You are the totem, simply told,
In man and mountain lore
Pillared tall, your spirit thrives
Where myths and legends soar –
Among the ravens where they fly,
With creed held fast in hand,
You speak the language of the earth;
You sound the depths of man
And grasp the wisdom of the pearl
Fashioned in the sea,
Calling for the conch to voice
The truth you know to be –
A monolith of latitudes,
With grace not undermined,
Lamenting as the deaf and dumb
Are handled by the blind,
You wear the scars of battles waged
Across the centuries
And grant the bearer of your wounds
The marks of history –
Where now you stand, you now arise
To face the rising tide;
You see the quiet burning sun;
You hear the ocean’s cry
Raise now your silent, muted voice!
Lift up your hooded eyes!
Let loose the chains that time has forged
Where truth and beauty lie –
Exalt us with your noble height!
Bestir the waking land!
Totem, in your boundless grace,
Call forth a better man –
A four pillared greeting, a long winding road
A quiet, eerie presence; cold, soft whispers...friend or foe?
A cry from the mountains rides on the breeze
It's heard in the valley, it's heard in the trees
Fallen for God and fallen for Spain!
It's not spoken with pride, but with pain and disdain
It comes like a croak, ragged and dry
Like it's been all boxed up and has not seen the light
The cries sing aloud from the walls of the nave
Most of them dug up; their final resting place: a mass grave
A shrine to the fallen for country and kin
A monument to remember; never forget this buried sin
A four pillared farewell, a quiet drive home
A reassuring presence, a new friend, a renewed hope
Shoved adrift by miffed withdrawn
Some love, one swiftly rowing
Unreal, another wave to shore
To cycle all self-centered apathy
Pillared to a post at most a smile beckons
Lukewarm puke no substitute
See the captain of my soul?
To honor every breath
One swain allured by slightest motion
Drawn to the lyric every moment
The twain you seek to disregard
Yet I build a bridge to you?
I ride by it most every day- the ghost
that once stood real upon that lovely hill,
with winding creek, a sprawling velvet lawn
and pillared, wrap-around, fine spindled-porch
with wide front doors that led inside my home.
My home, where memories still fill my heart
of special times with family, all there.
The older loved ones, now long gone, also,
my childhood home, annexed, hacked down to be
the west ramp for the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge.
d opened in November 1963.
I STAND…
God gave me insight and I did not shy away.
I went in and found my life had been self-proclaimed.
My footsteps was not discourage to the discovery of self.
As I entered, my mind was not overwhelmed.
It was as if my intellect was two dimensional.
Therein, I pillared my mental domain.
My confessions was none.
I had lived a rightful life and no wrong had I done.
God fearing, I knew to put my trust in him.
He is my strength and salvation and never misleading.
I became fulfilled with the Holy Spirit.
I spoke in tongue via English.
My skin felt as smooth as a silk cloth.
My eyes liberated shimmering teardrops.
I was not afraid to expose my joy to the world.
Denotation was the impact.
The sun beamed in fortifying my essence.
I realized that my life was a gift.
In the middle of the universe, I stand…
____________________________________
Penned January 20, 2015!
THE CHANGING OF THE SEASONS
When summer ends, autumn begins.
The leaves fall from the trees.
Such a beautiful sight and done so spiritually.
Magical is the change of the seasons into the New Year.
I saw a red bird today and enjoyed her chirping.
Gathering food, she was on my window sill.
Pillared to be quite successful, her tiny wings went a flight.
The red beak is all that was seen as she entered the sky.
Absolutely beautiful is when the leaves fall from the trees.
Summer has ended with autumn’s inception.
I can feel the breeze.
________________________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 30, 2014!
Until applicable law is enshrined,
the ultimate right is defined.
I am pillared now.
Until my voice, speak as my voice,
the world is lost.
I am the celestial star that guides your path.
Morpheus is divine.
__________________|
VERLENA S. WALKER
PENNED ON JUNE 17, 2014!
FOR SHINE WITH YOUR NAANI CONTEST!
Seemingly mystified presence;
Beholds every treks atop;
Blase art thee, earth born;
Stepping unchalantly o'er;
Bias thereupon my worth.
Traditional emblem certain;
Upon thee a carnal knowledge;
Restored o'er me by strength;
Unity of earth and sea;
pillared faith of existence.
Hence the merry rings;
Patiently waiting in vials;
Sands and sand becomes one;
Grooms kissed brides;
My unifying existence.
Turbulence comes with peace;
A reminder against disorder;
In deserts my dessert;
Every chaos for ignorance;
As I depart with the storms.
Open aired and pastel pillared, vaulting the ceiling;
This bye to Paradise; & illuminating vision:)
Stand in-violate, in golden tones, in orange hues
in glowing aqua, do you colour my view,
The mark of Heavens promise, on earth:)
Expanding in an instant; you beam of Gods mirth.
A schism In prism; here ever to bloom,
Fresh from the Masters hand on the loom.!
copyright Joe Mavrick.co.uk
For P D's Rainbows contest:)
You can click to know more about this piece, thank you Joe..)
In cold melancholy the spirit sings,
As angels toss their darkened wings,
Grotesques upon yon pillared manse,
Awaken for this gruesome dance,
Fountains spout their molten flames,
Whispering forgotten names,
With furtive glance does Time evade,
Memories to dust doth fade,
And moonbeams shine on frozen glass.
A hollow gong of rusty brass
Chiming from the tower stark,
Nestling in the unbidden dark,
Where songs of joy and songs of hope
Vanquish'd in some gruesome stroke,
Resound in halls 'twere never built,
As oak and ash do groan and wilt,
For naught is true but falsities:
Shall this night ever come to be?
Town malls are cluttered with Christmas shoppers,
toting packages of last-minute-list-droppers.
Carols echo from high pillared ceiling,
leaving one and all with a charitable feeling.
Door frames draped with assorted Christmas light,
center stands a lit tree, what a glorious sight.
Children align mall walls waiting for Santa Claus,
to listen to their wishes and wants, just because.
Long grueling lines wind through department aisles,
confirming it is Christmas with occasional smiles.
Feet are aching from walks to distant shop,
shoppers sitting on benches, some refuse to stop.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Radiance rains down from the heavens
In leaning lanes of luminescence
Glorious golden lyre strings glow
Against the deep azure's hollow
Pillared paths of beaming glee
Cradle the meadow magnificently
Sunshine streams past cloudy drapes
Illuminating these inclined escapes
Suppressed, sketch out a silver lining
Rather than send high hopes resigning
From eternity they stretch to emanate
Let bright light warmth disseminate
As they disperse divinity into the morn
Seep through my soul so I shine on.
Left tall and dry, lies the pillared maize forsaken.
Barren fields of corn, stand row by row.
When yellow ears have long been gathered,
a dusty crop has paid it's garnered due.
The dry stalks bend and dangle stiff remains,
and autumn winds return to whip batons and play.
The quiet fields tune harps and violins,
making harmony from husks, with swaying stalk refrains.
I wander but some say I roam
Travelling myriad mazes
For home.
When pillared pathways
Lead to love cold
I ascend the stairway stars
That unfold
From my miring mind
Momentarily
Dwelling where clouds hold my slumber
And skies hold my dreams.
On one side
One person omitted from a dozen
On the other side
Five added to six persons
Making two over doubles scores
Scrabbling with the round leather with passion
All in the quest for action
But occasionally with a distinct fashion
Separated by a mad man
Running from pole to pillar
With a whistle in his mouth
Plagued alongside two other manias
Raising a piece of cloth
Coiled in a stick at each others half
Watched by frenzy fanatics at an open ground
The twenty-two persons are
Baptised with the name players
Desperate with zeal to hit the leather
Into a rather big fish net pillared by a pole
Behind the glove man
They seek to keep the round leather
Tossing it around with a rare
Aesthetic beauty that is only common
Across the Niger Area in the black continent
With a rhythmic samba beat in the Pele continent.
Nothing brings joy and unity like the round leather.
Alayande Stephen. Tolulope
21st ,October, 2005
1.11pm
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