Short Basalt Poems

buttercup of gold
in cracks of basalt and sage
the yellow dress shines...

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Rivulets of ice hung greedily
to the barren, brown, basalt,
like ribbon-candy in a baby’s hand.
The sweet, wet, drool oozed from Mother Earth,
like a frozen curtain draping the mist scattered day,
hiding the promise of spring....

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A 55 gallon barrel
Full of pulverized
Oyster shells
Mixed with wood ash
And sawdust
And porklard

55 gallons of
Pulverized oyster
Shells.mixed
With basalt.

Alkalinity
Alkalinity
Mind the
Bushels bouiz
Mind the
Bushels!...

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Pines dressed in pearl hues-
bleached cotton sky. Plumes carve
night shades into taint

of crushed bones. Stone
basalt tools grind glacier till
into pallid skin

colored clay, shaped
into ornate bowls that cradle
crow ossein. Hunter....

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Ocean gales and tidal shift
Pounding 
Basalt and sandstone mountains
Boulders 
Rocks tumble into pebbles
Mighty trees 
Uproot and splinter in Neptune's fury
Under my feet,  
Crumbled remains of life 
Ground to dust by the unrelenting ocean
Walking barefoot on tiny shards of glass...

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The rivulets of ice hang greedily
To barren brown basalt
Drooling downward steadily
Like ribbon candy halted
a crystal ooze assault.

Sweet sap cascading readily
frozen curtain seldom parted
clothe the breast of earth joyously
leave in mist oh mistress tart…
pierce not the lingering heart....

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Laborer and oxen are drawn
to slumber and to toil.
trodden fields of dawn
through basalt seeded soil.

A consistent daily chore
broken and blistered skin
farming out of folklore
the spirit from within.

An iron age passes by,
ploughed by tools of wood

Faces etched, livelihood.

(The traditional farmers of Nicaragua)...

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My heart is basalt and greenstone
becoming Catoctin to bones.
I'm the presidential retreat
at the top of the Blue Ridge chain.

I'm a drone financial fortress
waving ol' Glory stars and stripes. 
I pledge allegiance to the Republic 
under sound bunker walls three miles thick.

And if you love this darling world,
and have the fear of God within,
you too can be become Catoctin
on the carcass of Algonquians....

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Remnants of Winters tendrils
reside upon the bare basalt cliffs.
Cornrows of ice cascade
washed by relentless rain.

Down pours the mana
of Spring, the Bride,
berating the laggard Winter;
expunging the beauty of ice.

The sunless muted morn aids
Winters grip on its crowning glory;
braiding wayward wisps of white
into crevasses.

The last, lingering, lustful
remainders of Winter.
The day before Spring begins....

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TIDE IS OUT

The iodine of the seaweed smells
And the rattle of empty seashells
Trouble not the whale’s  sleep
While crabs scuttle to the deep


TIDE IS IN

Shriveled seaweed in basalt crevices revived
Fish skeletons  washed under the rocks
Boats slurp and plop out of the mud
Hungry  breakers eat afresh  the land
..................................................
Other poems of mine, similar to  this, are available at
https://www.fictionmagazines.com/magazines/five/...

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From cradle to grave the sun baked
the skin leather, un-oiled
and rain did not fall
for Isis with held her tears.
From the bloody care of womb
children popped like bread from
the oven of women, the urns of life, 
earthen were their colors
ocher, saffron, and 
some as black as basalt, rich…
with a Nubian glow.
How the small ones squeal
at the wadi’s edge.
How the toes of man and beast
dance at the skirt of mother Nile, 
sensuous, rippling with the wind,
or placid in the doldrums of summer sun....

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