Short Carapace Poems

impassioned sky mumbles tasteless rain
a soaking measly carapace collects  muddy remains
weather overbears a confessing cloud.



For Carol Brown's 'Nature comes to life' Contest....

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A carapace of courage
Lies buried in the hills.
A library of wisdom
Stocked with empty pages,
Erased for all the ages.
A husk of special skills
And verbal vitality
Dad, juggernaut at rest....

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I soar from the embers of the life
coincidences
grasping the ladle of passion 
in my exact part
a butterfly roosts to my left
ponder on the shrubs 
that lives in me
what do they ever emulate
lost paired on havoc, they
keep me mellow
nagging sensations
traverse the deepness 
of love and pain
fantastic mates
life dwells below 
your carapace quality

Written: September 28, 2022...

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Along the waters edge I strolled, as wavelets wet my toes

Rockpools filled with hidey holes where wary crabs had chose

To wait for the coming tide to venture out once more,

Hiding from the hunters, who scour the open shore.

Empty carapaces, lay scattered here and there

Evidence of those who thought they'd take a fleeting dare,

So as I stroll along, thinking life is sweet

For some it is hide or die, just beneath my feet....

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A small secretion gave him away,
the tough marine who had yomped in a day
from San Carlos to Stanley, served in Helmand,
but now was defeated by the tiniest hand
that gripped his finger and wouldn't let go,
he swallowed hard, no feelings could show
the chink in his armour, that hard carapace,
as that small secretion rolled down his face
from eyes that looked down, completely undone
by this scrap of humanity, his firstborn, his son....

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Tie us, twist us with your words
As your feeble hands wring
Paper skin, wealth stirred,
A puppet on a puppet on a string.

Your carapace beneath us shed
So we may yet see
We’d been mislead.
We see without the means to be.

The saints, all regal, dress in white
Their stage muddy, verdant grey
Stands red against the sickly light
Of evening as thoughts and words decay.

The must of darkness will blanket us
By wings of Satan labeled “Just”...

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Beside a sluice rests a home:
humbly weaved with strands of memoirs.
Minute signs of yesterday’s flight
submerge beneath cinders of warmth.

Inside is a temple, Genesis’ daughter, 
who rears the seeds of tomorrow’s spring.
Withstanding languor: gravid’s twin, 
she awaits the sojourn of a milk-washed kin.

Soon enough, she perches on lives-
each, counting chickens inside their minds.
Alas, they fail to know their fate:
not all will leave their carapace....

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S tars o’er spiritual sanctuary
I ndulgence in inward infinity 
L et us linger lush lengths of latitude 
E ndorsement of envied entitlement
N omads in the night negotiating
C alibrating their carefree carapace
E ons seek their earthly enlightenment



AP: Honorable Mention 2021

Submitted on March 23, 2021 for contest SAVOURING SOLITUDE IN SEVEN LINES sponsored by JCB BRUL (HMS.com : 10 syl)  -  RANKED 1ST...

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life glitters on the lips of the swimmers
who kiss each other goodnight
cantelope ,brandy and sugarmint candy
add to their dancing delight
   deep in the pearlwood the fairies
who feel good
circle the moon on the wing
under my pale hair 
they know how I still care
I know by the songs that they sing
My carapace shivvers
coccoon gently  quivers
as I spread dark wings to the stars
come with me I whisper
the moon is my sister
and the whole milky way
can be ours....

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"Stop touching my carapace, fools!"
His booming voice echoed the caverns below
Yet the chosen champions kept their onslaught

Being the master's envoy he had no choice
His obedience was not his own though

Long ago, himself the king of the spiders unknown
His noble life ended with the master's blow

Now mindless tool, caught in master's throes
His last stand against the factions' hope

Spikes pierce the ground, his summons close
His efforts in vain, his master's anger known...

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