Life after Death
Because I pondered—Life beyond—
The Curtain’s timid seam—
I kept my faith—like folded light—
Within a quiet Room—
Death was not King—but Courtesy—
Who paused—before my Door—
And asked me—if I wished to cross—
Or stay—Forevermore—
I answered—Hope—had tutored me—
In Lessons—not yet Learned —
That Breath may close—yet Meaning—keeps
Its Congress—with the Dead—
Was I content—to be denied—
The Charter—Unpossessed—
I have no Vote—yet wear a Mind—
And that—is richly Dressed—
The World—allows me little Space—
To Sign—my name in Law—
But gave me Skies—no Fence could Keep —
My Thoughts —a Voice inside —
I lived—where Silence—was not Shame—
But Shelter—firm and kind—
A simple man—circled by Restraint—
Yet Sovereign—of the Mind—
If Happiness—must wear a Crown—
Then mine—is made of Air—
Invisible—to those who rule—
But real—as any Prayer—
So Life—after Death—I trusted—thus—
Not Golden—nor Severe—
But Freedom—finally Spoken aloud—
Where our Rights—are rendered—Clear—
The stream surges in turbulent torrent
the dry tree felled by the summer storm,
the truncated trunk anchors at the tilted levee,
in the web of boulders it sticks, stranded.
The flood slackens the grip of the slope,
the log begins a new journey
to the remote end the stream ordains,
the abandoned attachment it forgets, dislocated.
My life uprooted by the squall of strife,
drifts like the log, finds no holding ledge,
seeks to find the free course to the ultimate,
the notion of bonding I don’t sense, unpossessed.
The tide of time takes me to the strange shore,
in the alien mooring I linger awhile,
where people see me as a vagrant driftwood,
an artifact of frozen mind, fossilized.
______________
March 10, 2023
For Brian Strand Premier No 1196 Contest
"The-Were-Never-There"
Corrections serve
their superiority
a place of ere
sucked out
by the vacuum
of those in need
of love
messages buried
remain watching
far removed, undone
the possessive
pronouns
cursed
the unpossessed
Corrections serve
their superiority
until they drop
their keys
and through the cracks
of steel they see
the incarcerated
reaching
walking on air
like they aren’t there;
were never there
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
A Halloween Story
“Walking on Air” / Soundpool
https://youtu.be/NGLbGCKX14Q
"Under Giant Trees" / Agnes Obel
https://youtu.be/FOK3iWJ_mHk
"Chord Left" / Agnes Obel
https://youtu.be/3DM8YwiGeyE
LYRICS/"Walking on Air", Soundpool
https://soundpool.bandcamp.com/track/walking-on-air
The winter storm savages the garden,
flowers fall crumpled on the ground,
they’ll blossom with touch of spring.
In turmoil the splintered heart
scatters unpossessed like petals,
it’ll bloom with embrace of love.
November 15, 2021
Contest : Bite Size Poem No 26
Sponsor : Line Gauthier
As the morning breeze flows softly
rippling on the placid lake,
on the lotus leaf floating lonely
reclines a dainty drop of water,
sparkling in the rays of the rising sun,
rolls as an opalescent pristine pearl,
the leaf embraces with love lest it falls,
but doesn’t cling to its possession.
As the lake water simmers
in the cauldron of the scorching day,
the lotus leaf singed by the heat
crumples to meet the end.
The water drop dries up as destined,
released by the unattached leaf
disappears in the free air to the infinity,
for it’s a belonging never possessed.
On the wilting leaf of my forlorn life,
floating on the torrid tide of time,
my soul turns to a drop of elixir I embrace.
As it glows detached in the divine light,
enwrapped in the patina of peace,
it lies in the fold of sublime tranquility,
waiting to be released unpossessed,
and merge with the absolute in eternity.
May 9, 2021
Brian Strand's Contest A Strand (1047)
He is waiting for someone else
to put the words into his mouth
instead, he would say out loud his own.
And as pretending the singing,
he merges into unpossessed voices
hiding his song in the noise.
I cannot make out his words, though:
I misread his lips - mistaking a pop song for a pray;
a lip-synced psalm,
and believe every word he shares.
A tree in the hills felled by the summer storm
river in spate carries from cascade to cascade.
Deskinned trunk haltingly moves to the bank,
sticks in mud and boulder the water deposits.
Next rains come, the river sweeps the banks.
The log floats in delight, starts to travel again,
likes to reach adrift the destination unknown.
Unanchored, it doesn’t know what the past is.
My life uprooted by the squall of rough times
drifts like a floating log, finds no hands to hold,
seeks new course for an uncertain end to reach.
Unpossessed, I don’t know what attachment is.
I float on freedom, time takes me in its course,
I make my mooring, hold on as long as I want.
People say I am a vagabond, a fallen drift wood.
Unbound, I’m glad, my memory has no memory.
September 24, 2017.
Contest : Form V - Verse Me a Poem.
Sponsor : Broken Wings.
The morning breeze gently wafts on the lake
A water drop trembles on the lotus leaf floating
A shining pearl the rays of the rising sun make
The leaf holds, but doesn’t cling to its belonging.
The lake water would simmer in the scorching day
The lotus leaf in the heat would curl up oppressed
The water drop would dry out to slowly fade away
From the leaf’s fold, unattached and unpossessed.
On the leaf of your life floating in troubled times
Your being is a water drop glowing in divine light
If you reside in its fold unattached in bliss sublime
Soul would be free to be the absolute one in delight.
Written August 19, 2017
Brian Strand Contest A Strand (1064)
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