The illusion
In a small park ringed by gloomy trees near where the factories used to be, was the bust of a man on a splint
made of bronze, a mesen, she liked to use words like
that in a desperate world of poverty, tinned sardines
in olive oil and mackerel in tomato sauce
The Mesen who owned the factories had created this
park for his workers, where they could sit and relax on Saturday afternoons.
The whole day on Sundays, otherwise the park shuts
during weekdays; that made sense, one could not have workers there on days of work
A boy climbed the fence and drowned in a dam of algae
The park, among damp factory walls, was eradicated.
The foul-smelling factories disappeared as well; the time
had changed, people could buy cheaper tinned stuff from Portugal
When pockets of oil deep under the North Sea
A country was suddenly rich, and people built modern housing where the factories stood.
No one in a town like ours talks about the good old days.
Written: Apri 26, 2024 For Joseph May Contest
2. Tangerine sunsets composing chrysanthemum hymns
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Immersed in the saffron hues of twilight,
I roar out in gloom unsure what to write.
A colorful drape and tangerine light,
With nook of day and serenade of night.
As the wind blusters chrysanthemums swing,
Stems capture the final ray of the wing.
A hallelujah chant fulfills the sky,
Hibiscus awe, soothing hues fade away.
Wisteria warmth waits as leading hint,
Clad in the melody of the song, splint.
Amid whirling dragonflies, stars impede,
Junction of neat pearls in ivory bead.
Bathed in orange dawn crafted poet light,
Chrysanthemums bloom and lyrics glow bright.
Had Heard Church Comment Horn Haiku
had heard church comment
commandments contained in cement
we always knew what they meant
stop Southern accent
all your sins admit
Bible for a beatnik
prepare for advent
go to church should be hell bent
spent down to last cent
to comment commit
what for them is convenient
live in a convent
in plate do put more that a dent
Prayer Book will always fit
priest good looking gent
in Priest's eyes had glint
need to have a hint hint
Superman is Clark Kent
understand our intent
performance be at peak
be sure to repent
salvation you should seek
short time contained in a stint
all your money have spent
on leg can see splint
will live in a tent
be sure sanctuary to vent
wonder where they went
live in a cold tent
not being a bum or dumb
you should start writing some
poems which play a drum
poems that wash away the scum
about each poem may be mum
write poems chewing gum
prepare poems which have a hum
know where they are from.
dumb da dumb dumb dum
Dragnet did see some
we are fractured
in a way that seems
irredeemable.
there's no super glue
to mend
a broken relationship.
no splint, no cast, no medication
to fuse us back together
as we once were.
a fragile china cup
dropped from a great height
and shattering into
a million tiny pieces.
an old shelf,
so weighed down by years of
new information and
changing interests,
that the wood has splintered
and worn apart.
we are fractured
in a way that seems
irredeemable,
but even the most
shattered
damaged
broken
can be repaired
If you live to a certain age
And reach that special “senior” stage,
You very likely will engage
In noting your decline.
The aching knees that slow your pace,
The need for cane or splint or brace,
The things you’ve lost and must replace,
The hour at which you dine.
The constant visits to M.D.’s,
The nodding off to catch some Z’s,
The words you know but can’t quite seize,
The fast-asleep by nine.
The list goes on, but what’s the use?
For just the young or most obtuse
Believe the years will not reduce
Their lives to one like mine.
Your love created assets to my soul, taking away my liabilities, balancing it with the goodness of
your hearts equity
You gave me your all, even when you had nothing to gain. You blessed me with joy and carried
all of the pain
Whenever I incorrectly calculated you became my life bond, you gave yourself up for me, how
was I supposed to respond?
I was too clueless, too helpless and too afraid, so you took all of my debt. You took it while
smiling, while cheering while loving me daily without any regret
‘I'm your risk free investment’ is what you used to say. You carried all the costs and paid all the
premiums that life threw my way.
You never complained, you always encouraged, you put me above all, even when I gambled in
life you would be there whenever I fall
But like an uneducated child I signed the loans that life offered me without even reading the fine
print,
Why didn't I squint?
*breath*
Bill paid, my heart now forever impaled by the heaviest splint.
A new day has opened its doors,
Hope braces for a leap,
Despondency stands on all fours,
Courage has rested on its oars,
Faith is prepared for a shrewd reap,
Light makes a gradual creep.
A new day as clean as a slate,
It awaits our imprint,
The floodgates opened stand in wait,
Faith stands beside to advocate,
Each day and time has its blueprint,
Let’s light up every splint.
A new day overrides twilight,
Dawn rolls out its carpet,
We walk no more in the moonlight,
Shadows are dispersed by sunlight,
Morning heralds with its trumpet,
Not held in the tar pit.
June 20, 2022,
Dewdrops Poetry Contest,
Angel L Villanueva.
He took my hand gently
his skin soft velveteen
i think he smiled
or at least the corner of his mouth arched
in synchronicity with his perfectly lined eyebrow
as his fingers entwined them selves in mine
and he pulled me slowly closer
his aftershave dying apples and caramel past its point
a trace of his fingernail
as his hand rested
in the nape of my back
Behind tables and friends
disappeared in snarling mists
the music warping squelching
into a single pounding beat
spinning me
as my feet
broke it promise to earth
No bead of sweat
no catch of breath
waiting for some benevolencey-i know this is wrong but i like the sound
to try to cut in
Jesus i can't breathe in hear
but still keep the beat that i here
feel his heat
from his burning chest
Now pins of light peer from the darkness
Tendrilled horny shadow beast
that beg to watch our wanting
wrapped like a slithering
denrut around
he draws his hands through my hair
tucking strands behind my ear
his breath singe skin
eyes refuse to close
lips pursed in forever increasing lines
that splint of light that spits and spills
across lips of ruby named.
He whisper are you mine
nope but soon
Poor Frosty’s carrot had unfroze
Quite useless for a snowman’s nose
It looked such a sight
Bending to the right
Looks like a limp ‘dong' I suppose
So frosty visited his doc
Said his carrot looked like a limp ‘sock’
It’s gone soft and looks pink
Kinda looks like a shrimp
Kid’s uploaded me onto tik tok
Doc urgently gets on the case
(Limp carrot cause he cannot trace)
He’ll make a carrot crutch
Which will help him so much
Soon carrot’ll be back on his face
The carrot gets wrapped in a splint
It stiffens, Frosty thinks that’s mint
Frosty’s nose now looks ace
Firmly back on his face
Limp ‘carrot’ just use the doc’s hint
For Barry thanks for the inspiration xx
04/04/22
Today was a good day
Today he walked on legs unbent
And erect spine of a man intent
On stilling the cacaphony of monotony
And smoothing the callouses of convalescence
For today, we both forgot
The wasting rate this cancer's wrought
Today, he teased and squeezed and poked
Fun at his trademark old school jokes
Laughter's remembered warmth evoked
Today he drove his rattling truck
His feet sure on the pedal's pump
And carried boxes of tradebooks and tools
With hands that know weighted control
Today, without a splint or cane
He tamed steps of receding pain
Today, through a briefly calm sea
He is the man he used to be
So today, I can foresee
The luxury
When days like these
Are ordinary.
1/23/21
Culminated cloud cluster promotes ghost apparition
Robed in purity unearthly, portrayed as only option
Virgin white vision given blindly adopted approbation
Vulnerable youngsters succumb to scare doctrine
Commanding loyalty to solitary living love, avoidance
Real application sways wavering suitable standard
Message to refrain from rambunctious enjoyed by us
Marries happy with demean mist canon demanded
Susceptible pious victims of supercilious Lady Fatima
Follow sparse path shadowed in shame, illiteracy
Denied desire, myth written inhibits discerning latitude
Dogma's reason thinly rationed induces celebacy
Discipline within cage fears imminent mire of purgatory
Unlocked box predicts scrutiny of scare strung thesis
Indulging choice embraces mortal meridian exploratory
Ridicule of able arm splint, creed's hypnosis releases
21st October 2020
Written for Contest : Fatima
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
When midnight tides impeach my chamber door
And clot to rot the splint no flood can pass,
By thrashing currents, shocked, I drift ashore -
An endless stroke of pain where grains are glass;
If day has ever been, then sun collapsed,
Where darkness blindly carves relentless sight;
There is no spectrum here, as time elapsed
Itself renews in everlasting white.
But yet I walk in search of something blurred,
Aware my feet have bled the ocean red,
Without the use of eyes to chase what’s heard -
A promise broken when its maker fled:
Though nothing new, my heart beats borrowed blue,
When lies impeached were wives that said, ‘I do’.
11/29/2018
Submitted for: The Colour of My Heart
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
brittle stained jagged fingernails
scratch against the splint hairs
of a cold weathered wooden elbow
an impatient clock had sapped
a once supple leather coat
now requiring constant mending
as homeless unraveling posed an inevitable ending
torn pockets spilled over
with a plethora of dead letters
hope had long ago delivered
its final walking papers
without care of return receipt
handmade trees with news of unease
spun unmercifully
into the arms of a brisk fall breeze
birds began their escape
into the mouth of another sun
a slow rise from a patinaed throne
on a benched park seat
a myopic vision of how cracks
are formed on overused and forgotten streets
she walks alone
to nowhere
a decayed ballerina
the place she is seen as most complete
The sun that blackens the skin
Does not also blackens the heart
When cataract blurs the eyes
Does not together blind the mind
The presence of lice in the head
Does not hinder good judgment
That the legs are shaped K or O
Does not define the direction one goes
A splint of the eyes
Also see the naked dance ahead
Black is white that turns white black
Is the result of your judgment
You who sits like stump of iroko
And judge with brain detached from head.
From your nightmare of wild conjectures
Arise to the spectrum of daylight reality!
The next time we meet, I may be someone else.
Extra thick, light in weight.
Resourced to fit purpose.
The next time we meet,
I may be a splint. Easy to light.
The next time we meet.
Would silence truly do us justice.
Learning to cope before given reason.
Rounded off at the top, rough patterns felt between us both.
A spark that ignites the scrape of when I fell for you.
We stood there because we knew how we felt, we never truly understood.
Collecting ourselves in abrupt fire. Only a fool would stand to wither completely.
What else did we truly know but to extinguish ourselves in the same abrupt manner.
Breathing in each others essence. Stained in soot.
We lived in sulfur, sliming down in the same instance.
Lighting myself before becoming contagious.
I thought this way because it was all I'd ever know
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