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AS THE FLAG UNFURLS

AS THE FLAG UNFURLS*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the flag unfurls,
its colors bold against the waking sky—
each star, each stripe a testament
to pride, honor, and patriotism.

pride, not a shield, is a bridge,
linking the stories of brave soldiers,
those who once fought in battlefields, 
their shadows etched in the soil,
their courage a whisper in the rustling leaves.

honor is a compass, etched in the hearts of the brave,
guiding us through the tempests of division,
reminding us that beneath our skin,
we share the same pulse, the same yearning 
for respect, freedom and belonging,

patriotism is a flame, flickering not in blind allegiance,
but in the radiant glow of courage
stoking the embers of hope,
lifting up each other,
an unwavering belief that together we are stronger.

pride, honor, and patriotism intertwine,
not as chains that bind us,
but as roots that anchor us deep,
in the fertile earth of understanding,
where we rise together like the dawn.

*Note: Poem originally published at Writer Monk, August 1, 2025. This is my original poem.

Spaces Left Behind Left Bare

You left the chair, but not the room,
The silence clings, a flower in bloom.
The kettle waits muted, cold and dry,
Empty spaces haunt me as I go by.

No space is bare, if love stayed there,
Your breath floats in scented air.
Your shadow clings to every chair.
No space is bare - if love stayed there.

Your love shapes what’s left behind.
It pulls the door, draws the blind.
The cup you left, is still steaming.
Pictures on walls are still dreaming.

Your laughter still rings in all my rooms
Strumming our much-loved songs and tunes.
Fire’s died back to glowing ember coals,
Stoking the flames of everlasting souls.

You're gone, but you're carved in stone.
In every space you've left here alone.
The room still whispers your name.
Scrawled on every timber plank and frame.

One book alone, sags into space meant for two,
Your fingerprints trace the vital clue,
That I long to be - back with you.
Your space is here, when you break-through.

No space is bare, if love stayed there,
Your breath floats in scented air.
Your shadow clings to every chair.
No space is bare - if love stayed there!
No space is bare - if love stayed there!

A Bibliology condensed'

Awakening humanity.' Struggling within the breadth and depth of possibility's revelling in those possibility's and also an
Obstinancy.' Blood-soaked actions stoking their reality wanderers all' Lost leaders exploring so much iniquity bursts of good; with some intensity! Travelling in orbits so
Habitually. Builders of edifices in great vanity' until redemption through the veil of flesh; to humanity.' By God
Good Father and intervetionally, in records; and at places
Known historically.' We can follow direction to equanimity'
To Love of all by His path to unity.. No competing teachings.. Some of religiousity.? combine of all factors
Universally, other volumes speak of gaining peace by violence? and volitillity.' In divisivness and opressivity."
By opting children into marriage or co'habitation.. There
Is also taught' forced subjection and much rapicity.!

Thinking About The Kill

A blood-dipped letter lies before me,  
Wrapped in moth-ridden silk,  
Written by your ghastly fingers.  
The cold of another bleak fortnight settles in,  
While crimson-eyed ravens rest upon creaking window sills.  

Stoking the fire, umbers rise and dissipate before me,  
Painting prophetic warnings in the air,  
As the distorted ticking of clocks chimes tensely,  
Repeating the same hour—two a.m.  

A crisp chill shoots up my spine,  
I wrap myself tighter in your charcoal shawl,  
Reaching for the last of the firewood you chopped.  
Placing it in the hearth, I now know it's time.  

Removing the silk, I cast it into the flames,  
Peeling back three wax skull seals.  
I open the fateful envelope,  
The curse you unknowingly wrote into existence.  

Placed upon me, it rests in my weeping hands—  
One cataclysmic night was all it took,  
For our destruction,  
Your soul claimed by the nether,  
And mine bound within a perpetual loop of despair forevermore.

Prehysteric

I met a Megalodon who beckoned
“Welcome to the herd!”
I heard this lot was wily but
to me this sounds absurd 
Undeterred I approached
the powers that be
to see if it were true
But the powers that be
were absent without leave
leaving me nothing
left to do 

(except to …)

kick this can on
down the road
since no one’s left
to carry that load

(In the meantime …)

Some docile fool’s
touting fossil fuels
to a group of
solar-paneled minds
While his fearless peer
is stoking the fear
of the biomass hive mind

(touting ...)

“Fossil fuels are plentiful
can be found easily
Natural gas is very efficient
when generating electricity
and so on and so forth …”

(stoking …)

“Biomass energy is reliable
helps to reduce waste
But also expensive
requires lots of space
and more of the same
also and others…”

When both groups
could no longer 
suffer the ranting
all in unison
began their chanting:

“Good riddance!
Good riddance!
Leave them both to jostle
with that colossal,
wily, beckoning
Megalodon …”

“Welcome to the herd!”

Waterfall of Love

Baby, give me a waterfall 
overflowing the cliffs of love,
create a river to my heart.

You, the momentum of my heart,
like a galvanic waterfall,
stoking the current's flow of love.

If doctors could cardiograph love,
and chart its flow within my heart,
the graph would show a waterfall~

a waterfall of love into the river of my heart.

To stoke the flame of love

I still recall, unfolding before me,
The scene awash with silvery moonlight,
The night that blessed our love of a first sight, 
How fateful was the night that helped us be, 
The moon when seemed super, superb its light, 
And still can make no one’s life just as bright.
Like moon’s phase we changed, oft to disagree—
More often than the tides at the seashore, 
Agreed, not a thing stands as firm as tree,  
Change is life’s nature born from very core, 
So, let us rekindle our early flame,
No fire burns bright without stoking the same. 
   Why, nothing burns at all without fuel
   And fresh fuel comes from stoking gone dull.
__________________________________________ 
Sonnet (Musings) |05.08.2014| love, moon

An Angels Ire

It was if they were begging for destruction when
they tried to cage immortal souls
Silently stoking his internal fire only brought to the
surface his bitter cold
They were unaware of the binding of their own hands
to something that was never meant to break
They added links to the chain with every action that
ultimately lead to the sealing of their fate
Though his darkness was overwhelming they couldn't
stop themselves from seeking his light
His mesmerizing words just drew them deeper into an
abyss darker than night
They were drunk on the power of their illusions & 
deluded by lies they surely cast
Intoxicated by the stories of who he was & the mirage
of things of the past
Full of regret they tried to retreat after observing
their miscalculations
It was too late to turn around for they had sparked 
his ire & tried his patience
In the end it was their souls that had been lost as they
stood surrounded by bitter angels
The hidden dread of their private moments had them
wishing they had taken a different angle

Man I Am exhausted

So much effort
goes into feeling well...Man,
I’m exhausted! There’s nausea
from supplements, the squeak
and throb, Just One More Rep!~ exercising…
Man, I’m exhausted! 
                       As much effort
going into relaxation – rush to get
things done (always a backup of
things); shuffle schedules, get sitters
for the animals – Man, I’m exhausted!

Even love, the chores, the cards,
the gifts, the emotional lifts...honey-does 
seeming to have endless reserves, 
never running short on pantries of
exhaustion. 
             Someday, probably, I’ll
wake-up, unpleasantly surprised
and find myself either stoking furnaces, 
fluffing angel wings while polishing
the backside of clouds – Man, give me
a break!

Ouch!~ finally something I asked for….

Why did I Fall for You, O' Sun?

O, why did I fall for you, O' sun,
When my soul is nestled in the deeps?
Agape and afraid, my eyne mosey deeper still; they run,
Yet on the colder current your warmth invitingly sleeps.

The distance that defies the divine betwixt us
Somehow is no occlusion for you to reach me,
But gods 'gainst me guarding your gates, and hope's quietus,
Make my valentines reaching you an impossibility. 

Somehow still, suffocated in these sorrowful seas,
I seem to mishear the rhythm of your limpid light
As a melody yearning to find the lost keys
To my manacles and enrapture me with your sight.

When finally I undo these tethers for you,
The cosmos Herself derides my dolorous deeps
Laved in a longing that over millennia grew,
And shrouds your smile with a prejudiced eclipse.

But I see you clad carnally in that cerecloth--
Why?--stoking the gypsy in me with your misconstrued call.
Why did you build that stairway of light and masquerading troth,
That I so eagerly took, thus perishing in a fall?

Friendship and Coffee

Saturdays, together, drinking coffee
stoking caffeine, we held life in our hand.
Looking back now, our dreams were too lofty.
With rich-bodied coffee, we saw life's plan
as one of beauty in a magic land.

Koffee klatches we lost somewhere in tiime.
But in rich aroma dwell memories
of friendship and coffee--moments sublime
when life held such promise and energies
and a cup of coffee held reveries

Old Wood Stove

While in an antique shop, I came across a wood stove
The cast iron, covered in rust, had seen better times
I admired it as it stood within this vast treasure trove
There's no doubt the antique worked well in its prime

You rose early in the morning before the rooster crowed
Gathering what you needed, like dried kindling or sticks
Once the kettle got to boil, creating steam on the window
Patience in preparing a meal because it took a while to fix

It was a mainstay, a necessity you couldn't live without
Belching on a belly of splintered wood, hot to the touch
You dumped the ashes regularly. There wasn't any doubt
Claiming victims who inhaled its carbon fumes too much

Standing on its bowlegs, taking up valuable floor space
If a fire died on cold days, not stoking it was unwise
A potential death trap, a coal burner smoked up a place
An unattended wood stove would often cause one's demise

We gathered around the piece of iron to listen to ghost tales
A cozy, toasty altar when the old decrepit house would creak
Its consistent use has proven, over time, to be tough as nails
Stoking the flames warmed your frame any day of the week

Old Wood Stove

While in an antique shop, I came across a wood stove
The cast iron, covered in rust, had seen better times
I admired it as it stood within this vast treasure trove
There's no doubt the antique worked well in its prime

You rose early in the morning before the rooster crowed
Gathering what you needed, like dried kindling or sticks
Once the kettle got to boil, creating steam on the window
Patience in preparing a meal because it took a while to fix

Belching on a belly of splintered wood, hot to the touch
Before the EPA, a coal-burning stove smoked up a place
Claiming victims who inhaled its carbon fumes too much
Standing on its bowlegs, taking up valuable floor space

A wood stove was a mainstay, one you couldn't live without
If a fire died on cold days, you might end up in poor health
You dumped the ashes regularly. There wasn't any doubt
A poor-working wood stove would often cause one's death

We gathered around the piece of iron to listen to ghost tales
A cozy, toasty altar when the old decrepit house would creak
Its consistent use has proven, over time, to be tough as nails
Stoking the flames warmed your frame any day of the week

Pleasures

My love grows for her by leaps and bounds every day
Life is so much more electric I am happy to say
Every time our eyes meet sparks begin to fly
Stoking the flames of romance new things to try
Holding her in my arms brings a sense of warmth I can't describe
Her guide to love making I must subscribe
Our time together brimming with fun
A walk on the beach soaking up the rays of the sun
We find a place for a picnic on the sand
Hugs and kisses are exchanged life is so grand
Beautiful memories we will create together
We have discovered a lot of ways to bring each other pleasure

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