Racing against backward clocks
I see it slipping away
Like water through finger tips
When it hits the clay
to bone,
He soften his edges
But one look in your eyes
He turns to stone
Still solid inside,
He solemnly pledges
But even the strongest foundations
Can crack at the seams
When time comes to theive,
All thats left is our dreams
Tiptoe through the house
Breath slow and shallow
Pry open the bedroom door
Trickling light escaping in a narrow line
Enter the overwhelming emptiness
Pocket all possessions
Thieve what is yours but belongs to others
Retrace your steps
Backing out of the quiet house
Leave no footprints,
No clues —
Only the consequences to your actions.
In the ocean of lyrical words and mermaid metaphors,
poetic pirates steal the gold that glistens;
floating in eloquence,
flowing with diamond tears,
but within inked skulls and bones
names of those that thieve in paper silence~
are etched across sea-glass with searing blood,
as trinkets I once wore are tainted,
and buried within hermit shores.
There, footprints echo and mirror truth of the unseen,
rippling with stolen sunsets and salt-soaked swords,
while soliloquies of the sky,
kiss the marine armor of sapphires…
I ponder, what would the sun now sing to the moon?
Are we aimless vessels ferrying venom?
Are jewels of sincerity, lost within melted memories?
Perhaps, from lagoons of lies, we learn~
life beneath the bluest of waves,
breathes grotesque rhymes woven in ice-cold green.
so many smiles have pierced my passions
speared by dazzling white
so much dear flesh resolved to warm me
midst those moonlight nights
for ne’er should once I take for granted
dreams that madness might …
but I have been a scoundrel
and I broke a heart … or two
with aims quite chivalrous and kindly
pride worn on my sleeve
I stumbled through the bracken blindly
bound to hearts I’d thieve
and though I was quite oft’ forsaken
bared to break and grieve
at times I was a scoundrel
and I broke a heart … or two
I’ve never been the kind to tender
pain through keen intent
I’ve made mistakes and poor decisions
left rules broke and bent
but I have loved with gracious purpose
should my soul be spent
tho no doubt as a scoundrel
I did break a heart … or two
this blessing, life, comes sans instructions
we each find our way
while some folks stride unbent and narrow
fools like this one stray
but still we strive to do our very
best with each new day
and change that silly scoundrel
who did break a heart … or two
(for tho we’re far from perfect …
this ol’ world needs scoundrels, too).
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, January 9, 2024
Oh for the days of Merrie England
When each peasant knew their place
To ensure the upper orders lived
in style, comfort and grace.
All bowed the head and bent the knee
And thus by doing so
Ensured the continuance of a just
and Rightful Statius Quo.
Long live our noble leaders and may
They all continue to believe
Their power, privilege and position
Gives them the right to thieve.
God bless the lower orders
For acceptance of their situation
Long may they continue to be
Such ready subjects of exploitation.
Oh for those days of glory
For so long not seen
When only the poor and simple
Had holes in their jeans.
Oh for those Merrie England Days
We’re working towards getting back.
We’re not quite there yet
But we’re on the right track
They took an inch
They took a yard
They colonised without regard,
Whilst they took they couldn’t see
That human beings are they, and we.
Hence they made the greatest error
Filling souls with shock and terror,
Claiming country they had found
All upon old sacred ground.
And how she cried when blood was spilled
For all the people they had killed,
Many mocked and many lied
Hope deceased when dreams had died.
The Massacres were heartless cruel
And after one they had more fuel
To slaughter more of innocence
To build a home to build a fence.
To scoff their pork, butter, cheese
With rations small to only tease.
Still, they laugh
Still, they scorn
Still, she cries when we mourn...
Still, they thieve without remorse
Too sinister to know the source.
Though her time is nearly here
To smash them all and into fear,
And they shall learn to respect
They shall learn to protect...
All of her, and hers they wrecked.
Oh, why do I write my sadness and grief,
is it to heal my broken heart and soul;
I ask dark death that creeps up like a thieve,
why death, take all my joy. Was that your goal ?
Oh, why do I write memories and love,
is it to hold onto family past;
those days before you took them all above,
now, I find them in a place of tears vast !
Oh, why do I write of nature divine,
yes, in the deep forest I find my peace;
the beauty I find there will ever twine,
in the peace, I can pen a masterpiece !
Oh, my sad grief will forever be me,
so, I will pen my words to set them free !
____________________
May 27, 2022
Poetry/Sonnet/Why Do I Write
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1458-946-27
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, A Brian Strand Premier Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 05/30/2022
Restless ghostly night,
whilst full moon hangs bright
drench in yellow with fright.
The hour of All Hallow's Eve
has chimed like a venal thieve;
all in wild frenzy they leave.
A shrill whistle in the distance
behest by spirits persistence
and wicked witches on broom assistance.
Those brave to be out in the dark,
stumble in their steps they mark,
as lanterns in trembling fingers spark.
Twilight soul into burnt cinder
shadows and ghost linger,
as cowering frightened dogs whimper.
Luminously yellow eyes blaze,
of the alluring vampire's gaze,
in the dark a hypnotic maze.
Goblins, gnomes, and black fairies
dance around blood-red berries;
a chilling ritual mummeries.
Standing in the moonlight there,
a few feet from toadstools; a pixie pair,
merry tricksters everywhere.
Waxen daylight creeps across the sky,
arise a yawn from sneaking dawn nigh.
Gone, in a wink All Hallow's Eve cunning and sly
10/25/2021
Children Story
With this lie
I will slowly let you die
My love for you is fake
But your heart is all mine to take
And with your heart, I will not mend the broken
Instead I will use it as a token
A token of your life
That will be perfect for my knife
And in the end I will leave
For I am a thieve
Of your poor little broken heart
Which I will only farther tear apart
They’ll thieve from you your money
Your shoes that you just brought,
They do it with a notion
That they’ll never get caught.
Though I state this very clearly and
With much integrity
I’m proud and loud with no shroud for
Thievings not for me.
They’ll thieve what they think they deserve
They thieve what they just want,
Is a fact- a dirty act
To pull a thieving stunt.
They thieve in the name of love
They thieve behind your back,
They think they are entitled
For things that they do lack.
They’ll thieve your words and twist the verbs
Your designs, plans, ideas,
Then they’ll act almighty from
Stealing time and years.
They’ll thieve your light when shining bright
Your heart and curly locks,
They’ll thieve your garden hose out front and
Your letter box.
They are not fair they do not care
To steal what is not theirs,
Their in a class of their own and some
are billionaires.
The greediness, the avarice
rapacity, extortion,
Be careful of corruption
for this can cause distortion.
I long for freedom,yet my actions crucify me
My cross of sins shy me from redemption
Tell me my friends,if I have left any
Is there a better wayof lightening my cross
Some say yes while others confuse me with bible quote's
The weakened shall fall says the bible
But my born again Christians, speaks of a second chance.
Is it possible?I ask
"One must be born again with water and spirit.
Then all sins will be forgiven "
That I have done,I am born again of water and spirit
Yet,I find myself doing the same sin as before.
Do I have hope in my life,if I do how shall I find it
"I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail"
My heart recalls Christ's word .
With a sober mind,faint heart I seek God's intervention
Shall He hear me,a sign of hope comforts my heart
But its God's mercy that whispers to me.
Like the crucified thieve with Christ you have been forgiven.
This Esther drink and eat with friends
But its God's love for me that shall reign supreme.
I have written my words,its doing that remains
All of goodwill remember its God's will that we be saved.
Happy Esther holidays and God's work be continued in you.
Amen
CHUI MUNGA THE POET
Creepy crawlies in your head
Stay away from the living dead
Is itself delusion coming over you?
Or are you finally able to see the truth
Evil creeps up on unsuspecting souls
Can make the warmest hearts black as coal
Caution given you better heed
Do not feast on that in which the wicked feed
The foulest stench rises up from the depth of hell
The darkest fury burns the worst of smells
Do not breathe the toxic air
It will thieve your soul and leave you without a care
The shadows of darkness are always trying to reel you in
Keep your sight straight ahead, pay no attention to them
Curiosity has cost the strong there lives
The purest hearts are blind
All ye who have yet to bow before the king
Better get wet before you fall prey to the beast
The truth is offensive
and not believed
The truth seems wrong
and ill conceived
But when it's in question
it grows to please
When sought in the heart
of those who'd thieve
Orange and reds - the vibrant shmooze of Fall.
The social froth of maple shapes, and oak.
The chatty leaves infringe upon us all,
As piney-green hangs back for Winter folk.
A cocktail mixed with children’s play and gaffs.
Their brooms and sheets do trick and treat through streets
Of cold — the harbinger stirs Jack Frost’s laugh.
Mean parents thieve their children’s soulful sweets.
Yet, warmth of hearth, the logs aflame with blue,
And cinnamon aromatherapy.
Good-hearted ‘rents brew up a hearty stew.
As kids do leap into the leaves with glee.
The whirligig of Autumn wind wins hearts.
The reveille of Winter soon will start.
10/26/2019
New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Note: ’rents - slang for parents
I fell in love one cold lonely October eve,
Autumnal equinox as the moon did thieve…
I fell to my knees below the October sky,
Full of daunting desires not knowing why…
I threw kisses amidst the frigid October air,
Harvesting embraces within the fanfare.
Oct.03.2019
October Contest 45 or Less Words
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
Placed 1'st...Thank You
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