape her shadow,
regardless of inclination or distance;
I climb the heights of these sorrowful ruins,
the crumbling towers and wasted spires,
and the ghost of her follows me on.
I grow weary of the whispers of time gone by,
but cannot find the steps to leave;
my sanctuary become my prison.
Here, my grief.
Here, my grave.
'Love Story' Poetry Contest.
Sponsor: Regina Mcintosh
1st Place.
“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”
- John Green, "The Fault in our Stars."
"Love is selfless. Love is respect. Love is infatuation. Love is more than all three combined."
- the poet
your lashes flutter when you open your eyes
chocolate orbs, blown wide
my favourite flavour
it starts like that
two souls – a little bit broken, a little forlorn
raven locks to hide behind and skin moonlit parchment
I think I must be a little bit gone
lost in nose scrunches and cheeks all bunched up
a healthy blush spread all over and those shy plunges
my poor heart clenches
it’s pouring outside and your clothes are drenched
your body is shivering and your teeth are chattering
yet the umbrella you hold is over my head
eyebrows strewn together, worried I’ll catch a cold
it’s not just the wind ruffling your hair, I think I love your heart
and everything’s pure, this feeling blueberry snow
you love without asking something in return
it’s not just your heart, I think I love your soul
I touch its beauty and I find a lover.
The Trail I Leave
The artist leaves his paintings behind
They're viewed long after he is gone
Efforts of the actress, are caught on film
Decades later, they may be shown
A sport's star often leaves their mark
Years later to be recalled on screen
The politician leaves a trail to follow
When he's no longer on the scene
The teacher, pastor, and the chef
Will each in their own way
Be found on society's page
Long after they have passed away
Each of us, likewise will leave
An impact on someone we know
Or perhaps an observing stranger
Has watched our daily to-and-fro
What effect will the life I live
Have on those I meet, each day
Will it encourage them to press on
When difficult trials come their way
I'd like to think, that my impact
On the trail I leave behind
Would leave sunshine, and a ray of hope
And give a weary traveler, peace of mind
The need is great, in this troubled world
For a pathway strewn with flowers
Where all too often, thorns and thistles
Consume so many of our hours
Lord, - may the legacy I leave behind
After the curtain of this life is drawn
Point others to a higher plane
And help them the torch, to carry on
Colan L Hiatt = 08-29-13
© All Rights Reserved
Once too I hung on the brink
listening to the melancholy cry of seagulls,
their white bodies strewn out like prayer flags,
tiny on the surface of the sea.
Wishing I could cast all of life's pain away,
a heavy shipment of regrets and shattered promises,
let it all sail far away.
In a desolate harbour enlightened only by the moon,
a lone shadow casts itself onto the weed-strewn pavement.
Feet itching to move but the brain with no destination to speak of.
Flee to the sea or hide at home?
Once too I stood on that abyss,
always wondering about the end
yet never of creating a new beginning.
Poets question why our heart aches,
pessimists say we've long forgotten our dreams,
I ask why I wake up every morning.
Until you made me understand.
Your smile, ethereal beams of light,
breaking through the morning frost of night.
Your voice, a beckoning bell.
Like a child, learning how to walk,
I stumble and crawl away from the darkness.
You called upon happiness from the depths of my heart
where I didn't know it could ever exist.