There were boxes of memories piled high
From the ground up to the sky
And in each one like cubes of solitary glass
Shinning in the sun
It seemed as if time were frozen in the past
Unrelieved by forward or backward reverberations
In this matrix of unending associations.
Recitations on these grids of spatial time
Were punctuated by equal strips of glowing
Equivalences of rhyme
And standing there between these strips
Of shimmering iridescences
I could look back over my shoulder and see
The future mirrored in the past of essences.
.
Time tarries not for anyone,
Still, I can't outpace my shadow.
Forever chasing what’s begun,
Success, in its season, will show.
Not minding little yet achieved,
Time tarries not for anyone.
Though dreams remain still unrelieved,
And countless tasks are left undone.
Old age begins its quiet run,
The clock moves fast with every tick.
Time tarries not for anyone,
Yet fleeting hours are hard to trick.
Twilight ignites the fading skies,
As shadows chase the sinking sun.
I race along with weary sighs,
Time tarries not for anyone.
They could be anywhere
Greased on my bus fare. Any Tom Dick or Jack and Solitaire
On every bit of bittie bit, on any drop of there.
They're everywhere in ambush
On every pull you push. Each panicked ceramic royal flush
Pirates hide, ride crazy-eyed, with itch-sticky triggers to crush.
And anything I breathe
Down the red throat of my sleeve. The miasma mere clean teeth can't cleave
Goes in out in out freaked out out, so every grin and weep's knot-weaved
And my besiegement
Unrelieved.
Sometimes I muse that life can be a *itch
When every prospect seems of rosy hue
From cerulean sky a fatal glitch
Precipitates its mischief; then I rue
That naive expectation of a child
On whom Dame fortune yet has only smiled
Then something in my skin begins to itch
In parts inviolate to ease of scratch
And paranoia whispers: “‘tis the Witch
Who cast her evil influence, to hatch
Black parasites that burrow in my brain
Contaminate all thought, implant a bane”
Should this dark image linger unrelieved
Or might a metaphorical light switch
Restore a life where hope may be conceived
So cradled safe and calm, with ne’er a twitch
Neath skies with butterflies where bluebirds sing
Believe that? Chance you’ll believe - anything
Date your poem written: 10 October 2019
Contest where Not Placed: Itch witch glitch or twitch
DATE CONTEST WHERE NA'D WAS JUDGED: 1 Nov.2019
Writing Challenge - December - Any poem NA'd in November 2019
Sponsor, Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode
Dream night
My wine glass is full of moonlight,
drank and floated dreamily, on a carpet of night.
Couldn’t resist the moon’s pull, my home bathed in a spectral
light, both beautiful and mortal.
Flowers in the garden were deadly pale, olive trees wore
silver capes of unrelieved sorrow
This nocturnal landscape isn’t to my liking, put me down,
red, green and golden are my colours
But I did glimpse, behind the tall mountain, night’s ultimate
sacrifice, giving birth to dawn
Patience, not disturbed by words,
works wonder
to hide the unrelieved pain
of a guilty conscience
remaining the overburdened broken heart
untouched by an unwanted peep
into the turbulent mind
and the skeleton
thrown to its ultimate destination
where Peace serves the dried eyes
a perpetual relief
that the soul always looked for
to grow the flower of life.
The city's dark and silent streets
Are wet and cold in late November.
The trees stand still; a fireplace heats
A house which few care to remember.
In this forgotten, lonely place,
The heavy tomes entomb the teacher
While, in the dwindling light, his face
Betrays a soul of noble features.
In this cocoon, he has amassed
Much wisdom drawn from lengthy sorrow
While, unrelieved, his worries last
Far past the grim and hopeless morrow.
The world around him moves untouched
By knowledge, art or erudition,
For those who breathe don’t care for much
Outside obtuse, absurd tradition.
He is a candle to the world
Whose light is seen by ever fewer:
His learning shrivels in the cold
Before the eyes of heedless viewers.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
And she picked it up -
The sleek black and white feather,
Threw it in the bin.
Black and white against
Unrelieved grey. Graceful curve
Against the straight lines.
A flash of beauty
In the gutter. Tidied up
To dull, gritty grey.
Mock Jasmine flowers -
Beauty and perfume all lost
For neatly trimmed hedge.
Bright scattered colour -
Gold and bronze leaves down the drive,
Machine blown away.
There’s a concrete path
Through the forest now. It’s grey
Stark, unwelcoming.
Remember? “You don’t
Know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
Paradise is lost.
We’re lost in a world.
Where Nature is untidy.
We’ve cleared it away!
She robbed us of it -
The sleek black and white feather,
Stole it from our sight.
Sometimes he needs, driven by
remnants of hunger for things
that he can find on E-Bay, gifts.
Life in the sea of faces passes
like a trip through mayonaisse,
bits of effort inhibiting his eyes,
seeing the same configurations unrelieved.
He needs something new
when life became a worthless
ritual of empty questions
that the mere biology of continuation
never answers.
Mercury nights unrelieved
betrayal passionately suggests
Our future- parallel in jest
From jumping many potholes
Freewheeling college enterprises
Found my candle beside a manhole
Your tongue is dirty like fame
The road winds, black and long, across the field.
Fellow travelers merging as traffic flows,
the freedom gained by linkage seems unreal
across the world on rivers others go.
No beaten paths are worn where jungles grow.
A freedom gained by movement, we’ve achieved.
Others wait in poverty unrelieved.
They can not rise and leave, if they so please,
trapped are they in isolation, they grieve.
Roads, good roadways are sought for their release.
Oh, to have a road that winds to market,
or, to run down when the wars come too near.
A paved lane, a street, we dearly covet
a way to reach our neighbors once made clear,
a safety value when things are most dire.
So, let man tame the jungle wide and green
the mountaintops and rivers in between,
let all mankind be so very blessed
to have good roads, not dead end might of beens
which join us all, as village greens acessed.
Both remained suspended, motionless;
The storm began to subside
But still the sea was disturbed.
“Come! Come courage!”
As I said it, I knew it was a naïve hope.
Who are you if you lose your favorite person?
A sheer drop, black and faceless
It was a bleak, harsh view,
the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.
Will we ever meet again?
I will sail into the future on mystery’s wings
and I will not look back.
The clock is chiming
Since ancient times
My mind is roaming...I'm in a haze of bewilderment
I'm sprawled in a puzzling maze
Thinking deeply...
wandering...contemplating
My voice is rumbling,
altering into whispers
troubled by the clock
bursting my skull open
releasing tension
oh, how agonizing
deepening in my ruins
my mind blank with ashes
Unable to figure my way out of withering hopelessness...
Thrown into my unfailing demise
Don't seek after me; I'm not wise
My voice is mumbling
Fumbling...stricken with every word I pronounce
in every devastating line
missing my disoriented family
taken away from my family
because of my defiant decisions
I foolishly took advantage of that opportunity
Deepening in my ruins...
Unsaved...unrelieved
Have a generous amount of mercy on my soul
Because I've been yanked away from my cheerful parents
Give me some hope at least
Wipe away the unmerciful decisions I took unwisely
or I'll remain in the
cluster of ruin
On my hands there are a million things
Cuts, stains and pencil marks
And a thousand little dreams
On my hands there are so many lines
Little roads leading one to another
Like moving stories of losing time
On my hands there are many words
Of joy and sorrow unrelieved
That seem precious and old
On my hands there is shame
For a friend to come near
For someone to bear my pain
On my hands there is an unseen stain
it’s someone’s blood this I know
left while I remain
All of this unrelieved tension
Between you and me
Sounds of near sudden death
Softly overbearing
Plot your dispositions carefully
You would find yourself wrapped around the tree
It should have been me
I should have taken your place
Unglue your painful misconception
Of the world you might miss
It took a day and a night
To figure out your whole entire life
I wouldn't know what to do
If I knew you might die
I learned a lot about life today
About how I should live
And how I should sometimes let things go
Or hold on for a little more
I think about you everyday
I hope the world won't stay the same
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