Long Wide eyed Poems
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lookbacks
It’s the time of year to look back - so let’s look back at 2025.
I made some mistakes this year
Like wearing a pristine white dress on the dirty, crowded, metro
and another time, I tried glittery four-inch heels on Paris’ cobble-stone streets. That last was a tragic idea - think romanticized cigarettes.
There were sad things
A champagne flute full of Dom Pérignon Rosé, deserted on a studying student’s desk (it was test week) and I had to say goodbye to my favorite, threadbare, Miraculous-Ladybug pajamas.
There were beautiful things too..
I saw a light, late-night snow, in early November Paris,
several Louis XV gilt-crystal chandeliers dangling, like angels, in a ladies' restroom, and thousands of white Christmas fairy-lights, strung across the top floors of a fog-covered construction site - giving it the look of heaven.
And little miracles
Like Michelin-star meals served on a paper plates and Yves Delorme lace table-cloths draped over plastic folding tables.
Those last two were here - at 6th street - this very weekend.
My Grandmère and the archdiocese of Paris, have little holiday lunches for orphan groups every weekend in December. The group I saw were 70 little-ones from Sudan and Gaza. I doubt that I ever saw so much cuteness in one place - so I mingled.
I sat at one table where a five-year-old was gawking at the lavishly decorated ballroom.
“Who do you think lives here?” I asked her, before joining in and pretending to gawk-around.
A nun, chaperoning the table, translated my question to Arabic.
“Hanan,” the girl replied excitedly, before lapsing into wide-eyed silence.
I looked to the nun who explained that Hanan, in many Arabic fables, was ‘the Sultan’s Daughter.’
I couldn’t stay long, and as I left I looked back at the happy little faces.
“I want one”, I said, half to myself.
An elder-nun, who I suppose was guarding the exit, said, somewhat indignantly, “We don’t sell them” - as if I’d been serious.
(I’m not in a position to own a cat).
“I don’t want to buy one - that would be morally bankrupt,” I answered with equal indignance.
“I want to steal one,” I added, before leaving her there with her sour face.
.
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A Playlist for this:
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_25.mp3
When the Earth Woke Singing
The sun came up, the day anew,
leaving behind the fresh morning dew.
The sky stretched endlessly and ached in blue,
making my grass and flowers stretch upright,
shaking off sleep in the morning’s hue.
While the sun shone low in the morning sky,
children emerged, wide-eyed and bright,
ready to explore and play.
Laughter and chatter could be heard near and far,
even before the day hid the very last morning star.
Before even the first cars and trucks hit the roads,
my topsoil had been pattered by bunnies and toads.
Then, as my roots unfurled to drink from the morning’s honeydew,
I again drank in the children’s hymn of promise anew.
Their shadows framed their joy, and the sun moved higher,
leaving my fields a tapestry ablaze with laughter.
Pummelled intensity, underneath we face her force
Exhaled wide eyed in white, witness rainforest exhibit
Splashed grins enfold a third tongue, waterfall
Her glistening christening combines us in sublime
Drilled by severity, her embrace as strong as yours
Like waterfall's flattened rock, I erode, smoothed
Standing fused firm against her punishing torrent
Insatiable waterfall baptism pelts my opened senses
Cleansed by new beginnings, deafened by dedication
Buckets of vision catch my breath in virgin shroud
Faces almost touching give lee from ferocious gush
Together steadied in her rapidly travelled path
Lacklustre lizards, afterwards secure sun's approval
Ancient rock sears wet backsides without burning
Snoozing pulls us here and there consecutively
Amorous dreams unmeasured as Saturday morning
Drying dares our sizzled legs go again to her vigour
Your rigid gaze raises my temperature, raging
Exposed thoughts post drenching return me
Pause flushes me with water's unwieldy ways
20th August 2020
Searching the twilight horizon
For signs she's on her way
As I anticipate her rising
Have felt like this all day
The cloud begins to gather
Betwixt the sea and sky
I welcome her arrival
She makes my spirit fly
Just as I start to doubt
That tonight she will come out
A delicate glow
A glow I know
Rises from the sea
Just like the Goddess Amphitrite
Adorned in pink organza
As if she wants to dance all night
Resplendent in her glittering gown
Her dazzling light is beaming down
This ballerina of the sky
I do not blink ~ I am wide eyed
I'm moonstruck and I'm mesmerised
To see such wonder with my eyes
Her beauty seeps inside my soul
I hear sweet music all around
My head is spinning to the sound
For now I'm in another place
Moonbeams lighting up my face
Gazing at this Super Moon
I swoon ~ I may not be back soon…
Written 8th May 2020 ~ after witnessing the hypnotic beauty of the Super Moon
Contest Brian's Choice 6
Sponsor Brian Strand
2nd PLACE
Do you know that everything comes alive?
i am alive
are you?
or else i wouldn't be here to write
i am sitting here wide eyed
my words they come alive
spreading across empty paper
i can write about animals- they are alive
how about oceans, lakes, and resouviors?
and the people in autobiographies asleep in their own books
the sky is alive too
with roaring airplanes, clumsy birds, and an insect or two
my mind is alive
on fire in fact
thinking too much about what is alive and not
too much to write about
not enough space or time
so for now i must let the animals all sleep
and the people who i am thinking about
also the mountains, hills and valleys
and the food i am about to eat
what a silly poem to write
but for someone reading this
i"m sure you are awake and alive!
Meltdown
As I awoke nightmares flew from my head
Hugging my knees under covers they found me
Acquainted pain reminds me all I've ever said
I went and told all my good thoughts to flee
I’m melting down so salvage the best of me
Ghostly thoughts flicker from out of their heads
So I hide my crazed eyes, glued to my feet
Terrible pain from the words they've never said
Gasping in silence, my own special treat
My heart has finally lost its steady beat
Wide-eyed trapped behind my rusting cage
Screaming for help that won’t come to me
With all that’s happened it’s time to turn the page
A fitting end, my twisted smile mirrors with glee
I’m melting down so salvage the best of me
Form:
I put some Janis Joplin on
and slipped away out of time and present reality
taking a little piece of my heart into the day;
mixing with Joan Baez's raspy voice
and my time lost to diamonds and rust
daydreaming wide eyed, soft and quiet nostalgic.
Was I seventeen, eighteen or twenty-one?
So full of hopes and dreams and possibility
and fear detesting the police action wars
civil right protests and the beatles mania.
So many decades slipped by quick
washed in the flow of political unrest
violence and inhuman activities repeating.
What unforgettable memories
lost to time but alive still
in daydreaming and night schemes.
I can reformat the narratives
make them better than they were
but in the end history rewrites the epitaphs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a wooden body with steady onyx eyes
fixed through the warm, festive glow of
glimmer-strung branches heavy with ornaments
crimson ribbons curling like frozen candy canes
stalwart he stands, gray musket upright
at rigid attention guarding wrapped promises~
stern eyes track the vintage train’s circuit
buzzing relentlessly round tree-rooted tracks.
devoted guardian rooted in pine needles
preserving whimsy’s last spark in tinsel-strewn shadows~
protector of wide-eyed wonder when snow silences streets
keeper of memory’s embers — cinnamon, carols, and cold cheeks.
no mouse king approaches, no cracked walnut threatens;
yet, still he stands watching over Christmases present and past~
a soldier of sentiment safeguarding the fragile, the glitter,
the longing, the ache in the throat when the last bulb dims.
Sherbertta was elegant, but did not put on any kind of airs.
You talk to her, gnomes were whispering, making dares.
A hoot owl flew by and gave them a dirty look which was odd
Thought they were nocturnal, said a shy gargoyle named Rod.
Sherbertta had flown in on her monarch wings to help them out
Most of the fey greeted her with a cheer, hip hip hooray or a shout.
I thought she was the prettiest April faerie I had ever seen.
Dressed in this Renaissance dress, she would make a fine queen.
Wide-eyed hoot owl, landed on her right arm, as sky thundered.
What about that lace sleeve? Will it be harm I wondered?
Asking if we had wishes to be granted, she took requests from the fey.
She said she would do what she could, and she did fine that day.
Whispered words from behind a wall,
to cronies gathered short and tall.
“Go on ahead,” he said, “let's see.”
“If I can turn her sweet on me.”
So from within, she heard the tale:
the rye, small, snickers, the wolves’ wails.
Yet, like the doe in the fires light,
the wail entranced, did not cause fright.
Wide-eyed, so stunned, the morsel stood,
in frozen stance within the wood.
Within his reach and steady glance,
the hunter broached the ancient dance.
With swagger, grace, he set the pace.
the honeyed tongued Knight on the chase.
He spoke words of honor, brave deeds,
of his claimed virtues she took heed.
“No, ” said the Maid, for she was shy.
“I’m afraid,” she moaned. “Do you lie?”
He turned her chin, and eye to eye,
stroked her fair cheek and heard her sigh.
Offered cake to this starving waif,
with trembling hands, she took the bait.
For upon his lips and rough skin,
She could, sweet-sugar, taste within.
He sought the warmth of her blood; bone.
He thought the conquest was his own.
Yet, she too held a hope within,
to bring forth the goodness in him.
Oh, she could feel his aching need,
'Twas his seedling soul, she'd feed.
The prey, prayed, to touch his heart.
to give the Hunter a new start.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many’s the times, his teeth came near,
to the pulsing vein in her throat.
Many times the Universe stopped
like a dandelion seed afloat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hunter balked, stayed for a time,
tasted the joy of her sweet wine;
loving the feel of a drink new,
a gift, love, offered each of you.
Could he extinguish this pure light?
Could He reciprocate, cause fright?
Sorry, was the wolf deep within.
He was sorry; she’d let him in.
Sorry, he couldn't grow in her arms,
Sorry, he couldn't loose to her charms.
“Sorry,” on the tip of his tongue.
As he left her, unharmed, on run.
“Sorry.” said she, rising higher,
made stronger by her pure desire.
Like the ancient Phoenix, she rose,
on the wings of her loves fire.
And prayer floated back from above.
A prayer, sent with her hearts' love.
echoing his sentiment many ways.
“Sorry Love," She said.
"May the Wolf find his Way.”