Short Sheathed Poems

rose sheathed in prim vase
silky trim caressing card
blithe borderline love...

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sword was sheathed
those days
life in the body
question was in the deep 
traces were fresh
in the spring

a black hand broke
bleeding hearts now

siulet travels the memories...

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Her blood was spilled,
Her heart is where the knife was sheathed,
Herself is who was killed,
She will be deeply grieved,
My life must be continued,
Even though her life was discontinued....

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This evening
Sheathed by sky
I saw my dad
In the clouds
Watching over me
Tears welled
His eyes said
stop
Go on
Im here
Watching
Kia kaha
Be strong
You are enough
You always have been...

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She blazoned in profusion
sour braids stained
by years of catastrophe
macabre salutations evolve
become libidinous farewells
upon the handsome black boughs
lie wicked forewarnings
sheathed within
pseudo-identification...

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Phonetics of oblivion
Sheathed by plausibility
Elapsing cultures with ease
Fathering quaint illustrations
Daring to be discovered
Along fearless avenues
Embellished by the fences
That compose the verses
Of which we refer to as life...

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I tread in diverse masks

Sheathed by barricades of fear

You shan’t gain answers shall you ask

I tread in diverse masks

Sip of pessimism from a flask

‘Tis the only sound I hear

I tread in diverse masks

Sheathed by barricades of fear...

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Katana sheathed 

head high

adrenalin pumped 

step with steps of air

creep upon the unaware

stride up behind

slide silently out the sword

fingers griped into hair

blade of steel hard and cold

one quick flex and blood is shed 

now my enemy is dead...

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A bonsai tree glows,
sheathed with steady hands.
Palms reflect sunlight.
Green shades connect strength,
our roots to our leaves.

Beauty is jade
and emerald.
Cup the colors,
warm the layers.

With great care,
poetic
dreams shape greens

into
shades of 

love....

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her daintiness well hidden
Armora slid out of bed
fully sheathed in full armour
ready to fight anything that came along today
A handsomely muscled knave arrived with breakfast.
She let him live.
Her ex-husband popped in.
Where had he gotten a key?
She picked up her sword....

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The celestial succedaneum 
is our glory hole in the sky 
we insert our hardened psyches 
(of course sheathed in 
a condom of ignorance, so 
as not to be infected 
or infested with the ghastly 
blandness of verisimilitude) 
into it, and 
Thrust 
while our hardy 
imaginations feverishly 
imagine 
God....

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My heart shaped in the furnace of our love
Burning brighter than a bladesmith’s forge
Hammered on the anvil of our passion
Folded time and again through our desire
 
Quenched in the icy waters of my soul
Hardened and sharpened through adversity
Ground and polished to a razor fine edge
Sheathed in certainty of love eternal

...

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No one but you can ignite the slumber.
Ashes encasing burning ember.
where my thoughts bend and splay.
Only you can castle my turmoil at the bay.
And I love the truth that I am infallible.
It satisfies my lawful need for the affable.
Connection with alveolus.
From your snug daffodil luteolous.

Written: November 09, 2022...

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gossamer is the breath
falling in heated touches
this first monday morning
of autumn's calling

sunrise tipped trees
smile back at the horizon
a reflection of dawn

translucid drops
roll off the curls
of leaves yearning
to quench their thirst

no rain comes
from cloudless skies
just the cries of hawks
as they cincture above
appreciating the warmth
sheathed in this day...

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Listen to poem:

*Image of Candle Masquerade by Pixabay.

Symphonic Sconce
(The Candle)

Seasoned succession
Sanctioned section
Soloist strings
Streaming satisfaction
Spirited sheathed
Solidly settles
Sustained symmetry
Stalwart stance
Stage set
Soft shades
Simulacrum sources
Spark stirs
Silhouette styles
Sparkling surfaces
Shining signature

2023 January 03

*Alliteration/Personification...

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	Six Feet = Three Bricks
	Written: by Tom Wright
	2/20/03
	
	On winters night our mom would coddle,
	keeping moppets warm was quite a trick.
	Two feet always got the hot water bottle,
	while the other six feet got heated bricks.
	
	Heated and sheathed before finding beds,
	neath quilts, that seemed in weight, tons.
	With nothing protruding save burr heads,
	too young to recognize we were lucky ones.
	
...

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Skyscrapers, sheathed in glass, stretch to the sky
as a convoluted maze of asphalt
rivers connect concrete caves they flow by.
Patches of green appear like mold on cheese
amidst bright neon lights, corruption, and sleaze.
All cities have a dark underbelly;
they're overcrowded, noisy, and smelly.
At rush hour, when traffic slows to a crawl,
a beggar begging to fill his belly
doesn't find city streets friendly; not at all....

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Fecund sewer ingeniously knitted 
An ornately crocheted potholder was made
 
Bragged her complete oeuvre at first 
But its worthless in everybody’s sight 

It may be futile or trifling
What can it flaunt is nothing

The Cuisiner's hands are sheathed
From  scorching cauldron was protected

No acclaim, no reward travail
From first light to nightfall with ill 

Hard work makes it smeared and  filthy
At old age, it will be banished away...

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Light of early dawn
came trickling through his pane
a plain stalk in the fields of unknown sow
least felt reap and the reigning deep

He saw where his dagger hung
Sheathed safely on the wall of sprung
In swollen tides or calm, he lived by
the swell of the sea

A vow to succor
Save, content, not ask for more
what goes over, on or under
is here to stay

Plunder the thunder
It is the Summer night
Shining in the galaxy
Like a friend in the shadow

I draw a fine...

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Sheathed in unfamiliar undulating curves
Likened to white marble maidens
Once a graceful willowy frame, wistful memory serves
Augmented by fruitful years and plump babies laden

This heart and mind deceived by time
And all that I have collected
My evolution into this voluptuous frame sublime
Youthful archetype of attraction neglected

Yet this mantle that encases 
Does not define or symbolize
For my reflection in my children’s faces
Is the only mirror I realize....

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Lovely sight I behold,
fall delight sheathed in gold.

Childhood swing, chosen tree.
Deep-wood path beckons me.

Rough wood fence . . . all of these,
stuff of sweet memories.

Picture 2


August 17, 2021
entered in the In Essence 2 Poetry Contest     Placed 1st
Sponsor: Joseph May

August 28, 2021
Contest Title: Bite Size Poem No. 19        Placed 2nd
Sponsor: Line Gauthier

August 30, 2021
entered in "Your Favorite August 2021 Poem" Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France...

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Listen to poem:

" ...betrayal begins with trust." Quote_ Phish  

Betrayal is the cold shiny sword
of stalking deception,
sheathed in scabbard of trust.
Its two-edged blade is 
honed to razor sharp,
ready to thrust, lunge and parry
a touche touch.

Betrayal is two-faced
and unreliable.
There's a switch blade in
the hand that reaches out
trustingly and faithfully
for more of you.

So as trust grows,
beware that it sows
the seeds of scorns 
in the thorns
of treachery
and bribery....

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