in cacophony continuum
incongruent noise draft navigates
the decibel waves
beyond the fringe of discernment
n u m b e d
while the sense of frenzy
feels the quieting caress
f o r l o r n
of still calmness
as the halcyon emotive sagacity
sinks slow in hermit serenity
u n e x p r e s s e d
in the remote impulsive recess
of the mute mind
i n s e n s a t e
disparaging dissonance
finally fades away
in the twilight zone
as the vibrato of the last spectrum
echoes in the sonata of solitude
finds nascent niche
t r a n q u i l
strikes reticent concord
s e n s u o us
in the concerto cord
of the harmonic harp
as the taciturn voice of essence
serenades the lilting lyric of the last mile
in the sanctum of silence
s e r e n e
Stolen Glances
A thought, or maybe a far-off dream?
Is she half-awake or sleeping?
The atmosphere is reticent.
Her posture is provocatively alluring
Yet innocent; even the cat laps quietly.
There are other things in the room,
Insignificant and commonplace.
But obviously, it’s her legs;
With one foot on the floor
And the other spread on the footstool,
With her skirt lifted revealing her underwear;
As she relaxes, leaning back in a chair
With her arms raised; and fingers intertwined
As her hands rest upon her head
And her closed eyes revealing
That faraway gaze and satisfied look
On her face in an endearing pose
That glances steal at a moment’s notice.
That begs the question,
“Is she deep in thought
Or is she dreaming?
Is she sleeping, or not?”
Recumbant redundancy
Came t'coil and careen 'round the rails of goosen flesh heels
Strained the frame of my mortal fallibility
And estranged mine name from the cankering collage of mine colleagues in arms
'ggressively agrieved mine mantled place and mounting crown
That hath e'er now oxidise down the stairs of mine life
Racked mine train and affronted frame of thought
For one was reticent in their regiment
Now, e'er dulled thee t'the dole,
O dewy-doe eye'd,
Such shall surely swallow thee whole
Haunted to pleasantries, t'the gaunt face before thee
None graver than the ashen grave 'fore I
Ghoulishly reposed, to enclose and envelope,
My writing hand loosen'd in a lousy attempt,
To evade, to prolificate, and feed the face of the market rate.
And with a bow, I shall forsake my latent escape
And one shall take their monthly crown, without rebate.
21//12//25
Trying to speak, ever untold !
Urge from the core of heart,
but reticent thoughts turning cold.
Wished not to stay apart !
But speech sank in silence :
Soliloquy to sense.,
Desires in opulence
Voice not to pick
Trying to speak !
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beneath the cracked asphalt, silent roots weave stories in braille~
The maple tree taps Morse Code to the oak’s hollow chamber:
It’s midnight again. The starlings are nesting in my crown.
Look! The young boy carves his initials—the third time this summer.
The Loblolly Pines trade pollen like rumors on dry winds,
counting the passing decades in resin tears.
Douglas Fir shares the ladybug’s reticent gossip~
how the new highway will sever all of the mycelium’s threads.
One Cedar Elm tree remembers hearing axes. Her rings tighten.
Ancient Red Oak holds centuries of rain, drought, and fire.
At dawn, she hums to the young sapling her old, wise tune:
Bend. Grow. Drink the dew. Swallow the light.
The man in the elevator
is the reticent straggler
forced to collapse his personal space bubble
to avoid the stairs and cop the stares
of strangers beyond their circle of care
holding their breath
avoiding eye-to-eye contact/
A nod, a wink, is all they get
on this stage where the actors all face out
rehearsing as the lift doors open and close on each floor,
hoping the prompter has forgotten their lines.
pink carnations ~ ~ cloud drifting
visage in the redolence of autumn
unpretentious goosebumps
countenance of this old lady, pretty cool
calculating glory in seemingly little things
sampling of gifts ~~ ultra mysterious
everlasting gobstoppers, multi-layered*
showstoppers, glory after glory
ever growing, ever glowing S U N R E S T
the Artist never stops creating bliss and joy
ultrasensory H A P P I N E S S
carnations that remind me of my mother
God winks in this parking space
before the arctic air ~ fresh air scented
gifting reminds me of my God
my God, my God ~ His name
is written everywhere
cloud drifting ~ my mind afloat
my inner smile with reticent grief
zephyr-peace of gladness
opalescent paradise
Unmet expectations strike hard,
hurting where they languish long.
Unkept promises are blows earned,
hitting where they find no resistance.
Unkind words are slashes harsh,
ripping through the calm conscience.
The dormant volcano within the soul
then gets the upsurge of melted psychic mantle
in the crust of brittle tolerance,
that collapses in the caldera cradling the vent,
reaching the magma chamber in the core.
The soul erupts the lava in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flows.
Uncontrolled, it blazes the heart,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the deranged essence.
Words rise like Sphinx from the toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of mental restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of conformist signals.
From the volcanic inferno of the soul
the erupted fiery lava called anger flows
in the torrents of blistering words,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazing a furrow for the reticent life.
Sneak to Reek
Every time I look away,
the storm sneaks in
another step.
I see a flash in
the periphery
out of sight.
I feel a tremble
a tumble, a rumble
in the air.
The storm hushed heralds
it's there.
Rollings in relentless,
all powerful,
unstoppable,
ignorable,
reticent,
and strangely shy.
Inevitable,
the storm
sneaks in,
to reek
and come on
by.
burried and cured in sod's wallowing gallow
ground as tender flower of wonder
reading worlds into the hands
mired in swallows and clawed
she began trunks of brooches
for her second son
to flee the falling failing rakes
bested in deserts earthen ovens
rebuilding the gingers shant, easily
carnate fury, easters menage
blurry tests to bleak to smear
exposed to a heartless ember of septs
reticent snakes frail and drunk
back to the chest my second sons hum.......
county claire, connaught, easter risings
Staring down your enemy, conquering your fear,
Shadowed by death, by cruelty and despair.
The sight before you; is the same as before,
Walking alone, down the same dark corridor.
The beauty of the world is reticent to your eyes,
Your worst nightmares are reality; you NOW realize.
Dazed and confused, you make for the tunnels end,
Only to find you’re at the beginning AGAIN.
Again and again, you charge towards the light,
It floats far ahead in the tunnel, just within your sight.
Screaming out in frustration, you drop to your knees,
A deaf world catches your voice and ignores your pleas.
Waking from THE dream? Your reality anew,
Nothing goes as planned, no matter what you do.
Dazed and confused, noticing your life has passed you by,
Left with nothing but the desire to fall down AND cry.
The tears won’t come; your eyes ARE dry and cold,
Inside your heart; YOUR spirit scrambles for a hold.
With a sigh of surrender, you smile one last time,
You shed one tear only, as you close out this rhyme…
I murmur like a rivulet through the
hitch of your hands, where the canyons
carve their parched longing into your fingers—
where silences sublimate like cera,
pooling beneath your glissando touch.
Your tremolo breath convulses rough and low
like sibilant submersion in water—
spilling, sinking, staining everything it meets.
I watch the estuary of your gaze split my horizon—
watch you hush abysmal eyes into
celestially arched surrender.
There is no stillness between starlight,
only the pull of mighty magnitudes,
fuses lit beneath the ribs,
pulses and throbs teaching the air
how to cleave—how to…
sforzando!
Love, here, is neither reserved nor reticent—
it is lightning bottled in glass—
hellfire burning beneath the tide—
language that deconstructs
even as it is uttered.
I step forward—some faltering cadence,
some submitting ascension—placing my hands into your fire,
not to be consumed, but to remember
how stars revel and rain.
-What is the failure key?
They imagine!
-What is wrong about that?
They do sleep on the job! That is the general idea!
-What is dream then?
A subconscious urge that yarns for non-aspiring unfulfilled reticent.
-Now what is non-aspiring?
Without mediocrity, some kind of ambition.
-Why is it needed?
They are absolutely needed to egress, as these are toxic like mothball!
-Did you ever try mothball?
Nope! Did you?
-Nope! I did not declare too!
I did! Is it not your problem?
-How so?
And so on.....
The lanyard is a verse: evangelical
"Finish what he started!"
Suitors lined up, hoping to court me
Promising plethoras of pleasure
Tantalizing, teasing hints of treasure
To move my reticent, reluctant lips to say ‘Oui’
To obsequious bow to my innumerable charms,
While in a mirror of pomp, I primp and pose
When spot a man – mustachioed, mysterious – undisposed
To flatter my golden hair, narrow waist or delicate arms
An unlikely king or composer of Psalms
Ill-at-ease with strongmen and heroes
Counselor to hobos, weirdos and zeroes
And I, drawn to his visage with increasing alarm
Entry in "When You are Old" contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Date: Jan. 14, 2025
In the bazaar
Works and willful stacks of gold.
I grant thee one reticent
Knod, just for show.
There is no real fauna
In our new world.order,
We whet our fangs
And fight for the final time.
In glaciers cool but melting,
I greet the gods of Greenland mourning.
In glaciers hot and freezing
We leave the demons plotting.
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