Damp —across the fulcrum of the
Wheel of this month —May;
It creaks the cog of
Time and the energy of age.
No reverence for the parvenu or the
Rope-climber.
It has often been bleak and cold. . .
Tallow from candles weeps in the vigil
Held between fractured hours and
Hatching days,
Burning slowly among the wax community,
And sparking off bashful flames of dry grief.
When April comes forth, the ground softens,
But when May peeks lustfully into the calendar,
With the cunning of the invading spider,
The ground sinks towards the dig of
The metallic hewers of the trembling earth.
May conveys silence and the rage of deep inquests
Into the hasty departure of a covey of youths —
Mere striplings with the flying courage of migrating terns.
Take of a turn of three
time to talk of penumbra tales
beneath a taramond tree
trials and wailings of two lives in the vale
The life of young from it infancy
thence gradual, conventional neither fantasy
the sweetest of them all to behold
incomparable to an undelectable life of old
The sun and snow that oldlings won't deign
in them, we striplings all times do reign
like the suns of Africa, stronger shining wards
young wild eagles of Amerie, freely soaring beyond word
Dearest mates from the state of mine
move not like king Solomon's mine
who danddied, drove so great and high
cruising, perusing our skin into prime
yet says its vanity, a full of crime
we chaste conquerors, with wreathe all nigh
On the streets where striplings beseech
Sweet benign breeze swept my tears dry
For some nibbles, they beg and preach
While some granaries choked and sigh.
Submitted on February 04, 2020, for Arbitrium Divisa 7 Poetry Contest sponsored by Gregory R Barden
Taken from my poem "Flooding Tears" submitted on January 19, 2020
Sweet benign breeze swept my tears dry
When my heart bled and spilling out
On madness, loathing minds awry
Lead to crime where love fading out.
On the streets where striplings beseech
Sweet benign breeze swept my tears dry
For some nibbles, they beg and preach
While some granaries choked and sigh.
Sufferings around, made me cry
Of the pain, life and death pother
Sweet benign breeze swept my tears dry
When resumes I tried to smother.
Then saw the nature joined with me
And flooded the world with her cry
Love and empathy, back with plea
Sweet benign breeze swept my tears dry.
Won second place in STRAND SELECT O ,any form ,any theme Poetry Contest sponsored by Brian Strand
Won third place in Distant Refrains Poetry Contest sponsored by Joseph May
An Idiot- boy, with earnest look,
Stood gazing on a little brook.
“Lad” said an old man, passing by,
Who marked the striplings steadfast eye,
“Why gaze you so upon the stream?”
The youth looked: a fitful gleam
Of half intelligence o’erspread
His simple features, as he said:
“I’m going over, but shall stay
Till all the water runs away.”
“You’d stay your life,” the man replied,
“And yet not reach the other side;
For long as time this brook will flow,
And you must wade, if you would go.”
So, reader stand not looking on
Till difficulties waves be gone;
But wade or swim through brook or river,
For they will flow and flow for ever.
W.R.E.
1872
Blended with fragrances
And the joyful carols,
The con games of children
Looking for gifts full of fun.
Kris Kringle’s cock-and-bull
Make them rosy and lull.
Adorned houses with odorous candles
Christmas tree ornamented with red ribbons and jingles
Marzipans fruitcakes and roasted chickens
Caramel cookies and plenteous chocolates,
The night illuminated
With the dance of the December souls
Gilding the lily with
Buoy up Wine and Champagne glasses.
Family gatherings and paisanos schmooze,
Couples moonlit winter-warmth savor
And the striplings night lammed booze,
Queued brewpubs and bopping discos –
The night illuminated
With the dance of the December souls
Gilding the lily with
Few ill-famed shmoes.
The Dance of the December Souls
Flageolet till New Year’s Eve,
The night at mid, lightened
By the skyrockets –
Gilding the lily with
Full-of-the-moon brightened.
Blended with resolutions and
Hugs and kisses,
Greetings followed
By myriad of wishes.
Clock ticked with few yesterday’s memories
Tears backed up by today’s beginning.
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