Occluded Poems

Hearts Save World

Written: January 16, 2024
                _______________________________________

Always strive to trust your heart
With everything you do, 
Don't be afraid of what others may believe.
 
Comply with your heart—it speaks best
Always follow your instincts,
And what offers you delight?

Strive to constantly preserve your heart 
An outcome of vagueness, 
Easily occluded by shadows.
 
If I could, I would save the whole world
My arms would wrap the globe,
Cease sorrow, grief, and sadness to avert chaos.

To bear a raw life for all
To ease all tears of grief and all anguish,
It would forever be gone.

I'm only a dreamer; I can't even save my heart
but I would embrace the world if I could,
With heartfelt affection for all.

Cancerland

The usual guide posts have become unreadable, 
Their stony font occluded as in an ancient riddle;
Glyphs without the Greek. 

The road is marked one way, no returning traffic,
Its service islands marked - MRI, CT, CAT - all graphic;
Ultrasound without the music. 

People speak in the language of probabilities,
Yes, no ,do not appear in a lexicon of uncertainties;
Welcome to Cancerland.

Cancerland is an archipelago of tests, and immutable 
Results, its residents adrift in the intervals and vulnerable;
Runners between bases. 

A chemical war zone, Cancerland employs its foremost
Weapons to kill the Invaders, and the Invaded - almost. 
"A village destroyed to save it."

There is no exit visa for Cancerland, always the next test,
For surveillance of recurrence in the never ending contest;
Life lived in the intervals.

When Love Breaks the Sky

Weaken pillars of the sky 
Underneath are captured lies
Truth cracks and splits apart 
Thus was buried a broken heart.
Life bleeds from empty love
Misery felt by a carefree shove.
Sky has fallen, no support of trust
What was once silver is now rust
Emotionally the sky has broken thru
 Devotion was unveiled, words were untrue
Harmony torn, winds have blown the nest
Time will suffer and the heart will not rest
Veins of security have been occluded 
Feelings resented and want to be secluded
The once sweetness of unity has become untied
True love dismantled, fire to the one who lied

Love Symbolism

Catch that love
When it glides gleefully like a rock dove
Doesn't it cover the desolate abyss
Or gives love to see our bliss?

It speaks, greatest of speakers
Words that beacon ingenuity to goal seekers
Healing wounds of gloom and torture
Conjuring messages that plant upright posture

From where is a song of poignancy to heart?
Lyrics the devotional river that wash dirt
The inviolable tones whispered in souls
From whose tear-jerking lines a memory strolls

Ain't it the tranquil shade to weary spirit?
Deep firm root, we relish gaily in it 
Its fruits ripen against the cruel sun
And whose sweetness we enjoy with fun

'Tis the river whose waters douse for our thirst
With springs that fuse fissures to close bursts
To the parched land t'give abiding solution
And the souls' ride it flows to destination

Like a star, 'tis brightest in dark moment
In occluded dark burrow it lights for movement
Sequin-silvery light glistening hearts with hope
And by it darkened eyes see beyond scope

Omens

OMENS
O’er wintry land bare trees now sway
On wing above, black birds traverse
Occluded skies of baleful grey
Outspreading wings imparting curse 

Yet outcomes told by prescient sense
With omens of dark consequence
May be belied restoring sight
Of hope; see yon horizon bright

[Poem in 8x8 form]

Submitted to:-
Contest: Unrest of Spirit
Sponsor: Julia Ward
22 November 2018

Omen

OMEN
O’er wintry land bare trees now sway
On wing above, black birds traverse
Occluded skies of baleful grey
Outspreading wings impart a curse 
Omen of darkest consequence
Outcomes perceived by prescient sense
Oppress the spirit, damn the day

Excluded

It hurts to be excluded
Even if you're feeling mixed
'Bout the venue that's reputed
To be one some people nixed.

For at least if you're included
You know someone seems to care
And it's not like you've intruded;
You're encouraged to be there.

Often motives are occluded
So conclusions may be reached,
But you're likely not deluded 
When a courtesy is breached.

I Felt Trumped

There was a possibility of snow.
I looked out on a chilly white scene,
reflecting that extremes of weather are 
matched by extremes of political fronts.
	The season hangs its head 
		under a burden.

Out for a walk with 'Duke', I ducked
under snow-laden branches,
but it was the beast of a snowplough
that threw it at me – down my neck.
	Is other traffic struggling 
		to get to where?

This morning the world feels very different.
We are searching to find where we are
as a big Trump of the white stuff 
is flung at us. On the way to the White House
	an occluded front is forecast.
		So what to put on?

Anent Mine Concern For These, My Scribal Children

My most fervent hope is of the species that, 
It wonders most powerfully and unceasingly anent the security of 
These notebooks containing these selfsame poetic works;
And I hope also, that asleep and secured is how they are put away.
It must be for me to assume, and ah, yes, presume even such. 
Forever I must presume their safety, that of these notebooks, 
Else the very worst and most maternal ilk of 
Patent worry should invariably ensnare and enmesh me:
It should eternally trap and bother me, this
Baldfaced concern for these, my scribal children.
Thus, within the compass of the caliginous fastnesses of
The occluded drawer of my wicker-paneled,
Square and flat-summited nightstand, 
They lay at rest; and, when I, of a night or 
Even a day, have little use nor need of them;
And whensoever as my stylus has stilled its diurnal or nocturnal 
Movement, and is stationary, silent and at rest:
Resting along with these many notebooks:
These cribs and nurseries gently housing and cradling my poetic, 
Inscribed progeny, and there is then no hourly 
Requisite of further poetic parturition.

A Walk Through the Snowy Copse

Into the snow white castle only tepid feet bound
Head mirror of quilted bed reflects a glimmering compound
Satin blanket spreads over each frozen mound
A blinding glare from the silted bed doth rebound
With each heavy step mist arises from fluffed goose down
Arching o'er head a crystalline canopy doth crown
The hooded frames as glowing sentinels ballast ground
The woody rails in their icy coat of arms surround
As tempest blows, crackling arms in groaning chorus resound
From portholes beaming, frozen pellets wayfarers confound
Alighting from pillowy perches, Red-shouldered hawks with wings unwound
Strafe the bystanders; with their prickly dander doth hound
A fibrous parapet of occluded, twining roots shields ground
Each truant sole straying from the beaten path will impound
Buried stumps as pulpy landmines on periphery abound
The errant, plodding heel with shocking pain to redound
Pace must quicken in the late afternoon stound
Dusk's chilling tides o'er snowy copse leaves laggards spellbound
As the last rays of light funnel into 
the background
Enchanting visions of woodland nymphs mind's eye doth astound

Night's Annual Wake

Blithe notes of Twilight's symphony alight
Into occluded abyss spindled cords take flight
Duller shades into harmonious bands unite
Grainy film spreads o'er recess a dank, dingy kite
Initiating eve's wake, ethereal blinds shut tight
Midnight's, chilling vigil stills darkened night
Nyx's, silver, pale orb mystical procession doth ignite
Twinkling pallbearers on flanks shoulder the blight
Ghostly-white planets from distant corridors observe rite
Pleiades' sisters' glowing blue embers provide candlelight
On bended knee, Perseus the glib eulogy doth recite
In the somber parlor, Orion with satin bow stalkers doth fight
Tears from Aquarius's drawn bucket salve Night's dreary plight
Mystical beams from Southern Cross emptiness doth requite

Stage Fright

STAGE      FRIGHT


On this  far-stretching stage of fools, my role, my cue 
To trudge tired but glad to arrive -  and stumble upon you.

In  this  forest thick, the trees-set spreading
Arms before me,  I could see no clear  heading  -

Empty nightmarish trembling solitude,  fright, 
Listening to the sounds of nature by starless night, 

A lampless orchestra in its invisible pit below the stage
Ending in black curtains and an occluded edge.

What scarred  me most was the  solitude of the set.
What scared  me  most was that we might never have met.

I might never have seen God’s sparkle in your eyes
And seen my curtain rise.

We Can'T Work It Out

Everytime I bring up the subject

We get caught in the loop

perpetually

It is as if we are frozen in this amber forever

forced to relive the same argument 

time and time again

"How could you do this to me?"



Opinions matter not

Neither does the McCarthy/Lennon credo,

"Try to see it my way,"

There is only our way

We cannot see what our eyes perceive  

As the truth

We are occluded from 

Third Person point of view

like a reader who can't quite

understand the vocabulary

Can't quite comprehend

"You said you loved me?"



Each step closer toward you

Pushes you further away

I tiptoe down the hall

Hearing your whisper's call

I dare not answer 

Talking is a waste of my time

"So you woke up one morning 

and decided you didn't love me anymore?"



The answers are only slightly more painful

The questions like a Gordian knot in my heart

Here comes the loop,

"How could you do this to me?"

We are trapped

The only way out is 

to leave this place.
 


By: Joseph DeMarco

Harmony of Spheres

Harmony of the Spheres

Oh, you’re included; the path to
Knowing God’s occluded; this
Denouement of the movement
has been precluded in this speech;
salvation is out of reach; no storm can
fill the breach of gapping schemes and dreams—
this much I know: upon the crest of dawn; his emissary
sits in wait for you, near the coming of his love; what
signal shall he choose to summon you?
In harmony my dear one,
In time with all this fear;
For it is his notion that covers all;
From that date so long ago;
To this moment now to flow;
Let it go…

A 42 Regular

I believe, 
			therefore I breathe
			the collective id down at
			the mall.
			
			Salvation in the actions of
			our gridiron greats,
			our pro golfers,
			our game show cops,
			our East Village actors,
			our runway planes of even beauty
			that some how forgives me,
			bodes me on a raft of commerce
			through this J.C. Penny moment...
			This...
			Jacket, a 42 Regular.
			Like my octane
			like my system's timings;
			a structure in harmony with the spheres,
			the sages,
			the rock of ages: Manna
			from the radio...
			sustenance,
			driven....through dreams and slants,
			the clouds occluded,
			a pair of matching pants included.

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