Short Edgeless Poems

Forever just seems
Timeless, endless and seamless
Edgeless, formless, long.
Time with you can seemingly 
Be too short for forever....

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aah…
you say
a tensed note  
almost unheard
but in that one moan
time comes to a standstill
for rapture forgets the past
needs no future to give it hope
it simply is, expands, fills, abducts
takes us to an edgeless place and beyond...

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The years had crossed the realms
Of reason’s need
Worn away its edgeless boundaries
Bent the trees against the winds
of current trends.
Old shadows of the giants
Hide now in cloudless caves
Their children waving sticks
Pretending they are brave
Look for one to take the helm
And sail across realms dream.


©5/1/2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 36 – Poetry Contest
Edward Ibeh...

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Thunder drops a huge boulder of sound.
CRASH.
Count...1 & 2 & 3
FLASH.
brain tremors oscillate fright waves!

Is that my face in the sky?
What took my picture
as I looked into those lit-up eyes?

Could it be?
No,
I'm still here aren't I?
The deaf hear my heart-beats don't they?

Dogs bark on an edgeless periphery.

Go home draw what you did not see -
or did you?...

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Forget those words, cold, distant calls
Penned to lead you o’er the falls
Toward blank white emptiness below

Hush now, your gurgled snarl
vile drool of fettered rage
Your words have not yet come of age

Yet they burn in flameless fire
Purging all but one desire
One word, that word, that perfect tone

Leave it there, a diamond lost,
Upon the edgeless yellow page
An ember’s light amid the frost...

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They are the “inklings”
Of a thought
Taking form
Faint etchings
Slowly scrawled
Scratched out
Born again
In halting hope.

A matrix of dots
Roaming an arid plain
Searching
For shape, form
and purpose
constrained
within edgeless boundaries.

Inklings,
Children of thought
Feeding on the rootless
Scrub grass
Of ancient strictures
Smearing their frustrations
On the castle walls.

John G. Lawless
©4/12/2023...

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from afar, leaves like uncounted catatonic fires  
huddled close
pinned to the chill air

a pointillist’s love affair with a hundred shades of red

the ground is a fresh wound, edgeless 

a breeze worries the boughs 
stokes the hanging flames into quivering  
crimsons 
scarlets 
vermilions 
renegade ambers

a slow burn resumes

accompanied by a susurrus of sighs 
a dirge for a season

and the summer sky, now turned slate,
is cremated...

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