Crossroads are where demons and angels collide.
When a character is tested by the yellow fangs of fire.
A place where conscience is perched atop slippery stakes,
and brimstone snakes rise up to rattle St. Peter's gate.
Where Robert Johnson sold his soul for a guitar of deep blue notes.
Where temptation is often throbbing, and goodness is provoked.
Throughout a lifetime, hazy crossroads will suddenly appear.
Just when we think consciousness is oak strong and crystal clear.
Wisdom turns opaque, the heart writhes in billowing thumps.
As hell's ravens swoop in wearing lipstick and six-inch pumps.
Will you nestle in weathered patina where true love persists,
or lick a siren's poison berry as it coos over your naked ID.
Life decisions must be made, for both the dull and wise.
When the last page is turned, where will your soul lie?
age crawls
explores on bended knees
stands tall, takes flight to flee
as if pursued by marauding thieves
from a rocking chair on rotting porch
I stare without remorse
across snowy fields valleys and forks
past fallen walls that crumbled
in a compilation of refrain
life passed on parade
silhouettes marched
silent soldiers masked the pain
a funhouse mirror reflected
fractures unrepaired
of me, myself and I
that refused to die
father’s day that last trip
fingertips pages flip
marvels captured moments saved
the road of life mapped and paved
children birthdays Christmas gifts
pandemonium filled with tiffs
baby records wedding books
routes reflect the paths I took
once again in quiet repose
pages are touched the cover closed
a sigh released in quiet reflection
recounts a past without objection
filled with love sealed with prayer
reflections mirror the life I shared
chrome though weathered shined through rust
tarnish developed a patina blush
Sky of satin holds you like the mesmeric moon,
I ride on the wings of cloud, trying to reach you,
fly with dormant desire to your shimmering halo,
eye draped in tapestry of dream laced by your hue.
You bejewel the crown of scenic sky I call mine,
new turquoise trail traced only for me you show.
True sense of love I perceive in aria of your tinsel,
blue patina of your lure how’d I absorb I don’t know.
January 27, 2020
Contest : Writing Prompt -Let's Write A Lento
Sponsor : Dear Heart
a lay (lei)
Took a walk in poetry’s field,
many poems caught my appeal.
Planting of new notions I saw
and older verse puts me in awe.
Metaphor, hyperbole, rhyme
alliteration, form take time.
Patina on each unique write
shows poem's polish and sheds light.
January 13, 2020
Is snow heavy or light
a dandelion's weightless flight
or a heavy heart sinking tonight
puffballs, snowballs and a patina of gold.
Painful
painted
paragraph
pages,
paisley
pale,
pulsating
paper
passing
passion,
passive
pastoral
patchwork
patchouli,
patina
pathos
pauses.
__________________________________
October 23, 2019
Poetry/Alliteration/Patina Pauses
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1190-761-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Tautogram
sponsor, Eve Roper
First Place
A strange thing happened
when in a sudden spurt of morning sun
I looked fervently at
the slender blade of a wafting grass
sprouting on wayside spring pasture,
it instantly became a surge of beauty
that blew me away
to a new verdant world
I made of you.
From the dancing waves of emotive sea
the penchant surfs of my mind
draped you in aquamarine grace.
Entranced, I had a crush on you
and when you became mine
on enamored petals of blooming love
the patina of passion amplified,
remained untarnished in weathering winds,
even now in our twilight hours.
Written : April 25, 2019
Contest : Strand Pick A, Any Theme, Any Form
Sponsor : Brian Strand
THE SALTY SEA DOG
My late uncle spent many years at sea
I can still recall every single line on his aging face
His weather beaten skin
had a patina built up from exposure to the elements,
it reminded me of tanned dark mahogany leather
Those piercing blue eyes, still as bright as the sunshine
would hold my gaze as he told me tales of his adventures
He passed away many years ago
but he instilled in me a love and respect for the sea
which remains to this very day
Fiction write
Patina Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
July 1st 2018
Behind the counter smiling pleasantly
at all the customers, she was a doll.
Dark velvet hair and brown-green eyes had she -
eyes big and bright inside a face quite small.
I asked her name that day. It was a name
I’d never heard before, and yet it fit
this girl so well. Her name was like the frame
of cheer she wore. I will not forget it!
A name so rare, I’ve yet to ever find
another soul who has it, for she said
“Patina” and for me the name meant kind,
petite, and pretty! It’s been in my head
forever since I made that gal my bride.
It’s now Patina always at my side!
July 30, 2018
smoothness
imbued with character
his essence
imbedded deeply
in every crevice
sweet oils
of everyday labor
lubricating
its monotony
burnishing
the hard patina
of life
©6/29/2018
for Patina Poetry Contest
PATINA OF PAIN
Beneath the kaleidoscopic chameleon skin
the concept called color doesn’t ever change,
as red stream in the vein blood flows always thin.
The truth dwells beyond the frail deception range.
The ephemeral sheen of the mask on the face
melts in unshed tears behind the pensive eye.
In the shadow of stifled shame it begins to trace
a track in time to reach the reality, it can’t defy.
In the shimmering show of the revolving circus
the flashing clown tramps on stage in fake style,
under spotlight shapes into an animated carcass.
The concealed pain bleeds behind sprained smile.
In the harsh winds of desert at the sunset hour
the weathering life rusted with age can’t retain
the luster of the mind, once a blooming flower.
The crease of wilted petals wraps patina of pain.
Posted : June 30, 2018
June 19, 2020
Contest : Your Best Poem Ever
Sponsor : John Hamilton
You've lost some hair and maybe put on a few pounds,
and perhaps you're not so spry anymore.
Years add coats to
time's shellacking.
Staring at the mirror, applying cosmetics,
you fear age has wrinkled your appearance.
And there are times you feel like an antique;
but baby, you have earned that lived-life patina.
You should wear your age as a badge,
what's wrong with being a senior?
Life's patina,
looks good on you.
His skin like the patina of worn out leather,
burnt and cracked from many hours in the sun.
Across the wide plains in the hot Texas weather,
he rode tall in the saddle to get the job done.
North to Kansas City on this last cattle drive;
then back down to Fort Worth he hoped to survive.
Weary and tired from his night spent under the stars,
as he pushes the dogies along the Chisolm Trail;
across the dusty open range, pristine with no scars,
unlike the plains today, fenced and crowded and frail.
On his last cattle drive for the Goodnight Ranch,
heading up north across the Red River branch.
This proud crusty cowboy, way back in the day,
rode with Jack Hays at the Battle of Plum Creek,
when Buffalo Hump’s Comanches went down in dismay,
now just an old timer, tired and grey and weak.
This last cattle drive before his spurs are hung,
this cowboy’s patina, the legend of which songs are sung.
June 29, 2018
I love my city for the old architecture that can be found in the downtown area.
The beautiful fading homes that hold so much charm and the many copper,
patina roofs and details scattered throughout on many Gothic buildings. A walk
is so lovely. I often go for strolls down shady streets, passing majestic homes.
Wishing I could see beyond the patina doors. I call these strolls my city hikes.
Our parliament buildings are like castles with their green copper roofs. I used
to dream I was a princess in one of the top windows waiting for my prince to
come. I love the brick so solid and grey and the steeples and statues of bronze
now gone patina with time. I love how the new and the old entwine.
the pigeons come
cooing and strutting each day-
a church bell rings loud
__________________________
June 28, 2018
Poetry/Haibun/Patina in Time
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1035-584-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Over time I’ve sat here in my home
And life has come and gone
And time has flown
And all the things have gotten old
Just like my looks and soul
And I sit here staring at the antiques
And I see the patina and my eyes weep
The greeny brown film is covering everything
And if I had the eyes to see
Maybe I would have witnessed
The same film creeping over me
As a show of age that’s passing
But unlike my antiques I know I am not so everlasting
Sitting in this place, this home
Everything has grown so old
Everything has been left behind in time
And cobwebs dust and patina covering everything
Are not the only signs I can see
I see the age through the wrinkles and the grey hair about me
This will be eulogy that will end up defining me
At the end
Covered in patina dust and cobwebs.
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