What stings like wasps in hives,
Of trying minds' regret,
Invasive blips, flash frozen pictures,
Recalls, counterfeit,
Serrated icy sickled thoughts,
In glaciated snow,
Dread the warmth, the trickled stream,
Of thawing reapers' sown,
Sipping from the melt embibes,
The swarming, claustrophobic choke,
Alone the white hot heat of heart,
Scatters them with smoke.
Sturdy and firm it stands,
Against season and times,
Against the tide of climes,
In its ambience, there're no sinking sands.
Its strength is unrivalled,
It’s a mystery that is unravelled,
At its summit the eagles dear,
There’s no fear of the bear.
A refuge for the weary,
Away from the cold and dreary,
Dying embers are rekindled,
Gloom is sickled.
The sages script about its impressiveness,
They talk about its preeminence,
The feet find their resting place,
They run to its embrace.
April 6, 2023.
Writing Challenge - 'R' Words - Poetry Contest,
Constance La France.
I woke up new and sound,
This freshness I have found,
Resonates from deep within.
And reflects in my rising and sitting.
I'll revel in this bliss,
Not a moment I'll miss,
Walk in the light of my fresh starters,
For nothing else matters.
I see myself with new eyes,
Mornings are haloed with colours,
As I journey I edge out all contours,
Gloom gradually loses its size.
I have sickled every old way,
A different lad I see in the mirror,
I close my eyes and pray,
That dawn chauffeurs no more terror.
December 31, 2022.
Brian Strand No.1165 Poetry Contest,
Brian Strand.
Sheet whites billow into balloons
then thin to sickled moons; light
oozing out in an opaline Day-Glo…
Rich mist spreads, spraying wider
milk-bright swirls of a snowstorm…
Yetling wind turns into yeti, crazy!
Mountain’s giant sham
of eiders’ fluffy-soft; so
newly hatched penguin,
deep-dives into ice-bird:
A hard-beaked miasma
yielding as diamond ply…
(12/22/2022 For Winter Storm contest)
Circler and sharp
Around and jagged
Disjoined in thought
Unfocused in point
Spinning out of control
Broken filaments of twine
Laced locked in gears
It is near the end of time
Nails of glass in iron stone
Refracts the light
Broken; flying fragments of night.
Cycles down into a spin
Over and over again
Out of control
A creation of gears in glass
An old broken compass
Nails nine inches long
Nine in all
Wire and springs
Metallic things
A fractured rage
Ice sickled sharp
Cuts neat and clean
Around and jagged
Disjointed thought
Unfocused image
Out of control
Over and over again
Raged the fragments of time
-Love left nothing to confess-
On two worn crutches
Our love wobbles in
See her heart how cold she trembles
Wheelchair romance lying unassembled
The problems came when nothing said
Comes home at night and lies in bed
Paranoia hates those wrong assumptions
Until the talking two
Became the talking at
In.mid air floats a hanging question
A loving pair that craved destruction?
A ping pong game ignoring all
Enticed by a pale hipnotic ball
Falls to find no safety net
Falls to Earth like a Messerschmidt
Take pity on this broken amputee
How youve hammered and youve sickled me
Sad to see how hard she also tried
A coiled up spring never letting up
And giving up surrendering
Love left nothing to confess
And having left nothing, no forwarding address
The heart of the mountain burst into the endless sea
And here lies the ash in the salt we are washed
Black and white and the grey air between us
Since time first sounded the gunshot to the human race
Footsteps resounds through the smoke and gun powder
Can our vague cause get any louder?
We have settled the earth with good intensions
We have sickled the earth without preservation
And life is a heat wave escaping sharp reason
I remember the ice age through this forest fire
My mind swinging through the fallen branches
My heart singing through the dark trenches
An empty throne for the prince of peace in this time of war
My kingdom scattered all over the kitchen floor
I am sober minded…so let it flow
History has paved the runway back to our future
The burning light clear to our crash-landing
Human nature autopilot-ing
mumma's trynna get my head
out of the mainstream
She said you gotta come on out
despite what you believe
make sense of all these sounds
the screaming while you sleep
can lead you to the ground
to stand on your own feet
you're not too thick to turn around
from sickled shortened feats
the future's happening now
and the reality you breathe
hasn't got the air needed
so you'll see
black untended spots
that haunt your sense of being
but mom the underground is cold
and the warmth is comforting
you're right the future's still untold
but from under this you'll see
the wonder i behold is
light enough to see
light enough to hold
without splitting from the seams.
my direction is adjusting
and i'm definitely running faster
i can tell you're scared of trends
because after all you are my mother
but i'm almost at the end
where i can send most of this away
climb up to the top
and stop just playing games
learn to gently wake the night
without spiting coming days
before we all surely fade on out
from the crowds that fill the space
the steps i've been chasing get lost in the shadows
but my eyes are adjusting so i know where i won't go
i'm safe over here i'm just picking up the pieces
mother wait over there i'll be back in a moment.
No wait! I said wait! i'll be back any second!
i'm almost done now so i can show you i meant it
you're wrong and naive, a little boy turned stupid.
you can plead and you can plead but just look at the symptoms
you're a darkness engulfed, an absence of me!
i taught you the light, what more could you need?
I even gave you the air, you just have to breathe!
but mom the air is all around me and I'm breathing just fine
i know its dark where i stand but believe me I'm kind
and finding the lines, to lead me back to you
i may be sickled from reason but i know that its true
....And we knew that life was not our own ?
Kiss the sky her moon she waits; diamond formations
Pearly gates there is no verse to claim this dust: whence borne
Clarity, be visions his burnt ashes their macabre tis no phoenix rising
A theatrical tomb ? Ten thousand shores gathered aneath her sea; fantastical
Lotus lores where diablo sleeps: in hedges be six where time she creeps....
Shadows lurk of broken prose idyllic concessions, fragmented rhyme ? Phantom pages
Flaming tides leviathan swirls a swift reply ? Sickled cross the child awakes; crimson love her reaper, plays.
Down and out brother looking for Job
Will do anything to feed the hungry mob
Suddenly understands the great myth
Like a moth upon his sickled brain there lit
For we who talk of freedom never saw
In anything absolute in the canons of law
Those who conforms succeed, and can show
Lettered status, concrete gains, the pains
Of cultural orientation, choice in chains.
For school was never 'either or' but must, cow
From pasture comes to barn, boy blue
Obedient too to the blowing of his horn. What
Will you tell who have no degree, that you
Think your worth is better than all that.
How do you measure you, when the scale
Before your birth was made him who ruled
The earth? A invisible in the night, schooled
Went to him, "without experience you have no sale
For what you claim you are" he griped,
The same man who told me I was over qualified
To stock some shelves, for I had mopped and wiped
More than floors before. I erased and typed
Broomless room of dusty theories that defy
The down trodden of humanity in subtle lie.
If life was dream
Sculpted by death to trace
Within its bound a clarity
Undone by an impassioned heart.
Perhaps death too was a dream
Sculpted by life in fire
On a face sickled in time
To cut the dark night
With scimitar of a moon.
In a lost world
Where should we go?
Which door to knock?
Men with indifferent faces
Women stooped in drunken gait
A world without the word
Veiled figures in attires
Standing at each door.
In the garden
Some blood soaked rags
Hung by the wooden slabs
Where the eyes of a dead man
Looking for ever
On the death’s face
A shock of infinite
Proportions
Across the muted race.
Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.
Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.
Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.
Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.
Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.
Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.
Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.
Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.
Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.
Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.
Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.
Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.
Trudging forth from benieth the depths.
My soul digs through my body, searching for the surface.
The orifice that is left of me, has held it, bound and shackled.
There is no light there, no Hell from fire, only darkness.
The Heart that once lit up the Sun, has grown bloody cold.
And what trickled with a Life that flowed so fluidly, has sickled into
a thousand razor sharp blades of ice.
All which remains is brittle and glacier.
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