Sequestering Poems

Beneath Darkling Coverlets

Some flowers bloom well into twilight,
moonlight mesmerizes them,
leads them into dreams of distant dawns.

The velvet drapes of summer
do not offend them,
rather they entice
as they bathe
within deeply tidal lullabies.
Gently the blossoms succumb,
gentle is the soft enfolding.

A warmed and darkening air descends
to couple with the intimate scents
of floral favors, perfumes that linger
upon wafts of intimacy.
all hidden by sequestering shadows,
an efflorescence is shared
within a sanctuary of confidential pleasures,

raptures far from
the harsh dazzle of daylights
prying gaze.

the strange flower

.

Not the
Perennial
For
The flower showed
Past
Twice
Mine winterz

Mine prayer answered  
That the flower
Be not the biennial
for
Appear yesss
Did it
For mine 
Rest
Bloomed
Beaming
Thoroughly arresting
Sequestering 
Mine

the eccentric 
bard

Gilded Life

Lost in a labyrinth of
Glistening sights
Infinitely out of reach,
Trembling amidst sweeping mistrals, 
Fabricating a life of nostalgic allusions,
Caught in lapsed reveries, of 
Restless arias and faint rustlings
Sequestering my rampant aura,
Bleeding in russet naivety, 
Evaporating in silent elegies.

Sad Endings

There are many,
the threads of a public life
always unravelling
into more sadness.

We read of so and so
and his ending
her dire departing.

The sadness is a gesture,
an acknowledgement
that we knew all along.

Last days
withdraw into a quiescence,
a sequestering of parables
within a closed room.

A meddling hearsay awakens
a salacious interest;
columns of gossip
followed by
a tell-tale unearthed.
One more pinch of sadness
investigated, exposed.
The tarnish remains the sadness.

An extraordinary life
left broken by the ransacking,
the endless peeping
of post-obituary years.

Expect Only This

We read of so and so
and his sad ending,
then we remember more;
more people in a long story.

Sadness is a gesture,
an acknowledgement
that we knew all along
its time would come again
with a different face.

Most eulogies withdraw
into quiescence,
a sequestering of parables
told to rushing crowds
and the headlong years.

Shadows of Succulents

Shadows of succulents surpass my seeing self
I lie on my back, admiring the seductive symmetry
How does nature manage to secrete similar signs
Is there a mystical, magical, movement in her roots?
I am at a loss to know; feeling like a voyeur,
peeking up into the sun-list sky, secretly wondering.
How does mother nature keep everything in sync?
She has a spiritual dance that sings soul into her succulents.
I am quietly contemplating this, sequestering myself in her shadows.
Spying a scene, I could not imagine from any other perspective.
I am silent, enjoying the shadows, and the symmetry.

Pangs of Isolation

For months, I've come to sense it well-
     that loneliness, as none before.
In feelings of unrest, I dwell
     on what is now- and what's in store.

At first, confined to home- so sad,
     deprived of friends and family.
For cellphones, live stream, I was glad,
     to speak to, watch them- happily.

For our essentials, I will shop-
     six feet apart and with a mask.
Like other patrons, do not stop-
     avoid encounters mid the task.

Alone together, when about-
     spaced out wherever I now go;
in waiting rooms or eating out-
     the pangs of isolation grow.

Just people walking, eyes ahead-
     sequestering on streets, in stores.
Thoughts deep within and left unsaid-
     pray that old normal soon restores.

We beings are a social kind
     and keeping us apart is wrong-
not meant to isolate- I find
     within close bonds- we all belong.

At times, I feel we're in a test
     to see how we obey commands;
and now, our world in such unrest-
   what happens next- increased demands?


July 27, 2020

~5th Place~
Premiere Contest:  Isolation Philosophy
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Judged: 07/31/2020

Hiding In the Deepest Shadows

Adjectives hid in the deepest shadows 
behind smelly sticky stinky garbage dumpsters
rats squatted on them

Adverbs tore verbs into tiny manageable bites
and nested on them, after they were gooey, snarly and moldy.

Nouns appeared stuck up prissy.
Refused to join adjectives 
Thought they were better than that.

Adverbs and adjectives conspired against the nouns.
Sequestering themselves in the recesses of the alley walls.

Nothing working today, each against any type of unity.
Muse made fun of my Pollyanna ways,  so gave up the poetry idea
and took a little nap.

Covid-19 Coping

It seems to happen frequently
At least in this millennium
All the freedoms we enjoy
We now must keep to minimum

They say we must can cel our plans
And figure out why tissue
Has disappeared from grocer's shelves
When toilets aren't the issue

Was it a snake that put me in
This frantic need to sanitize
Or could a bat have sneaked one by
And caused this world to agonize?

I'd hardly think a wayward germ
Is gonna take my lungs out
But lis'ning to the MSM
My saner side will then doubt

Following the movie stars
In self-imposed restrictions
I'll give in to sequestering
And snub the contradictions

So now I wait to see what the
Stock market guys will guess at
And what my local diplomates
Will emphasize and stress that

Contamination headlines streak
Across the news like comets
I could not close this timely rhyme
Ignoring words like vomit.

Brief Pleasures of the Night

Some flowers bloom well into twilight,
the dark does not assault them
it folds gently, it entices,
it allows flowers to succumb
but for a little while.

How unlike is the glaring light?
How it enslaves and pinions
each reaching stem
and then killing with a fiery eye,
while the desires of the night
shine as bright for all beings.

We who stand mesmerized by daylight,
do we not yearn for the coverlets of darkness, 
the secrecy of sequestering shadows?
Those brief nocturnal depths
that bloom in the unseen,
our sanctuary of pleasures
far from the dazzle of lights shallow show.

The Bulldog Turns 30

The Bulldog Turns 30

Welcome to the days you shall not for long in life recall.
Welcome to the days you will with but one song recall.

These days are sharply bright, more so in deeply falling nights
Shall pass in silence, sequestering for later strong recall

Those gems that were the deepest cut, were felt the best,
Guarded in Thy soul from the wrong of wrong recall

The Past births the Present, mixing bitter with the pleasant,
And on it goes, perforce, with no power to recall

The perfection Thou hast gained, withal,
I, The Wolf, dost wish you hold in thrall.

Rangeomorphs

THE PROVIDENCE OF MANKIND
            BEYOND THE NIGHTS THE DREAMS
          OF PEOPLE WHO SEEK IN ADVENTURE
          TO REDEFINE MINING OF ASTEROIDS
       THEY SPOKE OF THE ONE:1?2 TON RATIO
       WHERE ROCK LADEN WITH MAGNESITE TO
            SOAK-UP CARBON MONOXIDE FROM
                          THE ATMOSHERE
                SEQUESTERING STRATEGIES
              THEY SOUGHT TO FIND TRUTH IN
                     POSITIONS WERE TRUTH
              WAS FROM DATA THE UNTRUSTED
                  SCEINCE OF BEING FIRST
           FROM SPACE THE ASTRONAUT SPOKE
                    AND SAID SUCH THEN MIGHT
        VIOLATE THE TREATY CAUSING THOSE WHO
                    SIGNED THE TREATY TO
           MAKE IT HARDER FOR US TO DO WHAT WE
           NEED TO DO TO HAVETHESE THINGS DONE,
                 MEASURE PUT FOURTH AGAINST
                     SOMETHING THAT MIGHT
          SAVE ALOT OF PEOPLE AND A WHOLE LOT
                    OF ANIMALS, EXSPECALLY THE
                   ONE'S WE EAT, THEY CALLED IT
              CHEMICAL CAJOLING, USING MINERALS
                      TO SOAK-UP AIRBORN GAS

Summer Squall

The ocean, eternal, spreads wide
Reflecting slate, somber storm clouds
While beachgoers, eight stories down,
Gather towels and scurry fast
From a squall shedding white lightning,
Dull, delayed drumbeat of thunder
Touching my ears as your fingers
Cover my hand on the railing;
Surf line we watch fade, grow obscured
In a curtain of pallid rain
Encroaching the pale, vacant sand
As single-file palms bob green heads
When an updraft, cool and sudden,
Tousles your soft and silken hair
And balloons your light cotton shift—
Bare beauty nearly shared—
We retreat, sliding glass door to,
Sequestering the world away
Save your bold, yearning expression,
Gentle kisses to hungry lips,
Cotton slipping, slacking, falling,
Then persistent, gusting patter
Of rain like long-pent love.

Waking To Existence

Requested to linger
one could never vacate
Your love, a pillar of puissance

Visions of you,
entangled in impassioned embraces
consume sentinel contemplating you slumber

Looks given, resulting kiss
linger sweetly through waking hours

Night explodes
her gentle white sacrifice
Sequestering mortals, a lover's sanctuary

Not concerned

Waking
nuzzles resume
greeting dawn's nascent rays
Your sentry pines to ensconce your soul with
enticement
Consummating awareness, corporeal

Day rendered -
                              breathless

Looking Up

I see the sky
as one more reaching
past the isolation of myself
past imprisonment, the status quo,
and then I know I am complicit
in my own sequestering--
that the horizon
borders only dreams postponed
by fear,
by my own reticence.

Push it back! Break free!
For I can choose among those images
that crowd my consciousness.
I can stretch this isolated
dungeon I have built--
have no need of its security,
for skies like this extend themselves
with every step I take; 
these walls of penal stone
will crumble, fall away
with every touch, and dreams anew
may rise to celebrate.

Look up!
That azure ceiling's just a light
turned in to hide the stars
a little while, to chide me
with a temporal beauty while
the sun keeps watch, and promising
the moon--if I succomb.
I shall see, for there is opportunity
upon the stair and freedom also,
respite from the climb, but temporal.
My sight is just beyond...
the year quite short on endings:
Stay with me and watch the midnight  
disappear.
           ~

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