There's a pile of sullied threads on the floor
from muddied quarrels of our yesterdays
Remnants of life that we stripped bare
like sheets from a bed needing laundering
It's a hoard of soiled and frayed toggeries
too foul from words to be properly cleansed
I thought of trying to bury the lot of it
but shoveling the hurt left blisters on my hands
Invasive memories haunt many of my dreams
They are suffused deep within my thoughts
An inured scent of us will linger, unbleached, abused
like worn jeans as long as they remain unwashed
How long before I can ignore them lying there
gathered and rumpled in an alcove in my mind
Dark stains that only bring me pain and discontent
Too tainted to be purified by dirty human hands
Categories:
unbleached, lost love,
Form: Free verse
The devil’s dry fields
dirt farm, not much yields
damn sun
one forlorn tree shields
Texas battlefields
the one
recline that appeals
low water reveals
not done
no reprieve day’s sun
no wind, land barren
poor crop
windmill slow to run
water still and dun
well drop
worn clothes overdone
unbleached and homespun
no fop
dry, dingy sweatshop
broken fence post prop
damn sun
blind heat nonstop
a silent eavesdrop
poor crop
bleeding fingers mop
hellish spinning top
Grandma
Categories:
unbleached, earth, environment, farm, inspirational,
Form: Rhyme
I sprinkled dry yeast in warm water
And watched it bubble up,
Then cracked open a fresh laid egg
On the edge of a measuring cup.
I dumped in a helping of all-purpose flour,
A little oil, a pinch of salt.
Then I stiffened it up in a mixing bowl
Like a mugger committing assault.
I rolled it all out on a cutting board
Well-dusted with whole grain unbleached.
My hands went to work massaging the mass
As appropriate texture was reached.
I then let it sit till it doubled in size,
Set the oven to furnace degrees.
Then I fashioned a riddle and baked it inside,
Left the kitten to do as she please.
Twenty minutes later…
I opened the oven with fireproof mitts,
And fetched out my fresh staff of life.
I brushed it with butter, then set it aside,
Left to cool, while I sharpened my knife.
Ten minutes later…
The time finally came,
I was hot on my game,
And I cut me a taste-tempting slice.
But it was only half-baked,
Insufficiently toasted.
It had to go back in the oven.
I surveyed the scene,
Took a couple more tokes,
And baked up a morning worth lovin’.
Categories:
unbleached, allegory, morning,
Form: Burlesque
I am Liberia!
Though scared by scourges of allien spades,
My resilience bears the fountain of heaven's grace,
Piercing the pangs of all my shades!
My independence, I breathed into Africa's lungs,
Clothed her with my stripes, the red, white and blue;
And gave her a star when she knew not one!
My waters rhythm waves of freedom,
Hailing treasured mountains and supreme chiefdoms.
Divine gemstones overflow the scopes of my coast,
Their sparkles define the image of my undeniable beauty!
My children are the ordained species of apex predators!
Their lineages are woven with blackness,
The tattooed birthmark of optimism—
Unbleached to proclaim the glorified identity of their motherland!
With arms of liberty I do solemnly pledge
The allegiance of a century filled heritage!
I today connect a living channel to the realm of your soul,
Bidding you welcome,
Welcome to Rediscover Mama Liberia!
Categories:
unbleached, education, encouraging, freedom, history,
Form: Spoken Word
I am the potato every pig covets,
The circus every Woolf dream to perform in, and
The toddler every phidophile crave to live with
But non will ever have
I am the uncut gem that will ever be rough
The golden egg that will never hatch
The promissory rain that never falls
I am the Oasious mirage in the Sahara sands
The hope that will never happen
I am the prodigal son who never returns
The Fallen Angel bound in purgatory
The pain the world will learn to dance with
The puncture that will never be mended
The unbleached indelible black patch
A patch of black on white linen
I am the darkness that out shines the light
The negativity that permeates every decent heart
The fear that every brave mind wimp at
I am the harlot sleeping with Kleptomania
Tranced in the blood of innocent souls
The cries of the poor is my sole music
I am the bread cramps of africa
The pagan spell that can never be undone
The sacrifice for the world to see
I am popular in every continental tabloid
I am the joke every embarrassment laugh at
I am a lot of things but nothing
I am nothing else, but Beloved Zimbabwe
Categories:
unbleached, i am,
Form: Free verse
from younger
days to present
the sun went
from incandescent
to LED perhaps
lacking a little
ozone layer
but finding
myself lost
on a beach
covering all
of my body
with sun
screen
but the
sun has
already
covered
me and
my tan
lines are
showing
what i was
wearing at
the time
when i
became
unbleached
Categories:
unbleached, muse,
Form: I do not know?
He stood there, gritted teeth, sword aloft
one foot on the slain Gladiator
would they let him live
honour him with the platinum ring
a ring from that albino of metals
or would they thrust him through
pierce the unbleached cotton shirt
turn the clean bone to blood red
the raised arm of the lady
the lady beside the emperor
that lily white arm, begging for life
he looked up at the blue sky
the whitish cotton wool of the clouds
then with the raising of his arm
the emperor gave him his life
conquest was sweeter than honey
sweeter than the sugar
harvested from beet of the fields
he would live but fight no more
his last fight was the right to live
Categories:
unbleached, history,
Form: Free verse
There's a pile of sullied threads
from our muddied yesterdays
of a life we stripped bare
to be thrown into the wash
a hoard of soiled toggery
too foul to be cleansed
I tried to bury all of it
but the shovel of hurt
blistered my hand
pervading memories
suffused in my thoughts
inured scent of us lingers
unbleached... unwashed
well worn and ill-used
how long before I can ignore them
gathered in an alcove in my mind
these dark stains of discontent
too tainted to be purified
with human hands
Categories:
unbleached, relationship,
Form: Free verse
Unmoving, sweltering, its evening falls,
Unrolling slowly a knotty unbleached cotton pall,
Turns unceremoniously and exits -
the day ending eight years,
Eliott's[1] sends a breeze, a silent scene ends call.
[1] Eliott’'s beach
Categories:
unbleached, lost love, love,
Form: Limerick