Hordes of tiny fish
Nibble at the strands
Dark marmalade feathers
Undulating seductively
Calling all fish
To belong, be part of
A hidden totality
Under the glazed sunlight
Hazarding the shadow
Squeezing through the murk
Feeding our way in
Imagining light
Believing in everything
Eating the darkness
Mouthing the mass
Chemical collages draping the shape
Of a rusting onion
With nothing to say, but
Enjoy your meal.
R-iver
O-verflowing
W-ith
E-arth's
N-atural
A-bundance
©bfa060925
Monocrostic (Birthday of Rowena Deguzman)
Submission leads to sustenance?
In what world is this?
Death, dynamite, dominance!
Blowing Doom a kiss!
High cliff force in summer late?
Staggers in the gait.
O ye gods above, strife? Sate.
Too much on thy plate...
Drums played by the war gods?
Poets, by Fate required.
Nuclear my temper-rods!
Mercenaries hired!
Tyrant of tomorrow, time!
Knee deep in the slime!
Sullen silence slight sublime!
Wind, blow well each chime...
Mime, form well thy boxes.
Prisoner, poison pen.
Where the golden phlox is?
O dragon, from thy den!
Then again, old vampire:
Is succor still a curse?
Pinnacle, apex and spire!
Son, you could do worse!
Versed in rite and ritual?
Flickering fine and free?
Sing within me, brazen bull!
Fire fancifully...
Knocking boots,
it was fun until the boots got old.
The best scrumpy
was not a girl at all, but a pint of raw cider.
Midway through a hike, she cooked up
hot Irish stew in a chill mountain mist.
Never gave much thought to
stimulating aromatics
until wood smoke got in my eyes.
The butchers dog
always had the biggest balls in town,
marrow bones for its libido.
I recall these snippets in a teacup
while slurping a Darjeeling Brew,
it washes over my tongue
like an Indian waitress I once knew.
Funny how the mind surfs up recollections
likes grains of rice, those best moments
of long forgotten flavors.
I put my tongue in my cheek
and try to remember more.
Crab soup made in a straw hut
on a Seychelle's beach,
the woman who cooked it
tasted of ginger, cinnamon and honey,
though on reflection,
I can’t quite recreate that dish anymore.
I think I might have to write
a longer poem about food
with less sex.
Homeless
enflamed
in the alleyway
food
their main concern
Love
someone else’s
mystery
hunger’s infliction
— to burn
(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
Looking the sea is fine
Having no fish caught is also fine
The poor has other thing to eat
The spinach in the pond is looking good
To cook the day's stomach not empty
Paired with some boiled eggs and eggplants
It's already a joyful to live a day
Life without having in the pocket is a challenge
The mind is working so hard to survive
Thanks God, He let His field grows many greens
Some wild legumes, beans and ferns
For me and my family to live for sustenance.
All good deeds stem from a belief
That we can effect change and bring relief
To people in need or those in grief
Hope gives us motive, to be brief
Eternal springs hope in the human breast
To this the lives of great folks best attest
No hope and life’s heart will forthwith arrest
Hope sends you high atop life’s crest
None but the hopeful can weather life
In troubled times and in strife
When despair pours in thick and rife
Cut through it fast with hope’s knife
In darkness find a ray of hope
To help you with problems cope
Wash off doldrums with the soap of hope
Get up afresh and up your lope
My feet touches the bottom land
As my feeling start to quiver damn
Scratching those toes on silty sand
In the hope I can find a clam.
Fortune pay a price in waiting
Inch by inch I'm starting to find
Boulders of clam in seabed setting
Excitement painting my mind.
Labor showing enthusiasm I confess
A hungry belly want to cook an obsess
All in all a happy one sack we possess
A laborious day harvest of clam a success.
I made a paper tree of grief and
those now gone fill up each leaf..
Their faces, their lives, the people
I hold dear, have shaped it's
branches, year after year..
There isn't a root system to feed
my tree.
It's only sustenance is my memory..
Though sun and rain sustain a tree
And coax it to maturity,
For humans that is not enough;
To grow, we need more complex stuff.
For we require the kind of care
And nurturing to help prepare
Us for the challenges we’ll face
When fortune slips from our embrace.
With luck, we’ll know within our core
That we are loved; with that in store,
Our sustenance will help us be
As tall and mighty as a tree.
Such a small gesture
a cold bottle of water;
It invigorates;
Refreshing swallow cuts sweat
leaving lips once again wet;
There’s no replacement
for a bit of ice melting;
Dripping down your skin
a trail of chills and shivers,
Your nerve endings awaken;
Divinely flavored
a lingering taste of love
to keep you balanced;
Not letting the well go dry
you provide me sustenance.
*Image of Sunrise by Pixabay.
the sustenance
we heed her keeping
blest anoints our countenance~~
golden star's children
2022 March 03
Present since antiquity
Sustaining humanity
Participating in the dance
The seasonal variation
Tired and weak after the annual labour
As if the water is abandoning it's track
Allowing traders erect shops on her path
Awaiting the rains to replenish the volume
The air carries life,
The water stops the throat's thirst,
The land nourishes.
Oh!
Delight dropped by
And sat upon the windowsill.
Delight tapped the glass,
Wanting to come in.
So we opened the window,
So thrilled to meet this guest.
Delight asked for sustenance.
We gave all we had to share.
Delight then showed us its prism,
Its treasure.
We all applauded together
The splendor of the bending colors
And lights falling over us
Like soft, lovely scarves.
Then Delight rose, ready to go
On...and on...lasting.
********. *********. *********
(C)sally Young eslinger 12/10/20
Thanks be to God
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