You'd tilt cartons under your nose;
milk missed your mouth and cooled my toes.
Droplets have hardened when they've seeped
under the bed, the run now steeped
in stickiness since you've been gone.
If shadows sleep, mine has withdrawn
under the bed asleep like dust
when squeaks wake up the bedframe's rust.
Your absence forces me to yank
the mattress off to scour the rank
sourness and rough smattering
of crumbs, the stuck broom battering
lampshades reddening my eyes , beets
as if I am a ghost in sheets
circling a glass bowl's facedown rim
embedded in the dust grown dim.
Autumn
….. is mortally wounded!
It stumbles, tumbles
across the silken, rouged sky
quivering over rusted hedges
shivering through shouldered trees,
splattering, smattering
everything in blood-red.
On it goes, on it flows
gasping and grasping
at clouds of bandages,
hobbling, wobbling
suffering deep gashes;
haemorrhaging life
in crimson splashes.
While winter;
with the sly smile
of an Arctic fox,
coldheartedly waits for autumn’s
shredded, dreaded last breath!
Ian Souter 2025
(19th century Tibetan Wangden rug)
Primal Properties
I look around at all the art I have collected
An assortment of inherited, home made and bought,
Ranging from African to Asian to Persian
With a smattering of European and American
In paintings and ceramics, carvings and weavings,
And the quality of primitive earthy energy
Is what strikes me most.
There is a refinement of technique in many
But it’s the primal essence
This technique is serviced to express,
The marriage of natural materials
And natural sensibilities
Through the transpersonal lens
Of a supernatural force
That defines it,
The definition being one of feeling/perception
More than verbalized thinking.
What is this irrepressible force
Our bodyminds create with these primal properties?
Life.
(11/18/24)
What does it mean to matter?
How do you get to matter more,
when your mattering takes
a battering at its core.
Do we want to matter in the moment,
or is it what we leave behind
that really matters?
Does mattering lie in the hands we hold,
In the whispers to the heart and soul
In things we touch,
In the things we leave behind,
In the legacy built up
before we must depart?
How much do you matter?
Is your mattering enough
for self and others?
Or is it just a smattering,
of what you could achieve.
if mattering really mattered.
Stepped out on the deck as rain begins, Wind.
This is NOT a Summer storm with rainbow peaks.
Sans rescindment, the tip of the iceberg is here.
Leaves tickled by playful drops, flirtation of petting.
A smattering of autumn’s crop of leaflets color
the floor of the backyard moss. Betwixt seasons,
the late hurricane Helene gently rocks the boat,
for now, until she shows her victorious strength.
A low rumble as if a stomach needs to be fueled.
Not to be fooled, this fray will show its muscle.
Thank God for the warning, and early at that.
In past years, God’s mercy was needed in the trenches.
Inland Georgia, not so bad, but we need to stay indoors.
Stops along the Florida coast are more precarious.
Heavy rainfall, fast moving, tropical force winds
headed in my direction. Possible spin-ups.
It’s all a curiosity! A break from the mundane. Insane
to realize tomorrow it will be intensely gusting. Candles
might be lighting up my living room. Staying charged,
and in the know. Glower of the heap and holler comes soon.
“January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow.”
—Sara Coleridge
Winter Magic
Something wholly bright
outside my window. What a sight!
Crisp, fallen, new.
Oh! How the smattering of flakes grew!
The contrast against the night,
so angel white, a virgin light.
No human feet
have impressed the Winter sheet.
I pull on each boot.
I give a holler and hoot.
So excited am I, to expand each lung,
to catch manna on my tongue.
She seemed oblivious to the smattering of lightly falling rain;
He holding her hand...and as much as his very life should
Depend upon this.
Overhead, a commuter train hastening down the clattering track;
And right there, underneath the bridge, suddenly pulling him back,
She halted and gave him a look that spoke so plain.
It was in that moment, head tilted, leaning over...she then planted
That fatal kiss.
Methinks he would forever more chance the perils of Dantes' Flame...
Even being that it might just be the most desperate of chances
For all things to remain the same.
Your own unique voice. You’re your own boss.
Sprinkle of humble and profound words.
Speaking in tongues that often crisscross.
Ink takes flight as experiential and seasonal birds.
Sprinkle of humble and profound words.
A smattering of what’s mattering in life.
Ink takes flight as experiential and seasonal birds -
The suffering, the woe, the pain, and strife.
A smattering of what’s mattering in life -
the smear of buttery imagery and ebonic light.
The suffering, the woe, the pain, and strife.
Poetics give the silent - speech, and the blind - sight.
The smear of buttery imagery and ebonic light.
A cruel twist of fate or a brilliant cliffside cascade.
Poetics give the silent - speech, and the blind - sight.
Forms, style, rhymes, refrains, freedom displayed.
A cruel twist of fate or a brilliant cliffside cascade.
Speaking in tongues that often crisscross.
Forms, style, rhymes, refrains, freedom displayed.
Your own unique voice. You’re your own boss.
12/23/2022
I just missed the contest! Oh well! Hope you all enjoy!
Gentle mists from a smattering of clouds
Struggling to make their way to the ground
The sun is having its way far, far above
Sending rays of shimmering searing down,
Turning the droplets into a rising steam.
Darker clouds gathering on the far horizon
Chant unbridled threats at the summer sky
Invite the weakling mists to make another try
Challenging the partly cloudy summery day,
But clearly western weather is coming our way.
Quickly the thunderheads make their move
Again empowering the tiny droplets of mist
A gusty cool wind gushes in from the north,
Chasing me inside with a sudden downpour.
The power is flickering, the lights gone off
Strong bursts of thunder are accompanied
With frightening streaks of lightning bolts,
And, just as quickly, the rain clouds move on
To dump their anger on another destination.
The lights come back on and the noises stop
As the sun comes out, and the humidity drops.
Written June 2, 2022
TIMEFRAME
too much
too little
a precocious
settling of freshness
a rapid smattering
stillness
ere activity
so inventive
thrilling
in context
showcased
in efforts
alongside
looks us
in the eye
the gaze
is all
discerned
dressed
abstracts evoke
fluidity
is released
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Its Valentine's day, all the hearts of the world are rejoicing
with singular voice we exalt Cupid and all that he brings
Its a day when love coats and soothes uncertainties
making us subtle and soft in the face of love's honesty,
As we raise our hearts,...Hope floats and beckons,
like a smattering of rainbow diamonds ***
Leaving a spark of love it scintillates and fills us with dew,
when Cupid aims his bow at us, its as good as an I love you !
Mishmash of thoughts,
smashing potatoes,
brightened with butter
and lots of salt.
Wherever was i,
thoughtless, scattering,
smishing and smattering
what ought
to be sound, fearless
and earth shattering—
a cause.
Finally,
the mishmash
of thoughts,
lined up,
tear down
the page…
all the rage,
totally engaged,
a symphonic sage,
a madman’s parade,
a sword twisted—
a poem wielded and waged.
9/18/2021
If I write down words
that pour from me like
water rushing from a rusty gutter
carrying my cries in the flood
with decaying leaves and
the smattering off the roof
of droppings from so many
prominently perched pigeons,
is that a poetry of sorts?
If the aged shingled roof leaks
at its eaves (like my eyes)
when wind blows the rain
nearly horizontal and the house
beams creak and sound like
corroded hinges when
seldom-used doors are opened,
has a trope occurred?
And, is anything -- honestly --
more than almost senseless patter?
Does it really even matter?
With the sun shining incredibly bright,
I woke to the trickle of melting snow.
Suggesting Spring had arrived overnight,
dripping icicles set my heart aglow.
And although Winter is holding on tight,
in a smattering of weeks, it'll let go.
And snowdrops will start sprouting from the ground;
as Winter disappears without a sound.
The honking of wild geese returning home;
a welcomed cacophony to my ears.
As frozen lakes pool into liquid chrome,
ice crystals morph into Spring's tepid tears.
And a sterile world, packed in Styrofoam,
revives, as it has for millions of years;
resurrecting colors Winter buried,
Spring germinates seeds; Autumn winds carried.
I am anxious to see patches of green,
polka dot the alabaster landscape.
Winter no longer dominates the scene;
skeletal shadows start changing their shape.
And every breath of air smells fresh and clean,
as Spring facilitates Winter's escape.
For it shines with an optimistic glow;
and soon, wildflowers will begin to show.
Word-Worker
Thee procurement and collection
Of this smattering of letters
No matter your predilection
For future employment of type setters
To criss and cross all the tees and eyes
Paying close attention to the prose
Transcribing thine inner reflections width and lengthwise
In all subsequent rows
By paying out the aforementioned
It may be held in contention
That without future authorship; I would be un-pensioned.
16NOV20
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