Long Upland Poems
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Trapped
My life is in three parts
30, years as a seaman until it became unbearable.
30 good years in the deep hinterland
a place of contemplations and trying to write,
walking with my dog in the woods, there was so much to see.
I feel imprisoned.
My house is sold, I have nowhere to go.
Living in a building of snobs who rather wait for an elevator
when the transport lift is free.
Surrounded by nice middle-class housing and planted trees.
My years at sea is no longer obtainable, my life in the upland was a dream
And here I live inside a nightmare of all I dislike.
The worst thing that can happen to any man has happened to me
The loss of the future.
To walk is to move one step forward
after another following after your last
that direction is decided in your mind
using your know how so die's been cast
But God's spirit is the true director
leading and guiding the right way
showing one his perfect upland steps
His peace and grace be yours to stay
In this learning to reject the flesh
not gratifying all the desires of sin
so keeping in step with God's spirit
following on always to victory win
This is our spiritual victory
to walk in step with God alone
our creator sustainer and saviour
His seed in us forever sowing
('Walk by the spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.' Galatians 5: 16 )
Here I am, Shake & Bake in the Far Out West
where they now smoke down and out, their
new front yards as Lava Lady is Liquid Dating
our backyards getting her dance card filled
up down at the Jam Bury Your Town All for
Lava Lady live sacrifice night show owe to Glowing
Reviews and she's gotten her brother, Tidy
Mighty, All Washed Up since he redesigned
the shoreline to the envy of Picasso's Blue
Period. There is a New Kid who came around
Shaking Things Up and Jointing Up with those
Yard Long guys short on else. He's Split his Half of
the Take, lake, mountain, meadow as his Crack,
up guys start at no charge, all FreeBase and his
name's Charlie who's friends with homeless
Front Yard Weed Whackers be many oldtimers
long left as Shakey Wakey All Charlie & Tidy
Mighty Surf's Upland lap'g and lick'g until Lava Lady
Lavalingly spills out o'er Missed Takes of the
new breed, yet dating a Strange one, hail Fire
& Brimstone from Vulcan. She peep'ole her Q-T
EyeDears on a couple of his Points and he Ears
her Loud & Clear. Their CommonRobHurry will
cool-it to low-life level...be BirdsOfParadise pushers,
or mosey on WhoCaresWorld.com. As Nubians
get cozy, renamed stargazers Blaze & Trek to
Vulcan. Meanwhile, in our Nexus Episode, Far
Out Rest: where we'll find, still landowner and
house goner, sum day things will all add up;
Starring: SureIt's Lone Returner & DedUB Tacoma.
I watch fascinated
at its teetering stance,
bobbing up and down,
picking at small insects
that infest the lonely loch,
that it chooses instead of
upland streams or creeks
or fast-flowing rivers,
or in some lonely lake.
Today I sit on a small chair,
behind some bushes on the shore
of a lonely loch, away from it all.
Ah sandpiper, are you emulating me?
Are you in search of lonely spots too,
far from the worrisome cities of the world?
Let's leave behind us wars and strife,
enjoy a bit of peace. Let us be true to love.
A breeze strikes, up and up you fly,
with stiff bowed brown wings
and your characteristic cry,
swee-wee-wee, swee-wee-wee.
Where will you go for shelter?
Do you prefer the secluded estuaries
or the protected inland lakes?
I see you return, too good a place to miss.
But look, you've found a mate.
Heaven provides, love conquers all.
I think I'll turn in, my wife awaits.
145.
My 29th Leaf
Picked thee head level
From bamboo bundle
Beside eight of us
It's sort of wild grass
Behold this “Chinese Bamboo!”
As Ante Bing said
By them it's planted
Capuso family
The owner of thee
I'm with 6 batchmates
Twenty-third of June
Sky's speaking a rune
Nimbus were coming
Was about raining
About 3 PM
Beside a dam deep
Wherein no one should creep
It's an upland
Metres from farmland
In Aglalana
Tolada active
For month elusive
But need not be tired
If moment inspired
Batchmates rebonding.
-06/23/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection
The hills are running with deer
and there are sunlit roads in the sky.
Fresh and wide-eyed is the wind,
it swirls like a dervish dancer.
Its good that I have this ghost-dog
to lick my hand. I send her away
to hunt the grass-haunting rabbits.
In the end, the old girl had few teeth
and bad breath,
but now she pants and smiles
with glittering stars in her sweet pink mouth.
As for me I am alive! I am a footprint
so light upon this green earth
that my very presence enlivens the turf,
and rocks.
Old ghost-dog is young again, she barks
at the swift flying birds but only I
see or hear her.
This upland trail
might wander away into history soon,
fade away
like a long forgotten Cherokee path,
even tomorrow
it might not still be here, or even I
not be seen - anywhere.
This time of the year again
She has gone shopping for gifts to give the young
she would not take me along, knows I would be grumpy
and sarcastic and impatient.
I sat on the plaza with a glass of Chianti, not because I like this wine but because it is the only Italian name I could think of,
A mist of people around me, a crescendo of voices
talking about about a topic they agreed upon, Noel
I unfold the paper “Stalemate in Gaza.”
It does not ring a bell for the consumers, in the thrall of the glittering street decoration, fake snow, and humbug
We have been invited to a restaurant so grand waiters
dress like diplomats, call out your name when entering
Our esteemed Senor Hansen from Sweden at table number 12. What! I am not Swedish but never mind
I will get revenge when asking for Alentejo Red Wine
When we come back to the Algarve, it can be cold
in January, a man will come from the upland with a truck
of firewood, ready cut and dry.
The only sound we will hear during the festivities are
are the bleating of the lamb
Dry river mystery
The river in the domestic landscape was not as big
as it used to be, for years, the rain upland fell sparsely
when the hot summer came, the river dried up.
The river bed was eerily white with a massive overhang
spikey plants as a scar of lumpy skin after heart surgery.
Of the farmer’s four children, three liked to play
in this mysterious scenery of skull-like rocks, when lifted
had pockets of water like there was a hidden stream
under the bed, the fourth child had an instinctive fear
of the dry river’s strangeness and kept away.
When the summer was over, rain of epic proportion
came to the mountain where the river’s nascent began.
Suddenly a wall of water ran faster than a train
drowning all in its rouse to meet the sea.
The farmer whose wife had died when giving birth
to the fourth child was devasted, those will lose
tongues blamed him for being thoughtless.
Of the surviving child, nothing is known, fading away
as never born.
Hail, the doorway keen on the known world ... theme wails attention,
time of roses' blooms cower ... usurped magentas, aloof maroons,
for the flight of the gossamers ... assume benefits of the whole.
Latial premise culture ... tastes upland and coastal regions,
a frequency of single-mindedness ... surrendering taught thoughts,
as the virginal breed ... practices gifts unerringly.
Motherly cling to the high order ... the lap of power,
Emperor Augustus's Agrippina ... hails a league lineage,
the first passed adoption papers ... history at two years of age.
Emperor Claudius handheld Lucious ... heir apparent,
timely obligations convene ... Praetorians and the Senate,
youth rules ... Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus
A singularity ventures ... shadows accomplish deeds,
airs cultural growth, diplomacy, trade ... and games of sporting chance,
distractions for feeble minds ... a mother, a wife, bled graven vows.
Minds of the destitute clamors ... affluence hushed from rears,
slaves dying daily ... entertained popularized its purposes,
at slave's expense, and Rome's aristocracy ... via taxation.
Rome burns for Nero's 'Golden House'... Christians blamed for flames,
rumors swapped clamors ... Emperor Galba aids Senator Vindex,
Christian deaths were wrongful ... Nero lost popular support.
Nero ruled known enemy ... condemned to death in absentia,
negatives fly ... as tyrannical, self-indulgent, and debauched,
he flees Rome ... 9 June AD 68, commits suicide.
Snatching
straws
falling
tilting
precariously
through
notice
toward
doom
inverted
caricatures
of
marionettes
shine
& community
supports
& grips
divine
stumbling
wild
madness
shaking out
clean
time
& its
witness
upland
coarse.
Written: July 03, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.