an appointment
seeming as a
fork in a path
portending
dark or light..
it is a lingering
of time
so it seems
in an unchanging
map of nothing
which all of
these words
express~~
Whirlwinds,
Teaching me faith,
Whirlwinds,
Trying to make me fear,
But rather I hear,
My Father in his tool shed,
Making hungry fed,
Making naked clothed,
Reversing status roles,
Saving every soul,
Whirlwinds,
Teaching me faith,
Thoughts race,
As I realize they are a sign of the coming Sun,
Who worships the Son,
Whirlwinds,
Portending of blessings I never thought possible,
Whirlwinds,
Thank you!!!!!
Written: January 16, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Joseph May
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Adventure, Beginning
Coastal Dreams Echoing
Fearless Growing Horizons In Jumping Kismet
Laden Magically, Nebulae Oleaginous,
Portending Quicksand Reflecting Spangled Tussle
Unseen Vermilion Waves Xerox Yperite Zone.
Do you know
many things
understanding
not one
Portending
your weakness
pretense
on the run
The trash bin
of knowledge
refills
left unchecked
Pontificate
dirges
spout off
— to infect
(The New Room: July, 2024)
I remember that I once called him Peter Pan
The man I loved, and yet a child at heart to me
A name that became vividly more portending
at pretending than I ever could've imagined.
A lost boy I found long ago, or did he find me?
No need for Tinkerbelle's pixie dust because
he flew with me as his Darling,* to quell his sadness
but in taking it from him, I began losing myself.
He tried to escape his nemesis, the Captain's hook,
but too many walks along the pirate ship's plank
proved to be a daunting task he kept undertaking.
I kept trying to rescue him but he wouldn't swim.
He was drifting far out to sea; drowning in the drink.
I called his name but no sight of him was I able to see.
Peter Pan was lost again, and this time also to me.
Never Never Land is a place I won't be visiting again.
*Wendy Darling
After the day’s work I was off to bed.
From behind my room, I heard a fierce thud.
It sounded so scary.
It left me so weary.
I got up from my bed in severe dread.
In dim light, saw a ghost outside my room
I felt it was portending my sure doom.
Did not know where to hide.
In air it seemed to glide.
All I got to defend me was my broom.
Wholly puzzled and perplexed as I stood,
I found it was a piece of linen spread,
On clothesline during day.
How it caused such dismay!
Knew my mind, still under Halloween dread.
A blood moon's
spiritual
meaning
through history,
was a bad omen;
portending
the death
of a King
through His
overthrow;
and foretold
of an uprising.
And the Christian Bible
feared
an apocalypse.
Today, a
red moon rising
means a
lunar eclipse.
Yet superstitions,
can often
prevail
over facts.
The Moon
has always
influenced
our ancient beliefs.
Native Americans,
thought
the moon needed care.
Sipping her tea without any visible relish,
Her crumpled bag of shopping at her tired feet,
Alone she sits in the cafe and isolatedly apart
Stranded in her sorrowful sea of sadness
Only to raise momentarily her sightless eyes
At the sound of the peripheral trivial vivacity
Portending the levity of another tomorrow
Before relapsing into her inward gaze
To consider not the future but endless eternity.
That picture echoed in her hollowed out cheeks
Her funereal clothes, lacklustre look and lifeless lethargy
Spelling out a life no longer enjoyable
More of a sentence to be endured.
She drags herself out of her chair
Gathering her belongings together
For her unsteady exit
To enter upon the remaining days
Of her final moribund pilgrimage
A bright day in November, a welcome sight
Brief respite from Autumn’s turning cold,
Portending signs of coming winter’s night.
A bright day in November, a welcome sight
To feel the sun, to enjoy its muted light
Before north winds come in blowing bold,
A bright day in November, a welcome sight
Brief respite from Autumn’s turning cold.
Written November 26, 2022
Some days linger like a song
You cannot rid your brain of
Slow minutes tick all day long,
When push comes to shove
Everything seems to go wrong.
Just getting through is a fight
Success is, ohhh, so elusive
Nothing seems to go right,
Even your peers seem collusive
Better just to stay out of sight.
Tomorrow will be better, I say,
Portending you'll reach your goal
Anything better than today,
When your gut stymies your soul
And nothing at all goes your way.
Written August 17, 2022
When skies are crystal clear and cloudless
The sun is mercilessly like a blast furnace,
Signs of cyclical global warming doubtless
And enough of it will undoubtedly turn us
Into a freaky-tanned species, or cancerous.
Makes me wonder what the future holds
Portending climate change is getting worse
Every seasonal change a new crisis unfolds,
And it appears they are becoming perverse
Floods, fires, tornadoes, hurricanes a curse.
Summers are hotter -- winters are colder
Seems many storm signs are unpredictable,
While weather patterns are getting bolder
Bringing conditions ever so undesirable,
Meaning more than merely uncomfortable.
Obviously, we have little control over this --
We haven’t the means to change the weather
With forecasters it is often a hit or a miss,
One thing’s certain, we’re all in this together,
And we must learn to cope, come whatever.
Written August 9, 2022
[Rhyme scheme ababb]
A road trip through the Pacific West,
from Seattle along Sequim,
Ocean Shore, Seaside,
all the way to San Francisco.
The Pacific roared beside.
Frequent signs warned of Tsunami hazard.
While a warning at a trinket shop
showed an evacuation route,
an ice cream ad promised a tsunami of delight.
People thronged the beaches en route,
least worried, all in mirth;
a gigantic tide was last on their list.
At Ocean Shore, a man and woman stood in tight embrace,
the lady sobbing without respite,
a personal tsunami on the heave,
wreaking havoc on their aching psyche.
The Pacific just looked on beside.
Humanity seemed a cluster of ants
on the rim of a tea cup left under a tap
savouring their last greedy grabs,
weeping over what is not.
The tap looks down upon.
Yet, away, unknown to them
two superpowers were locked
in an eye-ball confrontation
over things of least real concern
portending a nuclear conflagration.
Lo, the Pacific stands for peace
as her name really means,
while men portend real nemesis,
their own apocalypse.
The time descends when night to be,
In close touch, communion with me,
It holds mirror to me to see,
To look into the day so spent,
To scan the truth of each moment,
It’s time to seek adverse comments.
To see if done I’ve anything
That can fetch to me fair blessing—
If someone’s autumn’s turned to spring…
Time to delve into my heart deep,
If there’s a deed that helps me reap
A nightlong refreshing deep sleep,
And if that search takes any long—
Ill omens portending a wrong,
Let Heavens nudge me O ere long.
___________________________________
Introspection |35.12.2020| Terza Rima (triplets)
Topic: sleep, mirror
The song of the lark returns
To the edge of the woodland
She greets me cheerfully trilling
As I stroll across the flowering lea,
Her welcome tones portending
A fine day awaiting the rising sun.
Dawn suits her yellow breast
Her warbling throat, too, the lark
Makes the meadow her home,
A delightful place in early morn.
written July 28, 2021
The clearest sky follows a warm morning rain
[Experience tells me this again and again]
Sometimes bringing a brightly colored rainbow
To remind me of God’s great promise, although
Shadows still drift lazily across the terrain.
I watch the birds shake themselves off and fly
From tree to tree, to and fro, chirping by and by,
All bringing unending motion beyond and above
The clearest sky.
Occasional perfect droplets linger on the leaf
Sparkling like well-cut diamonds in bas relief,
A faint smell of sulphur wafts with the breeze
Sends a flutter and a ripple through the trees
Portending in this oft-observed Spring motif
The clearest sky.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
In Brian Strand's Contest
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