Here’s to the ones we’ll never see…
Your demise gets summarized into goodbyes and memories
But its not as simple as that
Time could never encompass the essence of your being
Words at its peak could never articulate you
Your bag-skin lay unmoving, rotting
But out of it came a voice never to be heard
Your eyes hosts no light now
Your smile gone, your uniqueness gone
And like I said… words could never do justice
Same with how insurmountable this pain will be
And while i wait for our next meeting
You’d be missed everyday
A vacancy never to be filled
I won’t write, I tell my muse. I refuse.
She laughs at my won'ts, my cant's and my do’s.
Most know Trixie; she brazenly dictates to me.
She is puling my strings, never letting me be.
I’m serious, I say. She laughs at my plight.
She forces me to stay awake most of the night.
Magnificent poems climb into my head.
Trixie will tell me when I can go to bed.
A welcome gaze, the sun shines ever present
Peering through thin overcast curtains
With the lightest of light’s gentle touch
The paint brush of the effervescent
Yuletide glides through the spectral air
It caresses the cadaver walking the path
Unaware of the beauty that surrounds
Gentle winds dancing with wispy hair
I was unfamiliar of this
The stinging of tears born from rage
Manifesting apparitions of our past so pleasant
The infanticide of a future yet to stumble into stride
I admit my adamant refusal to accept the present
Where murders migrate above me,
Where my spirit drifts in the atmosphere
This time, the clock has stuck like a gavel
The haunt of her hands on my wrists
the most pleasant of shackles.
Will there ever be a moment where I accept change?
When will I simply accept this weather
For what it is? Sharp, stark, and serene
When will I finally say,
“This is where I need to be.”
Today was the first day I held
a sledgehammer with intention
Callouses connect palms to fingers
tiny fleshy boa constrictors.
There is no catharsis
I know this to be a hollow act
With a face smithed of iron,
a body lathed with linseed wood,
and a head full of nothing.
No I am not thinking, I am
in fact refusing to do so.
This is an act of refusal
I am choosing childish behavior.
The empty parking lot
execution spot greets
the glass bodied shelf
Which will no longer take
the space of memories it held.
What should be cold and angular
Void of anything aside reflection
is a monument of mourning
a future I shall never know.
Light refracts upon my cones,
my tunneled vision only to show
a mangled miscarriage of the man
I can never grow into with you.
It started well,then why couldn't it end the same?
Don't trust that voice in ur head which says
"For me you are lame
For me you have no shame
For me ur feelings are just a game"
It could be a feeling of despair
They call it rejection
But it's not only the reaction
And if you know you know
It's not always better to show
the hurricane going inside
The confusion which is unable to guide
somewhere leads you to hide..
Maybe the truth which says
"To feel everything so deeply is not alone a blessing"
Indeed it's a curse as well
But unluckily that doesn't means
that feeling from my side is still not lacking
Hoping of you to still not yell
It was, is and will be hard to tell
If it's not love, then it's not even hate to sell
I only want you to remember...
"All that starts well, ends well"...!
When our suggestions fall on deaf ears
And what we think carries little weight,
We begin to realize our deepest fears
When ideas we cherish do not resonate.
Saddened by another’s lack of concern
When our suggestions fall on deaf ears
Deep down we feel a bit of heartburn,
Occasionally it wells up in bitter tears.
At heart, we have their best, our peers
And share only what we think is wise,
When our suggestions fall on deaf ears
Or, are met with utter disdain and guise.
‘Tis best to slough off disappointment
Replace it with thoughts of good cheers,
And follow up with a fun entertainment
When our suggestions fall on deaf ears.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written April 31, 2022
Brian Strand's Standard Contest
A tender heart
is capable of what?
A warm light
in the coldest
and darkest
moonless night;
An embrace
and refusal
of playing
the arrogant
and smart;
I see but then what?
A harmony of
rain droplets
carefully descending
everywhere around
touching our cheeks
offering more of life
and wiping out
tears of deception;
I see! What more?
A reminder
that pain is just a drill
among the drills of life
targeted towards
our weakness and fragility
and meant to make us
feel strong and learn
a daunting lifelong lesson.
I see but then also what?
A tender heart
is capable of courage
Like a noble soldier
Deciding to turn down
an invitation of death.
A candid heart
beating to life
refusing to join
dancing with death
and unwilling to fall
in the trap of taking
desire for love.
- Chokri Omri
(Tunisia, 2021)
My refusal skills are pretty much non-existent.
I grew up in a small town where most people say yes.
Others use words like no, absolutely not, not my clowns.
I say okay almost immediately to any request coming my way.
For where I grew up anyone who said no was labelled a trouble maker.
An outcast, a do-badder,
I know it is crazy, but I really do
want my reputation for being a pushover fully intact.
A Refusal To Believe
After I read about it and further perusal,
Punishment may be cruel and unusual;
Did have disdain;
They were insane,
And to believe it my soul had a refusal.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC
REFUSAL TO DUCK
Tucker sits on lawn chair sipping his pop.
Two bullet holes like flies land on backdrop.
A retired mechanism.
He’s done with tourism.
He’s a sitting duck in front of a shop.
8/16/2017
Youth takes my hand and holds me back,
as old age points the way
Unwilling yet to leave this Spring,
as Winter calls my name
The image in the mirror fresh,
the one my eyes now see
Of Lochinvar and Lancelot,
in dreamlike fantasy
The children see me older though,
their children older still
My spouse afraid I can’t accept,
what time and seasons will
I hold on tight to wings that splay,
o’er fields both green and gold
And shun the backstairs of my fate,
—refusing to get old
(Trumbull Connecticut: February, 2017)
Forevermore I’ll still desire you,
Despite that never shall you speak my name,
I’ll always love the silly things you do,
And think of how delightful life can be.
When first I kissed you underneath our tree,
Where now a forest grows of guilty shame,
My heart discovered pure serenity,
And thus refuses ever split in two.
10/31/2016
A/B/A/C/C/B/C/A
A cuddly Harp Seal, when just a bub,
Swam further south and slipped into a pub,
The barman gave a wink,
Have this whisky to drink?...
“No way known, it’s Canadian Club!”
Refusal
Stood on top my desk
rope over a beam
postman knocked three times
there is hope
a letter
a publisher has sent me a letter
I open it and laughed
it is another rejection
something about my spelling
lack of punctuation and commas
the publisher
used to be a teacher
My cries of forgiveness
And painful regret
My sins of the flesh
You could never forget
I begged your forgiveness
For so many years
But the louder my heart shouted
It fell on deaf ears
You fed off my misery
And thirsted for my pain
But I saw in your face
All was in vain
So no more will I suffer,
beg or repent
You sucked my emotions dry
and my patience is spent.
But my resolve is much stronger
And I cast you away
My hurting is over
I no longer shall stay
The price for your forgiveness
I see is my soul
Escape from your torture
Is now my life’s goal
I’m through with your lies
And belittling ways
I choose a new life
And I choose not to pay
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