Ill burn you,
To the ground.
Let the vapors gasp in empty airs around you,
And suck into themselves until nothing is left to drip across these acres of empty soil.
I'll tear you from the very skin aching for leave from the sinew drenched upon your bones.
Frequencies of follicles, a fallacy facade.
Faking.
F'd you into the floor.
Foment you in flames until remnants are but memories, blistering in dust particles, hovered in sunbeams, hanging through naked windowpanes, planked perpendicular against wooden floors, never to be seen again until memory chances you in a whim.
Categories:
planked, absence, angst, art, care,
Form: Free verse
Of Dampness & Breath
Alone with his idiosyncrasies
shuffling along
the pointillist perfection
of tedious shore,
an old man
luminous by moonlight’s
slight lemon glow
swirls in the magic
of dampness & breath;
their convergence emerged a silver-toned fog
at the mouth of a
planked wooden pier;
aware underfoot
the diminishing whole
being breached and exposed for its
soft, supple core
as structureless saltwater
lulls
and and
lulls lulls
and and
lulls
Categories:
planked, death, life,
Form: Free verse
Nor thunder in the dark, nor flash, nor fire,
nor other pyrotechnics that, they say,
accompany all such events, nor dire
phantasmagorias, going astray
in the unconsciousness. I’m all alone
down by the river which impassive face
turns gold with dusk. The other side is grown
with willows. A bit cloudy; a quick trace
of water striders, playing tag; a heron,
hiding among the reeds; a leaky boat;
an empty planked footway. But where is Charon?
The obol I have brought for him to float
me far away lies on the riverbed:
the tricky death as usual misled.
05/14/2019
Favourite Poem from May, 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Categories:
planked, death, nature,
Form: Sonnet
Sometimes, I can hear that happy, bubbly brook
bouncing over stones and under the wheel…that giant wheel.
It would drone along groaning a wooden song;
each night luring the brassy sun ever toward a distant skyline
by soft chattering of cog on cog and mesmerizing clockwork.
Other times I’m haunted by the gritty rasp of stone on stone
and swirling tendrils of fine dust doing a serpentine dance
through heavy air, reaching like so many ghoulish fingers
grasping desperately before dissolving;
coating my memories and that dusty wood-planked floor.
Yesterday I yearned for simpler times when
I would lazily strum my second-hand guitar
from a mossy log in the shade of our old gristmill.
Plucking those plaintive songs of young heartache
or gleefully accompanying cardinals in a nearby thicket.
But today all that remains is corporate.
Steel rollers chain driven by diesel motors.
A dried up creek bed cutting an over-burdened field
of chemical pesticides and fertilizers to grow
everything but food for my soul.
6/3/2018
Written for The Gristmill Poetry Contest
Hosted by Craig Cornish
Categories:
planked, environment, memory, music, nature,
Form: Free verse
My fragrances have guided you to my colourful winter gardenia
A cobbled pathway will walk you to a vanilla mushroom house
Atop with a fireman's helmet of red riding hood flower wine
Bee loved sunshine daisies spread their wax petals on the crimson rooftop
Clusters of blue lotuses float in my faded old bathtub in close vicinity
The small wooden well with an overhanging planked bucket sheltered above
Houses red geraniums and ruffled peonies in the backyard
My skin peeled timber wheelbarrow rests being tired of traying
Blooming pink roses, green brushy ferns and purple asters
A pathway of coloured mandalas to step upon with sweeping skirts
Encircle around small earthen-pot fountains dripping lazily
From one clay vessel to another to ripple over creamy pebbles
Leisure around the hibiscus bushes and you'll find a log table with stumps
Rest a while and watch the the stone swans resting their beaks on breasts
Pleased to carry their petunia backs to dwell in your warm arbours
I'm a paradisiacal retreat for a photographic memory to paint me in words
April 4, 2016
Categories:
planked, allusion, flower, garden, winter,
Form: Free verse
Music Festival
Boys in glitter and gold quote the doors
With dreadlocks they beatbox drum and base
A girl balances my friend with her legs
He lies planked above her face
Flags ripple with colour
Cheers wave through the crowd
The clearest pitch of an angel
Embodies my soul with sound
I'm inhibited won't you accompany me
Sunlight replaced by lasers and neon Crucifixes
I lust for a disturbing insatiability
I've become transfixed
Paramedics attend to paralytics
While I unwind I feel
The sleepy sexy wind on my face
And I drift off
Categories:
planked, feelings, fun, how i
Form: Quatrain
In the hold tears are shackled
White eyes stare dark corners
Bare breasts hang limpid
Humanity dowsed in sewage
The slaver pitches, rolls
Each wave a fathom from home
Each trough a deeper despair
The screams and creaks in rhyme
Lost souls ghost the gloom
Living meat on planked beds
The stench of shame fills the air
The cry for God but no one there
The slaver ponders onwards
With its holds of sins
Black gold, worth in weight
Only time holds their fate
Bilges slurp of piss and degradation
Chains chatter, implore salvation
But the lash comes quick
Skin and hearts so easily broken
White sails on waves of shame
Sullies forth in evils name
Devil smiles at man's behaviour
And fortunes gained on slave labour
On the quay in lines they stand
Commodity of a human brand
And brand they will, darkened skin
With each mark a white man's sin
Dark these pages of history
Have we travelled in our thinking
Just how far have we come
The nettle of conscience does it sting
As racism still festers in the heart
White sails still float waves of shame
Categories:
planked, history
Form: Prose Poetry
When the storm has withered and you walk away,
Look up and then down and ye shall see my cloud.
Brisk but sweet I shall be and I shall shine so proud.
I shall move the winds and ye shall hear what I say.
I will take your voice and vibrate what you do pray.
I will come through you with a whisk so very loud.
I am the noises amongst every single blatant crowd.
Today tomorrow or yesterday I was there on that day.
I am inside of you and outside the court.
Bounced and planked I am the only one.
Itched and scratched I examine the port.
Faith or Grace I have just only now begun.
Time is you and time is me and I set you to my side.
I am a gateway that is so narrow or much too wide.
® Registered: Ann Rich 2007
Categories:
planked, faith, forgiveness, inspirational, introspection,
Form: Sonnet