Trudges Poems

Listen for the Wind

The draft dips downward, limbs swaying in the wind;
fearless butterfly hovers over a branch.
Listening too late, one strong gust of wind
propels her towards an overhanging tree.
She grabs hold; hunching under leaves; she waits it out.
What a story she'll have for her kiddoes tonight.

Audacious bee is busily engaged
stockpiling nectar from nearby tulip blooms.
He hears the wind's howl and crawls quickly to safety
deep inside a budding tulip blossom's petals.
"Wind's too strong to risk flying back to the hive;
I might land in Timbuktu or the Sahara."

Hard-working ants set out on their quest early;
word has it that there's treasure on Ridge Rd.
Hauling crumbs twice his size, along the dusty path,
Andy has made three trips already by noon.
Wearily, he trudges along with his last load
and gets wind of a blast coming his way.
Dropping cargo, he crawls to a crack just in time.

Anvil Overhead

An anvil hangs above my head
Life trudges on in silent dread
Watching waiting for the drop
Another day it doesn’t stop

In restless flux I float unknowing
Another dawn the coffee’s flowing
Aroma thick thoughts start to stall
Waking slowly but no rest at all

An anvil swings with quiet might
Still no relief no end in sight
Same routine a looping thread
Each thought heavy in my head

Coffee brews the mind delays
Trapped inside a familiar haze
Is this just a bad day’s theme
A nightmare stretched from a dream

Or is it simply will reprised
Endurance cloaked in thin disguise

A Soft Embrace

Deep in the desert, on a desolate trek,
in the distance trudges a lonely speck.

Lost, not knowing where, in this life, he's bound,
he has never known the comforting sound

of a tender voice, or a loving word.
His unsure eyes see only visions, blurred.

What looks like water, is just a mirage,
while apparitions form his entourage. 

So, how, on this rocky beach in Malibu
did this man, on that day, discover you,

where surf crashed and he gazed in your face,
and "the silence faded with a soft embrace?"

Sonnet 2: Can anything be colder than winter?

Can anything be colder than a day

When clouds of winter make the sun’s embrace

Become a shadow of its former grace

And summer’s verdure gives in to decay;

When snow like burial garments shrouds the hay,

Bleak nature trudges with a mournful pace;

The winter’s gusts make sharp cuts on the face

With blades concealed, as though designed to flay?



Yet, when love’s ardent flame burns out in vain,

The silence answers all unselfish pleas,

The tired wings can’t find their resting nest,

Not even death can ease the inner pain.

Thus, winter’s cold feels like a summer’s breeze

Compared to what remains inside my chest.

The Last Organ Grinder

In poverty's desperation
She finds the old organ
Where it's stored under the stair.

It belongs to the man who is gone
Leaving her and his children alone,
This cold winter turned into despair.

Frozen air surrounds her,
As she grinds out the tunes
Almost alone on the street.

The warmth of windows watch her,
Their families safely ensconced
As she trudges home.

She knows
Her children will eat only turnips 
again.

Satchitananda

“when that that never was dies ~
consciousness flies to new highs”


we walk on a lonely road
alone in the midst of a crowd
each soul trudges under a heavy cross
fake smiles camouflaging destiny’s dark shroud

we seek solace but there’s no safety in numbers
inane game of one-upmanship now dreary 
heads or tails, either way we lose
our bones have grown weary

from dark dungeons of despair
where fear of freedom has us bound
we beseech the gods in far away heavens
to show us the way how ethereal bliss may be found

our entreaty unanswered, we find ourself again alone 
with all hope lost, we cease to struggle and strive
turning attention inward in the void of silence
we find within our heart a divine bliss hive

as affirmed in all the ancient scriptures 
we recognise we are love and bliss and light
unbound is our delight beholding our true essence
self-existent light, pulsating unendingly by day and night

July Winter Storm

trees along the fence line strain
stretched tight by the wind
turning inside and out 
leaves in all directions 
buffeting and thrashing in the howling gale 

sheets of horizontal rain hammer the paddocks 
through the knee deep mud 
sodden cowprints overflow with water
       
still the rain pours down uncontrollably
and the wind roars over the hills
scarred with open clay slips 

raincoat and gumboots 
barely visible in the gloom 
the farmer trudges home 
after evening milking

Brace For Impact

The world on his shoulders,
He trudges along,
Standing amid the crashing sea,
He pushes on,
In gloom’s embrace,
He pulls away,
He believes lost time can be redeemed,
He has seen a path none around can see,
He walks on grace’s path,
They don’t bear the periscope,
They can't see through the veil,
They can’t see him inside out,
Courage props and supports,
Hope has not left him in the lurch,
He walks every mile in
 unflinching determination,
Brighter days are in his view.




June 23, 2022,
Brace for Impact,
This or That, Vol 12 Poetry Contest,
Edward Ibeh.

Long Legged Ruminant

Long-legged ruminant 

So, you think a camel is an ugly animal
with kissable lips and the eyes of
Marilyn Monroe, and yield low-fat milk
I bet you didn’t know this.
When four wheels stop in the sand of Sahara
the camel with padded feet trudges along
The beast smelled like hell, but who cares
when it brings to an oasis.
Sweet dates, cold water and languor under
palm trees, a dream come true
It was the trusted camel who found the way.
Have you ever tasted camel cheese?

Then There Is the Mirror

She sponges her face to brightness.
She has been depressed before
but this trench her mind trudges through
is full of a clinging dark mud
and she can't get out of.

At work she has to teach her hands
to do things she has done a thousand times before.
Then there is the mirror,
she cleans and wipes it constantly
but at each glace she sees her face blurring
as it leaves for nowhere.

She eats alone, the restaurant erupts 
with an air-conditioned laughter
that makes her head spin.
Back home she drinks and drunks. 

Her friend calls:
"That guy in Section D,
wants me.  Last week still hurts.”

“This morning I almost didn’t.”
she replied.

There is a long pause,
duct tape holds together the center -
just.

His Sad Life

After so many bad things happened
He felt nothing for so long
It was as if he was in a coma
All his pain stopped hurting
Love was something not remembered
And happiness never existed
Still, every day he trudges on
Knowing the future is no better
The present was a symbol of death
And the past could not have been worse
But at least he was alive
For him, even that was too much to ask

© Poem – VII/XXVI/MMXXII

Addiction

I shall never know how deeply felt her anguish
Too young to sever the roots of her own suffering
Unable to fathom how deeply in remorse she languished
The demons in her mind and soul clutching, cluttering,
Scrambling her ability to sort out the issues of life
In mid-life she departed, too early, too soon was gone
From interminable years of struggle with unabating strife
Somewhere in the spiritual realm of peace she trudges on. 

Written December 23, 2020
Contest sponsored by Levasseur

Winds of Change

Humanity trudges an abject path,
falters and deteriorates with wrath.
Whirling winds press us onward to the end,
destroying our dreams, too mangled to mend.

Our goals once optimistic, full of hope,
now cast aside; we’re unable to cope.
Thrumming winds thrusting us roughly along,
hopelessly to where we ought not belong.

What power can fetch us from our foul fate?
What champion can engage and abate
whooshing winds that boldly bluster full force? 
What hero will accept our deep remorse?

God can whisper the winds to alter course.
The Winds of Change – He is our saving source.

Black Dog

A black dog has got hold of her again.
She sponges her face
to a more rigid mask of brightness.

She has been depressed before
but this trench she trudges through
is full of muddied water
and she cannot find a way out.

At work she has to teach her hands
to do things
she has done a thousand times before.
Then there is the mirror,
she cleans and wipes it constantly
but at each glace she sees
her face blurring
as it leaves for nowhere.

She eats alone,
The restaurant erupts
with an air-conditioned laughter
that makes her head spin.
She drinks alone,
then fills the empty wine glass
with salty tears.

She is not sorry for herself,
she is sorry for the black dog
that slinks in and out of her mind
looking to be fed,
but she will not feed it,

she must watch it starve
while she slowly climbs
up and over
her own daily bereavement.

Lurched Lousy Limbs

*Lurched Lousy Limbs*

thick soles seducing
eerie earth scrunching
tracing tactic trudges
cowering cornered crushes
pale paths tucked
gaunt gaze; gulp!

mystic monster smirked
nocturnal nature athirst
felon fondling first

then a twist
lurched lousy limbs
dactyls callous covering

goblin moved monster
dragging dainty disaster.
     19:12:18:16:54

~Note~ A goblin fought with a monster who'd claimed dominance before its arrival. At the approach of the goblin, the dactyls made per the feet of the monster were covered by the enormous goblin's. The goblin at that moved the monster and then a fight ensues. A claim on dominance.

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