Long Wake the dead Poems
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I Thought I heard a Trumpet
I thought I heard an echo like a trumpet far away..
It was carried on the breezes;
That swept in across the bay.
I listened at my window as I watched the eastern sky..
light up with wondrous lightening;
and the clouds began to cry.
I thought I heard a Trumpet;
and a loud victorious shout....raising high above the thunder...
With Angels all about,.
I wakened from my slumber..in the darkness on my bed...
To a glorious rowdy ruckus
Loud enough to wake the Dead.
I thought I heard a Trumpet, It was a sweet surprise
As I rose to meet my Savior.
And to look into His eyes.
Dad had left on urgent business,
something to do with a workers' dispute,
and Mum was at the next-door neighbour's
on one of her 'brief' visits.
Mary, the birthday boy's elder sister,
had just dished out the junkets.
Martin, known for his irascible fits, arrived late.
He started flicking blancmange around.
His main target was Aloysius,
though Jacob and Andreas got hit too.
At the head of the table someone looked sad,
trying to hide his tears, while smiling courageously.
Birthday boys do want their guests to be happy.
But then Calvin turned up, and started an argument.
His'dispute" with Martin soon turned vehement,
only to degenerate into a bawling match.
Girls on the sidelines started to giggle - nervously.
Karl, Jacob's distant cousin, was the last to arrive.
He said birthday parties were silly and tugged the tablecloth.
The din was hellish, enough to wake the dead.
The birthday boy shook his head and sighed.
"If only Dad and Mum were here."
The guests looked at him and grew silent,
some for shame, some in recognition,
mindful of what the birthday party was all about.
As the dusk journeys to the dawn
a crisp breeze awakens the senses
light fingers through the heavens
and shadows slither away.
The day begins as if promised
to break night and interrupt dreams
time to awake and accomplish
routines and task of living
Up with a yawn and stretch
and you look upon the one sleeping
beside you. At peace with a face
of an angel. Only if it appear when awaken.
Walk barefoot into the kitchen
brew coffee and fry bacon
if that doesn't wake the dead
throw dirt on them, smells of first morning.
You look back into the bedroom
and see the sleepy head turn
thinking how can I pick em
out on the porch sipping coffee
Watching the sun rise in full brilliance
who appears at the doorway
can I have a sip?
Sitting beside you feeling happiness
The day begins as the world turns
and your life with love
forget worries, forget problems
it feels right, another good day.
I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
Cockcrows are loud enough to wake the dead.
I cringe and slink as I traipse about in the dead woods,
Among the cadavers of river plants, decimated,
Deserted, and vitiated through seasons’ flagrant ebb.
I see shadows that sing with their mouths tightly shut.
Like them all, I, too, am lonesome, and I draw about me
The dry waves of parched waters.
On my lips is a certain prayer — a revised edition of the
Paternoster.
Return, waters, return from the underrocks, I pray thee.
My sorrows are old and fragile.
Hoots and cries and stridulations beseech me.
I have picked my way among paths that
Cuddle the feet in sympathy and soothe
The souls that hide from the earnestness of
Sunrise.
Wash my dry naked feet, O waters,
And grease my palms so cracked from
Endless chafing.
Well some they say though straight or gay
Get fun from innuendo
While others wait ‘til dark
To get their kicks outside your window
Some do the deed without a sound
Some labour in the dark
While others roars would wake the dead
Some sing out like a lark
Variety’s the spice of life
And while there’s a great selection
We’ve all been screwed from time to time
At every new election
There’s watersports and bondage
There’s even golden showers
Beware though not to mix the two
Or you’ll stay wrapped up for hours
Some wear a mask with eye-holes
Or some dangerous protrusion
Some sport a tail or riding crop
While lost in their delusion
Some women favour veggies
To chippies sparks or plumbers
They relish every celery stick
Or juicy green cucumbers
There’s tales that tell of fishermen
Quite partial to a skate
Though fond of fish I always was
I prefer mine on a plate
Some wrap up like an onion
For fear their skin is showing
While some rush in all fingers and thumbs
With boobs and buttocks glowing
There are those without a conscience
Who swear they’re not the owner
Oh deary me it had to be
Someone elses *****
Though some would up and go all night
Some finish in a minute
While others just the thought alone
Would push them past their limit
While girls dress up as men
And Lads like Cinderella
It takes a little work sometime
To tell female from fella
Uniforms are common place
Considered rather arty
A sturdy pair of coppers cuffs
Are the rave at swingers parties
There’s beads and balls and bangles
They may become a habit
And a whirling whirring weapon
They call the Rampant Rabbit
When picking out a present
For your partners Xmas box
Have Duracell a plenty
In her little Xmas socks
So while sex it has its ups and downs
Even Daniel would agree
It’s a sure fire cure for unwanted frowns
And it beats a cup of Tea
I've hurt myself again.
I fell in my bedroom den.
The world went around ,
and I let out a sound,
That I'm certain could wake the dead.
I twisted my leg when I fell,
Strained a tendon from what I can tell.
I saw my physician,
He said here's the question,
How long can you give it to mend.
So I'm taking vacation for now,
And my boss is having a cow,
'Cause four others are gone,
And he sings a sad song,
He counted on me to attend.
I said, Sorry I can barely walk.
It hurts when I stand and I balk.
When I sit it gets tense,
And the pain is immense,
And my face turns the color of chalk.
I'm sorry I must ask for grace,
But my work is too hard in this place.
I've pulled a muscle,
And you bet your bustle,
Right now I ain't running no race.
Alarm loud enough to wake the dead.
Need to wake to join the living again
Sluggishly climbing out of my bed to embrace the tasks of today
Feet hitting the cold floor, the chill forcing me to be attentive.
Shuffling across the cold floor to the kitchen, my morning coffee calling to me just like a siren's song.
Yawning, I blink the sleep away for another day.
Watching the machine
Coffee slowly brews with a steady, drip…drip…drip.
Patiently waiting, I get my favorite mug
Sugar and cream awaiting the boiling hot coffee, just enough cream to turn black to an autumn caramel.
I pour the steaming coffee into my mug and relish in the smell of the bold fresh coffee with its hint of nuttiness.
First thing in the morning, it’s like water after a walk in the desert.
Closing my eyes, I take it in;
Steam tumbling off, I lift the mug to my lips. With a slight blow, I take the first sip.
The sip tastes like perfection, almost making a moan slip past my lips.
Sitting in silence, I drain every last drop of my coffee as if it will be my last.
But who’s to say this should be my last.
We come from realms beyond your sight,
A council bound by cosmic law,
To warn you now of endless night,
Should mankind fail to mend its flaw.
The stars have watched your rise and fall,
Your greed that turns to molten pain,
You spill the blood of one and all,
And mock the world with your disdain.
Each tree you fell, each sea you choke,
Each creature culled by thoughtless hand,
Each sacred bond of trust you broke,
Has written doom upon your land.
We speak as one, five voices clear,
Ancient stewards of the stars,
Our judgment holds no hate or fear,
But justice born of countless scars.
You mine the Earth until she weeps,
You scorch the skies with flames of war,
You harvest souls like herded sheep,
Yet hunger evermore for more.
Your towers rise, your empires sprawl,
Yet nothing lives where shadows tread.
You claim the heavens, stake it all,
And leave your mother planet dead.
Do you not see the seeds you sow?
The fractured hearts, the poisoned streams?
A path of ruin lies below,
And silenced are the dreamers' dreams.
Know this, O Earth, the time draws near,
Your actions write a final page.
A fate of ash, of pain, of fear,
Shall greet the end of humankind's age.
But mercy lingers, faint but true,
If you would cast aside your sin.
The choice remains with all of you:
To rise anew or fall within.
Destroy the greed that blinds your hearts,
Embrace the life that yet remains,
Undo the wrongs, make humble starts,
And cleanse your soil of blood-stained chains.
We are the Council, Five and wise,
Guardians of the cosmic tide.
Heed our words, or meet demise,
For time is not on mankind’s side.
Choose now, before the dawn has fled,
Before your world is claimed and torn.
For if you do not wake the dead,
The stars will mourn what Earth has borne.
It's a new song
Maybe it'll be amended before I get to produce it
It's been fun.
I'll not say what exactly it's about
_________
you will never wake the dead
be prepared for it this time
bleed into it raw
making nickels on the dime
have you never asked for more?
??
no longer a stranger
paid-up dues, made your bed
winning is second nature
no matter what my old man said
if I could forgive, make amends
he would rest in peace without end
but I will never wake the dead
bleed into it, this time
??
th' sharper tool in the morning
afternoons, I'm delivered
hold my breath, I'm descending
there, I said it, I know that you heard
??
be daring, my darling
I'm right here, by your side
with answers for the asking
I don't know but I'll give it a try
if you could forgive, make amends
I could rest my head and pretend
but I will never wake the dead
bleed into it, this time
am not going to talk about it!!”
Was the last thing that he said,
He shouted it so all could hear
The noise so loud it could wake the dead
I told myself I would not to cry
There was no need for a tear
No telling how much he had to drink
But I am sure it was more than one beer
Oh, it isn’t always this way
We love each other dearly
Then I noticed that he had changed
Yes, I could see it clearly
Today I asked him what was wrong
But he refused to say one thing
I told him he should talk to me
Just think of the peace it could bring
But then I saw the letter
I couldn’t believe the words I read
The diagnosis could not be wrong
It said my husband would soon be dead
It was then I felt the tears come
I had to go and find him
No wonder he was so upset
Life had just turned completely grim
He needs to know I will never leave him
He has to know how much I care
I vowed in sickness and in health
That I would always be there
Connie Moore
2/10/14