t sounds like there is an angry conductor in heaven
Loud crashing and banging that startles me
Was it supposed to rain tonight? I ask my echo dot.
She verifies that thunderstorms are expected
They are here now; it is frighteningly angry-sounding.
Did monsters escape from the bowels of hell and go up there?
Another loud clang of a giant symbol makes me wonder about electricity.
Will it be going out? This often happens during storms like this one.
It sounds like a Ferris wheel has collapsed.
Without people, for there is no screaming.
Only the loud angry thuds of destruction.
I visualize people being carried away downstream
Where stars a heartbeat
In the flutter of a baby's chest cradled
beneath their mothers breast
In the beat of running feet as a child
runs toward the future
In the wind as it blows the clouds around
or the water as it flows over pebbles on
its way to the sea
In the traffic on the busy streets or the
soft sounds of the forest deep
Why are we drawn to these sounds
be they harsh or gentle upon the ear
It is life that comes to us in a chorus
of sounds and feelings to lift us up or
take us down to the deepest despair
But we all listen for it from the sound of a baby's first cry
to the soft moan of a lover
to the peace that comes at the end
only to begin again so listen for the soft
Thuds of life
Doctor blinks, breath caught, face goes still.
“Oh,” he says, voice sharp, split.
Hands tremble near charts, numbers all wrong.
Room spins quiet, cold like a grave.
Chest tightens, heartbeat thuds, loud, slow.
How long have I lived this broken?
Sick laughs die. Fear lives in bone.
Grey skies in March
as I walk through
the littered yard.
The grass is brown.
No one sees me
except the man
across the alley
loading scrap
into his pick-up.
We talk weather—
snow two days ago
today mist and rain
while we bear
the weight of our lives.
He says he’s laid off
but hopes to return soon.
I talk about lost love
and an empty heart.
We agree we want
to reclaim our lives—
the calendar says spring.
A heavy piece of metal
thrown thuds unto his truck
and he says
Another day another dollar.
I say
All the world’s a stage
before I hop into my car
but no one else is around.
On a quiet morning
bare trees near the ravine
at the end of the alley
raise their weary arms.
I allow a moment to watch.
I am flowered in the shade of bird wings
neath patch of deep sadness absent of clouds
beholden to loosen memories mist filtered
cell charged energies their liberal release
bars that separate the spirited guardians
of fortitude held till dawn gilded rays shone
on the levy's shoreline thrashing waves
tethering the oceanic breezes crowning the
curling tops of surf swirling foams that
champion a sandy blackened shorelines
surging and receding in merciful coiling
of rejuvenating wetness where beached
life shoots to recapture folds of a fragile
domain as the briny seawater air loops
loosely stretch o'er the isles beckoning
the suds of waves and coconut thuds fall.
Live music leaves me enthralled
as thuds of a drum, the intricate fondling from saxophone notes blast these veins
until intoxicated head convulses
when euphoric tunes pump in unabated--
jazz, R&B, wild soul, and rocking pop ignite
primal ectasy in the flesh...raw!
Pulse beat raised at 110, my torso gyring in motions uncontrolled--
the cortisol of anticipation surging through an adrenaline high;
cool the song- whips , oh more feverish my body trip!...just there,
Philip Bailey whams a falsetto
higher than high in climactic lifts,
my whole body possessed without Reasons on Fantasy's electric stage:
Another grasp of dismembered reality lures, where smokey thirst begs
for more notes...
this moment a cool fever of a thrill from a live concert rushes on,
where an elevated zing drugs my soul!
Bike to ramp and from ramp to tree
In just a second you can feel the hit
Hanging midair is a time of glee
Adrenaline rush with teeth a’grit
Grasping his precious jewels
The tens unit clung
Crank that cruel switch to eleven so
His unborn kids will know he was stung
A blindfolded face, cigarette tastes,
Tighty-whities, and a Big Mac burger,
A boxing glove hits a fragile place
So he screamed that his meat was murdered
Hot sauce dares with a barren gut
The bottle beckons, its all for good fun
Capsaicin will rain hell upon his you know what
Chug the demon’s drizzle and the damage is done
Office chair races down a favorite hill
Speeding down through memory lane
On my way towards a hefty dentist bill but
Jackassery is always worth the pain
Rock fights in mud is a childish leisure
With a soundtrack of chuckles and thuds
Growing up simple and hollow is a pleasure
When your friends are a bundle of duds
I run my hand through my coal colored hair.
I blink the tears out of my dirty eyes.
I pick the skin on my caramel arms.
I fight the thoughts in my weighed brain.
I freeze as i hear the poisoned yells.
I run, as it's too late to reason.
I'm chased by the monsters and their sharp teeth
and i ignore their sharper words.
I hide in the cell i call my own.
I hear the voices beyond the barrier.
I ignore the screams of pure hatred.
I hear bangs and thuds but i don't unlock.
i hide in the room i call my home.
I talk to the voices that aren't there
and i ask them not to leave me.
They voices leave but the monsters don't.
yelling the whole way.
i see a silver shining square and hold it to my chest.
i close my eyes and brace myself as the shining sliver turns red.
My coal colored hair is brushed back.
My dirty eyes widen in shock.
My caramel skin is stained in blood.
and the thoughts in my brain have won.
For my outstanding printer, an ode to you
(for days, you've spoken not a word.
No heaves, or thuds, or reluctant clues
you sit silently, and I'm feeling awkward)
to my faithful friend,
this honor long overdue.
Each time I called, you answered cheerfully.
Spent hours together, I'd feed, you'd shrug,
(but now I gaze on your silence fearfully:
I'm terribly afraid you have captured a bug.
Please open your eyes,
sing offkey again.)
I want the world to know, and of course you,
I honor you as an exceptional MOST!
When things were bad and coming askew
you helped me through. Without you, I'm toast!
(Please wake up soon,
I'm begging you.)
February 27, 2023
For Jeff Keyser's "Write an Ode Poetry Contest"
"Crocodili"
I swim in your holy water
basic rules for survival
shed the skin
like a baptism
immersed in saltwater
the lower vibration
lifted
removed
from that prehistoric place
the dermabrasian stings,
raw, we walk out together
new creatures
into fresh certainty
soft thuds clawed suckling
on uncertain shores
the feelings
begin
solitary, rapturous
natural selection
resurfacing
singular in plurality
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Gold-baked leaves shake at winter's cool call!
Snow-flakes within hearts of blooms crawl!
Is, midst branches, a rough brawl?
Fruits at thuds of storms fall!
Through skinny fog shawl,
Slow sun does sprawl!
Weather-thrall!
Snow-ball!
LOL...!
10 November 2022
A November Nonet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
in streams of sunbeams inviting
my face to turn upwards
I am captured by intangible senses of
nutmeg and cinnamon communion-
candy-coated moments blossoming
As the wizard of memories wakes a dream
speechless and smiling
standing and body turning with movement
I am drawn onto the shag carpet
of blades sprouting green lightheartedness
tickling the soles of my feet
unabashedly bare
naked on an aimless path
shuffling gaited rhythms of a waltz step
striking with carefree muted thuds
on the squishy sod
jumping-running-skipping…
lifting ever higher-a freedom
that only children know
visitors from the ghosts of my youth
appear from the mettle of my core
singing, talking and laughing
each lyric echoing unrestrained
their haunting chimes pasted
in a basket of blue skies painted
with art of clouds
colored like vague stranded souvenirs-
a pictorial imbued across the horizon
a stage-play of our backyard friendships
step-by-step twirling-arms swinging-round
bare feet colliding with smiles
and I…..with great laughter...
I danced with them all!
November 2, 2022
This or That Vol 14 Poetry Contest
Renascence
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
The wind came knocking on my window last night,
it shook a skeleton wrist and rattled its bones
hard upon the glass.
It sounded like winter
was roaring through Fall with early
howls and growls,
it sounded like a warning
from a hound of hell.
I sat listening to its mournful wail
until dozing in a chair
I slept.
By morning, nothing of the storm was left
but fallen branches and naked trees.
Yet I heard a troubled sky last night
it entered my mind where it still prowls
tearing up roots,
it thuds upon a fortress of fear,
or any ill-defined or false barrier
I had thought to place between
one season or another.
I can still feel the weight of the heat colliding with my face as I first stepped off the plane,
And how beads of sweat would tickle my neck the same as when it rained,
How the harsh odor of the atmosphere would nauseate my nose,
And the courage of a people despite our impose,
I hear the splashing of the Tigris as I kneel to rinse my hands,
And how it felt to think that nothing’s promised, even on promised lands,
From wailing sirens and the buzz of the Phalanx at night,
To the popping of shots and the whooshing of helos in flight,
From the honking of horns and roads without lanes,
To swishing through traffic and the jingling of chains,
I hear the whispers of prayer being broadcast through the air,
And the murmurs of locals and their unwelcomed stares,
To the thuds of percussions from bombs in my chest,
Detonated afar but still rattled my vest,
But of all that I remember, I’m fully aware,
That I've left a piece of me there.
brakka-brakka-brak
Captain America is holding them back!
With a zap, wap, whapp and zappp
He's trying his best not to snap
His shield will clang, kapanng and taaanng
while his body boangs, kapanngs and bwangs
Watch out for the sleeper who walks with a thoom
he'll get Cap with a boom, thwoom and bar-ooom
But our man can outlast the thuds, woofs and crunches
he'll wham them and give them whummpes
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