Took a lot of macaroni and cheese.
And the cheese is melted.
I thought I was as special as new stuff.
New stuff hopping around.
Took a lot of spice on the path.
Sprinkled everywhere.
Cinnamon is sparkly stuff.
I have a mental illness made of new gravity.
The burdens are growling.
Took out the trash which is a gold mine.
Took a lot of macaroni and cheese.
Bubbling up and never settled.
Like the crust of hopeful thoughts.
Mental illness sounds like:
A bunch of cinnamon grooving around under stalagmites.
Winter knows our names
etched in breath on window panes
men pretend they're game,
but inner strength cracks like ice
when cold seeps in, snuffs the flame.
Glaciers carve the mind
grinding down the frozen past
into frosted cones
stalactites, stalagmites
loom like vultures preying.
Between ice and men
lies endless living struggle
warmth against coldness
to rout old entropy's tug
to meld what energy melts.
Uncle was a spelunker
drove to the caves
in his clunker
(it was quite the junker)
without a sound
he sunk underground
pitch black as night
and on his hat
a bright white light
(the switch it was waterproof)
to see which stalagmites
might reach the roof
where stalactites
clung on tight
unafraid of bats
flitting around
never flunking
Uncle loved going down
but sorely and sad to say
on one of those getaways
a painful cluster of bad carbuncles
curtailed Uncle's spelunking days
(“A Moment of Grace aka The Empty Mirror”, 2024, original encaustic)
A Hollow Place
Sometimes it seems that who I am
Is nothing more than the dripping sediments
At the edges of a hollow cave
All the stalactites and stalagmites
Of a lifetime of experience
Calcified into a personality.
I may fool myself and even others sometime
With the wonders these shapes create
But in truth they are the mere dregs
Of all those formative years.
And what I’m really left with
When all the lights are out
And all the visitors gone
Is just the hollow place inside.
(11/24/24)
Eden of my eye
Beauty in culture of ten million
Garden of my eye
Haven of brethren and sistren
Values never weakened, in words spoken
Freedom strengthened, heritage golden
Sprinkled love in dynamite
Ceilings of heaven in stalactites
Grounds softened by stalagmites
Citizens' history, written in strobe light
Magnets of loving people
Ore of the grounds supple
Blanket of salvation
Tablet and core of the nation
How does one Say even one verse, unknown to thy grace?
Taming is not shaming, Souls, too compromising of a truce.
We are not there, we are not, one spellbound vibrant muse
At least, could be in blindfolded dreams, hopeful morn, bless.
Words, reign in one raining morn, an hour, wishful in pace
Drizzle, a lighter cadence, for earnest hearts, still in prudence
May you reign over a blissful may, fainting sounds, longing grace
Fallen reasons through the blissful seasons, fall colors, vibrance
In a world,frozen tears pour in enormous stalagmites, indifference of oblivion
Be thy glory in your silent peace, a face,trying in for so long a time, time bygone
Your hands, helpful in belief, find me in prayers, morning hours, rhyming season
a Sun is the lamp of the day,in a long forgotten faded moon,on one gothic morn.
A warrior is a warrior through pain and glory, pages of life will find truth,Reason.
Frozen
Struck by your hand
Gentle touch makes me stand
Between the eyes I'm captured
Enchanted I am, frozen ice raptured
Crystal dripping stalactites thawed
Stalagmites on ground awed
Then you vanished
Frozen
mirror reflection
hanging diamonds from above
stalagmites from floor
underground magic
stalagmites and stalactite's
created by God
frozen swords clinging
icy shard-like stalactites
dripping in sunshine
HONORABLE MENTION
"Haiku With Nature Description"
All Poetry - February 2, 2022
written November 29, 2021
In the chasm of my mind
Where many tears have crystallised;
becoming stalagmites and stalactites -
To have had, and to have held;
To have lived, and to have died
To all life’s happenings, good and ill,
For restitution and solace now seek their place,
Many eyed beasts crave the crumbs of the waste -
wasted years, and scorn fed tears , they lay in the hidden caves of the recesses of my mind…
I will look up to the hills
And feed upon the sunrise,
My need is saturated in Your love;
I am bathed in Your light
And swaddled in Your cloak of righteousness
As Surely as goodness and mercy are at my side, I seek no comfort here,
for I am sustained by the fount of all blessings
And by the Eventide when I find myself at The Great River,
I will be ready to cross.
Naomi Rainbow
I refuse to cease writing these words
though all my bones have been broken
splintered and shattered
like puzzle pieces
scattered on a tabletop
their pointy ends piercing
every muscle each time I move
even an iota
I persist as I always do
despite the pain
perhaps because of it
to prove a point
taping popsicle sticks to my fingers
so they stay straight as I type
“Obstinate, stubborn”
my mother used to say
when I dared to disagree
or stand up for myself
Her insults like a high pitched
whistle blown inches from my ear
echoing in my malleable young mind
a cavern creating stalagmites
layer upon layer
with the constant drip-drip of disdain
sharp and spiky that would impale me
over the years yet to come
i once got spooked
on Spooky Hollow road
smack dab
in middle of headless horseman country
almost lost my head
it was very dark
lanterns belong to city dwellers
my station wagon spun crazy eights
as i imagined, the dawn of the dead,
a recently watched horror fest
any moment he’d materialize
head hanging off shoulder
green as pea soup
or Dracula, leaning on a cane
white teeth hanging like stalagmites
bump in the road…
well you know the end
i find the main artery
my box springs creak at night
muuuaaaaahhhhhhh….
a frosty icecap
left to her own devices
in the gelid blue of the subzero cave
added ambiance to the stalagmites
she bleeds deep inside -
a cavern of stalagmites.
her warm heart plunges
into an echoing abyss.
5/4/2019
Liberum Divisa Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Gregory Barden
A SNOW QUEEN TALE
Posted on 6/29/2018
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