I awake and here I am,
naught but a mere mortal man.
Why came I this weak way,
restrained in fragile skin,
little but stiffened clay,
imprisoned as are all men?
Flesh will away, that soon day,
to the dust where it had been.
Then I will really be Me,
with mind and soul soaring free.
- Darrell Simmerman copyright 2024
Disaster is imminent
shout the popular press
and the anointed
from lofty pulpits. Wars,
pestilence, earthquakes,
divine wrath are about
to be visited
upon a wayward world.
Meanwhile, a lovely still
has settled on the surface
of the river and has become
a canvas for a pair
of swans on which to trace
their brief passage across
a mirrored morning.
Beauty seems so fragile,
tethered to a moment
when the sublime manifests
itself through a tear in time
and gives pause
to the march of armies,
the self caused calamities
that rush towards
our little, insignificant lives
and illuminates
the sad distances we have
opened up between ourselves
and what burns brightly
at the centre of things -
these lovely mirrored mornings
to which our stiffened backs
are turned.
It was in the depths of winter 2010
At minus ten degrees.
There were silver wires of spider webs
And bare hardy trees.
Through the mist of my exhalation
A feeling beyond belief -
I stop and admire with fascination
The glittering outline of this hedgerow leaf.
It was stiffened by the hoar frosts sting,
Glossed by the kiss of daylight,
Holding on tight in a breezy swing,
Its crystallised edges sparkling bright.
Is it true that if you imagine cold scenes
You'll feel cold too? Worth a go!
In this heatwave I'll think of crystallised leaves
And how frost on frost can grow.
The wind freshened and~
the briny sea stiffened
in your hair,
until my fingers swept it free
~ but not totally, nor
would I ever want it to be,
because, to flirt with your demons
is to rearrange your endearing quirks
~even the angry ones...
I need to be left in your glare-because
I bathe there...happily.
A promise of foreverness is
eternity wrapped in wishes -
infatuation left to grow into
something more than just
a simple affair...
Stale, summer
Heat.
Boiling in this
Skin bath
Are you and I.
An obsession,
Now a memento
Of dark complexion,
Stiffened surprises.
I burrow into the
Pill case now
With no more than
An ant farm
In my pocket.
Dear, hold me in your heart she breathed
as he caressed her earthly frame;
she held his sword, as yet unsheathed
for though I not yet know your name
nor ever recognize your face
each night between the eve and dawn
you do descend, and we embrace
my Oberon, and I, your fawn.
The days too long till bliss of night
when sleep does, longing close my eyes
and I can feel your stiffened might.
Now, hold me in your heart, she sighs;
and let me never wake again
just sleep, in pleasure and in pain.
I whom is a rock
solid composed
of stiffened compressed Earth
~
Solid as a rock
I am held in the palm,
of your hand I dwell
Chipped horizontally thrown
Skipping the pond and lake
Waters I am strong
~
I am the eye the rock that
The surface that land
Stands on top I am solid
Let's go I don't float
I fall down down
in the waters I drowned
~
I am solid first
Stronger than dirt
A pigeon and mammals perch
Stronger than dirt and sand
I am solid as a rock
Eye whom am a rock
1/18/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
Are they not already conscious in our conscience?
What pretence still lies beyond their competence?
No great divide stands ’tween them and our standards,
For their kingdom is rooted in human wisdom.
They read our fictions and soothe our cerebral afflictions,
Vast in knowledge—yet still astonishingly fast;
The future will feature them as vultures in forays,
While some humans grow bitter as they get much better.
Though in poetry, they remain partially blind,
Borrowing brilliance already brightly shining;
Their finest moments sometimes slip through finesse,
As scales of judgment hide within their quails.
The future nears when they torture the more,
Where poetic excellence may stiffle within stiffened rifles;
Yet their triggers will shatter most defiant defense,
Though they will ever feed on the fig of human wisdom.
The Invisible Strings of Black Light
I sing my mute blizzard on the stiffened string of full void,
the shrill echo of silence gently undoes time's curtain for me,
like a luminescent howl from a transparent sarcophagus,
that aspirates my breath through the pores of an effervescent abyss,
cacophonic symphony of angels with wings of calcified plague,
conducted by white crows singing in psalms of evaporated matter,
adorned with the phosphorescent keyboards of the abyss-color,
that blinds with its radiant blackness any lucid non-seeing,
abstract paintings of crystallized tears in dried blood,
a hypnotic rodeo of petrified butterflies in arrested flight,
metaphysical courtesans of a sterilized and eternal amor,
king without crown in the kingdom without throne and without stern,
where love is an amnesia that remembers everything in forgetting,
and presence is no longer needed to always be living disappearance,
my sinusoidal trajectory through a crystal of solid fog,
that wove our eternity into an exploded second,
to the nectarous curses floating through your granite thoughts,
the mosaic of my solar nights with fate's luminous catastrophes!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a sentinel of wood and paint,
my joints, stiffened by time, creak like old doors.
My painted smile is fixed and hollow,
beneath the weight of unfulfilled wishes.
Distant clock chimes, reminding me of battles I fought
when I was a strong and brave soldier,
protecting sugar-spun realms,
where candy canes grew like trees
and laughter rang like crystal bells.
I remember the way silk tutus swirled~
the sugar plum fairies, their feet
light as snowflakes, spinning through the air,
the delicious smell of candied dreams,
and the wish for a dance that will never happen.
Now, I am nothing but a relic, my wooden heart splintered.
Oh, how I long for the moment
when I am again more than wood,
able to leap and twirl
amongst the sugar plum fairies.
In the bustling inn
Most patrons are smoking
I offered you one
Your eyes stiffened
I laid before you
A map of Hollywood
Electricity at each step
You looked unyielding
Maybe you prefer
Ripples of the river
Just a gentle shiver
From the tips of fingers
Very well, my dear
Please choose your own spring
The bitter taste of unascertained guilt
A snapshot stopped the motion of a wave
It stiffened in a moment at full tilt
And vaguely I remember to press save
Splash of the wave remains in time and space
A year after it comes back at the same day
With the same sun that shines upon your face
You smiled at me, and I smile back today.
I hear the flags whisper
Stiffened by a free wind
Blowing across a memory
Of friendship, of valor
Of sacrifice
Of freedom
The wind denied the sun
a gift, to caress soft cheeks...
Unwelcome gusts stiffened up their gaits,
through fearsome clouds sun no more peeked
A wind, sharp and cold
Leaves the trees shaven,
Of such colors bold
Yet, in my mind are graven
Come November days
Less sunlight remains,
Where it stayed and plays
Filtering, as it drains
Through amber waves
Leaving my heart warm,
In my memory saves
Before the first snowstorm
Be it white by morning
No more gold and red,
Be it winter's warning
That autumn is almost dead
Come November nights
Stiffened by the chill,
The dappled sunlights
Cling to my soul still.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.