Short Uncoiling Poems

fiddlehead
uncoiling
reaching for clouds



posted on February 12, 2019...

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With patience, in a concealed place,
in long grass, or a packing case
as unwary prey comes apace
never his footsteps to retrace

With cold eye, beady, dead in space,
Uncoiling with hypnotic grace,
Slow motion skin - an awful lace,
 To silent earth, no sudden trace....

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October Sky – three haiku


#1

lightning strobes hearts
thunder uncoiling whips crack
eye stinging terror




#2

frosted exodus
wingtips warming on the fly
suns iced crystal glare





#3

cold hoar frost rainbow
saddened cornucopia
tears of failing sun




John G. Lawless
8/19/2015...

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These blatant lives we lead
with their guts hanging out,
yet only between beautiful words.

I remember (after the failed surgery),
when guts spilled out of my real body;

that unwinding of blank verse uncoiling
in a slow slime of sincerity,

and all those gory details falling out, at last
saying something true....

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Atop the calm surface
no truth or indication
of all that is below
caused by great fermentation.

What ever is there hidden
can be seen in real time
eruptions spew to the crater
stench of death is now benign.

We should take heed of everything
below the surface boiling
the bubbles soon will rise
as serpent's scales uncoiling....

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Shiva dances
Within the circle of fire
Expressing harmony
In his perfect figure
The snake on his arm
Is seen uncoiling
The flame in his hand
An endless cycle of birth and death
His cosmic dance
The harbinger of bliss
Destroys the old myths
Creates the new
Releasing men from illusion
He performs his dance
Of creation


Based on Hindu Mythology...

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A Southern Girl’s, Uncoiling

Whenever I mention you, 
the doctor always asks
what do I see,

now that you’re gone,  
when I think of you.  
I say I see thighs,

tanned and gleaming, 
kissed by the proper 
Bonwit skirt, rising

through the terminal 
toward me and above 
your thighs 

that smile,
a Southern girl’s, 
uncoiling. 

Donal Mahoney...

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A great despair...
Heavy and burdensome..
Hangs like wet wool, covering the motionless night...
From a door...
Within the depths of self...
Realization springs forth...
Uncoiling, like a serpent in strike....
Time is the great equalizer of man...
It paints the picture of truth...
For we all march daily towards death and deliverance...
Loss fills the plate...
Where once,
Tomorrow reined.....TAH...

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She saw him across the room
The illuminated orange glow of his stick
The deep, mournful rhythm of the music
Thumping, thumping

Uncoiling slender limbs
She moves subconsciously closer to him
The drum-beat pounding
The smoke drifting
Unfathomed, darkened eyes shaded

Heart thudding, she stares
Background vinyl singer wailing
Eyes, nothing but eyes,
His brown shaded eyes

Solitary, distant worlds....

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Polarity charge erupts on the Etheric; 
a molecular dance of serpents uncoiling is…
dynamite to the mind.

Pure energy dissolves the mortal body and I am instant…everything!

I am universes within universes; 
the one within the all;
a generator, 
a charging battery…

Unlimited ecstasy mingles with omnipotent love;
I am at one with God,
one atom of God’s body and
there is no wrath here;
only harmony....

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These blatant lives poets lead
with their guts hanging out,
gore hid between beautiful words.

I remember (after the failed surgery),
when guts spilled out of my actual body;
that unwinding of blank verse uncoiling
in a slow slime of sincerity.
The hectic rush to the operating room again,
the gurney screeching on polished floors,
guts still leaking from under a latex glove.

A poem revealing itself,
speaking beautifully at last....

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You come home, sitting on my shoulders.
I bid you farewell at door. Death tiptoes in dark
before looking at the bare hands. A new concept of
ending comes out from crozier. Uncoiling has stopped.
In loincloth a truth unravels the mystery of cells. A
warm transparency. You walk around objectively,
returning the gifts to birds, bees and aspens. It
was time not to put up excuses. The wings are tired
and wind was falling.

           Let the dance of nothingness start !


 Satish Verma...

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You come home, sitting on my shoulders.
I bid you farewell at door. Death tiptoes in dark
before looking at the bare hands. A new concept of
ending comes out from crozier. Uncoiling has stopped.
In loincloth a truth unravels the mystery of cells. A
warm transparency. You walk around objectively,
returning the gifts to birds, bees and aspens. It
was time not to put up excuses. The wings are tired
and wind was falling.

           Let the dance of nothingness start !


 Satish Verma...

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