I feel like ripping out a gangrenous wound!
Incessantly playing a broken accordion
My mind's repurposed angels distribute a few alms for the rain god
And the scent of old trunks falls on my cloned funeral
I encase my senses in the pit between lal-mim/sol-fa
I now have a house, crooked lives churning within my tiles
I am against—you are against—all the laws of physics.
Cigarette butts that never cease to smoke fall from the sky.
You are something that always feels cold. Hiding Dali in your body
That's why elephants make love alone. Storms, a great curse
I saw myself in the first shelter of hydrangeas
I cut my cord, in defiance of the all-out pain in my back
I feel like ripping out a gangrenous wound
Yet, it won't be mentioned in any medical book, and you won't know why
I simply drew your blood...
It might be a tragedy,
Might be something unethical,
Might be a disaster,
Waiting to happen somehow soon.
It is no bigger than a cyclone,
But it overflows tremendously.
It might not be just a slaughter,
But it might be something physical yet emotional.
There might be a paradise,
There might be a homicide,
There might be a genocide
In the mind of an idiot.
There might be blood on white satin,
It might be chaos within;
Something so cynical,
Yet it looks like a miracle.
This is the breakthrough,
From the surface to the veil underneath.
I wanted to tell you this secret for so long,
You might know it from the very beginning!
Honor will endure as honor surely will
For honor is eternal or its value will be nil
It’s not about fame or the trophies you amass
It’s more about doing the best you can with class
It was your intentions, as there were
That brought clarity to the blur
As honor stepped forward to win the day
Obviously in an honorable way
Everyone knew it was here to stay
Leaving them in silent awe with nothing else to say
When is it going to be sunny again?
It's been cloudy for the past couple of weeks.
All grey and stuff.
Yknow I keep waiting for there to be a bunch of storms,
With all the thunder, and lightning and whatnot, but...
It's just been...grey.
It's not like the sun is gone;
Scientifically it can't go anywhere,
I know that.
Away at night, maybe, but it still exists.
Hiding.
Sometimes a little patch will poke through.
Just saying "Hey I'm still here!!", yknow.
"Don't forget me!!"
It's so easy to forget though.
Cause it's been cloudy for so long.
And sometimes I think I'm all alone;
That it's just me under this sky.
But I know everyone on campus looks up to the same clouds.
The same grey field.
I really miss the sunshine.
Spring, the most beloved flower,
golden glow of our lives
philosopher's stone of pure essence
exponential fulcrum of exuberance
happiness demonstrated in grandeur
living humanity that impresses
natural love that moves!
What mystery binds his poesy,
what purpose is behind his art:
to pose, “To be, or not to be?”
confronts the self-reflecting heart?
What destiny has this poet,
what future prospects wait for him,
when his words pretend to know it,
but the skeptics won't explore them?
Truth's cryptic message hides in rhymes,
chameleon-like, and spreads as memes,
disguised, rewritten several times,
to fit his coded, programmed themes.
The Enigma of this poesy's rhyme,
and process, meant for the clever mind,
to search their inmost, heartfelt clime,
to peel back the puzzle's layered rind.
On the twenty-first of September, 2025,
I, Helios, god of the Sun,
entered the Sixth House
and found Virgo waiting—
the Virgin, radiant,
her light softer than dawn.
Her beauty was not flesh alone,
but the balm of the wounded soul,
a healer of what is broken.
I said, “Let us celebrate,
for the eclipse belongs to us.”
Virgo smiled, yet whispered,
“What if Luna, your wife, finds us?”
And I replied, “Fear not—
she will only pass by in silence.
For tonight, I dwell in your house.”
I gazed into her eyes
and kissed her with the fire of the Sun.
Yet as my flame longed to consume her,
she wept and said,
“I am a Virgin—
I can only unite in the intercourse of souls.”
And so it was:
in that sacred eclipse,
I entered not her body but her spirit,
and I was made whole for the first time.
Refinement, purity, and sorrow
were written upon my light.
But the shadow moved,
Luna returned to her throne,
and Virgo faded back into silence.
Since then I burn in the sky,
forever longing for the Virgin
who healed me once,
yet can never be mine.
Everybody loves my baby
She’s so sweet and she’s so fine
Everybody loves my baby
The one I call Clementine
We go dancing every Friday
When the lights are turned down low
Impossible grooves then there take
Us on the dance floor all aglow
We go where the music makes us
Out of time and out of space
Everybody loves my baby
As she melts in my embrace.
(9/21/25)
sift, sift, the sands of time
sift for loves gone missing
sifting thru a passion’s pall
bows once sweetly kissing
bend, bend, the willows old
bend with breezes, sighing
bending with its aging arms
through neglect now dying
cold, cold, the winds of life
cold, to freeze the marrow
colder than a heart, misled
pierced with envy’s arrow
lost, lost, a true love’s eyes
lost with tears a-brimming
lost to drown inside a gaze
ne’er again … be swimming.
Copyright © 2024 Gregory Richard Barden - third in a series to “Soft, The Bells” and “Swift, The Rills”.
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with GALA AI software )
GIVING PRAISES
Your wisdom’s cistern,
Filling the cup of my soul;
Guidance overflows:-
My saucer of mind,
Nourishes my word-spirit
With uplifting joy:-
Your enlightenment,
Reveals all that must be sown,
That truth may be reaped:-
May your vibing waves,
Continue frothing my mind’s
Shores with peace and love:-
OF AND IN DIVINE WISDOM
Poured from His cistern,
Inking heart and mind tablets:
God’s guiding wisdom:-
May your inking forever
Guide me in righteousness ways:-
With elephant ears,
And with the eyes of wise owls,
May wisdom be mine:
My full overflowing cup,
Filling saucers of others:-
Not just for me, Lord,
But may your divine wisdom,
Lead us all onward:
We, ensuring coming peace,
Love, and justice, in our lives:-
A SERENITY OF PRELUDE REALITY
(A Haiku Of Hope’s Coming)
Hate trying to climb,
Naturing winds of peace blowing;
Love breezing hate down:-
HATE’S MONGERING GRIEF
(A Couplet Quintet)
Hate attempting to destroy love,
Has yet to realize loves permanency:-
While Hell’s fires have their longevity,
They’re no match for the waters of love:-
Remember, Pontius did not wash hands with love,
As did Jesus with the washing of his brother’s feet:-
Buoyed and/or swimming in waters of love,
Will always surpass burning in the fires of hell:-
In every experience in the life we live,
Where love resides, hate cannot abide:-
windowpane trembles
shattered like the wren below ~
sad blue reflected
* For the “Your Choice Haiku” Poetry Contest, Brain Strand Judge & Sponsor. *
hello my little drop
come to paint my cheek damp -
to etch your dour rill there
and reflect her smile …
yet, you are only one
while the heavens weep wild …
let it rain … and be gone!
* For the”Let’s Soar With This” Poetry Contest, Nette Onclaud Judge & Sponsor. *
Specific Types of Metaphor Poems
Read wonderful metaphor poetry on the following sub-topics:
animal, family, friends, football, kids, lion, love, loneliness, moon, nature, yourself
and more.
Definition | What is Metaphor in Poetry?
Poems Related to Metaphor
symbol, image, analogy, similitude, emblem, personification, allegory, hope, metonymy, trope,