Repugnant Pugilist,
A Lummox dim with a rubble fist.
Rock to Roc’s Feather.
A Stalwart Rook to blotted weather.
An over armored Savant slain by adhoc ether.
Hands empty without effort.
That sweet and Sable Rune.
Opening the Gates of Nether.
Silver Sable took a job
to take down the villian Viper
but she kept finding dopplegangers
those that can't be snipered
Captain America was tracking the deed
and felt that he should save Viper
but his path led to the pit-vipers
where everything went far hyper
Pit-Viper #12 died deep in battle
where Silver Sable thenafter found the original
she put her gun to the Viper's head
but her demeaner didn't rattle
assiduous
spiritual voices
whisper veracious words:
faith tested
is faith strengthen…
firmed like tested muscles…
flexing mind
expands and joyful spirits
dance as mental quills
ink blood of truths…
hemorrhaging
melodic metered sounds
flowing freely from
the sable cerebral womb:
delivering new hope
sucking leaking nipples
of undying faith…
A gale sweeping seashore ,
Witness to the Sibyl's utterings
Contains the sable unharmed
With each passing jiffy .
Chandelier is mirroring moonlight,
Through the sable's surface serene
The sole inhabitant of the lone coast
Not that nights are lonely with the moon.
Crestfallen creatures , are unknown
Of the sable's loneliness ,
The sole survivor of the tsunamis
And the only surface to the beaches.
One mantelpiece surrounding the fire
Of envy and the insecurities ,
Betraying the smoke it clamps down
To feel the warmth , while burning inside.
The sundown , being an excuse
To it's existence while it rests
It's fate on the facade of a million facets,
Dying while life insists to stay.
Is part of Halifax
This island is 42 km. long
It is the equlvalent of walking
In sand from downtown Halifax
All the way to Peggy's Cove
Sable Island has 500 wild horses
After surviving centuries of the winter
The exact amount of horses unknown
Some believe they are ancestors of horses
That survived the shipwrecks
While these claims Norsemen John Cabot
Or the Portuguese explores or Acadians
Had left them on the island
The most popular is likely explanations
In the Boston merchant hired to transport
Acadians during the Expulsiion not the horses
The island is gradually moving eastwards
As it slowly washes away in the west
While sand builds in the eastwards
Others believe the island centre suffering
Just that island is shrinking
Then one day eventually disappear
A Sable Hued Syllabic Awakening…
(For Richard Wright)
Even snakes have love…
but no one wants their embrace;
such coiled loneliness…
Yet nature provides…
eggs are laid…babies are hatched
and snakes slitter on.
Pity…we’re not snakes…
our eggs denied their seeds…
food for the human mongoose.
Yet…we are like dough…
rising in our due season…
and nature provides the time.
Hunger games return…
and the predators are back;
let the prey prepare…
Let the fire this time
be a control burn…clearing
our path to justice…
Freedom is not free…
it must be fought for and won:
Johnson…Ali…Us.
Stalwart Sable Sister Soldier…
(Apropos A Major Home to Bury A Son)
She saw sorrow sadness shadowing shield
Orbs of cataract visions veiled
In victorious battles of nothingness;
Told to think of the blessings bombings yield;
That tomorrow the town will rise and manage
If they not waste time pondering the collateral damage.
Once more and again, we are caught
Not between the rock and hard place,
But confused why we have again fought
For the freedom of yet another abused race;
Mr. President, I’ve done what you’ve taught;
I’ve bitten the bullet and spat out the bitter taste;
Now I shall be about that which I now must manage
That you and I not become the future collateral damage.
A Sonnet to a Sable Poet’s Pen
(Apropos Disrespected, Suspected, Neglected and Rejected)
I want to write poems
of flowers and birds;
Fragrant poems singing
beautiful words;
Poems praising the ebb and flow
of evening tides
Splashing shores searching
where love abides;
But my pen refuses to ink
such seemingly simplicity.
My pen refuses to ignore
today’s blatant iniquities.
I must write for and to those blinded
by the cataracts of injustice;
Those who suffer deafness from
cancer of abject prejudice—
Immobilized by sclerosis
of uncontrollable apathy:
That coveted placebo that placates
infectious pity.
Yes, I must write wailing words decrying
flowing blood in the street;
Leaving sobbing sad sable mothers
with only dried tears to weep.
This pen of mine must mark our time of vigilance
and what was neglected;
I must write poems of reality—how down the years
our liberty they rejected.
cloaked in sable and grey, birds strut heavily for a funeral march
In One Line Monoku # 9 Contest-- PD Linda
March 16, 2016
Mustang horses, champagne glasses,
everything frail, everything wild,
free as a spirit embracing the wind
she is galloping high now, eternity's child.
Acres of pasture are stretching before her,
heaven has summoned her shimmering soul,
in His arms taken, she's happy at last
as she's welcomed to Glory, her ultimate goal.
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...for Sable, much beloved member of thepoetstree,
who lived for her horses, and left us way too soon.
FOR A SWEET SABLE SAINTLY MOTHER
Wearing her crown of pearly white hair,
Her sunken orbs glowed with a regal glare.
Her ebony hued, wrinkle hands, strong as stone
Are monuments of the burdening labor she had owned.
As her broken body has known sorrow and pain,
It remains a mystery how she has managed to remain sane.
Though her life has known despair and great depravity,
She’s never succumbed to the indignities of social gravity.
Indeed, “life for her has been no crystal stair”,
Yet, for us, she has always been there with loving care.
She’s the sturdy black bridge which we’ve crossed over on;
To travel along the jubilee road towards our liberation.
Indeed, this raven skin queen reins supreme like no other:
Praise God for the blessing me with this sweet sable saintly mother.
Dreaming and waiting for romance as the years go flying
by well the loneliness is enough to make you just
wanna die you tell yourself you don't need anyone but
deep down inside you know it's a lie...you fight back
the tears all throughout the day but at night you lay
awake and cry looking back on your life you wonder why
no one ever sought to win your love and claim your
heart then you be...gin to wonder if there might be
something wrong with you but that's understandable when
loves been nothing but a stranger to you that would
make anyone bluer than blue still you go on looking for
a love that's more than willing and able yet at the
same time you question if love is just a figment of our
imaginations well Heaven knows, I know what you mean
Sable 'cuz Lord knows I ain't getting any younger here
and someday I just might be too old to get up and dance
they say there's someone for everyone but so far that's
yet to be seen or done...just wasting time dreaming
and waiting for true romance!
HUMMING HYMNS OF SORROW
(A SOULFUL SABLE SONNET)
A treacherous trod has been this rough rugged road;
The way over which we’ve come has not been kind.
Our hopes and spirits have been tested and so has every mind;
Oh but we've never buckled under the burden of the heavy load.
Over the weary way with blood and tears, we strode;
Guided by an audacious faith and a spirit holy and sublime,
We survived the trials, tribulations and the uncertainties of the time;
Till at last, the home of the brave and the land of the free was our abode.
But now our children are being profiled and shot down in the street,
While their fathers fight wars abroad for other children’s justice and liberty;
And our grandmothers sit in their rocking chairs humming hymns of sorrow.
Today another mother will stand over a dead child and wearily weep;
For when all is said and done, the child died dreadfully due to his own criminality:
How long will our communities be likened to cells of prisoners living on death's row?
DRIED TEARS OF SABLE GENOCIDE…
I cannot cry for the children
of others---
the deaths of my own have drained dry
the wells of my eyes---
red orbs sunken deep in dark caverns
of growing grief
echoing wailing cries
of the ghosts of my womb:
wailing cries
falling on lifeless auricles
flaccid to vibrations of ebony pleads
of mothers whose babes
die daily deaths
of sable genocide---
blood dripping down fingers
of sons who would rape
their mothers and pimp their sisters.
Escapism is the food of fools
Like me
Generosity spools within shades of infinity
Defining moments
Redefining dreams within an air of dignity
Upon sable wings my white spirit
Is lifted
Cerulean dreams reunite
In trance like state
Oils strewn upon ole plate
My liquin soul dances amongst devils and angels alike
Burnt umber
Golden slumbers lay strewn
Whilst the canvas stares as a diminishing resource
I share mind sauce
Engrossed daffodil and jade
Stand on parade
With the obligatory scarlet spot
To stare out uninvited
Cause confusion
Disillusioned as a lover unrequited
I cuddle a paynes grey
As I dance between heaven and hell
Part a parcel of an painters day
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