In field of emotions, a fire-storm has grown,
Seeds of rebellion aflame and wind-borne are sown.
Creating chaotic scenes, burned by spirit's flame,
Fomented fervor, a revolutionary game.
Fomented hearts, with courage compromised are made lame,
Unyielding on purpose, foments have staked their claim.
Anger simmers, rancor seethes, and heart beat wavers
In the cauldron of discord, it quivers quavers.
Fomented minds, with thoughts so tainted, twisted unkind,
Make claims to sublime reason, unravel unwind
They inflame the embers of long stagnant belief,
Awakening the masses asleep, pedaling grief.
The frothy foment foam spewed up into the crowd,
Ignites ferment and loathing in threatening cloud.
If peace was like a river then it would not be peace
It would just be a shiver that is mistaken for bliss
All the cataract's all the wavers,it would not cease for your pleas
Shouts and screams chanting save her,but it's all in your dreams
Musical notes such as quavers,wash up your nightmares wash off your sins
Relieve the pain relieve the danger, hold my hand though am a stranger
indescribable,
untranscribable ~
imbibable, your exotic, quixotic perfume
spiraled me into a quandary
of dirty laundry, penance,
no superintendents in attendance
I come from ragged boys, no poise,
just noise ~ a quiver of quavers,
no saviors of silence,
but if some sap sullies our sister
we'll flatten him
you come from platinum
a blessed nest of nuance,
a quay of kindness,
finesse, fineness ~
savvy sophistication, subtlety
a quaint saint I ain't
then poise met noise
you became my bible;
undeniable, heavy sighable,
unclassifiable ~
indescribable
Written 12 Feb 2021
Ludwig Leichart
This perplexing country,
(such an under statement),
where rivers run upside down,
marbles are strewn by the Devil
and Songlines
etched in memory are
sung by those few who know.
Seeking Victoria,
the blazed trees could not help,
the Prussian collapsed, looking at the blue.
Initialled stunted trees showed the way,
signposts to oblivion,
while the heat,
always the heat,
in a furnace of shadeless infinity
dessicates his body.
What use the blaze?
He cannot walk or crawl,
only a palanquin borne by flies,
Oh the flies,
will carry him there
until their wings melt.
He came from the south
humming tunes from a Baroque choir
to reach the Arafura sea,
where Cornish stone -masons build chimneys
to ward of the chill (sarcastic laugh).
and a Tamarind tree guards the entrance.
The red coated soldiers have left
And he, Ludwig had vanished.
A fanfare blasts, .
Is that an angel holding Brown’s hand
up there on top of a nunatak of the desert,
the quavers and semi-quavers merging
in an anthem of despair?
Upon the stillness of Big Sur clouds
High atop the silent summits
My solitude lies with sages
In this place of heaven
Endeared
To come to peace
In the ruins of the moon
Laying my body to rest
My eyes have turned to stone
Surrendering to freefall
Where there lies no restraint
Nor command of my being
Searching for the graces of timelessness
The flurry of breeze quavers
To take my soul
Plunging towards
An uncertain destination
My silent voice utters
"I have come to pick the lyrical flower
For my heart has yet to find its home."
In between the nettles and phantom orchid,
The coastal grasses and spineflowers
Sunlit and ethereal in the mist
A single rose of an unknown color
Speaks my name
With insatiable seduction
Capturing my unabated love
It fills my senses and enraptures me
Then slowly...
Ever so slowly, each petal of my
incarnated being
Breaks away from my heart
As the rose aspires
And dies
Left naked adorned with thorns
In the ruins of the moon
It calls my name
In the fragility of dreams
May 18, 2020
In the Fragility of Dreams Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
My mother-in-law is a ghost
Who lived her life on beans and toast
And since her parting
Never stops farting
Nor complaining I'm a poor host!
Mother bartered me to an Englishman.
His tribe made televisions.
In those days
televisions were wooden vehicles
crafted out of electric fans
and the spare parts of flying saucers.
Later he became an overseer
of sparky factory hands.
Once while waiting outside for his shift to end,
I jumped from the cross-strut
of a tall billboard. When he found me,
my leg was broken.
'Look what your son has done now'!
"Superman made me do it."
My exiled Irish mother shrugged.
She had entirely forgotten herself
since her surrender.
I liked the Hospital;
African nurses coddled me with plump pink palms.
It was there that I first learned to play a sick piano;
ears pressed into drumming wood
while the blind piano tuner
(a wandering Jew), tapped its hollow bones.
For days I kept
an infirm Steinway under my pillow -
dreamed of fret-sawing crotchets and quavers.
When I returned home mother had found a priest,
and again her native religion began to spook her,
though she still spoke to me in a language
only Superman could hear.
If peace was like a river then it would not be peace
It would just be a shiver that is mistaken for bliss
All the cataract's all the wavers,it would not cease for your pleas
Shouts and screams chanting save her,but it's all in your dreams
Musical notes such as quavers,wash up your nightmares wash off your sins
Relieve the pain relieve the danger, hold my hand though am a stranger
)
Though a lotus quavers from twilight's chill
*
its poised bloom remains serene ~
ushering dawn's glory *
3/22/2019
Writing Challenge 4, March 2019- Kimo Poetry Contest
Sponsor Dear Heart
/I\
~a branch
snuggles it tight,
messing ivory ringlets
while beneath the orchard,
grayish cones on iced moonlight rips.
Winter now bears her dry skin, as children
romp around a frozen trunk with boughs gleaming
like crystal tassels. Nippy a fir which quavers through
whiffs of glacial air : the assemblage of leaves
falling through hardened snowflakes...
Quietly, new moon brightens this view
Crowning its frothy head on an evening
where owls
trembling
dizzily on
its twigs,
hoot low
eyes wide;
until the tangy scent pervades
long after evergreen slumbers on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12/6/2018-- Revised
Shape Contest for Eve Roper
These words I write rest, riff, repeat half and whole notes within.
It vibratos, quavers, and resonants in your noggin.
Strumming soberly on my-six standard
snapped, worn and improvised heart strings.
Chords tuned over life’s onerous tread
Tightened and loosened in my head.
Allowing residue if I transcribe attunement
So, I reworded through musical arrangement
Of neither trumpet-warning war to make ready
Nor saxophone-uplifting gravity of anxiety
But guitar, from my heart, playing my testimony.
When reading, your experience's singalong in harmony
While looking far beyond misty gale
until convulsion of night quavers--
just remember, in spite drizzles
new morning salves torment:
I watch those gentle eyes roam
against a skeletal frame--
yet, lightness around you glows
more precious than dawn.
Cherishing you this way
soothes the vicious gush of hours;
and that raindrop upon a sallow face
trickles down onto a furrowed neck,
defying the tumor of pain its mortal ovation…
Although brave those eyes are, white cells
invade an exhausted gait like thinning hail.
I watch you smile heroicly at night’s downpour, Mama--
You are beautiful fragile as the raindrop.
11/20/2018
For Craig Cornish’s The Raindrop Contest
Butterflies of quavers and trebles and clefs,
Flutter all over her breast,
Creating a gentle, melodious hum,
Whenever she’s completely undressed,
Filling the room with a shade of her soul,
Becoming a beautiful dance,
A dance that sways and floats and wafts,
Seducing me in a love trance,
As her finger nails shine, painted in black,
Wash her lips in dark red,
And the words to her music talk to my heart,
Pulling me onto her bed,
Where we continue to tango in a Latin of lust,
Dancing every single desire,
Throughout the dark night, in a passion of love,
Our passionate love burning fire.
Glassy lamp flickers
to expose her quiet vulnerability,
while fingers thumb pages
of his delayed letters---
Hiding in tenebrous light
she quavers relentlessly,
knowing it’s time for goodbye
come morning.
The garrulous, Greek grape gatherers,
Joined joyously with jocund japes,
The olive pickers and Ostrich plucker’s,
Celebrating the seasons success in song.
The querulous quiver of musical quavers,
From a quorum of quality wine quaffer’s
Reverberated robustly round the room,
And resonated rhythmically from the roofs rafters.
An altercation arose amongst some aggressive Athenians,
Averting an armed argument was avoided adroitly,
By brave, bold buskers, brusquely berating their bombast,
And loudly and laudably lamenting such Loutish leanings.
Personally I drank my Retsina and went back to my Hotel,
Related Poems