I recall by chance the astuteness of rain
When the thin smoke from charged pulses of cold haze
Befriended the weeded way . . .
Leering further into the viscera of the village,
Clouds of old beginnings heaved potent sighs,
Loud, frenetic and full of powder.
I revelled in the warmth of acid lightning,
Quick to mirror the village in its own image.
The grey breath was intense,
Fusing teethed mirth with grim spheres.
Then came the vitrined harmony of fleeing spectres!
Tricks were revealed.
Tenebrous paths came to light.
And the rumps of sensuous fowls stood stark
Before the reality of weaned souls.
I recall lighting up a cigarette.
Adding to the atmospheric smoke,
I held on to the banter of coyness, flat,
Resolute, and with rummaged blessedness of initial stages
Blending well with the greed of May.
Image # 1
My dear grandpop and grandma pop
Took a short vacation
I remember how my mom felt
Full of frustration
Mom depended on them so much
Babysitters were they
Days, nights and weekends were at play
They were supposed to stay
Grandma got so hot and went pop
Lost weight, wore stilettos
She changed from an older grandma
Studied all librettos
We were all surprised that she changed
She wanted a new name
Grand-maman she insisted fit
The children thought it lame
So, they still called her grandma pop
With new friends, it didn't fit
They weeded her out of their group
Now she bakes cake and knits
Also reads stories; does her part
To instill within each child
What is most important for them
To live life undefiled
“If you give me rice, I’ll eat today; if you teach me how to grow rice, I’ll eat every day.”
- Quote by Mahatma Gandhi
------------------------------------------------
sprouted, sowed, dressed, transplanted
soil rich, fertile, warm
puddled field, drained well, weeded
panicle to grains
gently harvested
life staple
food
God, I come to you in quiet meditation seeking divine growth ~~
May I step with centered senses
As I climb my negative fences:
All my vision seeing far and near,
Bright in light, truthfully clear;
Both my feet saying no to retreat,
Standing faith strong my life long;
Please so each ear with knowledge hear –
Be calm, be silent, be ever reliant;
Powerful words emitted be manifest committed
To realizing the divine in this life of mine;
Hands do be love, a touch made of
Joy as directed from God above;
And, every thought weeded as a garden,
Pure with intent, never requiring pardon.
Thank you, Father, Mother, God - Amen and Amen
God asked me is that really what you want?
A man that truly doesn't care about your heart?
Who will take advantage of your kindness and only think about himself?
While you would put his heart above everyone else,
At that moment I thought of the past and now,
And how God weeded each of them out,
And placed me alone again so I could see,
I no longer felt trapped, and He gave me peace,
A freedom in my heart I can't quite describe,
Even through the pain and the tears in my eyes,
Like I could finally breathe again with purpose to thrive,
Like I've never felt more alive,
I thought of the apostle Paul with his words that I could now understand,
And I remembered that feeling of being alone again,
Not alone in the sense that you think,
Got engulfed my heart around everything,
All of a sudden I could focus without interruption in the way,
And I realized not one man I chose really loved God this way,
They didn't respect the faith and the love I held for God,
And at that moment I thanked God they were gone,
Because the distractions were taking me farther away,
Away from my first love, diminishing my faith,
WORDPLAY
Scores of work to read and think deeply
Stores of enthusiasm can reduce steeply
Snores are heard and can attract curses
Snorts from a few less tolerant nurses
Sports offer very different entertainment
Shorts that sometimes lack containment
Shirts bearing logos of sponsors’ brands
Shires with accents nobody understands
Spires of churches that need renovation
Spares at the ready for every occasion
Spores of inspiration should be heeded
Shores with grass dunes, never weeded
Shares in publishing may remain frozen
Stares received if no works are chosen
Starts and endings complete all verses
I walked beneath the ribcage of a giant whale;
Encapsulated in the briney entrails of an empty long-dead being.
Its grimace echoed in these halls of boned wall,
Of which calcite chambers temper;
Sturdy glass upon the shores.
Licked by lightning, hiding hints,
Raking sand with combs of sea,
Until I reached the portcullis,
I was too afraid to breathe.
From the bone, hung weeded curtains,
Sour, from the sea.
Dangled down, to repeat a sense,
Of giant mammal's teeth.
The viscera of foliage hung demure.
Violent, still, while biding time.
Swaying wet with salt, debris;
Beneath sat a heavy jaw.
Unclenched by neither cheek nor jowl,
Yet open for a crunch,
The mouth from which I stepped,
Devoured,
A sense of self I hadn't kept.
What once was oaken, knotted pine,
Engrained in skin of shrub and wood.
Was now the fleshy, un-divine,
Boy who ought and could.
noise of thought having receded
base instincts too have been weeded
all that cascades within is bliss
we know now God is all there is
our mind and heart, to Him ceded
I suppose the are the “good ole days”
The days where one has more time than money
Cashed on for lounging and sun nibbled skin
youth, a precarious thing
all that experience have the fleeting notion of discovering a hidden treasure already found and reburied
when lessons are experienced never told, how a babe first eats a dandelion instead of blows
stumbling across the connections to be weeded out by growth
fear and anticipation still tickles in the same hum
whisper promises of forever is to a sympathy of cicadas to bears witness
the same promise yet multiple forgotten caresses answer the plea
Imprints fading yet some tattooed, wrapped to the rhythm of quickened breaths
like a festering mosquito bite, awareness to the pace of time
its disruption to one’s gate correlates with how much is paid to notice it
losing possession of a touch of childhood
His participation won't be needed
But he has this fact not heeded:
To their church his father's lands ceded
And church-building time had them weeded.
It is in real mystery shrouded;
When the issue was raised halls crowded.
"Here men have ascended God's Heaven,
One with six plots he soon made seven
Joel with ten he dragged to eleven,
And this buffoon prefers their cession,
"Happy he's heading church procession."
For "Chief" James had hoped participation,
His picking an anticipation
Building towards preoccupation...
Young man, just try a glass of sangria,
Now, we all can see you are angrier.
Audience is not a ‘a must’ for Town Criers;
Their job can now be discharged by flyers...
One cries too long and one lips get drier,
More pacing about the legs look sorrier.
In some circles you become a pariah,
For being of all things Hollow Wood Carrier.
Yes, you keep that in mind, Prepared Crier:
A town crier’s voice might go higher
But to his critics “A Hopeless Liar”
Or in short, he is the no more needed,
His colleagues in other towns fast weeded.
Only ghosts man these
old frontier outposts now
They rock back and forth on
driftwood chairs on the porches
of the town main street shop's
and saloons
Hoping and praying for a piece
of tumbleweed to pass bye to
make this day somehow
memorable
The sun's positioning says this
would have been rush hour way
back then
When they left they stole the
boots off the dead so as to
keep the noise of trampling feet
down
The weeded grass in the graveyard
has turned ginger brown
And the names on the crosses
have almost totaly eroded and
faded away completely
Soon enough this here town
wont be found on any map
anymore and when that happens
It won't be a ghost town it
will be as if it never existed
at all
And at that point then even the
ghosts will have to contemplate
maybe leaving and moving on
Because even the dead need
some form of life to exist
Above ground zero
One Dollar
When I was a kid,
I worked for every dime I got.
I folded papers,
I took out the trash,
I did dishes,
washed cars,
and weeded the garden.
Two weeks it would take me,
to earn one dollar.
Two weeks of hard work.
Grandpa told me I was worth every penny,
and that I would make a good worker one day.
I watched him,
I listened to his stories.
I learned all that I could,
about growing up.
I learned all that I could,
about being... grown.
Money comes and it goes,
but the lessons stay through the seasons.
They become more compound,
and more complex.
Sometimes they are harsh and unforgiving,
about birth, life, and death.
Sometimes they are soft and sweet,
and concern matters of the heart.
There is a balance between earning too much,
and giving too much of your life away,
for too little of its value.
The exchange needs to be, fair.
I miss the wisdom of Grandpa's yesterday,
and I must maneuver the path alone now.
Yet, the echo of his teachings,
leave me... better prepared.
Having waited for long after hard laboring,
Tilling, planting, manuring and irrigating;
Keeping stray animals away from grazing them,
Protecting them from dangers, as though, costly gem;
Treating the illnesses of better-half who's weak,
Pleasing the moods of kids, who fun and frolics seek;
Eating sometimes; evading timely food, often,
Pleading the money-lenders their hearts to soften;
Weeding the field frequently when it's so needed,
Cleansing, spraying pesticides when it's thus weeded;
Drizzles, hailstones and storms visit the fields, betwixt,
Tending the fallen plants, he gets the problems fixed;
Thus, midst mounting temptations and tribulations,
When his hopes reach their zenith of expectations;
Floods unforeseen, when whole year's livelihood destroy,
He stands calm, yet, facing forces of pain and joy...!
15 March 2022
The mower will weed the grass
To let the flower plants grow
To let the flowers blossom
To beautify the garden
To give us a better view
To please our eyes
To give us delights
The weeds have to be weeded
And so the bad habits of the children
Throwing rubbish
So that the garden is weed free and rubbish free
Maybe the mower and the early stage of education
Should go together
When the children are still small
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