justice casts a shadow
telling the time on a sundial
echoing retribution
to come when power play
shifts to reverse
Reveille
FT. Leonardwood Mo. 1962
Miracle Man
October 25, 2023
At three-thirty we arose, to trumphet chatter,
It was hard to determine It’s subject matter.
None of this, to us, was making any sense,
now sleep is gone and so is the suspense.
We’ve trouble dealing with situation at hand,
Army life isn’t close to what we had planned.
As “Cruits” search for solutions we endure pain,
and do our best at hiding our disdain.
reveille
morning mists surf winds
spins and twirls over dark hills ~
summer sun sleeps in
daybreak paints with mists
dawn tumbles out of darkness ~
shadows turn amber lilac
miniature raindrops
decorate fine silk spun webs ~
first light bathes in dew
hazy cloud blankets
dozing streams as meadows stir ~
sunrise ritual
clouds turn inside-out
cleaning off dusty tree boughs ~
dawn takes a shower
When the sum of all
equation meets
The gist of
all that's true
What will be
The estimation
As we stand
both me and you
Will we stand
Upright at inspection
Will we gaze upon
The ground
Soaring as with
Eagles or
With fleshly things
Resound
May our eyes
be bright far
Seeing may our
hearts be as a child's
Filled with light
And wonder
As we
Navigate these wilds
Sunday rest before repetitious reveille.
Work Perspective
Monoku
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by:
Beata Agustin
02/05/2022
tall thin and graceful
palm trees on a white sand beach
reach for orange skies
the day's elegance
is visible in a breeze
along beauty's path
white crested blue waves
ever searching like the wind
in a restless world
sun sits on the sea
in the cool tangerine hours
birds begin to sing
Startled sprinkles twinkle and toll
The time ignores my grunts and groans
Everyday empties its force of roll
Cannons sound -- and mothers moan
Between the place where time is not
And heaven’s hell slams its door
Little men with giant heads hot
Are lost beneath the fluid floor
New nothings interrupt the waste
Of petty playthings -- argue -- lose
Experience coats with sugar taste
The salty melancholy muse
Perhaps -- possible -- should -- could -- can
“I saw it rise and fall alone”
Reaction time relative to man
Depends on tendered tailored tones
Wishes want thickness, color and cover
Design for moth and spider to loan
Answers are easy like lionized lovers
And time ignores my grunts and groans
REVEILLE
Today I found myself walking on a path through the wood
All the while I had been thinking, unaware of where I trod
Idle musing, rumination stole a long stretch of ‘real’ time
(Despite my justification - ‘I was making up a rhyme!’)
On awaking from my absence in day-time somnambulation
I perceived a brighter world as I resumed self navigation
Some days I find myself moving on the path through my life
Wake in wonder that I got here through confusions that were rife
Via myriad of turning points that marked the final track
Made each instant unpredictable, capricious, looking back
There were times when choice was made by random forces in collision
But between, there were those rare moments of wide awake decision
Today I found myself dreaming of a path with purpose known
Such dreams are not of sleep but of a wakefulness full blown
Thus the real and the imagined coexist and integrate
Let there also be uncertainty, the spice to stimulate
While stress tempts anaesthetising mind diversions from the shelf
Let me wake from unawareness and perhaps may find myself
"Intermission: Flutterby Reveille"
Impromptu like a moth
pale words flutter out of his
psychodelic mind
curious funny flutterby…
for a second then, I didn't move,
deadpan, I said,
"... try again with some panache, some style"
incredulously, I smiled,
he's tripping guitar leads
counting long-tooth years
and numbers between drum beats
here no rest for the wicked, we...
hear pretty worded poets
walk on tip toe
balancing wet bars
on bipolar tightropes
shaking up and banging upside down
all the pretty snowglobes
In his land of silent muses
driving as he wrote
Singing “Every Little Breeze Seems to Whisper Louise's”
Pushing the envelope
aside, he writes,
retirement is a caged zoo
he gets high on cryptic puzzles
and cracking her
Sudoku
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Breakfast Reveille:
The Angels, “Take a Long Line”
https://youtu.be/4LdZAK2Rfkg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://youtu.be/4bWsbCpCwOg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/angels/rhythmrudegirl.html
every morning
now it's a recording
of a trumpet that takes
away the silence
for the already
risen to salute
the stripes and stars
even though to this
day another army
base is just a bit
away but even further
childhood memories
still remain but
now in
revelry
SEASON REVEILLE
The chill’ed land sleeps
Grass withered dried and flaxen
Life wisely cautious
Awaits the vernal signal
Then will it stir and flourish
A signal to arise.
I saw it in your eyes.
Reveille.
In good company
Aroused in your bed
Reveling with you
Reveille.
A celebration of the bugle
Your eyes of blue
So close to sunrise
Alive with boisterous excitement
Reveille
Awakened in no time
Every day a new one
Yielding to your arms
Your trinkets with magical powers
Keep us not asunder
Reveille
Tis cold this time of year
Whispering sweet nothings in your ear
Aloud with temper
Under the covers
Consumed and alert
Daybreak for Saturnalia
Reveille
And should I sleep
Away the hours
Under Sun and Moon
My romantic muse
Your castles in the sky
Visions of you
My fool's paradise
And it's cool sheets.
Reveille.
A dream of a rustling
Amongst the flowers
Plumb dumb
With much attention
A revelation
Of our affection
Forever young
Is your fine
Devotion.
Reveille.
Reveille
It takes motion: metal screeching on metal;
A locker opening. Footsteps echo and fade on reinforced stone.
Rubber slaps the ground lazily.
Then the mourners rise, for the night lies in state.
They mingle but do not speak;
paying reverence to the ritual of Unbroken Silence.
Exaggerated actions are measured
in beds pulled and blankets folded.
Sparking rise to first light
The sunrise is a golden, peachy delight,
replacing the treacle blackness,
of the kingdom of the night.
The brightening wakens me
from my deep insensible slumber,
and outside of my window
the songbirds grow in number,
to sing their dawn chorus,
competing to be heard,
each trying to sing much louder,
than any other bird.
So the conspiracy of our star,
and my feathered friends,
means that it is certain,
this is where my dozing ends!
Wakening to the sound of myriad birds
Chattering on in their first morning chorus
Then comes the first intermission
Silence which usually wakes the bride
This is broken by the aria of the day
A rather boring repetitious rendition
Until the back up choir blends in
Louder than before jaggedly joyous
Second intermission is somewhat longer
As whatever available petite fours
And petillant fruits disappear prior
To the return of the full ensemble
The earliest writers of opera
Had to have been early risers
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